“What does foster care feel like?”
It’s a simple, innocent question asked by those who have never experienced what over 450,000 kids per year experience in the United States. It’s a question that requires thought to answer. It’s a question that I have been asked countless times in my life. It’s a question that most who come from care are also asked countless times throughout their lives. Some take the question as a sign of ignorance, others, aggression. I’ve always thought of the question as a chance to change opinions.
In my personal experience, these conversations can go one of two ways; there’s the curious ask, this person looks at you with wide eyed wonder as you explain care and then there is the “aww you poor thing” ask, this person tilts their head ever so slightly to the side as if you’d just told them your dog died. They mean well, they want to understand.
One of the goals of the magazine is to help people who aren’t familiar this world. It’s not the easiest thing to explain. Even though there are nearly a half million kids in care in any given year, the percentage of people who experience is still, fortunately, a small one. That’s a good thing, not everyone can handle the downside of foster care. In that vein, not everyone can handle the good parts of care. So it is up to this small percentage of the population to explain this life to the rest of the world. Call it a side effect, call it a responsibility, it’s the way it is. It falls on those of us from care to educate the rest.
It was with that thought in mind that I called upon dozens of former foster kids to share with Foster Focus readers what they thought foster care felt like a few years back. The photo gallery of their responses is one of the most popular pieces the magazine has ever presented.
Heartfelt recollections of the feelings left behind from time spent in care gave insight to those who work with or around current foster youth. The adult faces of kids who had spent time in care gave hope that the future could be a bright one despite living in the system. Alumni of care with their children, smiling bright gave a shot in the arm to foster parents or caseworkers who may have been losing their passion for improving the system. Overall the photo gallery was a huge success, it continues to be one of the most frequented pages on FosterFocusMag.com. Foster parent and social work trainers all across the nation have included it in their classes.
There are many facets to the American foster care system. It’s been said that foster care is a tree with thousands of branches that shoot off into other areas of the industry. There are judges and lawyers. Advocates and caseworkers. Adoption specialists and special needs experts. Justice workers and therapists. Counselors and ad litems. CASA volunteers and training experts. But the most important pieces of the puzzle are the kids and the people who care for them, the foster parents.
If you were to equate foster care to a football team, foster parents would be the offensive linemen; their job is to protect and you shouldn’t hear anything about them unless they make a mistake. Like an offensive lineman, nothing works unless they are good at their job. They are the frontline of protection. They are critical, imperative, and essential to making the whole thing work.
Across the nation there a thousands and thousands of qualified, caring, well trained foster parents that dedicate their lives to children they’ve never met before opening their homes to them. They are truly remarkable individuals and families. It is true the occasional bad foster parent slides through the cracks and negatively impacts the life of a child but those cases are infrequent and becoming even more so. The good far outweighs the bad. The foster parents who care go through hours and hours of training each year, their houses are inspected by strangers and their parenting style questioned occasionally by a fresh out of college caseworker without children. They are sometimes looked at as money grabbing babysitters or kid hoarders. Despite these sour notes, these caring individuals dredge on, changing the lives of the kids who pass through their doorway.
I have the good fortune of meeting and speaking with hundreds of truly loving foster parents each year. My affinity for great foster parents is well documented. My disdain for those who abuse the privilege of being the caregivers for the country’s most fragile resource is also well documented.
My story begins and ends with the quality of foster parents I was provided with.
I was an angry kid when I showed up on the doorstep of Richard and Maxine Black. I stood there judging them as day turned to night. Cigarette hanging from my mouth, torn Nirvana shirt on my chest and angry music blaring through the headphones that wrapped my face. I peered at them through the greasy strands of hair that covered my eyes. They smiled. I stared through them as they sat me down at their dinner table. They smiled. I sighed and rolled my eyes as they went over the rules of the house. They smiled. I kept quiet as they tried to pry information from me. They smiled. I stomped from the room and out the door when I was told I was dismissed. They smiled.
Then something happened. They handed me a basketball and told me what time to come back.
It was the dead of winter when I walked out the door. I asked for a shovel and directions to the nearest basketball court. I didn’t look back when I left that first day. I thought about running away. I thought about how I got to this strange place, this strange town. I thought about how damn cold I was. I shoveled off half of the court and warmed my hands. The music pumping into my head was angry but I was becoming less so. The ball bounced on the frozen ground and under the shine of a lone street light, I shot and I shot and I shot. I shot until my arms couldn’t support the ball anymore. I shot until the tears on my face had become icicles. I shot until I forgot who I was.
I walked back into the door of that foreign house, dirty, tired, and less angry but still not ready to talk to anyone. They smiled. I was shown my room that I would share with a kid who looked angrier than I did. I was shown the shower, my bed and a place to throw my garbage bag that contained what was left of my life. An insomniac slept that night.
The next day found me more susceptible to questions and more open to speaking to these new people around me. I got familiar with the two teen boys I’d spend the next couple of years with, there would be plenty more over my five years in the house. I began to feel the warmth of the matriarch of the household. The Blacks were in their mid-50s when I became their son. They were a warm, hardworking, robust couple with enough personality to keep the interest and respect of angry teenagers. Maxine was and is a boisterous woman with an ease about her that translated into an ability to knock down a person’s walls. She was attentive and caring. Prone to listening rather than lecturing. A friend after a while and someone you shared your problems with. Mr. Black was a solid man. He had worked hard his whole life and you could tell. He had a soft face and a barrel-chested body. I would tease him later that someone had put Kenny Rogers’ face on George “The Animal” Steele’s body. He spoke very rarely but when he did there was thought behind it and you took it to heart. At dinner that night he would say something that would change the course of my life.
“Because of where you are, the hand you’ve been dealt, you need to work three times harder than anyone else in the room.”
It was a simple, firm, direct message. No one was going to give me a thing. These people would be there to protect me and steer me in the right direction but the responsibility of becoming a quality person would fall on my shoulders. They taught me work ethic, they taught me patience, they taught me to care about myself. They taught me how to be a man I could be proud of.
That became what a good foster parent meant to me. It’s my measuring stick.
When it came time to resurrect the “What Foster Care Feels Like” photo project, I thought it was time I asked the foster parents what they thought.
I reached out to my friend and Executive Director of the National Foster Parent Association, Irene Clements. I’ve known Irene since I began the magazine four years ago. A foster mother herself for over twenty five years, she is a fierce advocate for foster parents and foster youth alike. Through many conferences we became friendly but through a few projects we have worked on together, she has become a trusted advisor and someone whose opinion matters. She is quick to assist me with questions about foster parenting. She is objective and quick to speak sharply when that rare foster parent slips through the cracks. Her frankness about all things foster care makes her one of those people I call in care when clarity is needed.
Irene was quick to help me wrangle submissions for the gallery. Like me, Irene is always on the lookout for anything that shines a positive light on foster care and the foster parents who populate it.
Recalling the enormity of the previous photo project, I requested a limited amount of submissions.
What I received was a little different than what I had expected. Alumni of care, for the most part, are very open in sharing their experiences. Maybe it’s because time heals wounds or makes the picture clearer, whatever the case, alumni are very open and descriptive with their recollection of care. Foster parents on the other hand were more guarded, more cognizant that their experience isn’t like the experience that the kids they care for will have. Their words are measured, thoughtful and more to the point than descriptive.
The submissions are more of the “reasons why” variety. It makes sense when you break it down; of course a foster parent’s account of care would vary from that of an alumni; they CHOSE to be foster parents. They weighed the pros and cons of letting kids they didn’t know into their home. They consulted family, formed a small village to assist all before opening their doors. There is no definitive reason as to why these people choose to lend their lives to others. Why they deal with the pain of reunifying a youth after making that child a part of their family unit is anyone’s guess. All this factored into the responses to my request for photo gallery submissions.
Descriptions of finding the need for more foster parents so strong that it called them to service. Depictions that tie into faith, the reasons for becoming a foster parent. The misfortune of being able to conceive through familiar circumstances caused some to provide a home. Some were called through necessity, a family member in need. Some experienced care themselves or via a childhood friend. While the reasons vary, the intent is echoed; protect and care for America’s youth who need them.
As the Alumni photo gallery before it, the foster parent edition of the “What Foster Care Feels Like” series, should lead to discussions, interpretations and a greater understanding of what foster care entails. The ability to translate what it takes to be involved in foster care is often lacking. This leads to an inability to recruit new foster parents or retain current foster parents. Negative stigmas can be eliminated through an increase of information about foster care, all areas of foster care. The more information a potential foster parent has, the more they can research the lifestyle, the more comfortable be with their decision and it increases the likelihood of that parent staying for a longer period. It’s no secret that turnover among foster parents is a real problem for foster care, opportunities to shine light on foster parenting could lead to a greater appreciation of the sacrifices made. A little appreciation goes a long way to reigniting the passion that brings these folks to the table.
Consider this photo gallery a celebration of all the good that foster parenting can bring, the lives it can change. Take in the message each submission projects, if it’s applicable to your journey, if you can benefit from something you see, it will have been worth the effort of putting the gallery together. The hope is that you get a better look at what it is to be a foster parent.
Without further delay, please enjoy these heartfelt submissions from some of America’s foster parents.
Owner/Editor - Chris Chmielewski