April 27, 2012
When I was nine or ten years old my mom worked evenings as a social worker. Eventually my mom went from working as a social worker to being a foster parent. She had purchased a fairly large home and we had room for up to five children at a time.
I was eleven when the first foster child came to live in our home. She was the same age as me, but her life seemed complicated for someone so young. I was told next to nothing about her history. I didn’t know where she came from, why she was in foster care, or why she had to attend a completely different school. Her name was Kelly and she was classified as “specialized”.