From Survival to Service: How One Family Engagement Liaison Is Rewriting the Rules
- Catherine Huckaby
- 1 day ago
- 9 min read
When Audrey Smallcanyon walks through the halls of Arvada High School, she's not just visiting the place where she works. She's walking the same corridors she barely attended as a student twenty-nine years ago. Back then, she graduated with a 1.67 GPA, admitting freely, "Did I go to class every day? No."
Today, she's the school's family engagement liaison, using every hard-won lesson from her past to change the trajectory of students who see themselves in her story. This full-circle journey isn't lost on her.
"If I would have known back then that someone in my current position was there to talk to me, I think I would have done things a lot differently."
That realization fuels everything she does now, from operating the school's resource room to building partnerships across a community that's rapidly changing and often resistant to that transformation.
The Geography of Inequality
Arvada, Colorado sits at the intersection of two Americas. Drive west from Arvada High School and you'll find affluent neighborhoods, well-funded schools, and students whose biggest worry might be which college to attend. Head east, and you're in Title I territory, where 70% of students qualify for free or reduced lunch and where the question isn't about college; it's about whether there's food at home tonight.
A Title 1 public school receives extra federal funding to support students because many of its families have low incomes. "The east side of Arvada has the most fundamental needs," she explains. She knows both sides intimately. Growing up on the east side, attending schools that have since closed, she watched as the community she loved became the community others looked down on. The stereotypes were relentless: troubled kids, broken families, lost causes.
But Audrey saw something different working as a paraeducator in the special education program at Arvada K-8.
"Many of our students, the ones often written off as ‘at-risk,’ were the first to help our special needs kids. They just loved on them."
By showing up with such dedication, these students did more than just help their peers; they shattered the "difficult kid" narrative entirely.
When she transitioned to her current role three years ago, the job description allocated only 2 % -4% of her time to community partnerships and other school duties. The rest was supposed to focus on traditional family engagement like getting parents to school events, reading programs, and attendance initiatives.
She quickly realized that the framework was built for a different reality that didn't exist in a school with high needs.
"Before you can tell a parent that their kid is missing school or can’t read a book, you have to meet some of the most basic needs, food, clothing and hygiene."
This isn't revolutionary thinking; it's Maslow's hierarchy in action, but it's remarkable how often educational systems often forget this fundamental truth.
When Community Partnership Becomes a Lifeline
The difference between a Title I school's community partnerships and those at more affluent schools became crystal clear when Audrey met with a liaison from a neighboring school. Both were being encouraged to strengthen community connections, but their requests couldn't have been more different.
While the other school requested sports cameras for expanded programming opportunities, Audrey's list looked drastically different, food boxes to send home for students and families, transportation for homecoming, and even the shoes and athletic wear her students needed just to participate in sports.
“These aren't just requests; they are the bridge between a student being left out and a student being included. One school asks for enrichment; we ask for access.”
This disparity illustrates a critical point about educational equity that often gets lost in policy discussions. "Everybody says we are equal, but it's not equitable for everybody," she notes. Equal means that every school receives identical resources. Equitable means every student gets what they actually need to succeed. The gap between those two concepts can feel like a canyon.
The comparison extends beyond material resources. "Our community partners are our lifeline," she emphasizes. For schools serving wealthier populations, community support might enhance existing programs. For Arvada High, those partnerships determine whether students/families have access to basic needs.
Five Truths About Engagement in Under-Resourced Schools
Audrey's approach to her role offers lessons that extend far beyond one high school in Colorado:
1. Meet People Where They Are, Not Where You Think They Should Be
"If we expect someone to instinctively know how to parent without ever being taught, how can they succeed? We must challenge the misconception that parents who miss school events are disengaged; in reality, they are often balancing multiple jobs or essential household responsibilities to support their children.”
2. Your Story Is Your Superpower
Her openness about her past, domestic violence, bankruptcy, repossession, and single motherhood, gives her credibility that no degree could provide.
“I’m currently facing the reality of owing 13k on an Altima with a blown transmission while driving a 2006 Sienna (Old Bertha). I share these lived experiences because transparency is vital. Being open about my own current situation, I show students and families the realness of life’s journey and let them know they aren’t walking it alone.”
3. Build Relationships Before You Need Them
She spent her first-year building community partnerships with Faith Based Leaders, Arvada Rotary, City Council, Jefferson County Public Library, Excalibur Outreach, Lantern Home Group and other local stakeholders, she also attended numerous community gatherings to deepen these connections.
4. Connect Students to Service Early
She encourages and connects students to opportunities to serve their community. She is currently architecting a partnership program that pairs at-risk youth with students with disabilities. This initiative fosters authentic empathy and social-emotional growth through collaborative, hands-on service.
5. Break the Silence Around Real Struggles
Right now, she is navigating a personal storm: her husband is incarcerated, and she is adjusting to the sudden reality of a single-income household. She refuses to hide these challenges.
Instead, she uses her journey to model resilience for students and families, showing them that facing hardship is not a sign of weakness, but a part of being human. Vulnerability is the first step in breaking the silence. By trusting others with our stories, we create a space to receive help and develop resourcefulness needed to navigate life’s storms.
The Bridge Builder's Burden
Perhaps the most exhausting aspect of her work isn't the long hours or the emotional weight of family crises. It's being a bridge between worlds that don't want to meet in the middle.
She navigates this tension constantly. Take the school's 125th anniversary celebration, when she gave tours to alumni from the class of 1974, devoted fans of the old Redskins mascot, now changed to Bulldogs.
"I don’t think there’s any malice or racism there; it’s more about a gap in cultural awareness."
To her, it isn't about excusing the past, but about recognizing that our elders grew up in a fundamentally different world. Helping them navigate today's landscape requires patience over judgment. She adds "It’s about cultural bridge-building. We have to have grace with our elders."
The tension isn't just generational. Audrey describes the community divide as "Old Arvada" versus "New Arvada", legacy residents versus progressive newcomers. “Change often sparks resistance, but a new generation of leaders is driving both engagement and innovation.”
Her role requires constant translation and mediation. When legacy Arvadans see her name and her face, they make assumptions.
"I don't look like what the other ‘legacy Arvadans’ look like. But then when I share where I went to school, I have some buy-in to why I want to make this city better, because I love this city."
This Spring and continuing next school year she is coordinating with the City of Arvada and the organization Longer Tables to build similar bridges between students from Arvada High and those from wealthier neighboring schools. The concept is simple: bring young people together across socioeconomic lines for genuine conversation. The execution is complex: dismantling years of stereotypes and assumptions on all sides.
The goal is to build a better, bright future for the Arvada Community.
The Faith Factor
Throughout our conversation, she returned repeatedly to her faith as the foundation, keeping her grounded when everything else is shifting.
"I know God has put the right people in my path so I could connect with them. When you have that level of energy and that positivity, people are drawn to you, and at the end of the day, people just want to help."
This isn't prosperity gospel thinking, the belief that faith equals material blessing. Her faith coexists with bankruptcy, domestic violence, incarceration, and a broken-down car. Instead, it's a deep conviction that she's being positioned for purpose, even when, especially when, circumstances are difficult.
What strikes me most about Audrey's faith integration is how it informs her approach without requiring others to share her beliefs. She's not proselytizing in her public-school role, but she's also not hiding the source of her resilience. When a representative from Mission Barbecue stopped by and they ended up praying together, it was a genuine connection between two people who recognized shared values.
"When a genuine person meets a genuine person, there's that connection. When you know it's that divine intervention, you know. It's crazy how it feels. It gives you goosebumps."
Generational Curses and Circular Time
There's something profound about working at the school where you barely graduated, serving families facing the same challenges that once defined your own life. Audrey calls herself a "generational curse breaker," and she means it literally, breaking patterns of addiction, domestic violence, financial instability, and limited education that have marked both her family and her husband's.
“Statistically, I should not be standing here. If I believed the labels people tried to put on me, I’d never have stepped into this role.”
This is why she pushes back against data-driven approaches that reduce humans to rows on a spreadsheet. "Statistics are just numbers. They don't tell the whole story, and they certainly don't represent everyone.”
Her daughter, now in sixth grade, is growing up watching her mother model what resilience looks like in real time. Audrey doesn't shield her from hard truths about vaping, sex, drugs, or the realities of addiction that run in both sides of their family.
"We have to be the ones having these conversations. Because if we aren’t talking to her about it, the kids around her definitely are."
The approach extends to discussing her husband's incarceration. Trust requires transparency, and while the truths can be hard to face, they are the foundation of their communication. Audrey’s philosophy is simple,
“I want my daughter to come to me, even in fear. Mistakes are inevitable, but if I can’t build trust at home, I’ll never be able to impact the world outside of it.”
The Urgent Work Ahead
Audrey's position is federally funded through Title I. She doesn't know if it will exist next year. This uncertainty haunts those who work in similar roles. People who've built relationships, established trust, created systems that actually function, all potentially eliminated by budget cuts or policy shifts.
But even facing that reality, she keeps showing up.
"This is such an urgent need that they need to see positive people talking. They need to see that you are going to have struggles."
She sees the urgency everywhere, in students who can't read body language because they've grown up on screens, in young people who don't know their city council member's name, in kids who've never had a conversation with someone from a different socioeconomic background.
"Today’s kids are struggling to find their footing, unsure of the battles worth fighting, the rights they deserve, or the people they are meant to become.”
The challenge extends beyond individual students to systemic issues. "Financial literacy is a critical skill for our children. While Denver Schools now requires it for graduation, we must ensure every student masters these tools; without them, the path to success remains unnecessarily difficult.”
What We Can Learn
Audrey Smallcanyon's work at Arvada High School offers a masterclass in authentic community engagement. She's proof that the most effective advocates often come from the communities they serve, bringing lived experience that no amount of training can replicate.
Her approach challenges comfortable assumptions about what family engagement should look like, insisting instead that we start with basic humanity—food, clothing, safety—before we talk about homework completion or parent-teacher conferences.
The work is exhausting. The funding is uncertain. The challenges are systemic and overwhelming. Yet Audrey chooses to show up anyway, day after day, because she knows what difference one person can make. "When kids come and thank me for something, that just lights that fire that keeps me going."
She's also remarkably honest about the toll this work takes.
"When you’re deep in this work, it can be overwhelming. You have to remind yourself that you can’t do everything. You have to stop focusing on the impossible and start asking, “What is possible?”
The answer isn't for one person to do everything. It's for more people to step into service in their own communities.
"We need to be there to show our youth the way. Because if we are not stepping up and believing in our community, it's never going to get better."
Most importantly, she models what it looks like to stay in the fight even when the system seems rigged, the funding uncertain, and the challenges overwhelming. "I choose to be happy. I choose to see the positive. I choose to see every challenge as an opportunity or another important lesson."
That choice, to transform pain into purpose, obstacles into opportunity, and struggle into service, might be the most radical act of all. Especially right now when division seems easier than connection and cynicism more comfortable than hope.
Audrey Smallcanyon is betting everything that communities can come together, that young people will step up when given the chance, and that authentic relationships can bridge any divide.
Based on what she's already accomplished, that's not idealism. It's experience.