A note from Maureen: Rachel Brind, a Philadelphia-based writing coach and Mighty Writers volunteer, authored this piece for a person who wishes to remain anonymous. "Jamie" became a caregiver to children who- quite literally- just showed up on her doorstep one day.
"Jaime's Story"
By Rachel Brind
In my early 20s, I lived in not-the-best neighborhood. I was working two jobs and saving up to buy a house. I didn't mind sidestepping the ubiquitous trash and sidling past the kids selling drugs on the corners, because I knew I wouldn't be there for much longer. I had just come in from walking the dogs one day when there was a small yet determined knock on my front door. I opened the door to find a kindergartener and her brother standing on my stoop. The adorable girl asked confidently and directly, “Can we come in and hang out? My dad’s at my house and I don’t like to be there when he’s home.”
I don’t know why I so casually let them in, but they watched TV in my living room the rest of the day, and then I made them some dinner and they went home. They started coming every day, eventually asking if they could sleep over, which I let them do. Then their older brothers started coming over too. The kids were there so often, I ended up buying a PlayStation. I didn’t truly realize, probably because I was also young, what was happening. Our situation seemed natural.
After about six months, I was ready to buy a house, but what would happen to these kids when I moved? Well, I ended up bringing them with me: 16-year-old Mike, 10-year-old Andrew, 7-year-old Tyree, and plucky 5-year-old Sarah. Sadly, their mom had no problem letting them go. From what the kids told me and my limited contact with her, I got the idea that their mom wasn’t a “bad mother,” but more incapable of taking care of her children, even though she loved them. She was a nice person, but her drug problem left no room for anyone else.
In the new house, I started implementing more structure. I didn’t have the easiest childhood myself, and when I was a kid in Catholic school the structure helped me succeed. I figured it would be good for these kids too. When they came home from school, they did their chores. After that, homework. Then dinner. I don’t think they’d been going to school every day before living with me, let alone doing any homework. They all went from failing grades to mostly Bs pretty quickly. I feel like they had been capable all along, and had wanted to do well in school, but had never been in the right situation to make that happen.
Within a month of the move, Andrew started having problems at school, both academic and behavioral. I ended up going to meetings with his teachers, and when I told his mom what was going on, she signed over partial parental rights to me to change his address to mine and give me access to school records. I don’t remember signing anything, but all of a sudden I was receiving report cards (for all four kids) and going to more meetings.
One day, I heard loud noises from upstairs and it was Andrew kicking the wall. He said he called his mom and she hung up on him. This kind of thing had been happening more and more, when he would get emotional and be unable to control his often violent actions. I brought him to a doctor to get evaluated. It turned out that Andrew had autism. He ended up going to a special school to help him cope, and I monitored his behaviors closely at home. I helped with his homework, giving him lots of positive rewards for learning small things. Many stickers were involved. He slowly began to show improvement, actually thanking me for dinner instead of throwing his food against the wall.
In addition to working with Andrew, I did my best to bond with each child as an individual. Tyree loved Fruit Roll-Ups and wanted to be a scientist. I hid Fruit Roll-Ups around the house for him to find when he had done something deserving at school, which was often. He was really God’s gift to parents, even though his own father was in prison for life. With my encouragement, Tyree started writing to his dad and thankfully, his dad wrote back. At least once a month, he knew he had a dad who cared about him.
Mike wanted to play basketball, so I told him he had to pick a position and go out to the park and practice every day. When he did well, I would get him tickets to college basketball games and buy him cool apparel.
Despite a houseful of brothers, little Sarah liked to dress up like a princess, so we would go get our nails done together.
Friday was family movie night, when I would invite their mom over. Sometimes she came and sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes she came and immediately passed out for the night. But as with Tyree’s dad, I thought it was important for her to still be a part of their lives.
I didn’t really know what I was doing. All of these kids had potential, and they didn’t need much to get there. I wasn’t looking to become a foster parent to four children — it just sort of happened. I feel lucky that little girl knocked on my door.