An Open Letter to the Children I Work With

When I look at you all sitting there, your shining faces turned up towards mine, ears tuned to hear my every word, there is so much I want to say. How do I begin to facilitate the process that will leave you standing on the brink of adulthood, having left behind the mantle of childhood, and taking your places as committed, conscientious citizens of the world? How do I, in the few short hours we have together, teach you everything I want you to know? So many words crowd to be spoken first, words that go above “pick up your toys” and “stop running” and “be kind to each other” and “try it for yourself,” but maybe that is really where it all starts.

Pick up your toys. Make the world a better place than it was when you entered it. There is an old proverb that goes, “When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die the world cries and you rejoice.” Anyone can make a go at being a human, but only some are worth taking note of, only some make it to the history books, to the songs and stories that continue for generations. Be one of those. Don’t leave problems for others to deal with, don’t leave behind a mess that will haunt the generations to come. Make your mark on the world, but make it a good one. If you leave something behind, let it be a positive influence, a reminder that here was a good person, someone who was worth knowing and someone who will long be missed. Pick up your toys, children, and leave the world a better place.

Stop running. Oh children, please stop running. Slow down and enjoy the moments. They pass so quickly and then they are gone forever. Now as you yearn for tomorrow and tomorrow and all of the tomorrows to come, you cannot possible understand that some day you will wake up and tomorrow has come and gone while you were yet looking towards the future. Yes, look forward! There is so much to see! But please do not spend so much time looking forward that you forget to stand still, to savor the small moments. There will always be bills to pay, dishes to be washed, and time cards to punch, but those babies will become adults, those friends will move away, and those books will grow dusty with age. So set aside the responsibilities, just for the moment, just for the day, and enjoy the passing breeze, the softness of a puppy’s fur, and the delighted laugh of a child. Take that road trip, call up that old friend, sit for a moment longer and, just for a moment, stop running.

Be kind to each other. The world is full of violence and hatred, overflowing and running over and threatening to drown us all under a wave of vitriolic hatred. The news reports are bleak, the naysayers are loud: catastrophe is upon us, they say, the end is nigh. Someone must stop it, someone must say it is enough. Let that person be you. Don’t judge someone for the color of their skin, for the god they worship, for the decisions they make, for the person they love at night - what has that to do with you? Instead take the time to reach out a hand to the hurting, comfort the brokenhearted, share what comforts you have. There are enough people who are willing and able to criticize and condemn; let them enjoy the misery of their bitter words alone. Make the world better for having you in it. When someone opens their mouth to criticize, counter with a positive word, to condemn be prepared with a smile. It takes but a small bit of snow to begin an avalanche that will gain enough momentum to bury a town, be the small bit of kindness that buries the world. Children, be kind to each other.

Try it for yourself. Rumor has it this generation is being groomed to be lazy and good-for-nothings, not fit for anything but the space they take up. I disagree and I hope you will be the force that proves me right. When they tell you that you can’t, tell them that you can; when they try to do it for you, tell them that you can do it by yourself. Because you can. You can do and be anything you want to be. But you have to make them stop helping you. You can do this, all on your own. There is a great big world out there and it is just waiting for you to explore it, but you have to want to, you have to work at it, you have to get out there and take it. This world has been here much longer than you have and it is not going to move and give you space because you whine or demand it to do so. No, you are going to have to push and fight, and yes, cry if you must. But don’t you ever, ever give up. No one else can carry you; you have to get out there and carry yourself. You will be stronger and better for it, better able to lead and to change the world. Go on, try it for yourself - you can do it.

In many, many ways the world failed me. People who should have been there were not and I was left to do life pretty much on my own. And it is because of them, some may even say despite them, that I am determined that you will be better than I am, that I will be there for you in a way that no one was ever there for me. Maybe I will be successful, maybe I will not. Only time will tell, and perhaps someday we shall meet up again and you, dear children, can let me know. In the meantime, the best advice I can give you is to pick up your toys and stop running and be kind to each other, and try it for yourself. It is enough.

10 Things That Random Kid You're Watching Wishes You Knew

Whether it's a foster kid, your grandkid, or just the random neighbor kid who spends five out of seven nights of the a week camped out in your living room, kids who are missing one or both parents seem to find people (particularly mothers) who watch out for them. These are some things those kids can't say to you (but I can because I was once one of them):

 

Try not to single us out. We know we're different. We know this fact better than anyone because everywhere we go someone reminds us by hugging us, exclaiming over us, or making a fuss over us. Let us be one of the crowd while we are at your house. If we screw up, let us know. If we break a rule, let us get in trouble. And please, whatever you do, don't tell your kids to treat us better because we are missing our parent. We need our friends to accept us just the way we are, not because their parents are telling them to do so.

Give us a part of the routine. If your kids have chores, give us chores. If your kids have a designated homework times, make us do our homework then too. Our lives are chaos right now and any bit of routine, no matter how tiny or seemingly insignificant, is a relief.

Teach us. Many of us, especially females who lost a mother very young, may not be aware of basic hygienic routines, let alone anything to do with puberty and the like. If you're teaching your kids to brush their teeth after eating, to take regular showers, to tie their shoes, and how to match their clothes, please teach us too. And, if you can get permission from our parent (and, of course, if you feel comfortable doing so) help us to understand puberty too -- it's not fun to go through without a guide.


Sometimes we are as upset about leaving your house as we are about arriving (and that's okay). We know our loyalties should lie with our biological family, but sometimes, especially if things are particularly rough at home, we really don't want to be there. And frankly, we don't always want to be anywhere else either. We're a little bit confused about what we want, give us time and plenty of love, we'll settle down. Though if you can encourage our parents by letting them know we didn't spend all day (or weekend or week) crying and that we talked happily about home happenings too, that would also make these transitions easier.

Listen to us. Sometimes things can get really rough at home and we may need to tell someone. I know sometimes we lie, but in between we may be telling the truth however we can. Please listen to us and get us the help you can, even if it's just a hug or a promise to let us stay over more often. 

If someone mistakes us as one of your kids, don't correct them. We spend a lot of time as the outsider, the one that doesn't belong, the random kid at someone else's family picnic -- any scrap of belonging to an actual family is a balm to our broken sense of the world. (Obviously if the child is particularly vocal with irritation about the outsider's assumption, don't ignore this, instead try to be calm about the situation, odds are they may secretly love the suggestion that they actually do belong to someone.)

We may not be that great at expressing genuine affection (but that doesn't mean we aren't feeling it). Remember, we told our parent that we loved them and then they left us. Expressing affection may seem dangerous to us and we also may not be sure where the line is. Are we allowed to tell other people's parents that we love them? Are we allowed to hug them? Is any of that disloyal to our missing parent (or the one at our actual home)? Extend affection towards us and allow us to express it back however we are able.

We know we're acting up (please forgive us). Just like with expressing affection, our negative behavior is a way of testing to see if you'll leave us. Give us boundaries and expectations and clear consequences and, I promise you, we'll settle down eventually. (On the flip side of this, don't worry if we never give you trouble -- that fear that our bad behavior caused our parents to leave is a very real one.)

Please don't forget us as adults. For many of us the full extent of our missing parent is hitting us hard as we navigate our twenties and we need a guiding hand just as much now, if not more. Remember, our family may be just as broken now as it was when we were a child and we may lead fairly solitary lives/be alone on major holidays. If you knew us as a child or teen, try giving us a call or if you know a young adult who is missing one or both parents, reach out to us. I promise that we'll appreciate it (even if we're still not very good at telling you.)

Thank you. Maybe we say it, maybe we don't. Maybe we apologize and express gratitude over tiny little things and maybe we've never said a single please or thank you in all the years you've known us. But we feel it. Your sacrifice to give us meals, read us stories, take us to sports, help us with homework, drag us along to family vacations, teach us to ride a bike, and listen to us tell you about missing teeth, first loves, and all the hundreds of little things that no one else wants to hear except a mother -- none of that is taken for granted and it is always, always remembered.