by Anne Scheck, editor & publisher
A report on Oregon’s foster care shows a distressing decline in the number of foster parents, and it attributes some of their departures to difficulty and disillusionment with the Department of Human Services (DHS).
I was one of those foster parents and I resigned for that very reason.
With the touch of a few keystrokes, I recently terminated my connection to a system I had been so anxious to serve. My certification for this role had required traveling to Salem for nights of classes, soliciting letters of recommendations by friends, and submitting to a “home study” in which I had to pour out personal details that even my grown children don’t know.
But, by the time I attended a news conference on a recent foster-care audit by Secretary of State Dennis Richardson a few weeks ago, I fully expected some of the findings. The fact that the Secretary and his team were so spot-on, from my point of view, speaks to their time and dedication to our state’s child welfare system. And, after I spoke with Mr. Richardson following his comments, I concluded he had a big heart engaged big-time in this process.
The Secretary of State – a polished politician with a sterling record of accomplishment – appears the complete opposite of me, who looked that day like I do most of the time (harried and disheveled). But it turns out Dennis Richardson and I have one big thing in common: We both adopted daughters out of foster care as younger versions of ourselves, despite the fact that both of our little girls were at risk for life-altering, heritable diseases. In both cases, later testing would prove them free of that threat.
How motivating love and experience with such special daughters can be! Secretary Richardson was able to find cause-and-effect behind the “chronic management failures and high caseloads that jeopardize the safety of some of the state’s most vulnerable children.” And he has done so in a fact-based way that highlights the “inadequate attention” to recruitment and retention of foster parents, among other factors affecting weakness in the system.
The report pinpoints a lack of support for foster parents, which I learned first-hand. My foster son arrived with a letter from his former foster mother and a copy of a card enabling me to get him health care. Without that letter from his temporary foster family, I would have had almost no other information on him; In fact, I had to ask him to verify his last name.
And, despite begging for more insight by storming the local DHS office, it took actions by me that I would later learn -- from fellow foster parents – are considered by DHS “over-advocacy” to clinch communication. The hero of my efforts turned out to be, of all things, a volunteer – a woman from CASA who made periodic stop-ins that meant the world to our foster son.
As I struggled to address some of the same behaviors I’d once seen in my daughter – which had prompted me then to secure the best care possible – I was reminded by DHS personnel of “policies” limiting my options.
But I was led to believe that this was a long-term placement. And I looked forward to an extensive period in which I could provide what I hoped would be a beneficial influence. I wanted badly for our foster son to become as healthy as I hoped his waiting biologic family would be deemed one day, allowing “reunification.” Meanwhile, he became a beloved little boy to me.
He’d look up at me, in sadness or in anger, predicting that soon he’d have to pack his bags, as he’d done so often in foster care … but I’d tell him … not for a long while, “you have a home with us, and we care about you.”
The end came swiftly with a new caseworker, who declared in my living room that she never would have put this child in our home. Several days later, he was gone. I was told a determination had been made that he needed higher-level care than I was capable of providing; My husband and I were first-timers in this foster-care program and we’d had rough patches.
Now I live with the fact I was an unintentional liar to a little lad who forecast it. Comfort came to me in an unexpected way – from my daughter, who reminded me that I’d tried to “give back” to the same kind of system that had given her to me. And that, in her view, I did the best I could. She and I both want to thank the Secretary of State, and we wish him good luck.
A report on Oregon’s foster care shows a distressing decline in the number of foster parents, and it attributes some of their departures to difficulty and disillusionment with the Department of Human Services (DHS).
I was one of those foster parents and I resigned for that very reason.
With the touch of a few keystrokes, I recently terminated my connection to a system I had been so anxious to serve. My certification for this role had required traveling to Salem for nights of classes, soliciting letters of recommendations by friends, and submitting to a “home study” in which I had to pour out personal details that even my grown children don’t know.
But, by the time I attended a news conference on a recent foster-care audit by Secretary of State Dennis Richardson a few weeks ago, I fully expected some of the findings. The fact that the Secretary and his team were so spot-on, from my point of view, speaks to their time and dedication to our state’s child welfare system. And, after I spoke with Mr. Richardson following his comments, I concluded he had a big heart engaged big-time in this process.
The Secretary of State – a polished politician with a sterling record of accomplishment – appears the complete opposite of me, who looked that day like I do most of the time (harried and disheveled). But it turns out Dennis Richardson and I have one big thing in common: We both adopted daughters out of foster care as younger versions of ourselves, despite the fact that both of our little girls were at risk for life-altering, heritable diseases. In both cases, later testing would prove them free of that threat.
How motivating love and experience with such special daughters can be! Secretary Richardson was able to find cause-and-effect behind the “chronic management failures and high caseloads that jeopardize the safety of some of the state’s most vulnerable children.” And he has done so in a fact-based way that highlights the “inadequate attention” to recruitment and retention of foster parents, among other factors affecting weakness in the system.
The report pinpoints a lack of support for foster parents, which I learned first-hand. My foster son arrived with a letter from his former foster mother and a copy of a card enabling me to get him health care. Without that letter from his temporary foster family, I would have had almost no other information on him; In fact, I had to ask him to verify his last name.
And, despite begging for more insight by storming the local DHS office, it took actions by me that I would later learn -- from fellow foster parents – are considered by DHS “over-advocacy” to clinch communication. The hero of my efforts turned out to be, of all things, a volunteer – a woman from CASA who made periodic stop-ins that meant the world to our foster son.
As I struggled to address some of the same behaviors I’d once seen in my daughter – which had prompted me then to secure the best care possible – I was reminded by DHS personnel of “policies” limiting my options.
But I was led to believe that this was a long-term placement. And I looked forward to an extensive period in which I could provide what I hoped would be a beneficial influence. I wanted badly for our foster son to become as healthy as I hoped his waiting biologic family would be deemed one day, allowing “reunification.” Meanwhile, he became a beloved little boy to me.
He’d look up at me, in sadness or in anger, predicting that soon he’d have to pack his bags, as he’d done so often in foster care … but I’d tell him … not for a long while, “you have a home with us, and we care about you.”
The end came swiftly with a new caseworker, who declared in my living room that she never would have put this child in our home. Several days later, he was gone. I was told a determination had been made that he needed higher-level care than I was capable of providing; My husband and I were first-timers in this foster-care program and we’d had rough patches.
Now I live with the fact I was an unintentional liar to a little lad who forecast it. Comfort came to me in an unexpected way – from my daughter, who reminded me that I’d tried to “give back” to the same kind of system that had given her to me. And that, in her view, I did the best I could. She and I both want to thank the Secretary of State, and we wish him good luck.
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