Quick recap; Alicia, newest foster child, is home from school, "unwell". She's 14 and is transitioning. I'm secretly looking forward to spending the day at home with her, a great opportunity to get to know her better.
It's 9.30am, I'm knocking up two full English's, one for Alicia, the other for me. Eating together is a bonding thing, and foster kids often feel more secure with a full tummy. Plus, the smell of bacon and baked beans is almost medicinal.
I call out things such as;
"Do you like fried bread?"
"Dunno."
Hmmm…whether to serve breakfast at the kitchen table or eat off laps. She looks so secure curled up in the kids room under her duvet. I take her breakfast to her, then bring mine and sit on the armchair beside her while we eat.
She's found a TV recording of a Harry Potter, which is good because I know enough about HP to make occassional remarks aimed at getting her to see me as a house-mate and a friend rather than some kind of warden, or worse, a threat to her real mother.
As a general rule, never try to replace their real mum. Sacrilege.
Slowly, we begin chatting. I keep it superficial, avoiding interrogation.
Thing is; I know exactly what I wanted to know, partly because the info could help me help her better, but also ouit of downright human curiosity.
I wanted to know about her journey into transitioning.
But how to start that conversation?
I had one way in; it's known to social services that there's a number of other pupils at her school who are also trans.
Alicia and I had touched base about one of her fellow transers, so I felt entitled to ask:
"How's Melissa?"
There was a silence while Alicia computed. She twigged what I was up to. She also knew that if she threw me a bone I'd be all the more accomodating next time she pitched for a day off school.
Game on.
She replied that Melissa was being a pain. I asked how come; and we were off. I got a controlled trickle of info about Melissa and the other trans pupils; their tight, courageous, sometimes squabbly community.
Alicia trusted me with some useful titbits, which drew us together and gave new insights. They'll go into her fortnightly record for Blue Sky and our fantastic social worker to pore over, which they really do.
Then, the usual thing happened. Alicia suddenly felt exposed, as though she'd given away too much, as if the intimacy was somehow robbing her of the only thing she truly owned; herself.
All of a sudden she got up and said she was going upstairs. Stalked out dragging her duvet like a cloak.
I said;
"OK."
And that was it for the day.
Did I get any closer to how she came to transitioning?
Yes. A bit...
A good start.
For Alicia, was it a better day than a day at school? In fostering it's all about repair. If they won't or can't go to school, sieze the day.
That's the "trick", iof you ccan describe it as a "trick". If they need a day off school, put it to good use.
But, I now have to let Blue Sky know. If you're with another agency, or your local authority, ensure they know about no-school days and that they understand that you tried your darndest to get them to go, which one does.
Blue Sky know the challenges of fostering and are right beside their carers every step of the way.
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