Children Who are Treated Like Garbage Don’t Realize Their Value

#1 Life Lessons from the Children

I returned to my office confronted by a 33-gallon, black, plastic garbage sack stuffed with personal items. The foster parents had warned me that they were dropping off the Allison’s belonging, but the sight still numbed my heart and set my questioning mind in motion. Isn’t there a procedure for ending a foster parenting placement? Shouldn’t a counselor be involved? What happened last night to prompt such an extreme response? Couldn’t they at least provide the child a suitcase?

One hour earlier, a man called to explain why the girl wasn’t welcome back in his home. My mouth went dry and words stuck in my throat at the explanation of the behaviors from the previous night. My heart craved to explain that children make mistakes. I wanted to encourage a conversation between the family members and allow the student to have some closure.

Though I understood that foster parenting was temporary placement, my mother always taught me to close doors with grace and not slam them in another’s face. Handing a 13-year-old all his worldly belonging in a garbage sack seemed dehumanizing. Would the young girl see herself as nothing more than garbage abandoned and tossed to the curb? My head hurt; my heart identified the pain of rejection.

My own daughter lost her temper at times, called me names, and once even ran away. However, when she returned, I opened the door, held her in my arms, and welcomed her home. Isn’t that what a parent does? Logic reminded me that teenagers challenge boundaries, and troubled teenagers often push against the expectations harder as they attempt to identify limits and test the faithfulness of others.

A caregiver’s responsibility is to provide fair, structured responses that define appropriate behavior. I worked to define a foster parent’s role. Synonyms for the word foster produce positive images: nurture, help, stimulate, support. Joined, the meaning of the two words should be apparent. However, unconditional love didn’t live in the vocabulary of the man on the other end of the phone, so I saved my breath.

“Love is always open arms. If you close your arms about love you will find that you are left holding only yourself. “ — Leo Buscaglia

I listened and accepted the sentence the man on the phone assigned to the girl’s crimes wondering how the student would feel when given her eviction notice. That was this morning.

Thinking my brain had processed the situation, the shock of seeing the garbage bag tied in a knot sitting in the corner of my office, shattered the wall I had erected to protect my emotions in situations like this. I sat down and cried. They had thrown him out like garbage, leaving no note of explanation or encouragement.

The tears signaled I needed a plan so before they dried. After calling the foster care case manager, I headed home. Once there I gathered a suitcase, some stationary, and a bag of Hershey’s Kisses.

With my emergency kit in hand, I reframed the situation. The contents of the garbage sack were extracted and organized. Each item was folded and then placed into the suitcase with a note attached to the chocolates.

The message read as if written by the man from the phone conversation. I refuse to call him caretaker or foster parent as he fulfilled neither role. The note offered assurances that blame rested solely with the adult because his lack of integrity restricted his ability to handle the situation in a mature manner.

Ok, I didn’t write that second part. The words expressed thanks for being a part of the family and asked for forgiveness that it was not delivered in person explaining that it hurt too much to look in the child’s eyes and admit weakness. The goodbye note ended by offering hope that the future would be promising, and the young woman would achieve her dreams.

Yes, when I signed the man’s name, I lied.

Careful to not gush with emotions because that would reveal the forgery, the words remained neutral. The content in the body of the letter stated the truth to reinforce the youth’s self-worth.

At the end of the day sitting in the conference room after explaining the situation, Allison read the letter. His body showed emotion as he slumped in the chair; his words provided camouflage. “Yeah, I knew he was a loser. Where do I go now?” She unwrapped a candy kiss and threw it in her mouth.

As she walked out of our school, I realized the system had not failed this child, a human had.

Parenting challenges every person who accepts responsibility. Foster parenting complicates the dynamics of the situation even more. However, many dedicated adults find fostering a child rewarding. Many children live with foster parents who understand the responsibility and honor of serving. Each of them deserves praise for their sacrifice.

With the knowledge that there are many sides to every story and interpretations of events change based on a person’s perspective, I used writing to process my own emotions. These poems emerged. The names are changed for confidentiality but the information is a compilation of the information I gathered throughout the unfolding of the day’s events.

Allison East

They say home is where the heart is — Whatever Having a heart implies the ability to love I could learn to love if I lived in one place with one family The adoption agency said, “We have a family for you.”

A forever family loves unconditionally. Know what that isn’t? They don’t back all your belongings in plastic sacks Drop them off at school and say, “We didn’t think it would be This hard. We’ve had enough. She’s damaged goods.” No shit!

What did they think they were bringing home? A puppy? After three failed foster placements — A failed adoption just follows suit I expect no less. Rejection is always coming

What’d they expect when my “sister” is so nasty Never accepted me and in fact, she wishes me dead Said, “I am sorry if I ever gave you the idea I liked you” Hate to break it to her, but I never had that idea

After two years of being called fake, worthless, stupid, bitch I started the believe it. The emotional pain was overwhelming. I am the outsider who entered their world

The sleeping pills were just too much for the family Not enough for me because I still walk these halls But plenty for them to call it quits. Kind of sounds like One of those oxymorons the teacher talks about.

Shianne Yeager

I may have called her ideas stupid — not her Just ‘cuz I say something Doesn’t mean I mean it Allison continually blows things Way out of proportion I mean really? Why would I call her worthless? I value her as my ADOPTED sister

I told her sorry –

I am truly sorry She got the idea that I don’t like her She is out of control No grasp on reality Blames her problems on me Ungrateful bitch

My family opens our house Gives her a bed to use Provides her food Now we must deal with All the neighbors’ questions Complete the state’s paperwork She never stops to think How we feel

I mean — really?

Poetry comes from Locker’s Speak by Brenda Mahler, a compilation of students’ thoughts and response to life experiences.

In the classroom, I observed human experiences that demonstrated the possibilities for humans to share pain and joy. I learned the art of being fully human demands we accept life with open arms and embrace whatever and whoever comes our way.

As a teacher, I believed my job was to educate children. By the time I retired, I understood education is the process of learning to live life to the fullest while sharing compassion.

Read more lessons from the children.