I spent approximately three years with this current foster family, and I can categorically say that this time transformed my life, and provided me with the opportunity to get to where I am now. Having already mentioned the fact that the Smith's (as I shall call them) had looked after me and Joanne when we were younger, the social services were dug out of a hole when they offered to take me on full time. This family had two of their own children who had grown up and left home, one of which lived in America and the other in Germany. They also had a third son, whom they had adopted, and he was at university at that time. So for them to take on another needy teenager, only shortly after they had sent their third child on his way to independence, must have taken a great deal of heart and motivation from the pair of them. Of course throughout my time with them I failed to think about all they had sacrificed, and in truth I took them for granted. I didn't actually fully understand what they had done for me until I picked up my GCSE results, subsequently thanking both of my foster parents and telling them that it was due to their guidance and care that I had achieved such results.
So who were the Smith's? Both were in their 50s when they took me on...they must surely have thought they had seen the back of looking after children...until I arrived. George (dad) was a working man and held a post in the forestry commission, whilst Norma (mum) was a hard working mum who held the household together. They were a fairly traditional, religious family whom I would say believed strongly in upholding morality and the values they possessed. One of the hardest aspects of this new life for me was in going to the local Methodist church every Sunday. I had, at that time little reason to believe in any god, not so much as I felt hard done by, but because there had been relatively little to cheer me in my life so far. I remember sitting at the church on Sundays and even attending Sunday school. Of course I constantly asked not to go, but no responsible parent would leave such a child on their own and they were quite right to take me along with them. At the time I didn't listen to anything that was said, yet in a strange way the church had a profound effect on me...it opened my eyes not simply to religion, but to the ideas of morality, respect and understanding. Dare I say that on Christmas eve and morning I became that accustomed to going to church that I actually continued to go without resentment for the remaining Christmas' that I was there.
Little over a year after I arrived I felt that I had settled well. I had formed a group of good friends, regularly went out to play football/go out into town etc... Indeed at fifteen I even began consuming alcohol. This used to take place on Friday and/or Saturday evenings, and even though I had a strict curfew I managed to get away with it!! Whether we were meeting up in the local park to drink Diamond White of pernod, or going to friends houses and drinking lager, I managed to have a pretty normal set of teenage years. Now I know that mum and dad are pretty astute people, and that furthermore they had seen three teenagers come and go, so in reality they must have known what I was up to, and upon reading this they may wish to comment on such claims!!!
As a teenager I think that I was a pretty repulsive, demanding creature, and that's saying it nicely. They say that every cloud has a silver lining, and the loss of my previous foster parents brought me to these wonderful people. However I do recall one occasion which nearly cost me my place in their household, and even now I am at pains to recall such an event. My actions involved the keeping of a diary, and my recording feelings of hatred to all those around me, particularly my foster parents. There are some passages which described 'killing them,' and fortunately for me this was discovered by mum. I say fortunately because had this continued then I feel that I may have had some form of breakdown. I had an inbuilt anger that the only way I could control it was to write it down and direct my hatred to those close to me. I remember returning home from school one day to discover my mum in a somewhat somber mood, which I put down to nothing in particular. However after tea, when dad was home, I went upstairs to do my homework and was suddenly confronted by both foster parents. Mum had found the diary and was deeply upset with what she had read, and I was dumfounded and didn't know what to say. At this point, and surely over the next few weeks, the two of them must have agonised about whether or not they would be able to accommodate me for the forseable future.
As it transpired they agreed that I could stay, and to this day I am eternally grateful for that second chance. Even now I fail to see why I conducted such actions, and furthermore why I was not assessed for any form of therapeutic intervention. As a Probation Officer now I feel that I would be greatly disturbed if someone, particularly a child, displayed such actions and would certainly seek some form of structured support and assessment. Of course my foster parents helped me to resolve such an issue by showing faith in me and giving me another chance, and I think that this gesture alone renewed my faith in humanity. Looking back I realise that this anger must have swelled due to past events, and maybe I didn't know how to deal with it at that time.
Of course we all have stories of our schooldays and what we got up to with our friends, but form me this account is about the effect of the care system on myself and my family. Whilst I prospered at the Smith's, I heard that things for my sister had taken a turn for the worse. She had been removed from the original set of foster parents and returned to a children's home in my home town. I cant ever remember seeing my sister when living with the Smith's, but I did receive the odd letter. Even there she was unsettled and on one occasions ran away, leaving the local media to publish a photograph of her with the word 'Missing' highlighted. From what I gathered this was not a positive move for my sister, and I never ascertained the reason as to why her placement broke down with her previous foster parents. If that news had not taken me back I received more from a girl who recognised me in the town I was then living in (she recognised me form photos that my sister had of me)...I had an older brother. His name was Carl and he was two years my senior, and had been taken into care from a very early age. He was not someone I met until I was eighteen years of age.
So my schooling was completed. Upon starting XXXXXX school I was someone who didn't seem to want to learn, an individual with a short attention span who wanted to mess about. However by the end I had completely transformed my attitude and desire to succeed, and I left with nine GCSE exams graded A to C. Of course upon collecting them I knew who I had to thank for this transformation, and did so!! This of course allowed me to attend the local college and pursue my dream of becoming a Journalist, yet my dealings with the social services was far from over......