Vol. 9, No. 1 November 2004
My Life in Foster Care
By Nicky, age 12
When I left my mom, I was four years old. When my mom was younger, she was in foster care, because my grandma didn’t take care of her.
While she was in foster care she got pregnant with me at the age of 14. She was at least five months pregnant before she actually told anyone that she was pregnant.
The reason she was in foster care also was because my grandma had a bad habit of doing drugs and so my mom ended up in foster care. After she had me, she left me with some of her friends and said she was going to come back, but she never did. She would call and say that she would come back and didn’t show up again. My mom also got paid to marry this guy so that he can be a part of this country.
When I came into foster care, my first parent’s name was C, and she was really nice. When I left C I was 10 years old and I had stayed with her for seven years. I really missed staying with her, but I know that she can help someone else the way she helped me. When I left C I was really sad that she wouldn’t adopt me. I wanted to run away at first until I thought how it would hurt her if I got lost or hurt.
I next went to a couple named the R’s and I didn’t like them a lot because Jackie would yell at me if I didn’t do everything correctly, but I told my social worker that I didn’t like staying there and that I wanted to be moved.
Then I went to the H’s. They were nice at first until I really got to know them. Their family was nice to me and my favorite cousins out of all of them were Alexis and Moe. They were nice to me even when I got in trouble.
My home after that was Mrs. B. and she would just let me eat anything and she would also expect me to lose weight. She would tease me about being bigger than her. (But the last time I saw her and I had lost more weight than she had!).
My last home is the A’s. They are nice to me and they don’t care about the way I look. They only care about helping me with my problems and I know that I can trust them with anything I tell them. They don’t criticize me about my weight, they help me lose weight. They love me for who I am, and they treat me the way that they want to be treated by me. They also help me with my attitude problems. I know again what it feels like to have people who love me and care for me.
If you have kids, keep them from losing their parents and show them that you care for them.
Foster parents, you can learn a lesson about not giving up on the foster kids you have now. You should have a close relationship with your child or a foster child, and they will show you that they love you, too.
Nicky received $25 for having her essay published in the print edition of Fostering Perspectives
The Cheetah's Life
by Destiny, age 9
There was a cheetah who was named Destiny Ann. She was born in the wild where somebody was going to make her into a fur coat. But we rescued her from the wildlife. The sad part was that she had to leave her mother. She went to the wildlife center. We wrapped her in a blanket and we fed her. After that we gave her warm milk. After a few days passed, she was getting sick so we took her to the vet and they checked her and they put her on special pills. After a few days we gave her a bath. We went to the market to get her toys. We put a blanket on the floor and we put her on the floor and let her play with the toys and after a while she fell asleep. She felt very comfortable. When she grew up she went back to the wild and she became a female cheetah and we visited her every day until she had babies. Her babies grew up too to be just like their mommy and their daddy. The end.
Destiny received $25 for having her story published in the print edition of Fostering Perspectives
In this issue we are proud to present the work of Andrea, Diamond, and Trey. They all received $15 for having their drawings published in Fostering Perspectives. These works are all untitled, though Diamond included a note saying her drawing is dedicated “to everyone in my life.”
By Andrea, age 13
By Diamond, age 15
By Trey, age 17
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The following works do not appear in the print edition of this issue of Fostering Perspectives. They appear exclusively on the Web.
I Like Foster Care
by Eric, age 9
I like foster care because if we wouldn’t have a mom or dad to take care of us then we wouldn’t have clean clothes and food. So we would have had a foster home they’re nice and stuff. A foster mom cares for you and loves you even though you do something wrong. Every time you do something wrong they still love you because they’re really nice and they wanted children from foster care and they really care for everybody. When we do something bad our foster mom takes things away but she still loves us.
At our real mom’s house she used to hit us with switches and belts but she still loves all of us and I still love her. If I stay at this mom’s house or our other mom’s house, I’m not scared because wherever you are you need a family. If you don’t have a family you won’t have clean clothes and shoes and enough food to eat.
Sometimes I think my real mama died because I hear on the news about people who died or went to jail and that’s why I’m scared it could be my mama. When we used to stay at home on weekends, when we lived with our mama and dad, our dad would always fight with our mom.
y sisters and brother and me used to have fun, because they just played with us and all of us used to love each other. Our dad wasn’t doing anything bad. We were just having fun together. But when we weren’t together anymore, we didn’t have much fun anymore. And I wish I could be with my mom and dad and sisters and brother. We didn’t have much fun when we got taken away. I wish I could see them again.
"Finding My Way"
by Ana, age 16
Pushing, turning, pulling
I’m delving into my inside,
Forgetting my insight
Deciding in turn the idea to turn back I’ll burn
Cacophonous regression into non-existence
Fading with my submission to persistence
In progression there’s no need for resistance
And who wouldn’t want to feel this?
Learning to let my conscience take its toll
I’m benefiting and finding to change my roll
Finding my way was easier than I can say
Once the blindfolds were taken away
Taste of redemption
And I have a reason
Yes, I have a destination
by Marcus, age 10
My father died when I was six years old. My grandma and my aunt and my cousins didn’t want to tell me, but they knew they had to let it out and tell me. My aunt was crying and I asked her what was wrong. She said, “I don’t want to tell you but your daddy died.” That’s when I started crying. I used to stay with my daddy and my little brother and his mama. When Daddy was in the hospital my brother’s mama would pick us up and take us to see him. That night I fell asleep I fell asleep at my Grandma’s house, and my brother’s mama came and woke me up and took me home.
He died while I was at school. That’s the bad thing about it: I didn’t get to be with him when he passed. He died in the hospital. He died of cancer. I visited him before he died. He had told me and my brother he was going to give me his necklace when he died but we didn’t get them. I don’t know what they did with those chains. When I saw him in the hospital he didn’t know me and he said, “Get him out of my room because I don’t know him.” I went and I sat down and I started to cry, because I thought he really meant it. My cousin told me, “Calm down because your daddy didn’t really mean to say that.” When we went there before he died he wouldn’t take his medicine. He said, “Get it out of my face because I’m not taking it.” We all said, “You need to take it,” and he kept saying no. The lady came in the room with the medicine, and he said he wouldn’t take it. She said, “He need to take it, make sure he do,” and she left, but he still wouldn’t take it.
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