IT'S ALL ABOUT LISTENING

One of the most rewarding experiences in fostering is when a child in your care opens up.

It doesn't happen often, but when it does it's magic.

Children coming into foster care are almost always tight-lipped about their past experiences, and keep their feelings about being in fostering to themselves. It's a shame because the more you know about a child the more you can tailor your care to fit their needs.

One child aged six who ended up being with us for a long time didn't want to tell anyone about their past horrors mainly, it turned out, because the child had blanked them out of their memory. So what happened with that child was that once they felt secure and at ease with their new foster home they began asking questions about how their early life turned out the way it did.

The child would collar me alone and ask for information about the people in their real home and the things that took place. The child would then ask the $64,000 dollar questions such as "Why would they do that to a kid?" or "Why didn't somebody stop them?" 

Wrost of all for me to hear was when the child asked "Why didn't you come and save me?"

It was most harrowing for the child, who I'm relieved to report, is now recovering; and stands as good a chance of being ok as any other of today's children. I have an admiration for this young person that inspires me in many ways.

You can get this if you foster.

Which brings me to today; an incredible moment. 

Well, to be precise; an incredible couple of hours.

It came from our eldest foster child. I've mentioned them before several times. The child is transitioning and doing so with commendable dignity, goodwill and above all sincerity.

The youngster is off school at the moment with flu.

This young person is a credit to humanity, I wish I could say the same about many of the people who condemn trans people, but hey ho.

The youngster cleared out their bedroom early this morning. Two bulging bin liners of cans and wrappers. 

The recycle bin was already full so I advised putting the bagss next to it and said I'd sort it later.

I was sitting in the living room with a morning cup of tea. Normally the child would wish me a polite "See you!" and scuttle back to the safe haven of the bedroom.

This morning the youngster lingered. 

Lingered at the living room door.

Talking.

The youngster ended up chatting to me for nigh on two hours. When I say "chatting" I really mean opening up.  Telling me everything from the things that had gone on in their early life, the confusions of their feelings, the reactions and interactions of friends and family, their hopes and dreams and more.

"More" such as relationships and friendships.

Love, even.

And yet more.

"More" such as; their fears for themself if unhappiness kicks in, their fears about the world, about war, about their prospects. 

Eventually the kid yawned and said "I better get up and get some sleep."

Then uttred a small but genuine "Thanks".

And went.

Leaving me with a dancing heart and only one regret namely I had no-one to share it with. But wait...

The countdown is on for my next visit from our Blue Sky Social worker.

Drink will be taken in celebration!

Builders tea mind...

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'GIMME A BELL"

 One of the biggest changes I've seen in fostering is mobile phones.

Put simply, they didn't used to be an issue when I started fostering because they didn't exist.

Today; they exist alright, and are almost at the very centre of the lives of every youngster, and from a very early age.

It begins with babes in arms noticing that their parent cherishes their phone almost as much as their baby. "Hmmm..." thinks the wee one, before they have developed logical thought; 'These little metal bricks must be important the way mummy plays with one all day. Then there's those plastic bricks they point at the TV to make Peppa Pig appear; they're important too. And fun."

The babe learns that they've got to get their hands on phones and remote controls, just like mum and dad do.

Mobile phones are children's gateway into the world of social media. And that's where they become a challenge for foster parents.

When it's your own children you travel alongside them on their journey into social media, right from day one. You share the decisions about when to get their first phone, what sort of deal it's on, and what controls you put on it. 

Children coming into care have all sorts of different history with their mobile phone, and for the foster mum or dad, managing their usage becomes a big part of the overall job.

I've never met a single foster parent who didn't have a stack of stories about kids and their phones.

Is social media a big problem? Gee, go ask the Australians. As I expect you know, their government is attempting to ban the use of social media for all children under the age of 16.

As my eldest put it when he saw it on the news feed (on his mobile phone…)

"Good luck with that one then."

And that young person is absolutely spot on.

Here's my favourite tale about mobile phone challenges in fostering; I love it - it tells you what people who are trying to help their young stay safe are up against.

So... this foster mum had a teenager in her care who wanted total freedom on her mobile. The youngster liked to disappear into the bedroom and tap away on forums, chat rooms, Facebook and the rest. This would very much not do. The teenager had mild vulnerabilities (bullying, peer rivalry, jealousy - the usual suspects) so mum got together with Blue Sky and they worked out a strategy for helping the young person reduce their phone activity and that way limit their exposure to negative social media.

It was agreed that there would be a large empty fruit bowl placed on the telephone table next to the front door. Every family member would drop their phone into the bowl on returning home, so it was out of use for all to see.

The foster mum expected resistance from the child, but to her surprise she got total compliance.

Every afternoon after school the bowl proved the child's mobile phone was sitting harmlessly in the hallway.

The mum reported this wonderful upturn to her local authority social worker…who was suspicious.

The next time the social worker visited it was a school holiday, so the child was upstairs in the bedroom - without her phone.

The social worker said "Right. I want to try something".

She fetched the child's mobile phone and opened the back of it.

I know this sounds a bit intrusive to some; private property and all that. But the social worker reminded the foster mum that the Local Authority had guardianship of the child while in care and that meant duty of care.

So she opened the phone and sure enough…the Sim card slot was empty.

Turned out the youngster had bought a second phone and kept its existence from everyone. All you do is remove the Sim card from your known phone, put the known phone in the bowl, buzz up to your room and insert your card into your secret phone.

And off you go into the ether of social media.

Clever.

Apparently it's a well-known trick and social workers are tooled up on it.

Short story long, they effected a clampdown by turning off the home wifi at 6.00pm; the children all used the wifi so as not to use up expensive airtime on their phones.

On top of that they maintained the reminders about the dangers of social media and the importance of staying safe.

Meanwhile, back in Australia the kids are sharing tricks to get around the government ban. They're way ahead of the AI the Aussies are using to block under 16s. One girl got approved by a robot by offering a picture of her mum.

Another got allowed usage by offering a photo image of…Beyonce.

Beating the block has become part of the game.

Kids of today 1, Artificial Intelligence 0.

In a way it's frustrating. In another way it's a tad inspirational...

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THE TYRANNY OF THE ELF

 We have a four-year old family member staying with us, his mum and dad have got the builders in. 

It's only for a fortnight, we talked it through with our social workers; thumbs up. My foster kids love a raucous household and I'm pottering until half eleven every night putting the house back together…

We were set for a blissful pre-Christmas hootnanny, then…

…blot on the escutcheon.

The lad's dad showed up late on the first night with a bag of stuff, and assembled a slightly disturbing grotto on our kitchen table; whacky toys, a mysterious note and an even more mysterious cloth Elf.

This was my first encounter with…

…The Elf On The Shelf!

I asked him what it was all about. He explained;

"It's an American thing…"

So: if you already know about The Elf, skip the next paragraph.

The Elf On The Shelf is a spin-off from a children's book of the same name. It was written 21 years ago, which, the USA being such a young country, makes it a tradition. The Elf's job is to spy on the family's children then report back to Santa whether they've been naughty or nice. Nice = presents, naughty = no presents. Plus; every morning The Elf sets the family a mischievous task.

Every bloomin' morning!

The Elf on our kitchen table always collapses on his side overnight. Next morning he looks like he let himself go at his office party and was refused a cab. Shabby. Oh, and the naughty/nice thing is a straight nick from Santa (proper tradition, Santa's 4th century).

Not exactly Tolkien, this Elf On The Shelf is it?

There's been hoohah Stateside. Child psycholgists and educationalists are lining up to warn that it prepares children for being scrutinised by unseen forces and that good behavour (kindness, thoughfulness, politeness) shouldn't be in pursuit of tacky gifts.

My beef is different, it's this.

Parents of small children have quite enough on their plate without another complicated and sometimes expensive task at the end of the day.

Running a young family in modern times is already as hard as it gets, especially if one or both partners work. Double ditto if someone is bringing up little ones alone.

I mean; look at the Holiday schedule. Trick or Treat is followed by Firework Fortnight (in the USA it's Thanksgiving) Then comes Black Friday. Then the Nativity Play, gifts to buy and wrap. Somewhere around this point in the calendar young parents have to tool up with a toy Elf and an endless supply of mischievous tasks and build a fancy display; but not until the kids have finally nodded off.

Every night!

Apparently plenty of parents get competitive with each other, creating ever-more complex tasks and (obviously) boasting about them on social media. 

Some poor parents get left behind by it all. They go through the motions, but would rather re-charge their batteries after a long day's slog. A bedtime story, a peck on the head; then feet up.

I mean to say; what with all the shopping and decorating and gifts; parents are running on fumes.

And a tight budget.

Luckily, my current foster kids don't care for The Elf. For them the whole nonsense is too juvenile for street-wise folk such as them.

My Blue Sky social worker reminds me that Christmas is the busiest time for children coming into care. Reckons it's largely down to alcohol (or whatever) and being cooped up together for so long.

But perhaps the relentless pursuit of joy (an elusive quarry no?) has something to do with it.

PS I mentioned "The Elf On The Shelf" to my social worker when we hooked up a couple of mornings ago. She has a four year old, and is doubtless a wonderful and tireless parent. When I uttered the dreaded Elf word…you should have seen the look on her face...

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