Gotta Love the Kids

For the past 11 years, I have worked with children in the mental health field as a Group Home Supervisor, Associate Professional, Qualified Professional, Residential Counselor, Foster Care Coordinator and Case Manager. My work is truly fulfilling but can be very stressful & draining. I love my children as well as the parents and foster parents that I supervise. Ordinarily, I don't cry easy but there have been situations when it comes to my children that have caused me to break down in tears both privately & publically. As embarassing as it may have seemed at the time, I have broken down in tears in treatment team meetings simply unable to contain myself because it is so difficult to work with these children and not become emotionally involved on some human level.

As many of you know, I am currently in graduate school & will receive my Masters of Education hopeful to make a slight career change. Not for any lack of love for what I do but simply because I believe God wants to use me in another capacity to influence the lives of young people.

I haven't shared any of my poetry on this blog yet so I thought I'd share this poem that I wrote years ago for my children. As cliche' as it sounds, the children are indeed our future so please continue to encourage & pray for them.

A Social Worker's Dilemma

every day kids come into our office
wearing sad faces
carrying wounded hearts
fighting hard to hide emotion
not realizing that they're not trapped
but entangled into a web of confusion
hindering the release from the imprisonment of their minds

and then some come
bearing their souls
praying that we'll be the one to rescue them
from this never ending cycle of hopelessness
some believing they don't owe themselves anything
some believeing that we owe them everything

and here we sit
behind wooden desks and bachelor degrees
restricted by "codes of ethics"
worker/client boundaries
and laws written by some person who obviously
has never seen a child's face light up
when they walk into the room

we are made to assign them case numbers
as if they aren't people
and when their 18th birthday arrives
we feed them to the sharks
expecting them to survive in a world unknown
because for years, every important decision has been made for them
almost like saying since they don't "belong" to anyone
they don't have a voice?

we are not allowed to give hugs
or show love
our job is to keep records
make referrals
care but not too much
help but not get too involved

we spend hours reading 3 inch binders detailing their lives
we're given pagers and cell phones to be accessible at all times
because if they need to cry
we should listen
but not comfort
because that's crossing lines

wanting so desperately to give them everything
not out of pity
but because they deserve it
instead, we become bystanders
of preventable train wrecks
then wonder how these kids got off track

I'm not saying that there's something wrong with being a professional
nor do I have a problem doing my job
I'm just saying that these kids have been through enough already

they're longing for the arms of ten thousand mothers to surround them
they're longing to hold the hand of someone they can call daddy
no family to provide support
no friends to turn to
they give us so much hope
and in their eyes, we may be their only hope

I'm not saying there's something wrong with being a professional
nor do I have a problem doing my job
I'm just saying that these kids have been through enough already

I guess I just want to know
at the end of the day
when their file is stored away in some locked cabinet
and we aren't there to give them some sort of assessment
or drive them to school
if not us...

WHO will love these kids?

Itisha Morgan
29 April 2004