HOME EDUCATION?

 There's a worrying trend taking hold across the UK; namely more and more children are being 'home educated'.

If home education was being done by trained professionals that would be one thing.

But it's not.

Sad to say - I confess there are not enough facts and figures to confirm my fears - most home education is nothing more or less than that parents simply can't be bothered with the effort it can take to get their kids to school.

Children are required to be educated. Hard though it often is to pursuade them, they HAVE to go.

Unless.

While the government, or to be precise the Department of Education, takes the stance that "all children between the age of 5 and 18 must be in education either at school or college" they appear to often tag an ambiguous "or otherwise" onto the back end of this pledge.

It's perfectly understandable that many children are simply unable to cope with the tumult of great big schools teeming with loud gigantic pupils and teachers too rushed off their feet to notice.

It right and proper that the system allows some flexibility there.

Then there are children so wayward that they disrupt every class, every aspect of school life. The school ends up excluding them. 

The state has the right to fine parents who take their children on holiday during term time, and occasionally we see a headline-grabbing story where that has happened (highly publicised to act as a warning, perhaps).

The big worry for me, and most foster parents is the allegedly growing number of children who aren't in school because a) they don't want to go and b) their parents can't be bothered.

We had a girl, 15, who came to us from a badly chaotic home having hardly been in school at all.

Both her parents had physical, mental and emotional problems.

We found an academy school for her, and for a few weeks she 'gave it a go'. It was a 20 minute drive, and I did the driving.

Then she got fed up with it. Excuses ranged from stomach ache to being bullied. A teacher, she said, had implied she was overweight. She was disciplined one moring when the traffic was a bear and she was 10 minutes late. Her 'friends' turned on her. She hated the packed lunch I made her, and the school food was disgusting. She had an embarrasing spot on her nose.

You get the picture.

One morning she was due an appointment at our local hospital to give a sample of blood for tests.

She refused because it would mean she'd be an hour late for school and there'd be ridicule.

But, I won. And it was the first turning over of a new leaf.

How? I bribed her. No other word for it.

I said "Look, if we do this blood test thing the route to school from the hospital takes us past the MacDonalds on the roundabout.

She got the offer, the deal, in a heartbeat and jumped in the car.

Never, EVER, underestimate the gold standard treat that is a MaccyD takeaway.

So, yes, she enjoyed a MacDonald breakfast every morning on the way to school for her entire stay with us. 

The school was happy, social services bought it, Blue Sky bought it (with the same reservations as I) the state rested easy, I accepted the stand-off. 

But. The reason I wanted to talk with you about the problem of children missing out on school is unlikely to be solved with well-intended manipulation.

One thing that's going to start happening is that children will be increasingly coming into Care who have no reading or writing skills, can't dress themselves, don't know how to use a knife and fork. And the rest.

What's the answer?

That I do not know, which is why I'm not a politician, I'm a humble foster parent.

Proud of my past and present.

A bit concerned about the future.

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THE GOLD THAT IS FOSTERING

 Had a wonderful visit from Blue Sky yesterday. It was our regular social worker plus her boss.

We all sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and talked about…fostering.

Then we talks about fostering, followed by fostering, then went on to fostering.

You get my drift.

I can't fully express my gratitude for the support that's available in fostering. People think you're on your own, and nothing could be further from the truth.

The boss, who I'd only met once before, and only for 30 seconds, turned out to be (as I had expected), bright and kind. Those are the 2 traits my family hope for in people, and try to instill in our foster kids. We attempt it by being a good role model, and rewarding kindness and good thinking.

When I say "bright and kind" in reference to social workers I'm always impressed a) by their professionalism, their knowledge and precision of thought, and b) their humanity, empathy and powers of engagement.

If you are working with a foster child that has issues (who doesn't?), it's marvellous to sit down with people who, for want of a better way of putting it; "get it".

We talked about our transitioning child. Alicia is journeying from one gender to another. 

I'm afraid that if the subject comes up when you're talking to people, they say something ill-informed such as "Well, it's all the rage now isn't it?"

Not your social workers. They have a dynamised understanding. They understand your foster kids, they understand you (the foster parent) and your family. They understand your background, your hopes and fears for your kids, and kids everywhere.

You're never, ever, alone in fostering.

I said as they left "Your visits really put a spring in my step"

And d'you know what one of them replied?

"Visiting you always puts a spring in our step too."

Fostering. Pure gold.

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THING IS, TODAY'S KIDS ARE DIFFERENT FROM US

 Our transitioning foster child seems to be doing really well. In Care you have to be aware that things can be going on in a foster child's heart and mind that they try to conceal. But how to spot those things? 

That's one of fostering biggest challenges.

The longer a child is with you the easier it becomes.

The better you know them the easier it is to ask the right questions. 

And you've always got your social worker visiting who wants to know how you and your children are doing.

Transitioning must be incredibly challenging, especially when the 'child' reaches  the edge of adulthood age when youngsters start to become aware of romance…love...attraction. 

All that jazz.

Our child often has friends round socially, one or two of whom are transitioning. The ones who aren't transitioning are highly supportive of their friends that are. It's an absolute joy to watch and hear them laughing and chatting without a hint of the judgementalism that too many people who know nothing about the matter chuck at people who, in the main, just want to be themselves and not bother - or judge - anyone else.

I've had conversations with our other foster children about 'Alicia' and they are 'cool' about the whole thing. I'm nervous in case during Contact they talk to their family members about the fact we have a transitioning child, and the family show hostility, but it hasn't happened yet.

No, what has happened that knocked Alicia off course is that a close family member is highly anti transitioning. It's a woman, an aunt. And I had to eek the information out of Alicia because she hoped to deal with it solo.

But it turned out she WANTED me to ask her. She wanted to bring me up to speed on the concern, but needed to control the flow of information. Fine, I was happy to oblige.

It turned out the aunt who is anti-transitioning is having one of the big "0" birthdays and wants (and expects) a big party. The aunt has let it be known that she'll welcome Alicia, but she has to dress and act as the "Troy' he used to be.

Imagine.

Alicia's best friend at the moment happens to be a youngster who is transitioning from female to male. A wonderful young kid too. They're not an 'item' in the old-fashioned sense. I've noticed them in the back room watching Netflix with one arm round each other, but in a buddy way, not a "netflix" way (if you know what I mean…).

Alicia did it like this.

I'm cooking tea when she breezes through and says "Oh ye, I meant to tell you, I've been invited to a gathering with a bunch of family, so like, could I get a lift there… like…it's a Sunday afternoon…and yeah... it's like a bit y'know…complicated?"

I said "Sure".

She waited for a moment, then: "Ye, like…I don't even know if I'm definitely going or not."

I said if she wanted to go I'd drive there and pick up. I left it like that, for the time being. Her ultra 'casual' raising of the issue had been a big deal and I didn't want to pump for info.

Over the following weeks the picture got more detailed. She told me about the aunt, how they'd been close when she was little because her parents frequently lost the plot. Alicia'd lived with the aunt temporarily several times.

Alicia was economical with the truth, but I picked up on quite a few conversations she had with friends about the dilemma. 

It's amazing how kids think that when you're doing the washing up you lose the sense of hearing…

I heard them analysing the aunt and getting Alicia to tell them all about her.

I overheard kids not anywhere near old enough to be classed as adults bandying sophisticated well-informed perceptions about modern middle-aged people with eloquence and…

And….?

This "And" is the best bit. With understanding and tolerance. Saying things such as;

"There wasn't any transitioning in their day, we can't expect them to understand."

"It's normal for people to want children to remain children and feel disappointment when they grow up different from how they were."

Then there was this one, from Alicia;

"Y'know what I think? I think maybe she's worried that people will think it was her that made me want to transition."

I have no idea if there was anything in Alicia's insight. I took it as evidence of an awareness that can get a person out of a lot of personal scrapes in life, if they listen to their own voices offering useful observations about their own thinking and their behaviour.

I also overheard that Alicia wanted to take her best friend to the party for moral support. The friend who is transitioning from female to male.

Because they'd become 'close'.

Now, you want to know, did Alicia go to the party?

Can't tell you yet. The party is still 3 weeks off.

Watch this space.

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THE SADNESS OF THE TENDER HEART

 One of the big challenges in fostering is saying goodbye to a child who's been with you for some time.

It ought to be an unmitigated joy because it means you've played your part in helping rebuild the life of a distressed child and worked alongside all the other services to get the family back together.

In fact, I was advised when I first started fostering that the name of the game is to get them home again.

But Rome rarely gets built in a day, and sometimes the building blocks of getting a chaotic family back on their feet take an a while to get set up and tested.

However it's a triumph that's coloured by an impending sense that one is losing someone.

You know you'll miss them and their quirky ways.

The thing that makes it even harder is that one has to largely put them behind you. Oh, for sure there are ways of keeping track of a child's progress once they're back at their real home, but it's something that has to be done advisedly by working with your social workers to ensure that your motives are the child's welfare; I don't believe that natural curiosity is quite enough to merit monitoring them from a distance.

Sometimes social media helps; they might have agreed to sign you up to their FB account.

My approach is to talk to my Blue Sky social worker about my feelings; they are trained to be alert to these human reactions in foster carers and know how to help.

For example, I'm reminded of the importance of preparing the now-empty bedroom for the next occupant. One never quite knows the age or gender of your next child so I keep the bedrooms we use for fostering neutral. I give the room a deep clean and check safety things such as guards on the blind cords and electric plug guards. I stock up on the food that is almost guaranteed to be welcomed by a new child - who might arrive in the middle of the night frightened and hungry. A bag of pasta last an age as does a jar of pasta sauce. Biscuits and crisps ditto. I make sure I've got spare toothbrushes plus my fallback wardrobe of three sizes of clean dressing gowns and assorted (freshly laundered) children's clothes.

And, as I go about gearing up for my next arrival, I find the pleasant pain of missing the departed child is replaced by optimism about our next child.

Pretty soon my phone will ring with Blue Sky's Placement team asking "Would you be willing to consider taking a child who…"

And we're off again!

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BEST STORY EVER

 Most people think fostering is about children who are difficult, and it puts them off finding out the facts.

Yes, it goes without saying that most kids who are fostered have had some unfortunate experiences. 

But.

And this is a big 'But'.

Just as we all know plenty of people who had normal upbringings yet turned out to be trouble, there are bus-loads of children whose lives got off to a less-than-perfect start who turn out to be alright.

In some cases, more than plain old 'alright'.

One of my fostering friends at Blue Sky is dealing with this;

She and her partner have grown-up children of their own and have fostered since the youngest was old enough to leave home.

One of her current foster kids is a child who suffered more than I'm able to say.

I don't mean that I'm unable to find the words, I mean that if I told the story I'd be breaking a law that was rightly set up to protect the child's privacy.

The reason that I know the child's backstory is that my friend and I support each other alongside Blue Sky. We benefit from sharing, knowing that the other party understands the code of discretion in fostering. We're professionals.

So; I can share with her my fostering ups and downs, and she shares hers with me. And the sharing is of huge benefit to us, our foster children, and fostering.

This is her story to date, with a few tweaks to protect everyone, but it's a true story.

Her own, natural, children are cause for concern. She and her partner nurtured them from conception to the present day, gave them the best of love, the safest of homes, the most solid support that parents can muster.

One child is struggling to cope with modern life.  The child is in their 30s and can't seem to get any anchorage. Cannot stand living with mum and dad, but needs their support for rent. Drinks, and uses substances. Cannot keep relationships alive. Refuses medication and counselling.

A concern.

Another child is a highly succesful professional. But is struggling to manage responsibilities. Head of a self-owned company, has no manager to turn to for help and finds most of the staff who work for the business bringing all their problems to the boss. This child is fighting all the battles that success can bring; a big house - in need of building work, a flat they rent out that has a combative and neglectful tenant. The child's partner wants to live life as if they were in their teens even though they have two toddlers and a babe in arms.

A concern.

Third child is in a bad relationship but keeps on 'giving it one more chance". Some Satudays sleeps in the car in a lay-by. Plays online bingo and buys scratchcards and lottery tickets.

My friend will stand by her kids to the end, through thick and thin, even though stuff keeps happening.

Then there's long-term foster child.

This foster child had a singularly horrifying childhood. People were imprisoned for it, I won't say more than that.

When the child arrived at my friend's home there were plenty of difficulties, but my freind and her partner stuck it out. And in no time there were good signs, beginning with the day the child asked to call her "Mum" - always a good sign whichever way one plays the request. 

Spool forward to the present day. 

Her foster child is her 'golden' one! 

The child has independently found two part time jobs and is holding them down.  Child tidies and cleans their bedroom and does the domestics from emptying the pedal bin to buying 50 mini Easter eggs (with own money) to organise an Easter Egg hunt for the family toddlers in the garden.

It gets even better.

My friend told me that for the Easter lunch the child invited current partner. They are close. My freind overheard the child discussing something with current partner;

Child: "Yeh, so how many?"

Partner: "How many? Not sure.. five or six, why not?"

Child: "Nah, c'mon…too many. Three max. Probably two is right."

Partner: "Well I just think.. if they need a home…"

My friend wondered what they were talking about. Rescue rabbits?

No.

The child said;

"Look, we're talking about adoption here, it's like, a massive responsibilty and you need to focus big time on each child, so yeh…two. Max. And they need space, to grow into who they want to be. And they need parents who support them and don't, like, stand in their way. So, yeh. Two"

My friend took the dishes into the kitchen, her eyes filled up and her heart swelled up too. 

And that fluttering feeling in her head? That was the feather in her cap twitching away.

I kid you not, fostering is the best thing you can do.

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A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME...

 When a new foster child is on their way to your home for the first time it's natural to try to piece together what sort of child they might be from the information you've been given.

Blue Sky try to get as much background on the child, and get it to their colleagues (us foster parents) asap.

Sometimes the information is on the sparse side. Perhaps the child was taken into emergency care. The Local Authority social workers discovered the case and on their first visit realised they couldn't risk leaving the child in their own home. Rare but it happens. 

Sometimes the child's parents are uncooperative.

If the child is young they might not be able to articulate themselves.

I've learned to use every scrap of inoformation, even the stuff that turns out to be off the mark.

Talking to my Blue Sky social worker we realised what a feast of background lurks behind the one and only thing we know for sure about the child.

Their name.

It's said by psychologists that if you want to know what your parents hopes and dreams were for you when you were born, take a look at your own birth certificate.

I dug mine out and went through it with a fine tooth comb. My mum was, like many parents, aspirational for her kids. I gazed down on my 'birthplace' which was a hospital in an uninspiring part of town. My mum changed that location to "St Aubrey's Palace" which was a big house in a park 10 minutes from our house. See what she was doing?

It's similar with the parents of children who get taken into care. Similar but different.

We never see the birth certificates, but we're told the child's name.

And the child's name speaks volumes.

Thing is here, I can't use the real names of children I've had in my care for obvious reasons. But I can quote names and categories that are typical;

1. Slightly unusually spelled names. eg Loren instead of Lauren, Skarlett instead of Scarlet, Berni instead of Bernie. 

Parents hope the child will stand out as being not just any old Scarlet, but Skarlett, a special one.

2. Names that are part grand, part pop naff eg Jordan (as in the Bible and the model), Charlie (as in the King/slang for cocaine), Josh (as in Joshua of the Bible and the street term "josh' meaning "you're having a laugh".

Parents hope the child is percieved as having simultaneous gravitas and street cred.

I coulod go on, but you get the gist.

And sometimes I get it hopelessly wrong.

A child was on his way called Harley and naturally I pictured a child of Hell's Angels complete with all the anti-authority that accompanies bikers.

I was wrong. Harley was sweet as pie.

I was tempted to ask if he knew why he was called Harley, but never did.

Most people, if I ask them why they were given their first name, simply shrug and say "I dunno!" then add "I suppose my parents just liked it."

Noooooo! 

Go deeper folks!

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WOBBLIES

I got chatting with a fellow Blue Sky foster mum at a group meeting. What she had to say that morning came back to me today.

What brought her words back was this; one of our foster children had a wobbly.

Can I talk for a moment about 'wobblies' in fostering?

Many children have them, not only children in care. And for all sorts of reasons.

My fostering friend told me about a trip they'd taken to the seaside.

Sandcastles, paddling, candy floss, crazy golf, the pier, fish and chips… wall to wall happiness.

On the way back the child boiled over.

It had been his first day out.

Ever. 

Guess what had triggered the wobbly? He was feeling guilt about feeling happy.

Yep. Many's the conversations I've had with Blue Sky social workers about this one.

It seems to happen with certain children in care more than others and has something to do with the feeling that they believe that somehow they deserved the bad things that have happened to them. They can even think that the break-up of their family was their fault. They think they've been badly so behaved that they had to be taken away, so don't deserve to be happy. So when they get happiness they sometimes get guilt.

What can we foster folk do to help them when it happens?  The first thing I try is, where safe, to let the upset to run its course rather than make a great fuss to try to turn them around. Allow them let off a bit of steam. Be patient and sympathetic.

Er… that's it really.

I've found - almost always - that a child in care is at peace after a wobbly.

In the case of our current child's wobbly, the child had actually texted me a couple of days prior and written "I actually feel very happy at the moment." 

I suppose I should have been ready for a rebound, but hope always triumphs over expectation so the wobbly caught me unawares. It was harmless enough but for 5 minutes the child was saying things through gritted teeth, with tears squeezing through scrunched up eyes, things such as; 

"You don't understand…"

"You weren't there…"

"I don't know what I think…my brain is mad..."

I usually find the right moment to suggest they go up to their room and calm down, maybe come downstairs when they feel a bit better. I make it crystal clear they're not being banished. 

I never say things like "I understand" because I don't understand. It's true I wsn't there when whatever happened happened. And I have no idea how they cope with their own thoughts and recollections.

Wobblies blow over.

And obviously we don't stop making moments of magic for fear of triggering another wobbly. 

On the contrary we keep giving them as many moments of happiness as we can. 

And helping them emerge from their occasional wobble with dignity and pride intact.

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