As a foster parent, I've spent quite a bit of time in class over the past three years. We took 36 hours (12-3 hour classes) just to get licensed, and we take 20 hours each subsequent year. Sometimes the classes are really helpful, the teacher is passionate and I'm in the right mood to learn. Other times, the teacher has trouble with the Power Point (or DVD player, or projector, really these teachers need to take a class on using technology before being released to instruct others), or I'm tired and have trouble concentrating, or another parent hijacks the class to air their grievances or get help specific to their situation. Usually in the course of 3 hours, I can get at least one thing to take home and apply. Especially in the beginning, I had to save these lessons for future use. Now that we are in the thick of it, I find that I remember the words of my teachers more and more. One thing that stood out to me, in a class about maintaining information about birth families, was the instructor's explanation that just because your kid isn't talking about something, doesn't mean he isn't thinking about it. If a child is separated from siblings, or parents, or another close relative, odds are their thoughts are never far from that person. She said foster parents have to open the dialogue, and let the kids know that it's OKAY to talk, it's okay to say you wish you were back home, that you miss your family, even that parent that beat you black and blue. That really resonated with me; after all, I kept in almost everything that I thought about as a child. I've been thinking lately that I really should have spoken up to my parents about many things that I kept secret, because they probably could have made things better, helped me.
So when a child comes to my home to live, under confusing and possibly scary circumstances, I have no doubt that they are thinking way more than they are saying. Foster kids learn to say whatever they think the other person wants to hear; they don't know when they will see their biological family again, what the new rules are, where they fit in this new family. While fostering is definitely similar to more traditional parenting, with the preparation of meals and the wiping of noses, the bedtime stories and trips to the park, there is an added component of nurture that these classes are meant to teach. The most important part of foster care is the healing, taking in a broken child with no foundation, no structure, no good examples, and transforming them into a whole person, someone who knows his worth, who knows there is another way to live than what he's seen first-hand. Sometimes these conversations are difficult to start, but if I don't help my kids heal, then what am I doing?
Our current placement is a young girl. She came to us on a Friday afternoon. We didn't know much about her, except that she is an only child. She really enjoyed the experience of having other kids to play with, and jumped right in with our boys, rolling in the leaves and driving trucks across the living room. But at night, she would cry. She would ask me to take her home, to her mom. And I would feel so helpless when I told her no, that she would stay with us until her worker said different. It's a complicated situation to explain, and I've tried many different ways of phrasing. We talk about this several times a week. We've also gone to the library and perused books about parents and children who are separated. I found one picture book called "I Miss You Everyday", which I believe was written for children whose parents divorce and one lives far away. In it, the narrator mails herself across the country to see her dad. Another one, "Llama Llama Misses Mama", is about a little Llama who starts school and has trouble when his mom leaves for the day. This has actually become a favorite of all our kids, since three of them are in school and have experienced this kind of separation. But our foster daughter loves it most, and these days, she asks to read it at bedtime instead of crying for her mom. In the middle of the story, it all becomes too much for the Llama, and he cries out, "Llama Llama misses Mama!" His teacher rushes over to comfort him, and our Girl burrows deeper into my side. "Don't cry little Llama, it's okay to miss your mama!" I read. Then the Llama warms up to school and actually starts to have fun, just as the words "Mama Llama, you came back!" appear with a picture of the Mama coming to pick up her son. Although our girl can't read, she excitedly says the words at just the right time, and her face lights up in a smile. I smile too, picturing with her the day when her mama comes to get her. When she no longer has to miss her mama.
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