I'M WITH THE AGENCY...

 In the UK there are basically two ways to get into fostering.

I have a quirky little quirk that'll amuse you in a moment…

One way to get involved is to contact your local authority social services department directly. There's such a crying need for more foster parents that it's likely you'll see their advertsements for people to come forward.  If you follow that route the local authority will help guide you through the process of getting approved. They advise and support you through the various checks and requirements you need to become a foster parent. 

If and when you get approved you'll be allocated a local authority social worker who'll represent the children who come into care with you. The local authority, have overall responsibility for the child and the child's wellbeing. 

I wouldn't dream of putting anyone off fostering no matter what method they choose. 

But, hand on heart, in my view there is a better way than going direct to your local authority.

The better way, for me is to go to a fostering agency.

I switched to Blue Sky as my fostering agency about 12 years ago, and obviously I'm happy because I'm still here.

There are lots of reasons why an agency is best, but one reason is standout, namely this;

If you're with a local authourity you're allocated a single social worker to support your placement, and their priority is the child.

If you're with an agency such as Blue Sky you're allocated a single local authority social worker whose priority is the child AND a Blue Sky social worker who's priority is YOU.

Obviously the local authority social worker cares about the carers as well as the child, and ditto your Blue Sky social worker cares about the child as well as you. But with Blue Sky YOU get five star treatement from your Blue Sky social worker.

In my case we're visited once a month by each child's LA social worker, and once a month by our Blue Sky social worker.

In my experience neither LA or Blue Sky social workers gave off that they were checking up on me or our household, they visit to help. Not just to help, support, and advise; they do things that reduce the burden. They'll speak to the child's school on our behalf if there's an attendance problem. They'll talk to the child's parents to help the child - and me - cope with the child wondering if their parents are ok.

I can honestly say that every single visit from a Blue Sky social worker has left me uplifted, galvanised and ready to more and better.

Here's a quick taster of Blue Sky going the extra mile.

Every year they throw a shindig for all their foster carers who've been doing it for ten years or more. They call the Ten Year Club. 

It's not a hullabaloo at Stringfellows or anything like that. It's a pleasant civilised lunchtime meal at a swish location. You get to have a fruit juice-fuelled craik with people who have similar staying power as yourselves.  

Blue Sky make you feel valued. And proud.

So here's my little quirk…

This year I couldn't attend. There was an impending birth in my own family around the same date. I opted out and Blue Sky said how much I'd be missed but understood.

The next visit I had from our Blue Sky social worker started and finished like this:

Social worker; "So. Where are you guys going for your Ten Year dinner?"

Me; "Eh?"

Social Worker; "You shouldn't miss out on a slap-up meal just because of a baby on the way…how is she by the way?"

Me; "She's well. Seven pounds three which for three weeks premature is pretty robust. Er…a dinner?"

Social Worker; "Yes. Choose your venue. It's Blue Sky's 'Thank you' for everything you do."

Me; "It's on you?"

Social Worker; "Of course!"

So. I sat at the kitchen table with my Blue Sky social worker narrowing the options. I could take my other half uptown to a five star hotel piano bar. Or a quirky shack that does foraged food then the owner, a reformed City trader who now has hair down his back, plays accordian.

Our conversation segwayed into fostering; we talked about the child, our wellbeing, did a few bits of paperwork.

A Blue Sky visit is usually two hours. No fly-by-night thing. With twenty minutes left on the clock she suddenly said;

"So. Come on! The Ritz or the Shack?"

And we got back on track. It went to and fro about our best and worst ever restaurant meals, why you don't see dessert trolleys anymore.

She got up to go, saying;

"We're not going to let this go. We're buying you a meal for two at the venue of your choice, whatever you want. It's to say thank you."

So. There's a snapshot of why fostering in partnership with an agency can be the best way.

Whatever new people choose, good luck.

And welcome to the best thing anyone can do.

Read More

FOSTER KIDS WARM TO OTHER FOSTER KIDS

 We've been fostering with Blue Sky for fifteen years now.

So something must be going right…

We'd originally started fostering twenty years before, but then our own children came along and we put fostering on hold.

Thinking back to then, what we thought was that we needed to put all our time and effort into out own kids.

On balance, we got that wrong.

A family can benefit from welcoming a foster child. An agency like Blue Sky works hard to find the right match, and supports the family. Big time.

Abigail is a child who was taken into care and Blue Sky were asked to help find her a foster home.

Abigail was taken in by a fostering family who had become friends of ours.

Friendship happens in fostering, you make new pals for life. We foster carers meet up in training sessions and coffee mornings and support groups and connect.

The family who took Abigail in had become friends of ours, as in curry evenings and days out.

Abigail turned out to be a child who wouldn't come out of her room.

Her carers had hard work to get her to school. She wouldn't go most mornings. There's not a lot one can do when the child simply digs in. You try all sorts of strategies, the social workers pitch in, but if a child won't get in the car what are you going to do?

Don't get the wrong impression, Abigail was unusual in her resistence. Look, no child really wants to go to school. I didn't. Did you? But I didn't stay up in my room refusing to budge. I knew there'd be consequences for me if I did, and anyway, I wasn't hugely anti-school, I simply felt that sometimes I'd sooner stay in bed…

Abigail would have none of it.

It began to become a defining issue. Local Authorities have ultimate duty of care for looked-after children and they have a zero-tolerance policy on looked after children and their schooling, namely; they have to go to school.

So. Abigail's foster parents, Ylena and Petre, had it all to do. They'd tried everything, but their Blue Sky social worker persevered with ever more strategies.

And eventually, one worked.

Their social worker asked the school Senco how many other children at the school were looked-after children. The answer was surprising. No less than seven!

Abigail had let it be known that one of her reasons for refusing school was her phobia about being singled out as a foster child. Her resistance was not to the book-learning, but to the chaos and anarchy of the playground.

The Blue Sky social worker and the Senco came up with a brainwave. They started a lunchtime club. For guys in care. It was done sensitively and with discretion, but the core credential was key.

They'd get together in a room that had previously been for spillover staff to drink coffee during breaks. It was personable; comfy armchairs, light and airy. The club members were politely requested not to use their phones. The Senco rigged a TV to show You Tube clips of moments from Toy Story, Shrek, and superheroes. She laid on a plate of biscuits (Hobnobs, obs) and there was juice.

The 'club' broached all age groups. The older pupils became parental about the younger ones. There's be informal competitions about whose background was worst. Club members started to go round to eavch others houses or meet up in town.

Bottom line; when those guys were in their 'club' they were all normal, for want of a better way of putting it. They had a common ground, namely that, through no fault of their own, they had a vulnerability and trepidation about those youngsters who like to poke fun.

To be fair, Abigail didn't turn around straight away, fostering isn't like that. You have to plug away.

But her resistance to going to school receded.

Job well done.

Read More

HOW TO CONNECT

 One of the things you often have to do with a foster child is to help them get used to other people.

Shyness is one thing - it's normal. But foster children sometimes have something different; almost a phobia about people.

Often they've been deprived of normal company.

Katie came to us aged 8. Katie was nigh on incapable of interacting with anybody. She was bright and articulate, mainly because she watched telly a lot. Telly was her window on the world. But telly is one-way traffic; the viewer is sedentary, not interactive.

Katie had no idea how to interact with people. She struggled to connect with her social workers and would try to hide or pretend she was 'busy' when they called.

She was ok with me and our other family members, because she'd learned things about connecting with people she shared a house with.

But she'd hardly ever attended school, and her home life was isolated. Her significant others had no extended family or friendship groups because for one thing they had none of the skills, for another they were fearful there'd be trouble if anyone found out what a strange household they'd created.

So they shut up shop.

Katie was overawed in the supermarket, she'd never been in such a teeming environment. She resisted school, and got angsty during the car journey every morning. If I had a friend over for coffee Katie would shut herself in her room. 

What to do?

I managed to make some progress with Katie using that regular standby; food.

As far as schoool went, I took to making an elaborate lunch boxful of her favourites which I'd give her in the car on the school run. She'd open the tupperware to check out;

a) the sandwich filling, which was usually a cheese slice and ham, on buttered white, crusts off. Not a mere peanut butter/marmite jobby which her classmates were stuck with.

b) a bag of smoky bacon ridgecut crisps. Not Walkers. McCoys. Top of the pile.

c) a tube of fruit yoghurt.

d) 8-10 seedless grapes.

e) 3 biscuits. Oreos, hobnobs or milk chocolate digestive, nothing less.

f) optional mini banana.

Plus; plastic bottle of water.

And…no messing… every day… a paper napkin folded into a triangle.

This operation got her to school, and, I suspected, helped her status with her fellow pupils because most of the rest of them had barely such a dandy lunchbox. Her food gave her status and hopefully some confidence to interact.

I'll never know though; because what goes on the the playground stays in the playground.

The supermarket was a challenge. 

Foster parents have no choice but to take foster children shopping because you can't leave them home alone.

They don't want to be out and about with a fosrer parent and are generally ultra self-conscious that other shoppers are staring at them and somehow aware that they are in care and that they come from 'broken' homes.

I do this trick; I gave Katie a wire basket and said gently; "Go do a wee shop for yourself."

After a couple of nervous goes she came to love the supermarket run.

Katie got cute at sneaking her luxury goods underneath healthy staples, for example;

a tray of grapes and a bag of organic lentil crisps would sit on top of a doughnut.

a bunch of mini-bananas would camouflage a bag of chocolate raisins.

I didn't say a word, the point of the exercise was that Katie was out and about and mingling.

My mount Everest with Katie was helping her get comfy with strangers visiting our house.

I had to remember that often, in chaotic homes, no-one visits for a chat and coffee. And the strangers who do show up are often trouble one way or another.

I have a good friend called Shirley.

At first Katie would flee to the hills and not come down for the rest of the day. 

So I said to Shirley "Next time you come I'm gong to give you a sachet of Revels. Pop them into your bag and I'll tell Katie that you've brought her a present.

Worked a treat. As the weeks went by Katie began asking;

"When's Shirley coming again?"

What we did was this; Katie knew that Shirley had a 'present' for her, so she'd come downstairs and lurk.

Shirley would ask Katie politenesses such as;

"How are you Katie?"

"Did you have a nice weekend?"

"How's school?"

And Katie would respond, because there was a bag of Revels in it for her to do so.

Katie and Shirley became buddies. They'd natter and laugh, it was a joy to see.

By the tiime Katie's family were ready to offer her a good enough home Katie was…

…ok at school …consumate with being a member of the public out shopping, and a hospitality superstar whenever Shirley showed up.

Read More