Something Special

Heather Modlin

The week before Christmas I, along with a former colleague, went on our annual visit to a young person we worked with in group care over 30 years ago (this “young person,” Tony, is now in his mid-forties). As usual, most of our time together was spent reminiscing about “the good old days” in the group home. Over the years, Tony has been consistent in identifying his five years in our group home as the best time of his life, and he credits his relationships with us (and other group home staff) for saving his life (he gives us much more credit, in this regard, than we deserve). On this particular evening, we shared stories about the day he walked out of the house with our VCR in his backpack (and my colleague, unknowingly, assisted him with the theft), the time he was placed in a foster home because he was “too good” to remain in a group home, and the year he spent proving how “not good” he was to get back with us (he did). He talked about his family, the other boys in the group home, and the antics they shared (there were many).

Tony’s girlfriend was present and engaged in parts of the conversation. Tony proudly showed us pictures of his children and shared their accomplishments with us. While we were chatting, people were coming and going through the house and Tony explained that he often opened his doors to people in need, and in turn others helped him when he was struggling. Before we left, he snuck next door to retrieve gift baskets he had paid his neighbor to make for us.

In child and youth care practice, particularly in out-of-home care, we do not always get the opportunity to see the long-term results of our labour. We experience the moments of connection that can lead to long-term change. If we’re lucky, we see the short-term progress that can be made when young people’s needs are met in our programs. But often we are working on blind faith. We keep going, we persevere, we hang in because we believe in what we are doing and we believe in the potential of each young person – even if our first 256 shifts involve colourful language, squirting ketchup, holes in walls, stolen petty cash, and flying plates (Tony engaged in all of this).

Tony provides an annual reminder, to me, of the power of the work that we do. Tony’s life is not perfect. He has experienced challenges, like all of us, and there are many things he would like to improve. However, he is a kind, compassionate individual who helps others and has healthy relationships with friends, a partner, his children, and neighbors – and we helped facilitate that.

Child and youth care practitioners change lives. When we underestimate the importance of the work we do, we sometimes don’t try hard enough or hang in long enough – and this deprives the young people and families of opportunities for transformative experiences.
Tony once wrote an essay about me (I can’t remember why) and one of the lines in the essay said “Heather thinks there is something special about me. I don’t know why. I think there is something wrong with her.”

I’ll take that.