I am 20 years old, I’m taking college courses and I work part-time at a supermarket. I live at home with my dad (who works 40 hours a week, making $10.75 an hour), my 9-year-old brother and 1-year-old daughter. My daughter’s name is Clarice and my name is Kaylee.

None of these things are actually true, but this is the role I was assigned when I attended the Community Action Poverty Simulation last Thursday morning at Aisin in Seymour.

The simulation’s website states the goal of CAPS is to promote poverty awareness, increase understanding of the struggles working individuals face on a daily basis and to shift people’s understanding of poverty away from the notion that it is a personal failure and toward the viewpoint that poverty is a structural failure of society.

Each person in attendance at the simulation is assigned a role and family members (unless you live alone). Over the course of an hour, you and your family experience the trials and tribulations of living in poverty for one month. Each “week” lasts 15 minutes. You must return home at the end of the week for a 5-minute weekend.

I was the first of my family to arrive at the simulation, so my house — which was actually three folding chairs arranged in a semi-circle — was empty, save for the stuffed doll representing my daughter Clarice.

Clarice and I were soon joined by my 9-year-old brother named Kirby, played by Haley Pennington. Our family profile packet let us know Kirby has learning disabilities and is asthmatic. Also, to save money on daycare expenses, I sometimes leave Clarice with him when he is not in school.

My father, Quentin Quant — played by Christie Snow — is recently divorced, has custody of my brother and is unable to contact his ex-wife, who has failed to pay child support.

The Quant family’s primary stuggle throughout the simulation was transportation. Services and stores such as Big Dave’s Pawn Shop, a bank and a supermarket were set up as tables, with volunteers playing roles. To travel to any of these tables, my family had to have a transportation ticket. Babies also required a transportation ticket, so I typically had to have at least two on me for Clarice and myself. A transportation ticket was not required to return home.

Although I was supposed to be taking college courses, I did not attend a single one throughout the simulation because of transportation complications.

When the simulation began, my father gave me three transportation tickets and I made my way over to the daycare center. To my horror, the daycare center accepted cash only. I had none. So, within the first five minutes of the simulation, my palms were sweating.

Unsure of what to do, I turned and walked to school; however, I only had one more transportation ticket. I pleaded with school officials to let me take my baby to class to no avail and returned home discouraged.

My father was unable to cash his check at the bank by the end of the first week because he had to use five tickets to get to work on each day. This was not good, especially because the family had a mortgage payment due and no one had gone to the supermarket throughout the week to buy food because we had no money to begin with and limited tickets.

The second week was even more disastrous.

I took Clarice to the pawn shop to sell some items, where after some negotiating I was able to obtain $70 to contribute to the mortgage payment. Upon returning home, I discovered my father was sick and had to take the week off work.

At the end of the week, the family received a red card notifying us that we were malnourished and needed to go to the supermarket. My father also was fired from work for missing a week.

This is when the Quant family’s morals went out the window.

There were some empty houses throughout the “neighborhood,” so during the third week (which kids had off school) my father and I stole entire packets of cash and transportation tickets while my brother went to the supermarket to buy groceries; however, the money my father and I accumulated was still nowhere near enough to cover the mortgage payment and groceries.

My father was able to go to social services to apply for housing assistance, but the week ended before his appointment was over and he had to return home. This is when the family received a card saying a relative was staying with us, so our grocery expenses shot up by $15, which we certainly could not afford.

We filled out the application at home, and I went to social services during the final week while my father took my brother to the doctor. At social services, the Quants were put on a waitlist for housing assistance. I was told we were put on the waitlist because my father did not complete the application last week. Minutes later (in real time), we were evicted.

The simulation ended soon after.

I had not anticipated the simulation to be as stress-inducing as it was. While the role-playing was fun at times (one woman in particular had a blast being escorted multiple times throughout the hour to “jail”), the simulation overall was extremely taxing. Christie Snow (my father) often had tears welling, because the simulation does a fine job illustrating the barriers people living in poverty face every single day.

Poverty, as the simulation’s website says, is a structural failure of society. People cannot escape it simply by applying themselves differently or working harder.

I am grateful to have been invited by Dan Davis to the simulation, and I recommend attending CAPS to anyone trying to gain a greater understanding of poverty.

The Community Action Poverty Simulation was sponsored by Jackson County United Way, the Community Foundation of Jackson County, Purdue Extension Jackson County, Centerstone, Kocolene Development Corp., Cummins Seymour Engine Plant, Jackson County Industrial Development Corp., Schneck Medical Center and Poplar Street Restaurant & Bar.