Fostering Blog – Rowdy Teens.
James (name changed) left for school at the normal time and I pondered what to do with my day. Id pretty much done all the housework and the cupboards were full. The fish tank was clean. The washing basket was empty.
So I took myself off to the gym in a desperate attempt to get my aging body into some kind of recognisable shape. Before James came along I had been empty for a short period and enjoyed my time in the gym, in fact it became quite addictive.
I had to find a structure to my days otherwise I wouldn’t get anything achieved. So I would get up, breakfast, shower, chores and then gym. That’s a great thing about Fostering; you suddenly become responsible for the routine of the house and everyone in it.
I was enjoying a cuppa in the garden when I struck up a conversation with my next door neighbour. She had known me for a few years and was aware of the fact that I fostered. She admitted that she was concerned when she found out my profession, expecting rowdy teenagers, Police cars and vandalism. But she had been pleasantly surprised by how everything, and everyone, was managed.
She had taken a shine to James and thought he was a lovely young and loved the fact that he always said hello and smiled at her. She said that he was a credit to me and she liked the fact that he always looked smart. She asked what his story was but I told her that I couldn’t divulge that information.
She went on to say that it was a shame that kids in care had to go back to their parents after having so much ‘positivity’ being in care. I wasn’t too sure about the ‘positivity’ comment but I understood the gist of what she was saying.
A bit later I got to thinking about what she was saying. James came to me due to the neglect he was experiencing at home. He gets to live in a nice home with everything he needs. He is fed, kept warm and clean, has the internet and most importantly for him, Sky Sports. When he goes home he will, almost certainly, not have all of that. Will he then resent me or his Mum?
I worked with a lad called David (name changed). David had been in care for about 5 years. His family home was in East London and he was placed in care in South East London.
When he was too old to remain in care he was provided with a one bedroom flat, some furniture and a financial package.
Now David had learning difficulties and hadn’t really got a chance of gaining full time employment. So he sat indoors all day watching TV. David went from a ‘stocky’ 14 stone to an obese 20 stone in the space of a year.
He had a PA in twice a week for an hour and a Social Worker who appeared to visit about every 6 months. The poor lad didn’t really know who to turn to. So I got involved with him again, in an unofficial basis, and fought his corner.
I made a fuss, loads of phone calls and really kicked off. All of a sudden it all changed and David was given a proper support package. But how many David’s are there who don’t get that support and assistance? I’m guessing loads.
Fosterman – A Simply Fostering Blogging Foster Carer.
