WHAT'S IN A NAME?

 Interesting footnote of fostering…

One of my family is a senior "Senco" - stands for Senior Educational Needs Coordinator. She supervises the care for pupils with needs across 5 primary schools.

She's a font of all sorts of inside knowledge.

Try this; the wierder the spelling of a child's name, the more likely that child is to have needs.

When she let this one slip out I realised that I'd noticed it myself, but had dismissed it as an unlikely universal truth. I put it down to randomness. However...

It first struck me when "Skarlett" came to us. Skarlett was a charming little one with a chaotic mother who I met several timnes when she attended Contact to spend an hour with her daughter.

Like many parents at Contact, Skarlett's mother did her best to come across as a good parent, and I usually try to support their efforts. Visiting adults are often encouraged to bring a snack for the child and one mum could do no better than buy the cheapest sandwich from the newsagent round the corner and give it to the child still in its plastic. Hardly the token of affection that it's intended to be. I gently suggested that next Contact the parent hand-make a sandwich or a roll, or even bake a little cake. In fostering the job is usually to help the family get back together, so any positive signs have to be encouraged. In this case the mother rejected the idea saying "Nah, she loves tuna". As though tuna only comes in pre-packed sarnies...

I remember itching to ask Skarlett's mother why she, or she and her partner, chose an unusual spelling for Skarlett.  I felt the spelling would turn out to be awkward for the child as she got older and had to slowly explain the spelling of her name when asked. Scarlet is a lovely colour in itself, and though the double "T" is commonplace when it's used as a girl's name, the "K" is decidedly unusual.

"Tamzyn" is another example of the same syndrome, not the strangest spelling of a name I've come across though. I'll get to that in a moment.

I'm not saying this is a unique trait among parents who end up having their children taken into care. And as for it being a clue to trouble ahead for the child it most definitely is not.

It's simply that once a curious fact comes to one's attention one ends up looking out for it.

Our family member (the ultra Senco) says she can almost scan down a list of pupils in a class and feel she's learned something about some of them simply by the name that the parents had chosen for their child.

The wierdest one I've come across so far?

"Chereeee".

Yep. As in "Cherie" but with the letter "e" added no less than FOUR times at the end.

Caused no end of unecessary business.

See, when you take in a fostered child the foster parent usually needs to enrol them with a GP and get their eyes tested. They might also need to go to a new school. On each occassion one is asked the child's name and spelling. It's no big deal to have to answer, for example "It's Chereeee. With four letter "e's" on the end". But when every time you have to name the child it ends up with a convoluted conversation it can get in the way of business.

I mentioned the Senco's observation to my Blue Sky social worker over coffee at one of our regular supervision sessions. She agreed that there's something in the observation.

We guessed that perhaps every parent of a new-born has high hopes their child will make their mark on the world in a positive way, even if it's simply that they're more happy and contented than most. Some parents hope that by giving their child a distinctive name, or a distinctive spelling of a regular name, it will help them stand out in life.

I don't think it helps the child at all during childhood, especially if they need to go to a new school and the teacher introduces the child to the class and mentions the oddity of their name before the child has had a chance to make friends.

I remember being embarressed by my own name when I was little, and my name is about as ordinary and commonplace as names can get!

We ended up putting it down to being a possible marker that (sometimes), some parents haven't given enough reasoned thought to the enormous responsibility of raising a child.

Instead they opt for the easy helping hand; giving their baby a stand-out name, imagining their child's name being up in lights one day.

And it can work sometimes too;

Would Roald Dahl have made it as an author if his parents had called him "Ronald".

I'm just asking...

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FOSTERING AND SINGLES

 My Blue Sky supervising social worker has just left.

She arrrived, as ever, on the dot of the agreed time - 9.30am - for our monthly catchup, and left at midday.

I can't overstate how invaluable is this regular once-over.

Among other things we talked about how important it is to my marriage that we, as a couple, have fostering. And how valued is our fostering to opur marriage.

The conversation moved on to people who bring up children on their own, usually known as "single mums", or sometimes "single dads".

Honestly my mind boggles with their achievement. 

We agreed to agree; being a single parent is by no means twice as hard as doing it with a partner. 

It's tougher than twice as hard.

Not only do they do it all, all the things two parents do together (or should if they get it right); the single parent has no-one to share their parenting with. At least, not every minute of the day, and night, which is what you do if you and your other half are in it together.

Me and my husband talk incessantly about our family. If I have something worrying me I run it past him when we're alone, and vice versa. If I'm handling a problem I can ask him if I'm getting it right. What I mean is, you have access to support as and when it's needed.

We share jobs.

My point here is this; one of the best foster mums I know is single. She does the whole job alone, except, of course, for her Blue Sky social worker. And she's absolutely brilliant.

I remember going to a party some time ago which was thrown by a work colleague, a single mum with a ten year-old. The party goers drifted off around midnight until it was just the three of us; her, me, and my other half. She started to tidy up; cups and plates and dirty glasses and bottles and pots and pans and bowls with a few crisps left…

I offered to help, but she refused and ushered us out. When we got in I said to my other half;

"How the heck does she cope with doing EVERYTHING - day in day out."

Respect.

However. The reason the topic came into consideration during a Blue Sky supervision session is as follows; Blue Sky are hoping that hubby and I agree to sign up for "Parent and Child" fostering. We're thinking about it.

Parent and Child is where the fostering family takes in a parent (usually a mother, but not necessarily) and the child (usually a baby but not necessarily). I did some of these way back, when it was called "Mother and Baby", but we live in modern times.

Our social worker brought us up to date with Parent and Child, and we dropped anchor at the topic of how many single parents out there can't cope.

We try to steer clear of generalisations; every pesron is unique and owns their own merits, but stats are stats. Single mums - and dads - are finding it harder and harder.

So; instead of a queue of teenage girls with newborn babies who need fostering, nowadays you might be asked to consider talking a single parent and an older child; the parent has run out of steam. Run out of steam, money, accomodation and support. Not to mention running out of hope. 

The child is at risk of being remaindered.

Our social worker wound things up and left, leaving me with plenty to think about.

I thought to myself; "When he gets home tonight we've got lots to talk about".

And because we can, we will.

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TREADING ON EGG SHELLS

 Youngest foster child wanted to watch normal TV. 

This is slightly unusual, as most parents of young children will know.

They'll watch a Disney film or endless SpongeBob, and their big hanker is Netflix.

However, youngest wanted to watch what now gets called "terrestial" TV - the stuff me and my generation, and our now grown-up children used to worship.

Remember? The TV was always 'on' in the corner; with only a handful of channels, and the family sat side by side together and watched the same programmes throughout the evening.

To this day when I come home from the shops I'll put the kettle on, then the TV.  I've even gone out to the shops and left it on so the dog had company.

But for a youngster of junior school age to want to watch 'telly' - unreal.

Equally unreal; youngest foster child said; "My dad's going to be on TV, maybe".

Call me a cynic but my first thought was "Are they still showing Crimewatch*?"

The child said "He might be on the news".

I recieved this with my well-worn casual reaction; no fuss. I fired up BBCTV.

He sat on the floor in front of the box.  I lingered, standing by to explain anything about our feverish world that might need a bit of mollifying for the child.

I asked casually; "Any idea what your dad might be on the news for?"

And he replied:

"Marching."

Oh dear. I guessed immediately - and correctly - that his dad was attending the "Unite The UK" rally in London.

If you're not familiar, the UK, like many many countries, is currently wrestling with the issue of migrants hoping to make their homes in Britain. Quite a lot of people are vociferous in their opposition; heated even.

Tricky.

See, it might be that my views about refugees, multi-culturism and loving thy neighbour differ from the child's dad's views, but if I start canvassing I might step beyond the gentle protocols of fostering. Anyway, for all I know the child's dad might be nothing less than a well-meaning citizen championing underprivilidged home-grown Brits who feel passed over in favour of new arrivals.

Dilemma.

This sort of thing happens in fostering. The foster child will unknowingly put the foster parent in a tricky position where we have to try to explain the behaviour of their real parents in a non-judgemental way. You often don't know enough to express an opinion.

The child watched the start of the news: the march and the rally were top story.  They showed people (mainly men) "marching" in rather higgldepiggldy bunches looking serious. Then the newscaster moved onto the next story, something to do with Trump.

I asked the child if he'd seen his dad.

"Nah," he said "There were too many people there."

And I muttered to myself:

"That's what I thought too, in a different way…"

*A late-night BBC show that reconstructs crimes supposedly to jog viewers memories of crimes and villains. If they remember and have evidence they telephone a hotline with their tipoff. In truth it's just voyourism...

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IS FOSTERING A PROFESSION?

It baulks with me that we foster parents are sometimes regarded as amateurs.

One of the foster parents in my Blue Sky support group is a lecturer in child development. To be precise she's Head of Child Development at a prestigious college. She's a qualified Primary School teacher, a former Youth Club Chief Officer and single-handedly built one of the first Adventure Playgrounds in the UK. She has a Masters in managment. She's been a foster mum for ten or twelve years, and is absolute mustard.

One of our social workers refers to her as "The Pro."

She told me this story;

She fostered a child whose real parents were going through the penal system. Both parents had been jailed for offences against society, but most of all for offences against the child. The parents were due for release after serving half their time, as is the case nowadays.

A Hearing was scheduled at which the impact of the parents release on the child would be assesed. 

The child had been in the care of the foster mum for two years. The foster mum had bonded with the child, who'd come to know her inside out, in ways that no-one had ever befriended the child before. They were an item. The child worshipped her foster mum. It was a two-way street of mutual care, respect and the particular type of love that can develop in fostering.

The foster mum did some asking around and learned that the Hearing would address whether the parents early release dates should be rubber-stamped and what restrictions should apply to their movement and in particular their contact with the child.

The foster mum had accumulated a mass of concrete evidence that the parents were planning to try to force the child back into their care despite the Court Order blocking them from any rights of care of the child.

The child knew/guessed what lay in store as the parents had boasted about their plans to family members during prison visits. The family members had split the information to the child.

All of the above stuff that the foster mum told me this far was the province of the police and the law. The foster mum knew that.

But also on the Hearing's agenda was "The Child and their needs".

The Hearing was due to be attended by a dozen people; The police, Court Officers, a rep of Social Services, legal bods, a child psychologist, the deputy Head Teacher from the child's school. Even the tubby old red-nose parson who was on the school board of governers got an invite on the basis of Parish.

The foster mum telephoned the Hearing's secretary and offered to attend that part of the Hearing which addressed the needs of the child.

She was asked; "Are you a professional?"

She replied; "I'm the child's foster parent. I've looked after her for two years. I know her inside out. I've documented her needs and preferences and can supply the best possible picture of the impact of the parents' release and the impact of their possible plans to affect the child."

The reply:

"I'm sorry, you're permitted..."

Then;

"… you're not a professional."

The Hearing went ahead without the child's closest friend and ally. A roomful of people, most of whom had never met the child, and a couple of distant bods who knew her as no more than a name on a spreadsheet.

And the one person who knew the child inside out, and had the professional wherewithall to provide concrete evidence, information and insight was left outside the loop while the 'professionals' used up a whole morning in a chinwag about a theoretical youngster. I bet the red-nosed parson chimed in with something about the Bible.

Hot air.

The foster mum told me her Blue Sky social worker saved her day.

Next time the SW showed up for supervision (by the way, I don't call it 'supervision' any more, I call it 'coffee and catchup") she laid the ghost for the foster mum. Explained that the meeting was 'to cover themselves'. In other words, ensure that if anything unwanted kicked off they could all show from the Hearing's minutes that each of the different bodies involved had done it by the book.

That helped my pal.

But it sticks in my craw to this day that the 'professionals', from time to time, see us fostering folk as amatuers.

I'd like to see old red-nose have a go.

Haha

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WHAT IF YOU DON'T CARE FOR THE CHILD YOU'RE CARING FOR?

 After reading "TF for KFC" a reader who signs as "L" posted a comment;

"May I ask a question? It's not necessarily related to this post but is something I'm struggling with and would appreciate the advice of a more experienced carer. Have you ever had a kid(s) who you've struggled to bond with / to attach to / to like? I'm not talking about challenging behaviours but about connection. If you have, how did you work through it - what worked? Thank you."

It's a good question.

I have a friend who's been 30 years in teaching, secondary education (11 through to late teens). English and English Literature. He says the biggest mistake many young teachers make is to try to get the kids to like them, and want to like them back.

The job at hand, he says, is to teach them about English; books, plays, poems etc and how to write.

The business of who likes who doesn't get anybody an 'A' level.

Sounds cold and heartless? It's professionalism.

So…maybe we move you - "L" - on with your dilemma by remembering what our profession wants of us foster parents -  it's a darn site more complicated than teaching.

The requirements are summed up in good old Mazlow's Heirarchy of Needs.

First and foremost a child needs the fundamentals for survival; air, water, food, shelter, clothing and sleep. Second she needs security (from violence, crime) and predictablility in the home.

The higher you go up the heirarchy, (always looks like a mountain to me) the closer you get to where "L" is asking about;

The third tier hits the nail on the head for "L". Note it actually specifies the exact same word "L" asks about; 'connection'. Every child needs social connection and acceptance. And like most of us in fostering, we hope to get it back from the child. Mazlow says this is a family thing first and foremost. This is your Everest "L", because you can't be proper family to your foster kids, you can only be the kid's foster family. 

As I've piped up at many a Blue Sky training session:

"He never fostered, this Mazlow, did he?"

Most kids in care are compliant, often even happy, with their life in fostering, but from time to time you get a grump.

My experience is that there are 101 reasons why a child brought into care might be a bit anti to their new circumstances, and we all get why.  Must be hard as hell for them. Some kids seem to think if they try your patience you'll boot them out and they'll get to go home. Other children maybe test you to check that you don't give up on them. You don't. You keep accepting them no matter what.

If you feel someone doesn't like you it's hard to like them. Even harder if they're living in your home.

But. You don't boot them out. You keep giving them everything they need. If you think that they should show you they like you in return, that hope can affect your energy for the job. Our job is to climb the mountain of needs with them and get as high as we can. If we get stuck at level 3, no problem, we camp right there and keep at it.

We had a kid stay with us who was difficult to like, call him Tony. He was grumpy with my other half who one time joked he was thinking of moving into a B and B for a bit of respite! I didn't like Tony much myself at first, so I pulled back on seeking that connectivity, just provided the basics. My other half also pulled back, kept things polite but formal.

We agreed that wanting to be liked/loved wasn't the priority. 

We simply stuck at it.

Then…

My other half had to go into hospitsal for a knee operation. Too much football when younger. They kept him in for two nights. (this was a good few years ago when the NHS did things like that). His armchair was empty, there was one less person at the table at teatime. 

Foster child Tony said nothing, asked no questions, but pieced something was up.

I picked up other half from hospital and when Tony got home from school other half was sat in his armchair, heavily bandaged, leg up on a stool.

Then this happened:

Tony dropped his schoolbag and walked nervously towards his foster dad, with both arms outstretched. When he reached him Tony froze and kind of air-hugged him, then turned, grabbed his bag and went upstairs to his room, fast.

That air-hug meant the world and his wife to me and my other half.

We packed up tents at level 3 camp and began the ascent to level two; "Esteem".

"L", that part of the journey took about 6 months, but we made progress.

It's what we do, it's what YOU do,  and you do a great job.

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THE IMPORTANCE OF PORK PIES IN FOSTERING

 One of the keenest challenges in fostering comes when the child asks why they're being fostered and how long before they go home.

If they're persistent the questions can get to the foster parent. I learned why back in my early days.

Nowadays I try to try to liaise with my local authority social worker to get the latest news on the child's real family. I talk to my Blue Sky SW for guidance on what to say and how. If a child asks a leading question and I feel I'm not prepared (say, perhaps the child hasn't been with you long and details about the placement's family are still being processed) I often reply; "That's a good question. Can we come back to it later?" Which buys a bit of time to have a quick consult with a professional.

The way you frame your explanations depends on the child, especially their age. You also have to get a handle on their mental and emotional intelligence, and their degreee of resilience. After all, what you're about to discuss is potentially a bit harrowing.

You have to be truthful, but consider the impact of how you tell the truth to the child.

Some time ago a famous politician denied telling porkies(*1), claiming instead that he'd been "economical with the truth". 

That said; children coming into care are often quite tough - after all, many of them had to be to survive.

But we foster parents are driven to get our answers to those difficult questions right. And by 'right' I guess I mean we should make our use of the truth of benefit to the child.

Listen; most of what all of us do in these instances is instinctively right. Foster parents have all passed a vetting that includes ensuring that we have the skills to get results from these moments.

Remembering my early days in fostering; I had a test of my own resilience with a child who was unrelenting in her questioning about the reason she was in care, and begging for a schedule as to when she would be allowed home.

Kaz was 14, very strong willed and had single-mindedness on top of resilience. I didn't realise it at the time, but my Blue Sky social worker helped me work out why I found it a bit gruelling.

My SW and I sat at my kitchen table drinking coffee and talking it through.

She let me do the talking; about how concerned I had become to say the right things; not to show any judgement about Kaz's parents, despite their physical and emotional abuse and poor lifestyle choices; drugs, infidelity and... worse.

Kaz loved them in spite of everything and a foster parent often must deal with that huge fact of life (*2).

As I talked my social worker began to help me discover an important truth about being a foster parent.

Namely; don't expect a mountain of gratitude from the child. They've got enough on their plate without paying you or the system any compliments.

But there was something else going on in my heart that I now know about and recognise every time it returns.

It's this; when the foster child is badgering to hear positive things about their parents, and hectoring the foster parent that they want to leave and go home…

…you can, if you're not careful, take it as a slight.

You hear a voice whispering to yourself; "There's gratitude! We rescue them from their miserable home, give them proper care and support and yet all you ever hear is that they want to leave you and never come back!"

When I'm asked those questions by the child nowadays I'm thinking of what it means to the child, and not at all what it means to me.

                                                                    _______________

*(1) "Porkies": cockney rhyming slang. "Pork pies/lies".

*(2) I heard that Kaz made it back to her beloved chaotic home and is going along ok. Apparently she speaks highly of the 'holiday' she had at our house...

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TF FOR KFC!

 Kal was seven when he arrived to us, a smallish boy, shy.

Shy at first anyway.

Children taken into care and delivered to a new foster home are often cautious at first.

Imagine; they are tiny and alone, they're in a strange house with an unknown family.

They generally keep their heads down, mind their Ps and Qs and set their sights on learning about their new life.

People in fostering call it the "Honeymoon" period.

Perhaps the child is learning about themselves as well as learning about the new things in their life.

The number of "new" things are inestimable. But we foster parents have new things to learn too. We must learn about the new child and her journey as a new foster child.

The child might be new to using a knife and fork, new to cleaning their teeth. New to pyjamas, new to a fixed bedtime. They might be new to the concept of sitting up at table to eat. 

The foster parent needs to be on the alert to the child's fears and dilemmas, and be on standby to take the child to one side and gently explain. The child might be new to being spoken with in such a way.

New to being listened to.

Kal, like many foster children, had learned in his 'real' home the value of invisibility. He'd taught himeself that the best way to protect himself from unjustifiable retribution was to keep out of sight.

So, to begin with, he was almost too easy to accomodate. He moved noiselessly around the house, hoping not to be noticed, to the extent that in the morning he would come downstairs draped in his duvet and ask to eat his breakfast in the corner of the kitchen, hidden from our eyes.

I've learned not to confront the quirks that new foster children sometimes exhibit. It's their emotional anchorage. Their grounding in whoever they used to be, strategies that got them through life in their real home.

But. 

I wanted Kal to step out of his shell…

I had conflabs with our Blue Sky social worker about it. She said that time would tell, but I'd be right to make some effort to lift Kal's self-esteem.

I tried a thing I'd read about somewhere…it seemed looney, but worth a throw.

What you do is this; you switch roles with your children for a whole Saturday afternoon. Yup; they become the parents and the parents become the children. We introduced it one Friday evening, all smiles and laughter. But how would Kal deal with responsibility?

Answer; he was er…enthusiastic. Given the job of keeping the kitchen in shape he inspected every nook and cranny and politely ASKED me to empty the bin. He SUGGESTED that the fridge needed more snacks.  

Then…wait for it.. he asked if there was any disinfectant. In fostering you need to keep substances safe, so I unlocked the cupboard, gave him a Dettol spray and watched over him. Kal squirted the work surfaces and wiped them clean.

A few weeks later it was Saturday teatime. Kal sat up with all of us. I brought bowls of spaghetti and bollognese sauce to the table.

Before anyone could dive in, Kal went; "Spag boll! Every Saturdfay it's spag boll! FFS! Jeez, it'd be nice to be upstairs wondering what's for tea instead of going 'Oh it's Monday… fishfingers. Tuesday sausages…"

Then he made his point; "It's Saturday. Everybody else has a KFC!"

Kal's transition was spot on. His mini-rebellion was exactly on track. A good sign. It was hardly civil war, but it signified him finding his feet in our home, in the world.

He trusted us.

And yes, I started mixing up the menu.

And yes, Kal started on the road back to some kind of good life…

I bet wherever he is now, come Saturday it's KFC...

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