A somewhat heavier post about working in the foster care system...
Whenever my job comes up in conversation someone inevitably responds with: "that must be tough." The phrase doesn't usually sit well with me. Sure, there have been some really rough days here and there, but in my four and a half years of working in the child welfare system I have never really felt that it has taken a great toll on me emotionally. I get to see a lot of things. It is really beautiful to see people sacrificing of themselves to care for other people's children. I get to see people giving back. I get to attend adoption hearings. The abuse and neglect? Well it is what it is. Sometimes I hear the details of it, but I never really dwelt on any of that stuff. There are so many other things for me to think about, things necessary in order to do to accomplish my job responsibilities. I keep moving. I think most of us keep moving. It is an action-oriented, solution-focused kind of job. "The job", meaning the position I held up until two months ago. I've recently transitioned into a different role within the agency known as the Placement Coordinator. Things are looking, well, pretty different from this new vantage point. Pretty really different. I've been thinking a lot lately about the novel, The Giver. Many of us public school system prodigies read the book circa sixth grade. Such a good, quick read. The Giver is about a futuristic dystopia (much like books A Brave New World and 1984) in which everything in society has been completely regimented and organized to the extreme. Everyone is assigned their careers for the rest of their lives at the age of 12. Assignments are distributed at an annual ceremony in which the entire community is present. It's a pretty big deal. Unbeknownst by the community, the most honorable position of the Giver is assigned this particular year to a boy who happens to be the main character of our story. (How convenient for us.) Whatever this boy's name is I can't remember. There is one and only one Giver, and so this position is assigned only every ohhh fifty years or so. The Giver's sole responsibility is to be the keeper of the community's memories. All things pleasurable, and all things painful. The keeper of truths. Oh imagine the sensation of sledding to one who has never known snow or the adrenaline of racing downhill! Yet the Giver must also hold the weight of war, famine, burning a finger on a stovetop. So in this new position of mine, Placement Coordinator (not Giver), I get to focus solely on matching kids with safe, loving foster families. It's really fun when it works out, especially when it's a difficult placement. But I'm also finding that it is often times rather frustrating and discouraging. A lot of profiles come through for kids, and I just don't have any homes available for those kids. And it's not the kids you'd expect to be difficult to place either. Teens are definitely the most challenging to find homes for. Also, large sibling groups of three or four or five children, those are challenging too. But sometimes - more times than I'd thought - I get requests in for a 4 year old little boy or an 8 month old little girl, and there's nothing I can do. Could we really have no open beds for a 4 year old little boy or an 8 month old little girl? That can wear on you after a while. But let me tell you what is tougher still. I'm having to face the details of the abuse and the neglect. The stories that bring these kids into the foster care system. I'm reading about the specifics day in and day out. I'm often surprised. Often in disbelief. Malnourished to the point that her hair is falling out? But she's just 2 years old. Fractured skull, fractured ribs, an infant. A 15 year old female who has never been to school before... The neighbors didn't know there were children living in the home, let alone 9 children living in the home. A couple weeks ago I reviewed a 50 page packet for a therapeutic foster child. It contained the worst of the worst. It's just, it's horrific you guys. I wanted to leave work and go home and cry for this kid. Cry because it is so unfair. My life is so disgustingly simple, so good...and yet this young girl will probably be fighting demons the rest of her days. How can she ever have a normal life after what she has experienced? Nobody can relate to what she has been through. And so I've been thinking about The Giver...thinking about how my eyes are being opened to some things that the world around me doesn't have any idea about. If they only knew... But then I had a conversation with my brother, Gage, the other night. I mentioned some of these struggles to him, and quickly realized that I don't know anything. If anyone is the Giver, it's probably Gage. As a police officer, Gage has been called out multiple times to physically remove children from their families because of abuse and neglect - even fearing for his own safety in doing so. I'm reading about this stuff, but he's seeing it. He's intervening in the situation. Good grief, now those experiences have really got to change and shape you. Change how you think about our world and your life. Anyway, I've got to wrap this up and get my hiney to bed. I wish I had a nice way of resolving this blog or at least some kind of clever segway, but I got nothin'. These are just my recent thoughts. My depressing and possibly somewhat disruptive thoughts for all the world to read. Go get yourself licensed for foster care. Goodnight world.
Whenever my job comes up in conversation someone inevitably responds with: "that must be tough." The phrase doesn't usually sit well with me. Sure, there have been some really rough days here and there, but in my four and a half years of working in the child welfare system I have never really felt that it has taken a great toll on me emotionally. I get to see a lot of things. It is really beautiful to see people sacrificing of themselves to care for other people's children. I get to see people giving back. I get to attend adoption hearings. The abuse and neglect? Well it is what it is. Sometimes I hear the details of it, but I never really dwelt on any of that stuff. There are so many other things for me to think about, things necessary in order to do to accomplish my job responsibilities. I keep moving. I think most of us keep moving. It is an action-oriented, solution-focused kind of job. "The job", meaning the position I held up until two months ago. I've recently transitioned into a different role within the agency known as the Placement Coordinator. Things are looking, well, pretty different from this new vantage point. Pretty really different. I've been thinking a lot lately about the novel, The Giver. Many of us public school system prodigies read the book circa sixth grade. Such a good, quick read. The Giver is about a futuristic dystopia (much like books A Brave New World and 1984) in which everything in society has been completely regimented and organized to the extreme. Everyone is assigned their careers for the rest of their lives at the age of 12. Assignments are distributed at an annual ceremony in which the entire community is present. It's a pretty big deal. Unbeknownst by the community, the most honorable position of the Giver is assigned this particular year to a boy who happens to be the main character of our story. (How convenient for us.) Whatever this boy's name is I can't remember. There is one and only one Giver, and so this position is assigned only every ohhh fifty years or so. The Giver's sole responsibility is to be the keeper of the community's memories. All things pleasurable, and all things painful. The keeper of truths. Oh imagine the sensation of sledding to one who has never known snow or the adrenaline of racing downhill! Yet the Giver must also hold the weight of war, famine, burning a finger on a stovetop. So in this new position of mine, Placement Coordinator (not Giver), I get to focus solely on matching kids with safe, loving foster families. It's really fun when it works out, especially when it's a difficult placement. But I'm also finding that it is often times rather frustrating and discouraging. A lot of profiles come through for kids, and I just don't have any homes available for those kids. And it's not the kids you'd expect to be difficult to place either. Teens are definitely the most challenging to find homes for. Also, large sibling groups of three or four or five children, those are challenging too. But sometimes - more times than I'd thought - I get requests in for a 4 year old little boy or an 8 month old little girl, and there's nothing I can do. Could we really have no open beds for a 4 year old little boy or an 8 month old little girl? That can wear on you after a while. But let me tell you what is tougher still. I'm having to face the details of the abuse and the neglect. The stories that bring these kids into the foster care system. I'm reading about the specifics day in and day out. I'm often surprised. Often in disbelief. Malnourished to the point that her hair is falling out? But she's just 2 years old. Fractured skull, fractured ribs, an infant. A 15 year old female who has never been to school before... The neighbors didn't know there were children living in the home, let alone 9 children living in the home. A couple weeks ago I reviewed a 50 page packet for a therapeutic foster child. It contained the worst of the worst. It's just, it's horrific you guys. I wanted to leave work and go home and cry for this kid. Cry because it is so unfair. My life is so disgustingly simple, so good...and yet this young girl will probably be fighting demons the rest of her days. How can she ever have a normal life after what she has experienced? Nobody can relate to what she has been through. And so I've been thinking about The Giver...thinking about how my eyes are being opened to some things that the world around me doesn't have any idea about. If they only knew... But then I had a conversation with my brother, Gage, the other night. I mentioned some of these struggles to him, and quickly realized that I don't know anything. If anyone is the Giver, it's probably Gage. As a police officer, Gage has been called out multiple times to physically remove children from their families because of abuse and neglect - even fearing for his own safety in doing so. I'm reading about this stuff, but he's seeing it. He's intervening in the situation. Good grief, now those experiences have really got to change and shape you. Change how you think about our world and your life. Anyway, I've got to wrap this up and get my hiney to bed. I wish I had a nice way of resolving this blog or at least some kind of clever segway, but I got nothin'. These are just my recent thoughts. My depressing and possibly somewhat disruptive thoughts for all the world to read. Go get yourself licensed for foster care. Goodnight world.
I Love this blog and miss hearing your thoughts! A lot has happened these last few years! ❤️ How about an update?
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