… that one time I couldn’t find my kid .

On New Years Day at 10:30pm, I received a text saying that one of my foster children was not returned to his foster mother. I was getting ready for bed and I didn’t want to respond, but how could I sleep not knowing what is happening? So… I texted Ms.Todd*, foster mother, and asked her if he was still missing.

me: Is he still missing? Ms. Miller’s [birth mom] cell phone is off; here is her home number. I tried calling but no answer.
her: No, she still hasn’t dropped him off. I texted her, I called her, I called her mother… no response. I called the on-call and I am waiting for them to call me back. I hope everything is alright. I am beginning to get worried.

At this point it was 11:30pm, and I had no idea what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen! I had just talked to Ms. Miller the day before about her progress… this will not go well!

Let’s go back a couple of days… it’s Tuesday 12/30/14, and Ms. Miller called me. She is asking for an extended visit with her boys. I had received her most recent drug screening and it came back positive for marijuana. I had a long discussion with her and stated that I would email our lawyer to see if they will approve the extended visit, but I also have to inform them about the positive drug screening.

The lawyers wrote back and they recommended to suspend overnight visits until Ms. Miller has consistent negative drug screenings. This was not going to go well. It took so much to get Ms. Miller where she is now and if we suspended overnights, I believed that Ms. Miller would revert back to not being consistent with her service plan. After consulting with my supervisor, we decided that we would allow one-night overnight visit with Ms. Miller and she would have to complete a drug screening immediately. Continuing over-night visits would be determined after the drug screening results.

I called and informed Ms. Miller of the denial of her request; I informed her to come to the office the next morning to pick up her son, Tyler, and to have a discussion about moving forward. She came bright and early; we spoke about the drug screening [I showed her the results]. She denied that she is smoking. I explained that I don’t know if she is or not, but that random drug screenings are a part of the service plan, so she needs to stop being around it if that’s what’s causing the positive screening. I explained that we will have to suspend visits if the next test is positive. Tyler arrived and they left. Happy New Years!

Fast forward to 01/01/15 at 11:30 pm and we do not know where the foster child is; we can’t get a hold of birth mom.

Are they okay? Is anyone hurt? I’m going to get in so much trouble!
Please… please let us find him. 

At midnight, I called the on-call since Ms. Todd has not gotten a phone call back. I was able to relay information and the supervisor stated she would call Ms. Todd. The supervisor stated that she’s going to tell Ms. Todd to file a missing person’s report with the police. I waited by the phone for Ms. Todd to call me. I couldn’t fall asleep. I facebooked Ms. Miller and her boyfriend. I was desperate to get a hold of someone. I was thinking about how traumatizing it’s going to be for Tyler if the police goes to the home and he is there. But what are we supposed to do?

Finally, Ms. Todd texted at 1:30 pm and stated that the police just left, they were going to Ms. Miller’s home, and she was finally going to sleep. All I could do was try to sleep. I woke up the next morning and rushed to the work. There was an email already in my inbox detailing the events from the night before. At 9:30 am, I received a phone call from Ms. Todd and she stated that Tyler was dropped off to her home at 9 am by Ms. Miller. Ms. Todd wasn’t able to speak with Ms. Miller.

Oh, thank goodness! He’s safe.

I was so angry; I was so tired. I wanted to cry; I was so scared for both Ms. Miller and Tyler. But I wonder how Ms. Miller felt. I wanted to know where she was coming from, what determined her actions, and how can we support her as we move to suspend her overnight visits. I know that when we meet I will have to explain the facts of the night before; I will have to explain why overnight visits are being suspended; and I will have to tell her that trial discharge is delayed. All of these topics will be hard to discuss with her, but it needs to happen.

This career field is no joke and we will have surprises like these all the time. What I have to remember is the ultimate goal… keeping the children safe. As long as that’s at the forefront, whatever we do, whatever we say… it will always be what is in the best interest of the child.

At this time, the best interest for Tyler is to suspend overnights. 

*All names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved.

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Motherhood & Other Unclear Lessons

I was assigned a family over a year ago where I had to conduct family therapy using a phone interpretation service because the mother with six children was Spanish-speaking (I am not). The mother was also undocumented. After managing to make some therapeutic headway in the first few months, the family struggled to maintain stable housing and became homeless at the start of the summer. This family of seven ended up moving on a temporary basis into one bedroom of an apartment with two other undocumented families.

Back in August, I typed out the below entry on my phone to process my feelings about a failed home visit where I was going to give the family metro cards to come into my office for a session to address the family’s concerns in privacy:

I want to be angry or feel that the mother is ungrateful but I do not feel those things. Yes, I tried my best to ensure that this visit would occur and even gave mom an out by asking her to just text me if she won’t be home. Yes, I advocated for the family to be provided round trip metro cards to our office because I know it would be unrealistic and unfair to expect the family (one mom, six kids) to come on their own. And I wanted her to come to see me for once so we could have a meaningful conversation in a private, comfortable space with the aid of phone interpretation so that her kids do not need to be burdened with being spokespersons and she can feel safe that other families are not overhearing her business.

But I also understand that in the grand scheme of all their problems, talking with me isn’t high on her priority list. So what I’m left feeling is sadness. Sadness that really and honestly, there isn’t much of anything I can do for this family in their current situation. I am a family therapist. And while I can and should accommodate the realities of many of our clients in child welfare, I’m simply not equipped to help them with concrete needs. I’m not a housing specialist. I don’t have an array of resources at my disposal to provide undocumented families the necessities they need.

Refer them elsewhere. That’s the response. It’s the right move. And yet, it feels so hollow. We all know too well how many families fall through the cracks when they change programs or agencies. After nearly 8 months of working with this family and with the last 2 months of the family being homeless, this sliding down the slippery slope of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, I can’t help but feel what was the point of all this?

“We plant seeds. It’s not about solving their problems but about giving them the tools to face them more effectively. It’s the reality too many undocumented families face,” and so on. None of this gives me solace. I am just tired… and tired of expending more energy on a family that’s really beyond my or my agency’s capabilities.

I do acknowledge that there are strengths and some resources present in this mother and her family. But I can say with objectivity I’m not of much use to this family right now.
I’m not frustrated or angry. I’m just… Tired.

………

By the end of October, the family eventually ended up in an exceptionally safe and comfortable shelter and I was able to transfer the case to a nearby general preventive program to a dedicated worker who was also Spanish-speaking. I also got to have a very touching termination visit with the mom and children. Language barriers and evidence-based model protocols aside, I figured this was the closest to success I was going to achieve with this case.

Then in mid November, I came to learn the devastating news from the new worker that mom had been hospitalized, was found to be terminally ill, and was not going to be discharged. ACS planned to find permanent placements for the children (ages 7 to 13). I broke down.

In spite of all the problems and instability, the one constant in the lives of these children was their mother. While mom had grown more weary and drained over the year, the children remained high spirited and resilient. This mom was clearly doing something many things right no matter what her ACS worker said.

Unfortunately, this is where their story ended for me. It will be someone else’s job to see the next chapter of their story unfold. I am left mourning the loss of a woman who faced countless struggles and at times made me feel my weariest as her worker, but who unquestionably championed at being a mother.

My work with this family taught me that while my role as a social worker may often feel unclear, unsatisfying, and ultimately, not enough, it does not mean the work/effort/connection was in vain. There are not always clear lessons to be learned or closure to be gained. And I am learning to be okay with that.

My thoughts are with her children.

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Thanksgiving Thoughts and Reflections

In the spirit of this giving season I want to give some of my thanks, thoughts, and reflections on my first three months working in child welfare as a member of Children’s Corps (CC). As my job has become increasingly demanding and my emotional involvement increasingly present, the mission of Children’s Corps has become even clearer to me. Children’s Corps provides a tightly knit support network for us to turn to when we need guidance, advice, a sounding board, a friend, or a mentor. These things seem obvious and necessary for those of us who are members and who take advantage of CC’s resources, but Children’s Corps was created to address a need in the employment of case planners in foster care. Fostering Change for Children (FCFC) examined the system on a macro level and noticed disturbing trends in employee turnover, lack of adequate supervision, and overworked, underpaid, burnt-out workers.

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This is a serious problem and clearly change is necessary. FCFC took a step. Instead of tearing down and radically changing the structure of child welfare, Children’s Corps works within the system to set up supports and structures which can transform the problems into permanent and lasting solutions. In the end it’s really quite simple. Workers need support, positive reinforcement, guidance, and training. Children’s Corps provides these things. And it’s working. 88% of CC workers stay after one year, where only 66% of the general case planner population is still working after the same amount of time. The vast majority of Children’s Corps workers stay in the field of child welfare even after the two years of commitment to the program. I’m lucky enough to have a fantastic supervisor who is a Children’s Corps alum. It seems that providing new workers with these things (support, positive reinforcement, guidance, and training) is creating a new generation of workers who stay.

So first I want to say thank you to Children’s Corps. You guys rock. Second I want to make some observations with CC’s mission in mind: it has become increasingly obvious to me that the families I work with in my job are in need of the same fundamental support, positive reinforcement, guidance, and training that we as workers receive from Children’s Corps. The predominant difference is that these families did not choose to be in the system whereas we made the conscious and slightly insane decision to enter into this field.

As Children’s Corps has re-envisioned the experience of child welfare workers, let us as those workers strive every day to re-envision the experience of our families. Imagine equipping our parents and children with the support, positive reinforcement, guidance, and training that Children’s Corps has modeled for us. What would that look like? How might things be different if we focused on creating community support networks for our single parents with limited familial ties or help? What would happen if our strength based approach to family engagement centered around positive reinforcement and the development and sustainability of those strengths? How would it help if we guide families through the system, inviting  them to be a part of the conversation, with an emphasis on compassion and care, instead of on deadlines and requirements? How might that change the narrative? Or, what would happen if we equip and train parents and children with skills to prevent future trauma and pain? In a perfect system I would like to see the only necessary services be preventive instead of reactive. Perhaps this all seems too unrealistic. But I have worked in this field for only three months and therefore am allowed my idealistic visions of how we can engage with our families. I’m not asking to change the system, but rather, what Children’s Corps has provided for case planners I hope to provide for my families.i-dont-pretend-we-have-all-the-answers-but-the-questions-are-certainly-worth-thinking-about-inspirational-quote

As Children’s Corps workers we are fortunate to have this support network backing us and setting us up for success in our future careers. I believe it is our duty to get creative and collaborative with how to implement that structure in the lives of our families.  I don’t have the answers but I clearly have a lot of questions and a whole community of support. That’s the first step.

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Year one- The Aftermath

Hi Jess-

It has been awhile… what a whirlwind of a summer, huh? I’ve been doing all right for the most part… back to school definitely comes with a lot more work but its exciting since I have been preparing most of my families all summer and now we will see what comes of it. I’m trying to be hopeful. Unfortunately the last couple weeks have been extremely emotional and hard. I went to my first funeral on Tuesday for a child from a family that I had worked with before my medical leave. Her friends and family often called her Monsta. She had sickle cell anemia. She was 9.

Although I’m no longer working with the family, this whole experience has highlighted for me how truly batshit crazy of a job this is… that the unmatched vulnerable nature of my position is one that is simultaneously beautiful and ab-so-lutely terrifying.

I have realized that what we so often laxly refer to as “caseloads” are in reality an extended web of close and trusting relationships that do not end once a case is transferred or closed. That by virtue of entering into a family and getting to know them from the inside out the way we do, we will go on carrying that profound level of knowledge and understanding of who they are, where they came from and the obstacles they face- and with that- all of the dreams, hopes and compassion we develop with and for them over the course of that relationship. We come in rooting for them all, even though we know that statistically, many of them will not be able to achieve the heights we help them to aspire to- for reasons far too complicated to simply blame on individual failures or shortcomings. We find ourselves feeling frustratingly stagnant at times because of these invisible ceilings that our families are up against, and even more-so by the blatant blockages and limitations we are bogged down by as the workers slated to support them through these minefields of oppression, poverty and discrimination. But how are we to feel when sickness and death rip one of our soldiers out of the fight before she is even given the opportunity to confront it for herself? When we cannot point our fingers of blame at the ism’s society has seemingly maliciously created and unjustly imposed? Grief has the ability to swallow you whole because there is nothing and no one to blame for the unexpected loss of a child who suffered (although she would never show it) from a genetic disease.

To watch and be a part of the most raw and intimate moments of each family’s lifecycle thus far has been equal measures of wildly beautiful, inexplicably frustrating, and heart wrenchingly painful. I am but a little over a year in and I have this pleasure/curse of carrying with me the full spectrum of human emotion and experience, not only for myself, family, and friends, but extended now to 20+ sets of parents, grandparents and children- and that is overwhelming to say the least. Although I hate to describe it as baggage or weight that I carry, in moments like these it is hard to see it as anything but, and I must admit that this realization scares the shit out of me. Throughout the course of this year, my deep and far reaching empathetic capacity, something I initially thought would be a great asset and strength in this field, has simultaneously been my biggest downfall. And I’m not quite sure how to feel about that yet.

In order to make it through this first year as a child welfare warrior, I have had no choice but to (try to) come to terms with this limitation, and all limitations that get in the way of creating and fostering the lasting change that my families need to sustain in order to ensure the safe and nurtured development of their children. I thought I had mastered it- that the trick was simply in framing my role with the families that I work with as that of a modern day, female version of Johnny Appleseed (we’ll go with Jenny); planting small seeds of hope, motivation, accountability, and healing each time I had a conversation with my parents and their children. I told myself that like all seeds, they would take time and care and the right environment to flourish into saplings, let alone to begin taking root in the individuals I was asking to change. I told myself that what I so often felt as personal responsibility for my families’ lack of progress (I don’t have the clinical skills, for a start) was in fact beyond both my own or their control. That, despite my title as Preventive Case Planner, I could not, in fact, have prevented (or planned) many of the crises my families have experienced over the last year. When I recognized that this left me with the role of holding their hands through the crises, picking them up once the dust settled, and trying again to guide them in the right direction- a weight lifted off my shoulders. That, I could do. But to pick my own self up, to pick up and support my co-worker who has stood by them through it all in a way I honestly don’t think I could’ve handled, let alone how the family will even begin to pick up the shattered pieces of their universe after a tragedy so deep… this will be a constant struggle for us all.

Moving forward, which is all we can really do, I’m daunted to no end to think that this may be the first of many tragedies like this to impact me and the people that I work alongside and care about. At this point, it is impossible to say if my capacity to cope will only get stronger or if I will even be able to bear another.  Still yet, through the tears, I am driven to continue being a positive force for these families who are all too often socially isolated and disempowered and left to languish on the fringes of our society. Despite the baggage it brings, the endless complexity of human relationships still fascinates me unlike any other field of study, and this is not something I can easily turn my back on- this truly seems to be my soul’s purpose, and I fear that it would not be fulfilled if I ran away, even and especially if it was to protect myself.

Attending M’s funeral this week was one of the more difficult experiences of my already tumultuous life. But it wasn’t about me. It was about her family and friends, all of us as a community of souls who were blessed to have known her smile, coming together to show our support and send out our incredible amounts of love and appreciation that we knew her while we could, because what else can we possibly do? All of us, no matter what we choose as a profession, are given chances every day to share our light with those around us that need it, sometimes desperately. And we can all agree that this world could use a little more light. I’d like to think that through the hardships I will be able to remind myself that this is not only a worthy endeavor but a pretty damn cool job description at that.

Although I am still reeling from the loss of a vibrant and incredible baby girl I had the pleasure to know during her short stay in this life, I look forward to the birth of yet another just around the corner that awaits another family in my ever extending web. Life is absurd in its endlessly fleeting and unpredictable nature- in both its light and darkness.

Only together, as brothers and sisters of the human race, will we be able to fully embrace it, celebrate it, mourn it, grow with it and triumph over it.

With love and a forever bleeding heart,

K

PS. Guess we might as well turn this into a blog post, eh?

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Overcoming the Devils

ptf-thankful

“We don’t get many days like this.” Not a line one expects to hear at the closing of a High School Valedictorian’s speech but one that so powerfully captures the essence of life as a 19-year-old graduate in Foster Care. As I sat at the ceremony then and as I reflect now on my past year of work, this statement not only applies to youth in foster care but also to those who work relentlessly to change this.

On my first day of work, I asked each young man to write down their “words to live by” as well as the one place in the world that they would travel to if circumstance was no barrier. I hoped to use this to create a wall in the cottage that could grow as new residents came and serve as a testament to all those who left. One in particular recited a Bob Marley lyric I know well “Overcome the Devils with a Thing Called Love.”

Social Workers, notoriously branded as do-gooders are not immune to life’s devils. There is the devil of working more for lower wages. There is the devil of others looking down on you for being over-worked and under-paid. There is the devil of working with other over-worked and under-paid colleagues who take out their daily frustrations on you. There is the devil of bureaucracy. There is the devil of doing everything in your power for your youth and families only for your efforts, for reasons beyond anyone’s foreseeable control, to inevitably fail. There is the devil of becoming every kind of Social Worker that you swore that you never would.

Working within a metropolis such as New York City one can in a few short subway stops travel from a neighborhood of extreme poverty to the literal epitome of excessive wealth. Across the country, youth of color remain represented in Foster Care at a disproportionate rate. LGTBQ youth in the foster care system face increased homelessness. At its best, the systems we employ keep children and their families’ safe; create opportunities for growth, and in doing so remedy some of the harsh realities of this systemic oppression. At its worst; these systems employ the same cycles of oppression to their youth, families, and staff. It is not difficult to become both victim and perpetrator of this cycle that at its root is really just fed by hopelessness.

Hopelessness is bred through an exhaustion of all possible options. I am not hopeless. To begin, all work on a fundamental level is “Social Work.” With the opportunity, everyone who is capable and willing works so that they can sustain and generally better life in our social environment. “Social Workers” should not be the only individuals in this world loaded, even symbolically by name, with this task. When we realize that the systemic cycle of oppression, inadequate mental health care, and poverty is a burden that we should all share regardless of our profession, we have tackled the greatest obstacle. As Rita Mae Brown once said, “don’t hope more than you are willing to work.”

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Above all we most effectively help others when we help ourselves. Funding aimed at strengthening preventive programs that can work within homes before removing children from homes allow families an opportunity to effectively parent, addresses trauma early on, and prevents system overload. Agencies and Social Workers that continue to strive to cap caseloads through mandates, pay higher and fairer wages by re-evaluating the budget, and reduce burnout by allowing the flexibility of occasionally working at home make small movements towards this goal. Those in leadership roles who treat Social Workers with compassion and value their strengths will find that Social Workers treat their youth and families the same.

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One of the most respected therapeutic crisis intervention trainers on our Residential Treatment Center campus opens each session with a personal anecdote. On his way out of campus after a long late night shift, a resident in crisis darted out in front of him and ran into his car. While the resident was not injured, everyone around them immediately surrounded the young boy. Paralyzed by what had just occurred, after checking on the boy, this trainer sat in his car, un-sure what to do next. Surely he contemplated whether it was worth coming back to work the next day or ever again. Unexpectedly, the boy’s mother approached the Trainer and asked how he was doing. If not for this small gesture, this now well-respected Cottage Supervisor may not have made it another day on the job. As we make tiny dents gradually over time, we will see good work get better. At the heart of all gut-wrenching positive change, after all, is that thing called love.

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Redefining “Adulthood”

“We can do no great things; only small things with great love.”

-Mother Teresa

 

I had high expectations for my new life in NYC. Much like the heroines in the romantic comedies that fill my Netflix queue, I imagined that the city would transform me. Surely I would be absorbed into the vibrant ebb and flow of the concrete jungle, experiencing just the prescribed amount of triumph and heartbreak before emerging a stronger and more confident woman. I have lived in New York City, splitting time between Manhattan and Brooklyn, for a grand total of 29 days, and I am already a different person, but not in the ways that I anticipated.

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The dream: move to NYC and grow-up

In the years since I graduated from college I have wrestled with the term “grown up,” trying to decipher what exactly it means to be a grown up and how I would know when I was finally a fully functioning adult. After four years of college and two years as a Peace Corps volunteer in Rwanda I could certainly see growth in my character and development, but based on my deep love of children’s movies, a lack of crystal clear goals for my future, and a propensity for allowing my bank account to hover just above the minimum, the elusive label of “grown up” seemed to be still out of reach.

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that’s a lot of steps – maybe I’ll just wing it. Everyone’s doing it, it can’t be *that* hard.

I was thrilled to accept a position with Children’s Corps because I am passionate about working with children and the program offered me an opportunity to try to change the world for the better. I also viewed NYC as my opportunity to live independently in an environment that would push me to confront all of the boundaries preventing me from making the grand leap into adulthood.

I hoped that apartment hunting would be my first successful solo venture into the adult world. I had visions of my NYC self, the epitome of maturity and independence, meeting with landlords, negotiating the lease, and securing my ideal apartment. In reality, instead of blossoming into a sophisticated adult, I often found myself playing the role of a petulant child. I struggled to manage expectations and keep a positive attitude as I dove into the chaos of navigating the Craigslist apartment market. Throughout the process I did not feel mature at all, and almost every visit was narrated by a whiney voice chattering in my head. The rooms are too small. The commute to work is too long. The owner has six parrots in the kitchen. I’ll have to harvest an organ to pay rent.

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Hunting for an apartment on Craigslist can be more than a little challenging.

I did eventually find an apartment, and in the process of acclimating to the city I have learned the value of HopStop and Seamless, opened a new bank account, invested in quality headphones for the plethora of train rides ahead of me, and hailed my first cab after new shoes gave me blisters. I wrote a check to my landlord with enough zeros to induce a bout of nausea and filled out stacks of paperwork for the HR department, ecstatic to see all the zeros on my first real salary. All the aspects of my “adult life” started to fall into place and yet I was lacking the epiphany signaling that I was magically an adult, somehow really making a difference amidst all the chaos, sorrow, and violence that plagues our world.

On the first day of shadowing at my agency they were not quite prepared for me, so I had a lot of quiet reflection time. My supervisor gave me a few reports to read and I devoured every word, drew family maps, and studied all aspects of the particular family described in the documents. Three children, two foster homes, an absent birth mother, and two children freed for adoption. I studied the facts, prepared a list of questions I wanted to ask my supervisor, and left that day feeling somewhat confident in my abilities to do this job. The next week I followed another case planner to visit the children, and within a few moments all of the facts and figures jumped off the papers and manifested before me in the shape of three adorable young children, running in circles around my legs and begging to play catch with their new ball. I played basketball with the 3 and 2 year olds, held the baby’s chubby hands as she gurgled and cooed in her stroller, and talked about the children’s progress with both foster moms. I cared deeply about the children when they were numbers and names on paperwork, but to have the kids right in front of me evoked a mixture of joy and panic all at once. Reading about a family, engaging myself in constant theoretical debates about how to best support the people I work with, was nothing like meeting them in person. In that moment the case was no longer theoretical and all the possible solutions I had brainstormed would need to be decided upon and implemented, with real consequences to accompany every choice. The enormity of my job, and the many responsibilities that I have in order keep these children safe and happy, all while moving swiftly towards the best possible permanency goal, was truly overwhelming.

I will be working with many children over the next two years and it can be rather intimidating to contemplate all of the work that stands before me. I don’t want children to languish in the system but I don’t want them to be rushed into unsafe situations. I want children to be reunited with their parents but that will not always be possible. I want to keep siblings together but extenuating circumstances will sometimes keep them apart. After my first visit with the children on my caseload I spent an enormous amount of time pondering how I could be most effective in my job as a case planner.I made a list of the qualities I hope to embody as I embark upon this new journey, and I realized as the bullet points spilled onto a second page that the tasks involved in this job would never be simple or easy. Luckily, I know that I am not alone. There are many other people who will come together to make decisions about what is best for the children. When I am unsure of how to handle situations or escalating stress levels, I have not only my agency colleagues to lean on for support but also the entire staff, and all the members, of Children’s Corps.

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It turns out that I was right to expect change when I moved to NYC, but the catalyst is not the city- the work is. I find myself constantly inspired by the families I will work with and my colleagues in the field of child welfare. For every worker I have met who is burnt out and exhausted there are ten more who love what they do and exude passion and empathy in every interaction I have observed. I am so excited to start working with families at my agency and beyond grateful to be a member of Children’s Corps. I have a month’s worth of training, enough handouts to make any tree-hugger cringe, and so much more to learn. I am working to redefine “adulthood” based on the revelation that my life will not be comprised of one great contribution, but a multitude of small efforts- some of which I will completely screw up- some that will end splendidly, and all of which will be based on a true love for the work I get to do each day.

grow up to be happy

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What I’ve Learned in Children’s Corps Summer Training

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Ok all joking aside, I have truly learned a vast amount of knowledge these last 4 weeks of training. I’m still not entirely sure of what I’m getting myself into.  I do understand that I am more prepared than most people entering this field of Child Welfare but that doesn’t mean I am better than the people I will be working with. I am very humble to have been given this great learning opportunity that I will be embarking on in the next 2 years. I know I will be taking many paths and most likely hitting bumps along the way. I want to use the blog as a space for me to share any successes and challenges I come across. My goal is to share the diamond in the rough that is Child Welfare and show people the many surprises that arise.

 

As Barry has said consistently throughout training: “It Depends”. I take this as a learning point that means no matter how much he can teach us about how to do the work in the ideal world, it truly depends on each person’s experience and how they handle it. .

 

I hope to at least touch the life of one person and truly make a difference.

With all that being said, I want to leave everyone with 2 quotes to remember as we embark on the next 2 years:

 

  • “Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists…it is real…it is possible…it’s yours.” – Ayn Rand

 

  • “The naked truth is always better than the best dressed lie.” – Ann Landers

 

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