As I have written in previous blogs, I had an over-inflated view of the power of my own empathy to change the lives of people. I believed that if I could just love someone enough (or have dysfunctional will and emotion towards them) that they would change for the better. That their circumstances would change and that things would just be “better.” I was delusional and sadly mistaken.
Case in point: There were siblings from East Tennessee at KDS when I first started working there. One (if not both) were considered, “Grandpa’s Children” which was a backwoods way of saying, “Grandpa was also the father.” These two particular children had been neglected and abused. They had engaged in inappropriate personal behavior with other siblings and their own parents. It was a sad and disgusting story that made me very angry. I used that “energy” in working with them, building relationships with them and wading through the myriad of challenging behaviors they presented.
They were at KDS a number of years and for my part, I felt like a built a very strong and effective relationship with each of them to the point where there was not a whole lot of “behavior modification” than needed to go on. I could just talk listen to them and give correction and direction. They were well fed. They were clean. The slept inside, in beds, with sheets, blankets and pillows. They were safe, they were learning. The older sibling was working and earning actual money. They had great experiences through Special Olympics. They had friends and adults who cared for them. They had a good life.
When the younger sibling turned 18, she demanded to return home as did her 19-year old brother. This was a problem, because they actually could go home. They were adults.
At the time in Tennessee there were some super-hinky policies and procedures concerning who would pay for adult services for people with handicaps and when those services would take effect. I’ll try to explain:
Ø Federal Special Education Law requires schools to provide educational services to students with disabilities up to their 22nd birthday if those students agree to access those services. If the student graduates with a diploma, then they no longer receive services.
Ø Department Children’s Services (DCS) stop providing residential services at the age of 18.
Ø The department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation (DMHMR) will not provide services until the individuals are 22 years old.
That is a potential 4-year gap in service from the time an individual would leave DCS support and start accessing DMHMR support. We dealt with some clients who couldn’t cross the street without support let alone live independently for 4 years!
I blame DMHMR for the dilemma (I don’t know if it is a dilemma in TN today or not) because the reason they wouldn’t provide services was because Educational Services were still available and they didn’t want clients to “double-dip” services, like they could get too much support and service (which is, to coin and inappropriate phrase, moronic.)
DCS finally (and begrudgingly) stepped-up and said, “Ok, if a child has a mental or cognitive handicap, we will provide services until such time as they can obtain adult services.” The caveat was, however, once they leave custody after the age of 18, they cannot return to custody again. They can only wait until they can access adult services when they turn 22. So you give children with cognitive impairments the choice to either stay in their current placements or allow them to return “home.” This is what the East Tennessee Siblings opted to do, to go right back to the shanty where their abusive Grandpa/Dad was waiting for them.
A year after they “went home” I saw the sister at a regional Special Olympics event. Apparently the family and signed them up for school. They had been heavily involved in Special Olympics at KDS so it was a good activity for them.
I was heartbroken to see the younger sister. Her thick blonde hair was greasy, lifeless and un-kept. She had lost weight. Her clothes were disheveled. But it as her teeth that were the most telling. Her smile was grey. I imagine she had not brushed her teeth for a year.
I talked to the sponsor that brought her from her school who happened to be her special education teacher. She said that the siblings would come to school and immediately take a shower. She would feed them and let them have personal care items. They had a set of clothes for them so they would take their dirty clothes (that they were wearing) and wash them while giving them a clean set for the day. The teacher also said they would then sleep most of the morning and then they would do some work in the afternoon. (As usual, SPED teachers are awesome.) They had contacted DCS and DMHMR and of course, no one was going to do anything.
About midnight of the first day of our 3-day Special Olympic event, the younger sister came to the door of one of the KDS female sponsor’s hotel room and begged to come back to KDS. She cried and cried and begged to come back…which, of course, she couldn’t.
After the event was over I saw her pile into the van with the other kids from her area and I watched her drive away, right back to the abuser she had been rescued from 8 years earlier.
Eight years of work, down the drain.
Eight years of battles…for nothing.
Eight years and two lives…gone.
For years I held onto Matthew 10:42 “And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward." as a way to cope with days like that. A cup of cold water really does nothing for someone except temporarily quench their thirst. They will most certainly be thirsty again…and in short order.
But I couldn’t shake the thought: Eight wasted years.
That was led by another thought, a thought that turned into a type of prayer, a prayer that shaped my family's next 7 years.
“Jesus, I can’t do treatment anymore. I won’t do treatment anymore, unless YOU are the treatment.”
chris
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