And then there was one

Tuesday bought a new day.
Tuesday bought two happy little boys, excited by their first access visit, an opportunity to see mum and their two younger siblings who are placed with another family.
Tuesday bought a day full of hope.
And then, Tuesday wasn’t so good.

It  started with Trevor’s teacher handing out notices for a fun excursion to a water park. That would have been fine. We could have used that excursion as an incentive for Trevor to try hard at school, to try to stay each day for the full 90 minutes. Except, the teacher (Insert many negative thoughts from me) made a snide comment to Trevor along the lines of “I don’t know why I’m bothering to give you one of these, you won’t be going because you’re too naughty”.

Great work teacher! Trevor is now upset, so he lashes out and says he’ll go anyway, and now his friends are into it and encouraging him telling him he can just jump the fence and then he won’t have to pay. Of course this escalated and next thing you know Trevor is threatening people and throwing his grapes around the place, and, next thing you know, he has managed to get himself suspended for the rest of the week. Poor little man. The teacher should never have made a comment like that, and before anyone says, how do you know…well, the student counsellor told me.

I had a big chat with the counsellor and we decided we were going to talk to Trevor at his re-entry meeting the next week and use it as an incentive. If he could manage to stay at school for the next week until 10.30 am then he could go on the excursion until 10.30 am, and I would pick him up early. I even offered to go on the excursion and if he got out of control I could just take him straight away so no one would be in danger.

Then came access. To make an already difficult day harder, mum blamed the boys for them now being in care. Comments like, if you were better this wouldn’t have happened. So frustrating. David seemed to take it a bit better, but, it was the straw that broke poor Trevor. He decided he just wasn’t coming home to us. He wouldn’t get in the car with the social worker. So David came home and Trevor sat in the department office until almost 10pm while the social worker tried to find a placement for him.

She tried, and it didn’t happen.

At 7.30 pm he commented that David would be having a bath now.
At 8 pm he commented that David would be getting read a bedtime story. At 10 pm he was placed in emergency accommodation. A motel.

My heart breaks for him. For a little man used to roaming the streets with total freedom, a little man who struggled with the four walls of our home, he is now stuck in a smaller environment with those 4 small walls closing in around him. I can only imagine that it’s making his behaviour escalate.

I know the department won’t ask us to take him back and even if they did MM is adamant, the answer we have to give is no. David is settling well, it would be a step back for him. The stress levels for every one in the home would go through the roof. But more importantly, Trevor was getting increasingly violent, mostly targeted at his little brother, the soft option, but after we saw him fighting the police when they brought him home, MM is worried that Trevor will work out he is actually my size and I’ll be the next punching bag. After all, that’s what his experience is, men hitting women.

I worry for Trevor. I worry about his future.
I worry that the damage done to him psychologically by his mum and step dad might not be repairable because he is so resistant to people helping him.
I worry that this boy will become another foster statistic. Not because the system has let him down, but because he doesn’t want to change.
I worry about how his future might impact on David, a bright young man who could have the most amazing future if  given the opportunities other children have.

Do we ever stop worrying about the little children that come into our homes and hearts?



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