SUPPORT MEETINGS

 I'm fresh from a Blue Sky support meeting, where foster carers show up for a chat about how things are going.

Whether the frequest get-togethers are face-to-face or virtual is neither here nor there, it's brilliant to get a peek into other carers worlds. 

Every foster child is unique.

Come to that, every foster parent is unique too.

You get stay-at-home mums whose children have left home, ex-squaddies, an architect, a cleaning person.

Plus you get a range of feelings about fostering; the newish carers who are often simply getting used to fostering, and fostering does take a bit of getting used to.

Then there's the experienced carers who are more footsure. They've been round the block and are armed with the enemy of the unexpected, namely the deadly 'been there, done that'.

At this meeting - that I'm still processing - a carer called Denise told everyone about her current placement.

A girl. Aged 13, which in her eyes meant that she was an adult with adult rights. At first she put out the positives of adulthood; she fetched and carried and minded her Ps and Qs.

Then, as is often the case, once she grasped that Denise wasn't going to kick off at her (a fracas she'd grown used to in her 'real' home) she started trying it out…

She started saying that she'd had enough of being fostered and was going home.

Denise stumped her like this;

Instead of saying "I'm afraid that's not possible because there's a legally binding order in place that you remain with us in this house until your family home is safe."

Denise said:

"How do you plan to get home?"

Apparently the girl was gobsmacked by the response.  She'd never considered how she'd make the journey. She knew nothing about trains or buses, and a cab was out of the question (her home was many miles away).

Most of all; no matter how much she longed to be an adult, deep down she was a child. Denise was holding up a mirror to the girl's shortfall in how the world works. 

Denise told us at the support meeting that she didn't add any more thoughts to the discussion of the child going home. She simply braced herself for the child doing some Googling and being able to come back with the answer as to how she'd make the journey home.

We asked her how she's deal with the next level of this one.

Denise replied:

"Oh, as I always say in fostering, 'I'll miss that bridge when I come to it."

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IN FOSTERING IT'S ALWAYS "ONWARDS AND UPWARDS"

 I've been fostering a transitioning child for several months now, she's becoming female having been identified at birth as male.

Her new name is Alicia.

Alicia has a couple of friends at her school who are on the same journey as her, and they spend time together. She tells me she and her friends are also included in other friendship groups, and that none of the pupils give them any trouble.

Kids today seem wonderfully cool about the whole thing.

No, it's some of the adults they have to deal with who often upset them.

There's one lady who works behind the counter in the convenience store used by many pupils to pick up a can of something or a bag of crisps.

I dare some some of them will try to buy a vape or even a tin of cider; kids will be kids.

Anyhoo, I'm getting the impression from Alicia that this particular woman behind the counter sees part of her job as policing the world against the threats posed by the young. You know the sort of adult; she's bossy about them queueing in a single line even those who aren't buying anything but merely accompanying a friend. There's no law against that, but she invokes one, apparently shouting that a 'scrum is what shoplifters want'.  Alicia is afraid she'll make a rude remark.

Another example, there's one bus driver who examines their ID with intense scrutiny making them wait and feel uncomfortable, clearly hoping to discover it's fake, or expired. He's rumoured to have 'found' a fake card once and ostentatiously cut it up with a pair of scissors on his milti-tool that was probably carried around for just that reason.

Alicia has a bus ID card, but the image on it of her is different from how she looks now. So she never uses it. She's so self conscious about her status that she won't risk it for fear of anyone questioning her.

Which is no business of anyone else, but some adults seem to think they owe it to their forebears to go to war for what they see as good old-fashioned values. Which appear to include giving young people a hard time.

Alicia walks to and from school.

And it's not only the foot soldiers of the world who have lost the battle to be caring.

Unbelievably there are not one but three teachers at her school who are said to quietly make sure that Alicia knows that she is really a boy.

I've actually met one of them. When I say 'met' I mean it was a Parents evening via Zoom, and the teacher began by say "I wouldn't say he's doing well, he tends to be rather lazy and…"

He tapered off. Then he continued with a theatrical "I'm sorry…I keep forgetting…it's 'she' isn't it?". 

The whole petty little moment was deliberately aimed at letting me know what he thought. I found myself staring at a man who wanted, more than anything else, for me to feel impressed by his noble dismissal of something he was too lazy to learn about…

Ironic really, him going on about Alicia being lazy.

And an uphill battle for the likes of Alicia.

She doesn't pose any threat to anybody, merely hopes to live her life being the person she is certain she is.

When I first came into fostering I never thought I'd be working with a child on such a courageous project, but I am, and loving it.

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"DO YOU GET A SAY IN THE CHILDREN YOU GET?"

 A neighbour and I got chatting in the street a couple of days ago.

She lives several  doors down from me,  I've said "Good morning" to her for years, without getting to know her, so it came as a surprise to her as we chatted for her to discover that I fostered.

It reminded me how seldom I raise the subject in conversation.

I noticed her mind working. Sometimes people change the subject instantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from fostering rather than risk feeling that they ought to think about doing it themselves.

This lady asked;

"In fostering, do you get any say in what sort of children you look after?"

GREAT question. For two reasons; one; it gave me a chance to explain the issue to her and  touch on it here, with you, on the blog. And two; it might mean that she's interested in fostering.

I replied like this; "I work with a fostering agency called Blue Sky. When a local authority ("LA") takes a child into care the LA informs Blue Sky they're looking for a foster family, and Blue Sky sit down and go through their book of carers looking for what they call "a match".

A good match means that the foster carers would be right for the child, and the child would be right for the foster carers.

If, at the beginning of one's career in fostering, a new carer tells Blue Sky they'd be more confident with teenagers or toddlers, then that's duly noted. Ditto any and every other relevant detail about the areas of preference and skills the carers want to play to.

The reason Blue Sky go to great lengths to get a good match is simple; they want every placement to work. 

In my case, when we resumed our fostering after a break to focus on our newborns, we believed we were big enough and wise enough to take on any child who needed a foster home. We've never said no to any child, and have no regrets. There have been times when we were stretched, but what do you expect? The rewards are both massive and intangible, by which I mean you get a rush of wellbeing every so often, and a sense that you're not wasting your time down here.

I reassured the neighbour that if a placement became too much Blue Sky would dive in to help, and if necessary look at alternatives for the child. Similarly, foster carers can take a break between placements to recharge their batteries.

I also told her that sometimes the quest to get the right match works against carers.

Sometimes the LA decides that a better match for the child and their carers would be elsewhere, not yourself.

Blue Sky always make sure their carers realise that the reasons the LA places a child elsewhere is no reflection on the carers. It's usually down to things such as geography. For example; if a child needs to stay at the same school, it wouldn't work if the school run was too long and complicated.

We got a phone call from Blue Sky one time asking if we'd consider taking two boys who'd been sent to the UK by their family to escape the war where they lived. The boys spoke no English, needed a special diet, and also a room to allow then to pray daily.

We said yes.

I Googled their language and started learning key phrases to help them feel accepted. I Googled and found a shop about 15 miles away that sold the food they needed, and another outlet that could provide the right mat and other items they needed for prayer.

We were getting excited.

Then; a phone call from Blue Sky:

"We're sorry to have to tell you that they won't be coming to you. The LA have found a foster family living in the UK who are from the same country as the boys, and have decided they'd be better off with them.

We were disappointed, but it was obviously for the better.

Whenever I've said "Yes" to a child who ends up elsewhere I always feel a bit sad. Blue Sky provide as much background information as they can if a child, might be heading your way and I've ended up half-knowing the child. So there's a slight sense of loss.

Not only that, I think about them from time to time and hope things turned out OK.

Next time I see my neighbouir I'm going to find a way to bring up fostering.

Our children need all the help they can get.

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MUM, D'YOU WANT A PARACETAMOL?

 Children coming into care have often had to teach themselves self-preservation.

I'll tell you about a dear, sad child we looked after, in a moment.

They often have had to learn to get by without enough love, support and care. Sometimes without even adequate food and drink.

We once took in a child who, aged five, had been left alone in the house all day with only a dog for company. The child had been told to put down a bowl of dog food around midday. The child was so hungy she routinely ate some of the dog food. True.

Now, when I say "self-preservation" I'm mainly thinking about the skills a neglected child develops when it's a case of "needs must".

I've learned of a golden trait in many kids whose parents have let them down, it's this;

They bear no resentment, point no finger of guilt, in fact, they don't merely forgive, they continue to love the adults in question. And it goes further than that; they believe that their treatment was somehow justified and that their family home spiralled downwards because of them; the children.

So get this; they want to make up to their parents for the trouble they think they've caused them. 

Painfully, they want to demonstrate to their parents that they are worthy and that they can be loved.

Talk about turning the other cheek, these poor kids are in many ways not only truly holier than thou, but as holy as anyone who's ever declared themselves holy.

Molly arrived in our home aged 7. It's an age where the looked-after child has a growing emotional strength yet still nurtures a massive vulnerablity.

She was shy at first, very respectful. As is almost always the case, once she learned to trust us she began to come out of her shell.

By "Out of her shell" I mean she began to push her luck. Gently at first, then came the inevitable bedtime moment when she tried her luck at saying "No".

We worked it out, the dialogue was reasoned and intially unsuccessful, but we stuck to our guns; the telly was turned off, and I think I remember agreeing to a half-hour extra screen time provided she went up pronto.

We have all the parental controls, and if we have to, I turn the router off. 

I win!

So does she.

Molly went for it, as the deal included crisps and a can of Fanta.

The following morning was a Sunday, Molly came down empowered by how she percieved the previous evening's negotiations.

I asked how she was, she shrugged and said "Alright."

Then she asked me how I was!

I told her the truth;

"I've got a bit of a headache, I'm hoping it doesn't turn into a migraine."

Molly was momentarily nonplussed to be having a one-on-one with her foster mum.

I said something like;

"It can happen for no reason with women about my age."

Molly was gobsmacked. I watched her process the intimacy, the engagement  that was mushrooming.

She drerw on her experience, and her need to support her parent figures. She said something like;

"Do you want a paracetamol?"

I can't remember Molly's exact words, but I am certain I remember that she suggested some medication but most of all being kind and supportive, to her substitute mum.

Good moment. 

ps even if I'd said yes she couldn't have fetch me a paracetamol, medicines are all locked away. It was the thought.

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