Two bills calling for harsh treatment of juvenile offenders, including incarceration with adults, are now being considered by the US Congress. They represent a complete abdication of responsibility, according to PNS commentator Amy Clay, who draws on her own life experience to show what's wrong with this approach. Clay is a student at George Washington University in Washington, D.C. and an intern with the Child Welfare League of America.

Whenever I come home on a break from college, I drive past the old lot where we spent summer days playing baseball and kickball. We would start as soon as our parents left for work in the morning and play till long after street lights appeared.

We were the "poor kids." The other kids' parents would say what a shame it was that no one watched after us, and then cloak their own children's ears and turn away as many of us spewed profanity.

I will never forget that, even in the worst circumstances, kids are still kids. We knew about things we probably should not have, we did things we definitely should not have, but we thought just like all children. We got excited and caught up in baseball games and tag. Our eyes still sparkled with pride when we did something well, like hit a home run.

We had hope and optimism. We were going to save the world -- we were going to be pro ballplayers, presidents. My baby brother was going to be an architect and his best friend Charlie, a doctor.

Then we grew up. With no guidance or support, we found ourselves in trouble. Charlie got in way over his head. He latched on to the lifestyle his brother encouraged. At 13, Charlie experimented with alcohol and drugs. At 14, he started getting in trouble with the law for curfew violations and petty theft. At 15, Charlie stole a car and went into juvenile detention. At 16, he broke into somebody's house, and they sent him to adult jail. Charlie had gone too far.

Many people believe think raising a child is someone else's business. The U.S. Congress takes exactly this position with House Bill HR 1501 and Senate Bill S.254. They close their eyes and ears to the needs of delinquent children, who are not so different from their own children. The bills call for tougher punishments and sending the children to adult prisons, instead of intensive rehabilitation.

Adult prisons are atrocious places for children. Young people in these facilities are five times more likely to be sexually assaulted, twice as likely to be assaulted by staff, and fifty percent more likely to be attacked with a weapon than those in juvenile facilities. This may explain why they are also eight times more likely to commit suicide in adult jails.

I think of Charlie in a place like that. He turns 18 two weeks after my twentieth birthday and I am far from being an adult. Charlie was thrust into the adult world by a judge who thought tougher measures would speed results. That is like turning up the oven to brown cookies faster. You are just going to burn them.

These children need the structure and stability many of them never received while growing up. I found those things in the public schools. While my homes and families changed frequently, I could always look forward to school from 8:30-3:30, five days a week. I could always expect the teacher to be there.

I succeeded in school because I needed to -- because it was the only part of my life that I could depend on to stay constant. Charlie never found that anywhere. He looked for stability in the only places he knew, among his friends, and found it in that juvenile detention center. They could have spent less time punishing Charlie and more time helping him find structure outside the center, because when he left the detention center, he was without structure once more.

Charlie's home life was bad and often he would retreat to our place, which wasn't much better. He became like a little brother to me. I cooked for him, helped him with his homework and took care of him when he was sick. Charlie wanted someone to tell him it was okay when he cried. I tried to do that.

He liked it when I tried to keep him and my little brother out of trouble. Sometimes, when I was too tired to argue with them, Charlie would ask why I didn't yell at them.

But I too, got in over my head. I went into foster care to save myself from the abuse my father directed only at me, hoping he would not retaliate on my brother. So that I could grow up, I left Charlie and my little brother to fend for themselves.

My dad did not retaliate. I kept regular contact with my brother. He lived marginally but Charlie fell quickly over the edge. He found himself, at 16, in county jail, not a juvenile detention center.

He served four months. Four months was more than enough.

I ran into Charlie this summer. We talked briefly and he tried to play it cool, but something was missing. A sadness and hopelessness has set over Charlie. His eyes have lost the sparkle I remember when he would hit one out of the park. The tears have dried up, too. Charlie probably won't cry for help anymore.

Finally, there are no more dreams of being a doctor. Charlie's eyes looked blank as he told me about his job at the neighborhood gas station. Maybe, he said, he would get his GED. Maybe!

The juvenile justice bill is in a conference committee. Congress will consider clauses that would put more youth in adult prison, try more youth as adults, open juvenile records to the public. Urge your representative and senators to oppose these harsh provisions, and encourage them to support prevention efforts. You can reach your Senators and Representative by calling the Capitol switchboard at (202) 224-3121.