Adios Labels

It's a good thing I was never in foster care or I wouldn't have made it. And I'm not talking about the obvious either (that whole lack of stability, structure and anything reliable in your life thing). I'm talking about the labels associated with foster care--those are enough to sabotage even the most "normal" kid. Everything a child in foster care does is given some label. Kids need to be allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. They need to be allowed to be in really cruddy moods sometimes, or even most of the time (especially if they're teenagers). They need to be allowed to feel what they're feeling--good or bad--without us trying to diagnose it. I can attest to having been quite challenging as a young person, and yet, I somehow turned out okay.

When I was about 12, my Mom gave me a shirt that read: "Challenging Children Become Amazing Adults". Yet, despite the fact that I was a "Challenging Child", my Mom never made me feel bad about it. If anything, she embraced my tendency toward the unconventional. I was a good student and didn't create trouble at school (for the most part). Yet, because I was stubborn and very independent, my Mom had to find atypical methods to successfully parent me. "You're not selling out, you're buying in," was her favorite way of saying, "Just do it, damn it".

Had I been in foster care, I have no doubt that I would have been labeled ODD, among other things. But, had I been labeled ODD versus being referred to as Independent, I probably wouldn't have gone on to graduate Salutatorian. This seems especially true if you consider that incident from my freshman year in which I and others were suspended from school for a week. Had my Mother not viewed my decision to egg a teacher's house as uncharacteristic, I can only imagine the different path my life would have taken. I'm pretty confident I wouldn't have ended up with a biochem/dietetics degree from Purdue.

Having high expectations of me and holding me accountable to them was critical to my success. Treating my undesirable behavior and poor decisions as being either normal (if, for example, I was just having a bad day and acting like a jerk) or not reflective of my character (if, for example, I told the principal to "piss off" after he asked me what I had to say about the egging incident) allowed me to always believe that at my core, I was not abnormal. Most importantly, fundamentally I was good.

My sons came with all the typical labels attached. If I can remember correctly, they were ODD, depressed, angry, OCD, below average, low functioning, etc. Upon adoption, I received an evaluation from the therapist who had previously been treating the kids. The evaluation suggested that my kids were basically rotten and thanks to their being so screwed up, they could look forward to a pretty miserable life.

They're angry. Why shouldn't they be? They've been bumped around from house to house for five years, had no stability and didn't have a single person in whom they felt they could trust.

They lied. Hmm, how many times had they been told things would be okay when they didn't end up being so? How many people had told them that they would (insert promise) and then failed to do so? So, let me get this straight, it's okay to teach them (via actions and words) that everyone from the social worker to their Mother lies. However, if they do it, they're bad people?

They are below average. They spent their early years being shuffled from foster home, to group home, back to Mom, back to group home, another foster home, back to group home, back to Mom, etc., and because, throughout these transitions, they weren't able to keep up with all the material being taught in school, they're below average? Seven schools in one year and they're below average?

ODD. This one drives me insane. They've had no control over the chaos in their lives, and have been living out of a black trash bag for the last several years. What about the number of people they've called "Mom"? They can't even make plans for next week because they don't know if they'll be living in the same place. Are we really faulting these kids for wanting to assert power over the few things in life that they're actually able to control? Are you, Mr. Therapist, the same person who will judge them later when they make a decision and refuse to take responsibility for it? Yet, today, you'll teach them that taking control of their lives is a bad thing? Even I'm confused.

Can I open the refrigerator? Can I use the bathroom? Where is the bathroom? What time do we eat? Should I wait for you to start eating, or should I just go ahead? Should I make my bed? Where should I store my socks? Will I be here long enough to unpack my things, or should I just keep them in the trash bag? Do you know what happened to my other eight siblings? Is my Mom okay? Do I have the same social worker? Where's my new school? Am I allowed to call my sister? Do you know how long I'll be staying here?

I can't imagine why a child in these circumstances would crave the opportunity to exercise some control of her/his life.

Children who live or have lived in foster care are some, if not the most resilient people you'll ever meet. These little soldiers are accustomed to disappointment and learn instinctively how to recover and move forward. They are used to fitting in and making themselves invisible. They are better at reading people than most therapists will ever be because they didn't train in the classroom, they learned these skills to survive.

So, on that first day when the kids came home, we said adios to the old labels and hello to the new ones: soldier, survivor, insightful, independent, resilient, brave, courageous, capable, hard working, admirable, amazing, strong and beautiful. We spent hours in front of the mirror telling the faces staring back that they're amazing, wonderful and lovable. And miraculously, over time, they started to see what was there all along, but had been hidden beneath all those labels.