Leading from the Heart

Prospective clients who walk into the offices of the Marion County Literacy Council learn one thing very quickly: Executive Director Yamila Acosta has most likely been in their shoes. Her ability to connect with students is one reason she recently celebrated 15 years of service with the nonprofit organization, which has seen its share of ups and downs but currently is growing so fast it’s hard to keep up with the demand. 

The organization was founded in 1999 by Barbara Woodson. The three core programs include Adult Basic Education, to help adults learn to read and write proficiently, improve general reading skills, build vocabulary, obtain a driver license, register to vote or fill out a job application. In the General Education Development (GED) program, students receive academic support one-on-one and in small groups. The ESOL program offers classes to native speakers of languages other than English who range in ability from basic literacy to advanced grammar and pronunciation. The council also offers basic computer, citizenship, financial literacy and health literacy classes.

Acosta, Program Manager Trevus Bryant, Program Coordinator Christine Lewis, Program Assistant Arlynda Heards and a little more than 30 volunteer tutors are working with nearly 500 students. The council is funded by grants from United Way of Marion County, the annual Give4Marion initiative, private and business donations, and fundraisers such as Kiss the Horse, Weiner Wars and a spelling bee.

A ‘Champion’ for the Students

Acosta, who was born in Cuba and came to America when she was 10 months old, has experience with all the council’s core programs and understands what students are feeling when they reach out for help. She says of her early family life in Miami that her parents did not speak English. 

“My older sister and I had to speak the Spanish language at home, but then when we were at school with friends, we were able to speak the English language. I’m blessed that happened because I’m bilingual and obviously I have the job I have today thanks to that,” she shares. “But it was kind of hard because we missed out on a lot of things. We were going home to parents who didn’t know the language and couldn’t help their children.”

Acosta, now 45, had dreams of becoming an emergency room surgeon, but says, “God had a different life for me.”

“I became a teen mom at 16. That obviously changed everything,” she notes. “My daughter is now 28 years old but when I first looked at her, I said, ‘Oh, my God, how am I going to do this?’”

She married but it didn’t work out, so she became a single parent. 

“My parents were the best grandparents in the world,” she recalls. “I finished high school during night school, and I dedicated myself to work at a title company and to my child. When I turned 22, we decided to move to Ocala. My entire family was into Paso Fino horses and had a farm in the area and I wanted my child to be raised in a community like this; smaller, less people.”

She remarried a year later and had a son, now 18, and another daughter, now 16. 

“Unfortunately, my second marriage didn’t work, and I again became a single mom. At that time, because I was into title work and real estate was really bad, I got laid off,” she shares. “I remember walking into CareerSource looking for assistance and I started receiving food stamps, which I had never had to do. They had a welfare program where they help you build a resume and look into different avenues. Before I finished that program, I got hired to their call center. Before you know it, I became their SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) coordinator and I was now helping the people that used to be me, the ones receiving the welfare, the cash assistance, the food stamps.”

She stayed there until she “found a wonderful man who helped me raise my kids and I didn’t have to work.” While her children were in school, she felt she “needed to do something with my life and then I found this place.”

“I started in a part-time data entry position. The executive director needed someone who spoke Spanish and English and who was a little stern. She said, ‘I think you’re the right person,’” Acosta recalls. “I remember doing the interview and she asked, ‘How do you see yourself in five years?’ and I said, ‘Having your job.’”

Over time, Acosta became a program coordinator, then, she says, “the executive director left, and a new executive director came and started changing some things and then the other program coordinator left. So, it was just me. Then I left for about two years because my father was really sick and I took care of him until he passed away. The executive director went to my Dad’s funeral and that really touched my heart and I said, ‘That’s where my heart is.’ I miss it. I love my students. I loved what I had created, and I came back as a volunteer.”

She says the ESOL program had dwindled because no one at the council spoke Spanish.

“No one was connecting with those individuals. I had close to 300 students when I left that program so when I came back as a volunteer, I started calling and within a month I had back all of my students,” she explains. “I reopened in Marion Oaks, at College Park Elementary, I had classes going on here, I had classes in the evenings. They all came back, and it grew again. It was a connection because I understand their struggles, because of my parents and how I was raised. That program was really close to my heart. The program coordinator left and they said, ‘Do you want the job?’ And I said, ‘Yes, of course.” The executive director moved on a little before COVID-19 and it was just me running the place. That’s when I met Jeffrey Stone, one of our students. It was hard. And then the board asked me if I needed an executive director, and I said no. For about a year or two we were without one.” 

She says the board challenged her to accept the position, but she was “afraid.”

“I wasn’t ready for that next step out of my comfort zone, going out there and meeting people at a different level. I always liked the connection of being able to work with the students, know their story, help them reach their goals, meet with my tutors, have that personal connection. I didn’t want to be behind closed doors or in meetings the whole day or fundraising. I wanted my students to come in and say hello and if they have an issue, let’s talk about it,” she says. “And then I got to a point where I felt comfortable, and I said let me take this on.”

She says she couldn’t do it without “my board members. They are amazing, very supportive.”

She is taking courses such as grant writing and fundraising “and all those other things that you need to know because for a very long time we were just sustaining, existing. There was a point the literacy council only had two weeks’ (of funds) in the bank left for operating. Now, it’s amazing how we have grown. I want students to feel like this is their home, where they can come and make mistakes and learn and get to where they need to go and be the best versions of themselves.” 

“Yamila is a seasoned nonprofit professional, but she never allows ‘professionalism’ to create a barrier between her and our students,” offers longtime board member R.J. Jenkins. “She has an informal, real, direct style. She tells people the truth even when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable. It’s a rare and valuable quality, and it has earned her the respect of everyone she comes into contact with. If you want someone to tell it like it is, then Yamila’s your girl.”

And, he adds, “Yamila’s devotion to the literacy council is, first and foremost, a devotion to our students, to the women and men who are working so hard to build better lives for themselves and their families. She knows their names, she knows about their lives and, most importantly, she believes in them. And they can feel that. For some of them, Yamila is the first person who has ever truly believed in them. Because of her, part of our students’ experience with us is the experience of having a champion.”

From Student to Board Member

Jeffrey Stone II, 38, was born in the central Florida town of Bartow and grew up in Davenport, surrounded by orange groves. He says he grew up in a Hispanic family and that his stepdad migrated here at 18 from Mexico. 

“He was a very hard worker, in landscaping. Mom was stay-at-home; I have two half-brothers,” he shares. “We grew up near our grandparents, had a lot to do with them.”

As a young adult, Stone and his wife started a family. They have a son now 18, a daughter age 14, a daughter age 3, and a son, 4, who was born with severe medical disabilities. After he was born, they moved to this area as there was a family member here at the time who could help with his care. Stone, who was a manager with a solid waste department, says the insurance company told him, “You’ve got to change your ways, you can’t work, you can’t make this money and pay these millions of dollars. He was in NICU for 90 days.”

Stone decided to go to college, but “I didn’t have my GED or high school diploma,” he recalls. “I found the literacy council and saw they did one-on-one tutoring and reached out to the contact, which was Yamila. I left a message, and she called me back while I was sitting at AdventHealth, where my son was on life support. It sounded like the right thing for me, so I signed up. I obtained my GED within six months, during the pandemic. I even tutored by phone. I was very determined.”

Stone, who still handles his son’s medical affairs, later became a full-time student at the College of Central Florida and is set to graduate in December with an associate degree in computer information technology. Three years ago, he became a board member of the literacy council.

“Yamila has always been there for me, that shoulder to lean on if you need anything,” he says. “It’s been a great adventure here. Over those three years, we have grown significantly. I remember bringing my own textbook or sharing one with someone to, now everyone gets a textbook.” 

“I believed in Jeffrey the minute I talked to him on the phone. And I was thinking, ‘How can he do it? His child is on life support. There’s no way he’s going to come or be able to concentrate,’” Acosta shares. “But there was never any time I let that show in my tone of voice. I was like, ‘You can do this. Whatever we need to do, whatever time you need.’

“He was my student and then he became one of my bosses,” she continues. “That was exciting, a great feeling that someone on my board now actually was able to go through the struggles with me and really know the ins and outs of this place and what we need for this place to continue growing and helping more people like himself.”

Stone says he has applied for an internship with the Marion County Sheriff’s Office and plans to return to the workforce.

“I want to slowly work on my bachelor’s degree, go to the next level,” he notes. “You never know where the road is going to lead you. Life changes so much.”

Challenges and Rewards

“All of our students have a different story. You have no idea what they are coming in with and I have to make sure that when they leave, they believe this can be the place to help them change,” Acosta offers. “The worst thing is to have someone creating doubts. That’s not what we do here. Not just me. My coworkers; they are special people. To work in the nonprofit world, you have to be a special giving, loving person.”

“There’s a lot of people out there who need GED’s, need to learn English,” Stone adds. “This a very demanding thing that people need and which the Marion County Literacy Council tries to offer and soon as we build a little, there’s more at the door.”

Sometimes the students come to the council, and sometimes the council goes to them. 

“We work with the Clerk of Courts, judges, they send individuals to us that is part of their probation, get your GED or go to jail. We work with Phoenix House with people in rehabilitation. We have been at the jail, we are at the Lowell Correctional Institution,” Acosta says. 

She is teaching the ESOL program at AutoZone in the evenings because they don’t have enough tutors. “These employers are coming to us saying we want to help our employees, give them a better position but we can’t because they don’t speak the language of have their GED,” she states.

As the current program year comes to an end, Acosta says they are on track to have 15 GED graduates. Those who do earn their state-accredited GED get to “walk” with students from Marion Technical College, so they experience the whole “cap and gown” feeling. 

There is an annual registration fee of $80 for the council, which includes tutoring and materials, and some tests and assessments. Some fees associated with GED testing are paid to the institution conducting the testing. 

“There’s a lot of good things we do, and all with volunteers,” Acosta points out. “We have amazing volunteers. There are roughly 32 actively participating and we definitely need more.” 

About 15 percent of students don’t complete the coursework and one of the most common reasons is, “Just things going on in life,” Stone offers. “We’ve also seen that people will come in and then maybe take a six-month or year break and came back and finish.”

“We always leave the door open,” Acosta says,

“When you walk in here, you get real people. You have an executive director who can say, ‘I was a teen mom. I went to night school. I had kids. I had a drinking problem years ago. Things that relate,” she affirms. “If I can do it, you can do it. And when you get that from someone you think is going to look down at you, it makes a difference. We are real people. We understand kids get sick. Your car breaks. You need to stay home because… whatever…”

“One of Yamila’s greatest strengths is that she does this work with an open, nonjudgmental heart,” Jenkins states. “Some of our students come from challenging circumstances: maybe they’re recovering from addiction, maybe they’re justice-impacted, maybe they’re homeless. But for Yamila, all that matters is that they want to learn. If they want to learn, then she will lift them up. Period.” OS

The Marion County Literacy Council is located at 120 SW Fifth Street, Ocala. To learn more, call (352) 690–7323 or go to marionliteracy.org