Snapping point

SNAPPY is a brilliant and sustained example of parent power. The charity began 15 years ago when a group of parents of pupils at York's special schools got together to discuss setting up holiday activities for their children.

Anne Pemberton, SNAPPY's executive officer, takes up the story. "Because of the geography of York, the children who attended these schools couldn't meet in the school holidays. They lived in different areas and didn't have the ability to scoot near and far.

"The parents got together and came up with the idea of a play scheme."

The scheme was given the name Special Needs Activities and Play Provision York, which could be shortened to the more memorable SNAPPY. It started with 15 children and the support of both Northfield and Lidgett Grove Schools, and "got bigger and bigger and bigger," says Anne.

"Now we have projects in all the school holidays, on Saturdays, and of course we have the youth projects that we are losing."

The threat to those youth projects, which cater for young people from the age of five to 25, has forced Anne to issue a desperate plea for immediate funding on behalf of the young people, their parents, her part-time staff and the 100-plus volunteers that make up the SNAPPY family. Without urgent cash, schemes for 14 to 19-year-olds and 19 to 25-year-olds will collapse.

That will be a bitter blow to the young people who rely on them. The projects give them crucial social support and equip them with skills to make their way in the world with as much independence as possible.

Senior SNAPPY members learn vocational skills on Monday evenings. The junior group learn skills more appropriate to their age, including cycling proficiency and First Aid.

"Some of these kids didn't know the difference between a pound coin and a 50p piece when they come here," Anne says. "We do a money management programme."

Moreover, SNAPPY gives the young people a rare chance to let their hair down. On a Friday night, the older members "go out and do exactly what every other 19 to 25-year-old does," says Anne. "They go to pubs, they go clubbing, to the cinema."

For junior members, going through those awkward late teenage years, the social side of SNAPPY is just as vital.

"The transition period into adulthood is difficult. There is an absolute minefield with relationships and trying to get into the workforce," Anne says.

"Imagine doing all that with a disability. That's not easy. They had just felt very supported, and they have claimed ownership of their own project. It is their project and they know it."

Many young people have made remarkable strides towards independence thanks to the pioneering, inclusive approach of SNAPPY.

"We have had these kids abseiling, canoeing, climbing. We have had them working on computers.

"Four of the senior SNAPPY members have done the British sign language course, a very difficult task, and they actually passed, because they were supported by the staff."

Anne is hopeful that they will progress to interpreting for the deaf at local meetings.

SNAPPY also has an eight-berth static caravan at Reighton Sands where the young people look after themselves for four days at a time.

Eight of the older members have now moved into their own homes. Others have passed their driving tests. These terrific achievements give them more of a chance of a job in the future. "It's something their parents thought they would never do," says Anne.

SNAPPY had plans to take this forward with work placements. But everything has been put on hold by the cash crisis.

The charity supports young people with a range of disabilities, from severe learning difficulties to physical disabilities. At the same time it offers respite to the parents. That gives them their only opportunity to enjoy the occasional meal out or a drink with friends.

Many of SNAPPY's older members have been part of the organisation for 15 years. They are finding it hard to understand why the organisation must now ask for handouts to rescue their projects.

The funding for these two schemes came from two and three-year grants from the Northern Rock Foundation and the National Lottery respectively. That money has now run out and SNAPPY cannot apply for more.

It is especially galling that the Lottery will not help, having given the ailing Millennium Dome another £47 million earlier this month. "One per cent of the money that goes to the Dome would keep SNAPPY going for three years," explains Anne.

Without immediate help the two schemes will collapse - they cost £3,000 a week to keep open. And Anne is worried about the knock-on effect on the organisation.

"Because we have been so busy trying to rescue these special projects the fund raising for core projects has suffered. We are furiously trying to keep up with it."

For the moment the Easter and summer schemes will continue. But Anne admits she is never fully sure whether they can fund the holiday schemes until the last moment.

Meanwhile, earlier diagnosis of disabilities and the extension of the city boundaries have increased demand for SNAPPY's services. In the last two years, its intake has doubled.

SNAPPY receives 20 per cent of its running costs from City of York Council but faces a constant struggle to raise the rest of its £150,000 annual bill. Fund- raising events continue all year round.

SNAPPY gives young people with special needs similar opportunities to their mainstream peers. It should be funded by the state. But it isn't.

Anne, a former special needs teacher who has worked for SNAPPY for five years, has one fear above all others.

"These people are a very small percentage of the York community. Will they be forgotten if we are not here?"

She and her team are not prepared to let that happen without a real fight, however. And she remains stubbornly optimistic that SNAPPY will get the help it so desperately needs.

"York looks after its own. The people of York are very, very good at that."