At Moffett Elementary in Lennox—just down the street from LAX—kids line up early for recess. They’re not just here to play. They’re here to lead.
Wearing their bright purple Junior Coach shirts, 4th and 5th graders take charge. They set up games. Solve conflicts. Remind younger students of the rules. And they do it with the calm confidence of someone who knows they matter.
They didn’t always.
Before AmeriCorps came to this school through Playworks, recess was chaos. Balls flew over fences. Fights broke out in line. Kids without friends stood against walls, watching the minutes crawl by.
Then came Coach Madera.
He grew up just a few blocks away. Now, as a full-time AmeriCorps member, he’s rewriting what’s possible—for kids who are growing up just like he did.
“I see a lot of myself in these kids,” he says. “Back then, we didn’t have someone like me on the yard every day.”
Now the kids do. And they’ve changed because of it.
One student, once too shy to talk, now leads Adventure Dodgeball and teaches others to say “GG”—good game—win or lose. Another, who used to lash out, now helps mediate playground conflicts. “We Ro-Sham-Bo it out,” he says proudly. “And then we play again.”
Coach Madera is more than a coach. He’s a consistent adult presence in a neighborhood where consistency is hard to come by.
Just this spring, ICE vans were spotted idling near the school. One child asked his principal, “Will I still be here after recess?”
When your walk to school includes daily fear of deportation – for oneself and one’s family – you need more than a safe classroom. You need mentors who can listen, who will see you. And you need to physically, safely get emotions processed.
That’s what AmeriCorps makes possible.
And it’s not just about sports. It’s about emotional infrastructure. Playworks is a farm system for empathy, community, and teamwork—and it works.
“Our nurses’ office used to fill up with injuries from recess. Not anymore,” the principal shared. “Without Playworks, kids made up their own rules—and that led to chaos. Now there’s structure. There’s peace. It’s night and day.”
“You can’t replace this with volunteers,” he continued. “Coach Madera knows all 600 kids by name. He knows their families. He’s part of the fabric of this school.”
And the relationships aren’t performative—they’re deep.
Coach Madera can’t walk five feet without being hugged. Kids run up to him beaming—like he’s the heart of the playground.
“I never wanted to hug any of my P.E. teachers,” the principal laughs. “But these kids hug Coach every day. That tells you everything.”
This isn’t a story about a hero coming in to save the day. It’s what happens when a neighborhood is trusted with its own solution.
Coach Madera didn’t parachute in. He grew up here. The care already existed. AmeriCorps gave it scaffolding and staying power.
“This is the only part of my school budget that gives us a trained, full-time professional for pennies on the dollar. If we had to pay more for it, it would still be worth it.”
“We invest in physical infrastructure,” the principal said. “Playworks is emotional infrastructure.”
In a time when public services are being stripped away, what’s happening on this playground is revolutionary: community-led care, made visible. AmeriCorps didn’t invent it. But it gave it structure. And without AmeriCorps, that structure crumbles.
_________
This story is from the #SaveAmeriCorps Road Trip, an effort in partnership with McMahon Consulting Group to document what happens when we invest in (or lose) national service programs.
Thanks to longtime-client Playworks for making time to share your excellence!