Listen to thisIt is a salutary experience to bite the bullet and listen to what some kids say about the service system we work in ...
Terrence, 19, spent most of his childhood in a series of residential treatment centers and group homes. He spent his adolescence moving between group homes and Juvenile Hall.
I started out in a psychiatric facility when I was five years old. Then I got sent to a residential treatment program for three and half years. It was a long time – I learned to ride a bike in there. After that I went to a children's shelter, then my first group home.
Group homes are full of angry kids. You're irritated from having to live with a lot of other people. You're frustrated because of the situation you're in as far as not living at home. Maybe wondering why life dealt you such a cold hand. And also just irked by all the structure and the rules “it seems like they don't want you to enjoy yourself. I hadn't committed any crime. I was just an angry little kid and they thought my mom couldn't take care of me. And I went through hell, and I was treated like a criminal. I wasn't treated like a kid who needed to have a good time and needed to be loved.
They would get irritated at us questioning their authority. We have no say in our lives, 'cause we're just kids. We don't know anything about what we need or want. We're just “severely emotionally disturbed" and don't have a clue about anything. So they think.
In group homes, they battle you with consequences. “OK, you're grounded. Say another word and you're gonna be grounded longer." I'd say, “Why are you gonna ground me for that?" Then they'd say, “OK, that's a week right there. You want to go for some more?" A week to a kid seems like forever, so it's already past the point of shutting up. It would escalate from there and I'd wind up throwing something at the counselor, trying to hit him or kicking a hole in the wall and getting a cop called on me. The extreme level of “consequencing" in a group home is calling the police. That's their backup, the last resort. And it works. Kids don't want to hear the word “police."
It's a high tension situation in a group home, 'cause there's so many different stories, so many different circumstances all put together and expected to coincide harmoniously. Throw in all the structure and how trapped you feel in the system, how much power people have over your life, and the tension gets really high. Then you're a criminal for reacting to it, when it's only natural to balk at something you feel is unfair. I knew from the beginning that Juvenile Hall was tied in with the group homes. I knew that it was all linked together, 'cause half the kids I was in there with were there from Juvenile Hall. I was very aware of Juvenile Hall before I started committing crimes.
When you have so much structure, the only thing that is fun to you is breaking those rules that are making your life miserable. And that's really where I started “sneaking out at night and stealing candy from the 24-hour supermarket, stealing liquor, getting drunk. It was really fun to rebel, to tell society and rules, “Go away, I'm gonna live my own 'program.' I'm gonna do whatever I feel." Then you have control. It's control you have to steal.
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Lauren, 15, was on the run from a group home after going through 22 different foster and group home placements in three years.
I lived with my grandmother until I was 11, when I got taken away from her because I was deemed incorrigible and her home was deemed neglectful. I really was incorrigible. I didn't want to listen to anybody. I didn't care what they had to say – I was gonna do it my way. And sometimes my way wasn't right but I guess I'm still incorrigible, because to this day I think it probably was.
People have said to me, “You don't have a home." People have said to me, “I'm not your mom, I'm not your dad, I don't care about you, that's not my job. I just get paid to take care of you." People in group homes have told me, “You can't take your problems to the social worker. They have too big a caseload." People told me, “You can't get a job at 15." I have two jobs. People told me, “You can't enroll yourself in school." I've done it three times. I get a rebellion reaction. If they tell me that I can't, I have to do it, 'cause I know that I can.
I left foster care at 13 because I went to go stay with mom. That's a very significant event because she left without me after four months. It was the second time she left me. That's when I just kind of knew that you're all by yourself. I always feel like I'm all by myself. It's probably because of her leaving me, and then never trusting I'm going to stay anywhere too long. I always think I'm gonna go back someplace and it's not gonna be there anymore, and no one will have told me, and I won't be able to stay there.
I'm struggling now with things that are beyond discussion. I'm a victim of not being able to speak my mind. I'm a victim of not being able to tell you about my life because I have too much pride. I'm a victim of worthless pride and representation by words only, because I've had to live a life by myself where the only thing I've had is my respect and my facade, what I put out in front, whether or not it was me. I'm a victim of not being able to be myself, because being myself might not get me what I need. I'm a victim of learned manipulation, instilled in the system. I'm a victim of not being able to be real sometimes.
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Duc, 21, emancipated from foster care three years ago. He is currently a junior in college.
I came to America not that long ago – 1992. I stayed with my real parents. I got abused real bad.
So I left the family. What I did is really funny. I didn't know about the foster care system, so I called 911 'cause that's the only number I know, just to ask them to please put me in jail, I have no place to stay. That was my thinking. I'd rather spend my life in prison instead of home. If I knew there was foster home, I probably would have left a little earlier.
The cop came and took me to the hospital and that's how I ended up in a group home, and then after that a foster home. I haven't seen my parents or my siblings since that day.
My social worker really loved me. That's one thing I feel lucky – there were people willing to take their time and help me ... When I turned 18, good thing is, I'm staying at foster home. If you're in a group home, oh my God, that's it. Your life ends right there. You get kicked out. My foster father let me stay until I went to college the next fall.
Now I am a junior. I never feel like I'm learning enough, and it's a pressure that I have. If I don't study enough, I don't learn enough, and I'm gonna be nothing. Maybe if I have a family, if I have my parents, that pressure would be less. You feel like in case something happens, you call your parents to rely on. But for me, if I don't take care of everything by myself, then who's gonna take care of me? Although my foster father, my social worker, my mentor all love me, I don't wanna call them, because I just feel like I have enough from them. Now it's my turn to prove to them that their time is not wasted. Here I do everything by myself. I feel like I'm a family, but only one person – a family to myself.
