Greg Johnson, director of the Arizona Center for Responsible Fatherhood, says children raised without fathers are more likely to get in trouble with the law and less like to finish their education.

Darryll Stevens told the group about the strained relationship he had with the mother of his child.
The baby lived with his mother, not him.
Stevens, 24, said he rarely visited his infant son, because the mother criticized him and made him feel unwelcome.
“It’s hurting me. It’s beating me up,” Stevens told the others in the small office space, cleared of furniture except for portable chairs.
The others understood. All but one of them faced their own challenges as fathers — or would soon. The one exception was a 16-year-old girl. She was pregnant and had attended the session with her boyfriend and expectant father, Brian Mayfield. He was 15.
Next to Brian was his own father, Alex Mayfield, 39.
Those in attendance numbered nine. All came to the Thursday night session in Mesa to learn the key to being a good father. This was week two of a 12-week program on life skills for fathers, sponsored by the Arizona Center for Responsible Fatherhood.
Charles Williams, a center facilitator, led the discussion. With him was Vance Simms, East Valley site coordinator for the center.
Williams suggested that Darryll Stevens could turn things around. That included getting a job to help support his son.
But Stevens blamed the mother: “Instead of being with someone who’s going to put you down all the time, I don’t want to be with her.”
“That’s what we call baby-mama drama,” Williams replied.
The barrier was something Stevens would have to break through, Williams suggested.
Throughout the course, the weekly sessions touch on understanding fatherhood, absent fathers, wisdom and judgment, healthy relationships, job development and child support – to name a few.
The course is free, and the Center for Responsible Fatherhood has plenty of openings, center Director Greg Johnson said. In addition to the life-skills class, case managers at the center work one-on-one with client fathers.
When it comes to fathers, Johnson said, one of the center’s main goals is to “instill a sense of bonding with their children.”
The center is part of the non-profit Child & Family Resources, based in Tucson. The responsible fatherhood program itself is confined to Maricopa County and operates on a $2.5 million five-year grant from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. The funding goes through September 2011.
Arizona is one of only two Western states to receive such a grant, Johnson said in an interview. The other is California.
More than a half-dozen state and local agencies, as well as non-profits, have partnered with the center. They helped to write the grant proposal, said Marjorie Cook, community service manager for the Arizona Division of Child Support Enforcement, one of the partnering agencies.
The center’s goal, Johnson said, is to enroll 600 clients a year.
“Currently, nine months into this first year, we have about 150 fathers who enrolled in the program,” Johnson said.
Reaching that goal — and those who could use the program — depends in part on an aggressive outreach effort. Coordinators like Simms set up booths and pass out flyers at community-college campuses, as well as give presentations.
Referrals from DES, judges
Some clients find their way to the center by referrals from agencies like the Child Support Enforcement Division, part of the Arizona Department of Economic Security.
Responsible fathers, if they don’t have custody, pay child support, Johnson said.
“It’s a way of bridging the gap to ensure that every child in the state of Arizona is financially provided for,” he said.
In addition, Cook said, a child-support caseworker meets once a week with fathers at the center’s Phoenix office. The caseworker offers assistance on establishing paternity, the first step in child support.
Fathers also get help in navigating the legal thicket of court-ordered child support.
“That’s very intimidating to them, so we can be there to help them better understand how to work with the system,” Cook said.
For many fathers, paying child support means earning a paycheck. Here, the center partners with DES, Goodwill Industries and Maricopa Skills Center, to help fathers develop job skills and find work.
Brian Mayfield came to the responsible-fatherhood program by way of the criminal-justice system, his father Alex said in a phone interview.
Brian had violated his probation for auto theft. But instead of extending Brian’s probation, the judge ordered parenting classes. This followed a plea bargain by the public defender and the prosecutor.
The probation officer and Brian’s father signed off on the idea as well.
 “He’s about ready to become a daddy,” Mayfield said. “He needs to get his act together.”
Young fathers like Brian are welcome, Simms said. Fathers as young as 14 can enroll, he added. And like Alex, their own fathers can attend as well.
“From teen dads to granddads,” Simms said.
Alex would like to see his own son avoid his shortcomings as a father. Mayfield said he did drugs and even ended up the county jail.
He has been five years sober now, but added: “I wasn’t a good role model. I feel that I robbed my kids of some valuable time.”
On this particular Thursday evening, it’s evident many men here did not connect with their own fathers.
Not just a family matter
These sessions seek to repair that disconnect with their children, Johnson said. It’s not just a family matter, he added.
“Statistics say that a child who is raised without a father is more likely to get involved in vices, get involved in the criminal-justice system, less likely to finish their education, less likely to move forward economically,” he said.
On this night, Williams and Simms start off by showing the first part of “The Pursuit of Happyness,” a movie starring Will Smith. His character tries to rear a young boy, even as his marriage fails, and his job won’t pay the rent.
A discussion followed. There was little comment about the movie. These fathers had their own stories.
After Stevens finished going over his troubles, Antonio Campbell, 49, spoke up. Like others in the group, he barely knew his father. His father was not there for him.
“My mother was my father. My brother was my father. The streets were my father,” Campbell says.
Marvin Daniels, 44, spoke next.
“Right now, I’m in rehab, so I can get my life together,” Daniels said.
The room applauded. It was the kind of camaraderie and support Simms wanted to see.
“We’ve got to come together like a band of brothers,” he said.
That togetherness continued after the session’s end. As the fathers headed toward the parking lot, Alex Mayfield, a supervisor at a cultured marble company, handed Stevens a card. It was a lead on a job offer.