Vol. 19, No. 1 • November 2014

Not What I Imagined

What I learned when my parents started providing therapeutic foster care

by Caleb Stout

Little more than a year ago, my life changed seemingly overnight when my normal family became something much more: a therapeutic foster family.

Since then we've had quite a number of foster kids in our house. Some did well and some did not. However, I did what I could to help each of them get a little something back in their life: control.

My Assumptions
I spent most of my life--like most people--thinking little of foster children. If I did, it was only when they were mentioned on TV. Soon, however, I learned a lot more about this needy community. These children bounce from home to home with their few belongings, often using garbage bags for suitcases. At first, I thought these downtrodden kids needed a friend, but quickly I realized that most of these kids did not want me to be their friend and that my family, although a good one, was not the Nirvana I thought they needed.

Once again, like most people, I thought Disney had it right: that through kindness and love alone, one could remedy another person's anger and problems. Yet again, I was wrong.

Those ideas changed with one of the first foster kids that came to our house. We were providing respite for another family and I figured it would seem like a weekend away for the kid, like a fun sleep over. I knew we had the beautiful mountains where we would take the new kid hiking and show him an ancient apple orchard, cool bear and wolf tracks, and a mountain stream that kind of sprung up from nowhere. Who wouldn't think that was awesome? I thought this young man would probably never want to leave our house.

Not What I Imagined
He did want to leave--and not in a good way. By the end of the weekend, he attempted to jump off our third story porch. My dad and I had to hold him down on the ground to restrain him from jumping off while we waited for the police to come. I've never waited for five minutes as long as I did that day. I know my younger brother was shocked and probably a little freaked out.

The anger that was spewing out of this boy's mouth was almost enough to knock you over. I don't mean his physical strength, my father and I were stronger than he was and restrained him easily enough. What I mean is the pure anger and hatred coming from him. What had happened to this kid? Who made him this angry? Was it fear? Was it his past?

Eventually the police and his family came and he left. I never learned what happened to him, but this experience did make me realize that foster care at my house was not going to be the Disney story I thought.

Finding a Way to Help
A few days later, I went hiking in the mountains behind our house. I think clearer there and it was not until I reached the top of the mountain that I had an epiphany. The answer seemed so clear: I had to mentor, teach, and help these kids find a way to overcome their fears, starting with the fear of not being in control of themselves.

The fear of not being in control affects almost everybody at one point or another. But for foster kids this fear takes on a whole other level. This fear asks, Will I eat today? Will these people hurt me? When will I go home? Another new school?

I never had to face any of these harsh realities, so I had to fall back on what has worked in my past to make me feel in control of my life and confident in who I am. I thought a great way to help the kids gain confidence was through exercise, because how a person perceives their own appearance weighs heavily on their level of self-confidence.

I made up a schedule with the foster kids to hike the mountain almost every day. Each week it seemed they could do more or go farther. It also seemed their ability to control their emotions grew stronger. Hiking in our mountains can be quite strenuous and even a little dangerous if bad weather rolls in fast. Giving some of the kids a leadership role while we hiked was a big part in helping them improve their self-confidence. Asking them about their thoughts and opinions, I could see a light go on in their eyes.

Caleb Stout is from Buncombe County, NC. This essay was originally written in 2011 as part of his application to the college he now attends.

~ Family and Children's Resource Program, UNC-CH School of Social Work ~