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Love will never reject others. It is the first to encourage and the last to condemn. |
Tough Stuff
Stories from the Trenches
Sources: Foster Care Goes To The Movies Foster parents often comment on how the media seem to dwell on the negative of foster care and seldom acknowledge the wonderful things that go on daily in the majority of foster homes. Recently, however, my family has enjoyed three movies that give a little more positive slant to foster care. Angels in the Outfield is a fantasy that manages to capture some of the realities of the foster care experience for two little boys. An even more realistic picture of the foster care experience is depicted in Free Willy and its sequel Free Willy II. Acting out behaviors, separation and loss, bonding and attachment, and the need for a family are all obviously portrayed in these films. Each of the three movies mentions is available to purchase or rent at local stores and video rental locations. For a fun-filled family time you might consider watching either or all of these movies. Guilt in Foster
Care An endless variety of situations bring guilt attacks to foster parents. For example:
A sense of guilt causes a continuous battle within a foster parent, but it is not the only guilt in a foster parent’s life. Society seems ready to heap more on an already guilty person. For example:
The truth is, for better services to foster children, the foster parent must deal with guilt openly. Social service personnel and foster parents need to be aware of normal pitfalls of guilt. By silently allowing the topic to be taboo and forbidden, we all lose. Foster parents eventually "burn out," and this has been labeled inappropriately as having used a family too frequently, fatigue, bad experiences, etc. Perhaps, instead, the family was swallowed by guilt. Sue Fowler is former editor of the Tennessee Foster Parent Association Newsletter, "The Fosterer." Reprinted from "Notes," June 1994, published by Minn. Human Service Associates, St. Paul, MN. Preparing
a Child to Leave Your Home, The moment of truth has arrived. The social worker has just told you that your foster child is going to leave. It is important to get your feelings in order before you approach the foster child. Whether you feel joy or grief, you need to talk to the child calmly. If you are feeling very emotional—and many foster parents feel this way—and you need to gnash your teeth, do it in private. Separation is difficult enough for a child without burdening him with your emotions also. Who tells the child he is leaving? You and the social worker need to decide who will tell the child. In some cases the worker and child have a close relationship, which will enable the worker to do it best. In others the foster mother or father will be the best candidate. If you are doing it, share how you are doing it with the worker. He/she will want to be supportive and may have hints to help you help the child. Teamwork makes any job easier! But how do I tell the child? Honesty and kindness are the best rules of thumb. Every situation is different. There is no cut-and-dried rule. Try a calm and simple statement such as, "Today the judge said . . ." and put it in easy to understand language for the child. If it is news he has been anxious to hear, rejoice with the child. If it is news that she will be moved to a new foster home or adoptive family, the child may be afraid of the unknown. She may fear returning to her natural home. Make positive statements. Do not promise happiness forever. Realistically find positive, truthful things to say, such as "Your family has waited a long time for you to come back," or "The social worker says you will like this new home because . . ." What if I don’t like the home the child is moving to? You are not going to help the child by pointing out all the "terrible" things he’ll encounter in this move. If he tells you the things he fears about the move, help him talk about it. Share his fears with the social worker. Don’t promise that "Dad won’t drink anymore" or "Your new mother will never spank"—you can’t be sure. You can be positive in saying "Your father is trying very hard not to drink" or "Your mother is very excited about your coming to live with her" if you know this to be true. Don’t promise pie in the sky. Won’t the child think I don’t love her? Many foster parents have this worry, and of course you should tell the child that you have loved and cared for her. Admit you will miss her (if that is the truth). But keep calm, and leave the sobbing scenes out. How soon before he leaves should I tell the child he’s going? Some moves must be made in four hours or less, if the court so decrees. Other times you have several weeks or months. Time helps you to air fears and worries, if you have time. You must determine how the child might react. Talk it over with your social worker. I’m worried about how the family will take the child’s move. Talk it over with your worker. He or she may be able to share how other homes have handled this issue. Talking helps everybody concerned, and your family has certainly been involved and concerned—after all, they lived with the foster child too! Do realize the other children in the family may have a grieving period, which will help them accept the fact that the foster child is leaving your home. How do I pack for the child? Children are accumulators. Whether she’s been with you two weeks or two years, there are items that have become "hers." To send a child off with half a paper bag of ill-fitting clothes is stripping her of dignity and worth. Take a tour of the house with the child. Tell her you need her help finding what is hers. When she points to the television or someone else’s toy, you can calmly say "No, that belongs to the family," or "That’s Sarah’s. It stays here." There should be items that have been just hers, and these items should go with her. A child three or older can make the tour. It helps make the move definite for the child and you. Do send a picture album if you have made one. If the child has been with you any length of time, you should have compiled snapshots and mementos. Do send bits of his past (e.g., cute things she has said or done). A record of her health and shots or a schedule may help the family. An older child may resent being packed off with a cardboard box or paper bag. If so, ask the worker if something can be arranged for a suitcase. Some departments and agencies have "loaners" to use for moves. What about sending a baby? A very small infant has become used to the smells of your linens. Send a blanket or two, a crib sheet, and a comfortable pair of pajamas or outfits he’s used to wearing. An older baby has begun to favor certain toys. Send his favorites. It is most important to send the schedule of a baby. List any "firsts" for the adult receiving the child (first tooth, first time the baby sat up, rolled over, etc.). Explain how the baby likes to be held or fed. Anything you know that will help the child adjust quicker to a new home should shared with the new family. I can handle all but the moment the child goes out the door. You’ve been a brick so far, don’t blow it the last five minutes! Try to send the child off with pleasant memories. When the front door closes, feel free to cry or do a jig—whichever applies to your feelings! Then tell yourself you did the best you knew how. You cared for the child when she needed a parent. She has a brighter future because of you. And now that you’ve had a child leave, you’re a full-fledged foster parent! From "Preparing a Child to Leave Your Home," a pamphlet published by the Tennessee Foster Parents Association. Reprinted from "Stearns County Foster Parent News," July 1990. Ninety-six percent of parents agree that they have been stronger than they thought they could be in dealing with their child’s illness or situation, but more than 60 percent have found it somewhat to extremely difficult to maintain their own health and household. And nearly 70 percent have found it somewhat to extremely difficult to spend enough time with their other children while dealing with their child’s illness or injury. Ninety percent of parents agree that their child would like to be treated like any other child. What friends could do to brighten the child’s day?
What Friends and Family Can Do?
Til' You Love Me There they came, bounding up the steps, three new children into our home. All three looking for the parents they should have had, but circumstances born them into a different world. A world no child should ever had been born into. Jess, third grade, Heather, kindergarten, and Corey, well he was in Early Intervention, but a far cry from being a child of his age at 5 years. Open arms running to me, calling out to me. MOM! WHO ARE THESE CHILDREN? Whoa! This is interesting. I don’t know them, but they sure seem to know me. They know me as mom only in their dreams. I’m the one who will show them something different in life. Myself and my husband DAD. That was four and a half years ago. We struggled through the turmoil they brought with them. The insanity that followed. We fought for them not to return home, because their parents remained in denial about any wrongdoing. The system remained their light and their darkness, but in the end the sun shone on them. I believe the hand of God prevailed. A death occurred in our family two weeks ago, at least it feels like a death. Saying goodbye is hard to do. We said goodbye to these three special children as they went to live with their new adoptive family. It leaves a hole in our lives. Gone are the days of hectic mornings getting ready for school, the mad dash out of the house for the bus, trivial interruptions for attention. There is an emptiness in the house, a quiet calm that has taken over the fighting, meals are smaller to prepare and gone are the storied of the days activities. It amazes me hour four and a half years can seem so long when you have to fight for what is right, and then one day it seems like only a short time was spent. To Corey we are the only parents he has every known, even though there were weekly visits. Corey was our “Pinnochio” after a month or so he came alive, but it took years for him to thrive. The damage done to him prenatally and after brought about learning difficulties. Nothing seems to have affected his lungs though, his booming voice echoes in my memories and remembering his gibberishness makes me smile. Heather is a surviver, she seems to know what she expects out of life. The attention she received early in life was in ways a little girl should never know. And she carries with her a zest for life, but also a fear for what life may bring. Jesse knew how to fend for himself, having been found sleeping on neighbors porches, finding his own food and watching out for his brother and sister. He is a natural mechanic, tearing things apart and putting them back together. I’ve often wondered if there is a connection to his skills and how he’s had to live his life. Through foster parenting we touch lives and lives touch ours. We give more of ourselves than even we realize. Sometimes we feel as though we are beating our heads against a brick wall. But in time the differences we try to make come alive. We take our chances and the power of caring pays off. In the end our hearts are broken, yet strong enough to do it one more time. Knowing that good things come to those who wait. Waiting for the next child to love. Kathryn and Dennis Hass are foster parent in Frazee, Minnesota.
Children With
Disabilities in Foster Care PACER Center has developed a new Special Education Record Keeping Folder. Minnesota foster parents are encouraged to call PACER to order a free folder for a child with special needs. If this folder is kept current, the person having the parent role for this child will be much better prepared to plan and advocate effectively. Are you providing foster care for one or more children with disabilities? It is estimated that from 30% to 40% of U.S. children who are in foster care have disabilities and are in special education (Education Issue Brief, Casey Family Foundation, 2002). More children may be eligible but not receiving services. Like many parents, foster parents usually have little knowledge about the educational needs and rights of children with disabilities and the public school special education system. Parents often “don’t know what they don’t know” about signing IEPs, evaluation, transition, and other topics. PACER Center provides resources and training to help Minnesota parents, including foster parents. Free services include individual phone consultation, written materials, and workshops. Special education provides a free, appropriate public education (FAPE) for children with disabilities. In Minnesota, this includes children from age of diagnosis to up to 22 years of age. The federal law mandating special education is called the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). Minnesota also has Special Education Rules that further define the process. One of the fundamental rights of children with disabilities in the special education system is to have a parent to represent them. The natural or adoptive parents of some children in foster care maintain rights to educational decision making. For other foster children, the parents may be unavailable or at an unknown location, or parental rights may have been terminated. These children have the right to be represented by a parent too. There are two situations in which a foster parent may represent a child in the special education process. First, the foster parent may BE the parent if the natural parents’ authority to make educational decisions on the child’s behalf have been extinguished under state law; the foster parent has an ongoing, long-term parental relationship with the child; the foster parent is willing to make the educational decisions required of parents under the IDEA; and the foster parent has no interest that would conflict with the interests of the child (2004 MN State Rule 3525.0210 Subp.34, E). If this is the case, the foster parent IS the parent and need not be appointed as a surrogate parent by the school district. Second, if the above criterion is not met for a foster child who is in need of a “parent”, the school district will need to appoint a surrogate parent. The district may appoint the foster parent as the surrogate parent, but they are not mandated to do so. The role or job of the parent in special education is to represent the child whenever there is identification, evaluation, placement, or consideration of FAPE. If the child is not currently in special education but the parent thinks she or he might be eligible, the parent can request that the school district do an evaluation for special education. If the child already has an Individualized Education Program (IEP), then the parent is an IEP team member and signs “yes” or “no” to the IEP. No one other than the parent may sign agreement or disagreement to an IEP, including a county social worker. One of the most difficult areas for foster children in special education is educational records. Sometimes these records do not follow the child when he or she moves to a new foster home. PACER Center has developed a new Special Education Record Keeping Folder. Minnesota foster parents are encouraged to call PACER to order a free folder for a child with special needs. If this folder is kept current, the person having the parent role for this child will be much better prepared to plan and advocate effectively. Other resources that foster parents may find helpful are available from PACER Center. They include Training Manual for Surrogate Parents ($15) and A Guide for Minnesota Parents to the Individualized Education Program (IEP) (free for parents). Contact PACER Center at 952-838-9000, 952-838-0190 TTY, 800-537-2237 toll-free, or pacer@pacer.org. Questions on surrogate parenting can be directed to Carolyn Anderson, PACER Parent Advocate, at any of the above numbers.
United We Stand . . . Divided We Fall Almost twenty five years ago Karl and I met in a parking lot over a discussion of fishing. Much water has passed under the bridge we began building that day. Storms have raised their ugly heads and we have cleaned up debris and damage. But the bridge we chose to build has remained strong and firm holding onto the individual banks of each of our personalities, ideals and opinions and joining them together over rough and tumultous waters. Our well trodden bridge has spanned years of adventures and experiences. Together we have invited others to join us on our bridge. This now old bridge has provided safety for young people as they crossed over into their own lives, as they determined who they would become. It was these children, the children birthed to others who refined our connections in making our bridge ever stronger and wiser. These children graciously and diligently tested our patience and wore smooth our rough edges. Karl and I are dreamers of possibilities. With stars in our eyes we took in foster children. With a sparkle in our heart we adopted a dying baby. With smiles we have greeted exchange students. We believed we could make a difference in the lives of children. And, it is true, we have. DREAMS MAY DIE TO NEW POSSIBILITIES We discovered that our dreams often did not become realities in the way we planned. We could not repair the neurological and physical damage of prenatal alcohol exposure to our precious adopted daughter. We could however learn everything possible about Fetal Alcohol, help her become the best person she can be and advocate for society’s awareness. We have set a standard for our parenting that recognizes our humanity. On her “off” days it is enough to be together, to be a family and love each other. On parenting “off” days it is enough that I just am, that our family supports my humanness and gives me my time alone off the bridge, on my side of the bank. KEEPING THE BRIDGE OPEN DURING A STORM Only twice in our relationship have we “chosen” to lock horns on individual issues – each time over a matter of life and death. Once we were both wrong – the truth lay between us – on the bridge. It didn’t take long for us to realize that two very independent people were going to have two very different opinions. We agreed to disagree. We also agreed that each of us had the right to safe and healthy anger and we would take turns being angry instead of defensive or offensive toward one another. BRIDGES NEED TO BE BUILT TO CROSS Choosing to take turns in being angry has paved our bridge with the strength of deep understanding of each other. It has forced us to walk in the other’s shoes. It has meant that we have had to take turns to temporarily lay our own lives down (our personal agendas and opinions) for the advancement, safety and health of each other or our family team. It means that we show in our actions and words regard for each others emotions, experiences, time and ideas. FOCUS ON THE TEAM Reaching out past our own individuality and embracing the differences of each other, allows us the freedom to also embrace the differences of many. It allows for the expanse of our bridge to be solid enough to hold the diversity of little feet in all their complexity. It permits time to season it’s rails as they strive to protect youth from the dangers of the world when nature and life happens. LIFE HAPPENS Standing hand-in-hand in the center of our bridge, at the center of our lives, we understand that life happens. We have held newborn babies, death of dear ones, and friends who have suffered great losses. We have rejoiced in moments of joy. We have felt the agony of dreams shattered. And yet, we have been given a new day. A different day. We have learned to accept that difference and the challenges it offers. We have learned to live and love and include other partners in those moments. PARTNERS FOR THE MOMENT My dear friend lost her husband to cancer. At the time of his death they had ten children, grown under their love and care – born under other mother’s hearts. His death was a great loss. The bridge they had so strongly built did not crumble. Not one child fell. Partners for the moment joined forces to help. Friends offered respite services, retired foster care providers became a surrogate parenting team, social workers bought groceries, the church brought hot meals. A community rallied upon the bridge they had so strongly built – there was room for everyone. Each partner taking a small piece of the burden of the moment. The bridge wasn’t going to go down, just because of a little old storm. We all learned to laugh together in darkness and of course cry. EYES THAT SPARKLE, EYES THAT CRY My husband’s eyes shine as beacons of encouragement and hope even without words. In times of trouble and difficulty we become one unit without words, our thoughts and messages reaching out beyond the situations. Our actions speaking louder than our words. We understand in our hearts the meaning of – united we stand, divided we fall. Jodee and Karl Kulp are the adoptive parents of Liz Kulp who recently released “The Best I Can Be - Living With Fetal Alcohol,” co-authored with her mother. e-mail: jodee@connetworks.com Helping Kids Blossom I am a resident of La-La land. For thirteen years or so (who counts when you're having so much fun?), I have been a foster parent. I've been called noble, dedicated, wonderful, on and on. I've been called what is more accurate—crazy. Usually articles on foster care are serious. Well, there is a lot of humor in foster parenting, and maybe more people would be receptive if they knew that it was not all nobility. There was a little girl who was precocious. We lovingly outfitted her and sent her off to second grade. We thought all was well until I got a note to come in for a school conference. Seems our little darling was writing sexually explicit notes to her classmates. Of course, we explained she was in treatment, etc., and all the teacher kept saying was, "Couldn't you watch your language around her?" Somewhere there is a teacher who thinks this pre-Vatican II girl was capable of saying what was in those notes. My husband laughed all the way home. There are placements I have turned down. How about, "This is an emergency placement. It will only be a few days." We have adopted several of those short-term placements . . . After four years, why not? I've never met a social worker with a good concept of time, they always start with, "It's just for the night." The problem with taking foster children is that they're like potato chips; you can't stop with one. How else could you have a career that is so underpaid, unrecognized, with lousy benefits—yet gives so much satisfaction? I had the privilege of watching grubby little monsters grow up into lovely young people. Of course, along the way, I’ve grown gray in their service. The social workers have gotten younger since I started; there is a big turnover. Next to the foster parents, they are the lowest paid in the social services field, and they have the second hardest job. They have to convince you to take these kids on a temporary basis and love them on a permanent basis. Most of the kids are in care because of problems, so this isn't your average soft sell. They use a great approach in the hard cases: "I can't find her/his folder; I 'm sure there are no major problems." The fact that the average kid is always placed last thing in the day minus clothes and toothbrush on a day when every store in town is closed is a big incentive to become a foster parent—it teaches you resourcefulness. I've been given kids and had to find beds. The first rule of foster care is that there are more kids than beds at any given time. The second rule is they hate whatever you serve for dinner the first night. At the holidays, my floors are always done colored sugar and crushed jimmies; and the house smells of wet mittens. But what really warms my heart are the presents they make for me or buy at those school bazaars. I have wooden spoons painted in myriad colors, two 7-feet key chains, scarves from 6 inches length in glow-in-the-dark tones, and that timeless treasure— plastic casts. I've been given perfume that won't admit its country of origin and jewelry that would make Madonna self-conscious. And—I've had to wear it. What really makes it worthwhile, though is watching a streetwise teenage girl go off to college and graduate. Or seeing the battered child blossom into a skateboarding little urchin who is feisty and outgoing. Try watching a sexually abused child who was afraid of males play in the pool with her foster dad and brothers with never a sign of hesitancy. Or seeing an angry teenager mature into a woman who is a wife and an excellent mother, or a failure-to-thrive infant who grows up and plays soccer and loves history. So even if all my clothes have stains from the knees down due to small, grubby hands and moist noses, and even though my nights out are limited to Burger King, it’s been a great time. Every now and then, when you see how they grow and blossom, giving to society—well, it makes up for a fridge covered with demented drawings. The good feelings almost overcome the living room mined with GI Joe, claymores, and AK47s. So, if you’re one of those who think that foster parenting is reserved for the noble, think again. It’s for those who can see the future in a child eager for a start or a nudge. It’s for those who like a little spice in life, a little zip in the day. Somewhere out there is a child who needs a home for a while or forever, and that child could be the one with the answers—but only if you reach out to them. Michael Scharff is a Delaware foster mother, and this was excerpted from her article for Delaware Foster Family Network News, a newsletter published by the Delaware Department of Services for Children, Youth, and Their Families. Reprinted also from the National Advocate, Winter 1997, vol. 3, no. 1, published by the National Foster Parent Association (NFPA). Subscriptions are available for $25 by writing to: NFPA Membership Chair, P.O. Box 2661, Mesa, AZ 85204.
Little Things
Mean A Lot On Sunday, March 28, 1999, I had a visitor at my home. There at my back door was a long and lanky twenty-three-year-old young man with shoulder length black hair. We were just finishing Sunday dinner. Earl went out and asked, “What can I do for you?” The young man answered, “My name is John. I was here a long time ago in foster care.” “Oh, yes,” Earl said, now recognizing the young man. “Let me call Phyllis.” I went outside and was taken aback by this tall, strong, young man with handsome American Indian features, whose name was John. I remembered.... He stimulated our memories of this placement as he told of making wooden boats, then pulling them on a long string behind our motor boat as we cruised the river below our barn. He talked about watching us clean chicken with my mother to help. He vividly recalled riding on the motorcycle, clinging tightly behind Earl, as they cruised up and down the highways. He told about biking with me to pick asparagus along the road ditch. With tender sensitivity, he recalled building castles in the sand box near the back door. John said he still had a small stuffed toy I had made for him. (I thought of the many moves he had made the past many years.) John had proudly presented that special toy to his son. He asked, would Earl and I come see his little one sitting in the car seat. We admired the obviously thriving two and a half month old baby. He said he had lived in many foster homes, was in Fairmont in placement until second grade. Then he and his half-brother were adopted and moved “way up north.” Softly, eye cast down, he told us hesitatingly, “It was okay. They had four boys of their own, you know.” He now lives in Iowa. I asked further about that younger brother Sam. John sighed and said he had spent most of his life taking care of Sam. I remembered the deeply troubled four-year-old throwing metal play cars at light fixtures and climbing through the clothes chute. He is in Duluth now. John didn’t see him much. I asked, how did you find us? John said he knew we lived along the river. He drove the road between Welcome and Ceylon, remembered a long lane and ...here he was! John had come to reclaim a piece of his childhood, a part of his most intimate history. I wish I had remembered to give him the pictures I had taken of John and his brother. Maybe he will come back. When we finished talking, Earl shook hands warmly with John and wished him well. When I took his hand in mine, he pulled me close to him in a thank you hug. Without words he had let me know what a deep influence I had been for him... I was shaken... You see, John and Sam had lived with us for only ten days during that summer of 1982. Phyllis and Earl Schreiber left teaching at the senior and high school levels and moved to a farm in Martin County in 1982. Earl began his long desired writing career and they offered foster care to 26 children and teens. |
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Foster and Adoptive Care Association
of Minnesota |
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