For all their talk about "empowerment," backers of welfare reform have ignored the most basic concerns of mothers of young children -- people who are at the very heart of their attempts to "change the culture of welfare." An account of one woman's experience in one of country's richest counties suggests that welfare dollars will continue to go to the comfortable and well-fed. Margaret Engel is director of the Alicia Patterson Journalism Foundation in Washington, DC and a former reporter and editor at the Washington Post.

"Employment" is the new magic word for welfare bureaucrats these days -- as in "we have to motivate them on the beauty of employment." There is little question about who "they" are. "Women watching television every day," as one welfare reformer put it.

My blood pressure rose as I heard these remarks in a round table discussion of welfare reform -- a discussion involving affluent, middle-aged men who probably don't even make their own beds.

Eager to cloak themselves in new garb as job counselors, these welfare experts like to talk about "changing the culture of welfare" and "empowering" women to get jobs. But for individual welfare recipients in Maryland's Montgomery county, one of the richest in the country, there is little realistic possibility of any such change -- and a strong possibility that welfare funds will go into the pockets of the comfortable and well-fed.

Welfare recipients here are told that there is no money for training, education -- but they must find a job regardless.

A friend of mine has lived and worked and raised a family and paid taxes here for 13 years. Soon after her third daughter was born, though, her husband left her. After a brief stay at a homeless shelter, she signed up for Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC). She receives $600 a month, which is $5 less than the rent on her tiny apartment. The family is able to eat because of food stamps, and the $50 she earns each month for taking care of the child of another impoverished mom. On weekends, she volunteers in her church's homeless feeding program.

Before welfare reform, she also received $50 a month in child support from her husband -- the court set the payment low so she would still remain eligible for assistance. Now, the $50 goes to the state of Maryland -- this is considered an incentive, as once she gets a job the $50 a month will go to her, though not retroactively.

This week she's been required to attend four days of "Project Independence" classes -- the county's only training. Here, she reports, she fills out forms, and listens to "instructors" who tell her to look at a computer screen where she will see how to use the computer -- and worries about her kids, being watched by a neighbor.

The last thing my friend needs is a county-paid counselor to instruct her on the virtues of work -- let alone how to prepare a personal assets list. What she needs is child care for her children. Her social worker laughed outright when she asked for help getting a child care voucher. There is a long waiting list for subsidized care, and the vouchers don't cover the full amount. Head Start is so full that hundreds of eligible children can't get in.

Meanwhile, former welfare bureaucrats are setting up firms that win big contracts by promising to find jobs for welfare recipients -- jobs that make no sense unless there is affordable child care. Yet the county is making almost no effort to require employers to make more child care available. The reason? The high cost of liability insurance.

Since my friend cannot find employment, she is required to spend five hours each day doing volunteer work, or she will lose all her benefits. But where is she to put her two youngest children, age 2 and 4, for 25 hours a week? She hopes her oldest daughter's school will let her bring them with her when she comes to do volunteer work, though it's against the law for unenrolled children to be there.

Some jurisdictions are getting it right. In Charlotte, North Carolina, the Chamber of Commerce is working with the Department of Social Services and companies have set up in-house day care centers and are sponsoring shuttle buses. Jake Jacobson, the social services director who runs this three-year-old effort, says the county has already met federal guidelines for shrinking its welfare caseload. "We know it's cheaper to set up child care than pay welfare benefits," he explains.

The same common-sense approach shows up in Wisconsin, which has spent money on training, education and child care so that able-bodied adults can leave the welfare rolls.

Here in Maryland, my friend is still looking for work at one of the handful of companies that offer child care. She dreads having to go to classes on attitude adjustment and interviewing skills -- not least because her neighbor is unhappy at providing free care for extra children.

But the bureaucrats will get paid for their work. And she will be back where she started -- only $50 a month poorer, and with the clock ticking toward a cut-off.