by Cathy Glass
‘No!’ he scowled, and we had to smile.
My amateur psychology told me the reason he was saying no so much was because he was trying to regain some of the control that had been so brutally ripped from him when he’d been abused. He hadn’t been able to stop the abuse by saying no, but now he could control other, smaller things in his life. I couldn’t sanction every misdemeanour or rudeness, so I let minor issues go and concentrated on what he had to do – for safety or his general well-being. For example, he didn’t have to pack away all his toys at night, but he did have to go to bed and get up at a reasonable time. I praised all his positive behaviour, ignored his minor negative behaviour, and applied strategies like the closed-choice technique when necessary so that ultimately Oskar did as I asked. (Details of the closed choice and other strategies for parenting are in my book Happy Kids.)
Miss Jordan told me that Oskar had started ‘playing up’ at school as she put it. I think it came as a shock to her to see this quiet, withdrawn, timid child suddenly assert himself and become disruptive. She’d been made aware of the abuse, so appreciated why Oskar’s behaviour had deteriorated. I assumed she could deal with it – she was, after all, a trained teacher. But then one afternoon she came out looking very worried and said there’d been an incident in the classroom. Apparently, when Oskar had been asked to pack away his art work at the end of the lesson, as the other children were doing, he’d sworn at her and then flown into a rage. He’d kicked over easels and thrown paint around. Miss Jordan had splodges of paint on her blouse.
‘That was very naughty,’ I told Oskar, who was standing beside us. Then to Miss Jordan I said, ‘I hope you sanctioned him.’
‘Oh no,’ she replied. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I understand why he’s angry, the poor child. I had a little chat with him and hopefully he won’t do it again.’
Miss Jordan was a kind, sensitive teacher and naturally felt sorry for Oskar, but having a little chat with him hadn’t stopped him playing up before. Indeed, his behaviour at school was worse than it was at home.
‘I know it’s difficult,’ I said. ‘But Oskar does need boundaries for good behaviour, just as all the other children do. I am sanctioning him at home when he’s done something wrong.’
‘Are you?’ she asked. I could tell from her expression she thought I was being harsh.
‘It’s natural for Oskar to feel angry about what happened,’ I said, aware he could hear me. ‘But he will need to behave himself like the other children in the class do. I’ll deal with this, and please let me know if there are further instances. It will help if he sees us working together.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. Then to Oskar, ‘We’ll have a better day tomorrow.’
Oskar looked at me apprehensively as we walked away. ‘I know you’re angry because of what happened,’ I said. ‘But kicking off at school isn’t the way to deal with it. You need to do as your teacher tells you. You’ve lost fifteen minutes of garden time.’
‘Don’t care,’ he said, pulling a face. But I knew he did care, for now the summer was here he enjoyed going into the garden to play as soon as we arrived home from school.
‘I don’t like you,’ he said as I opened the car door.
‘That’s a pity because I like you. Lots.’
‘Don’t care,’ he said again. Then as I drove, he said more forcefully, ‘I really don’t like you. I’m not pretending.’
I stifled a smile. ‘OK, but you’re still going to do as you’re told, and I like you just the same.’ I saw him stick out his tongue, which I ignored.
Once home, Oskar sat in the living room gazing forlornly through the window until the fifteen minutes were up and I opened the patio door for him to go out. Yes, I felt like a wicked witch, but putting in place boundaries for good behaviour is a sign of caring, and children have to learn correct behaviour to become well-adjusted, responsible adults. I didn’t want what had happened to ruin Oskar’s future, which it could easily have done. However, I appreciated it was easier for me, dealing with one child, than for Miss Jordan, who had a classroom full. I was doing all I could to help her, but I had the feeling this was going to get worse before it got better.
Oskar began stealing food again from the other children’s packed lunches, although there was no need, as he was being well fed at home by me and always had breakfast. At the same time, he started being cruel to other children – those smaller and more vulnerable than himself – pushing them over and hitting them. While it was very wrong, I could see the logic: as he’d been hurt by his abusers, so he was hurting others. One playtime he threatened a lad that he would cut him up into little pieces and described it in such gory detail that the boy went crying to the playground supervisor, who reported the incident to Miss Jordan. She was now sanctioning Oskar’s negative behaviour by loss of playtime, and I always told him off at the end of school if there’d been an incident, although I didn’t add another punishment as that would have been excessive.
One afternoon Elaine Summer, the Head Teacher, came to see me as I waited in the playground. I could tell from her expression it was something serious. She took me aside so we couldn’t be overheard and said a parent had telephoned the school, complaining about Oskar’s behaviour. While her son had been in the toilets, Oskar had gone in and demanded he take off his trousers and bend over so he could see his bottom or he’d cut him into bits. I was appalled, and concerned for the victim, although I knew why Oskar was behaving like this, as did the Head. He was trying to exorcize what had been done to him in the only way he knew now – by repeating it. Children who have been sexually abused often display sexualized behaviour. Elaine said she’d dealt with it and had reassured the parent without breaking confidentiality by giving details of the abuse Oskar had suffered. She’d also spoken to the boy and reassured him as well as talking sternly to Oskar.
‘I thought he was supposed to be seeing a therapist,’ she added.
‘Yes, I’m still waiting for an appointment. I’ll phone his social worker when I get home.’
‘Please do, and let me know the outcome. I don’t want any more instances like this.’
‘No, indeed,’ I agreed. ‘I am sorry.’ I felt responsible for Oskar’s behaviour, as most parents and carers do if their child misbehaves.
Although the Head had said she’d dealt with the matter and had spoken to Oskar, I wanted to reinforce to him some basic guidelines about the privacy of our bodies, as I’d done with other children. Once home, I settled Oskar at the table in our kitchen-diner with a drink and I took out a large sheet of plain paper and some crayons. I sat beside him and asked him to draw the outline of a person, which he did. I told him to colour in red all the parts of the body that were private, and then those in green that others could see and touch with our permission. It was an exercise I’d used before, and I know schools do similar.
As we worked, we talked about it. Hands and feet were green, as it’s all right to hold someone’s hand with their permission or see their feet. But the bottom and genitals were red, as were older girls’ breasts. Oskar knew which parts of the body were considered private, unlike some children I’d fostered who’d been so badly sexually abused for so long that they didn’t think any part of their body was private and theirs to own. We talked about arms and legs and what should be considered private, and decided that from the ankle to the knee wasn’t really private but the top of our legs were. I concluded by saying, ‘I know those wicked men made you show your private parts, but that was very wrong of them. You mustn’t do it to anyone else because it will hurt them as it hurt you.’
‘I know,’ Oskar said sadly. ‘I felt bad after. I had to say sorry.’
‘All right. You know not to do it again.’ I’d done as much as I could for now.
While Oskar was playing in the garden – I could see him from the kitchen window – I telephoned Andrew, but it went through to voicemail. I left a message e
xplaining what had happened at school and that the Head felt, as I did, that the sooner Oskar began therapy, the better.
The following day I received an email from Andrew saying he’d spoken to CAMHS and a letter with an appointment for Oskar was in the post. I assumed he’d managed to move him up the waiting list. In the afternoon, when I collected Oskar from school, I went into reception and asked the secretary to tell the Head that an appointment for Oskar to attend CAMHS was on its way.
Later that afternoon I met Lucy’s boyfriend, Darren, briefly. Lucy texted to say she didn’t need dinner as she was going out with him but they were stopping by first so she could change her clothes. I was in the kitchen preparing our dinner when I heard the front door open. ‘Hi!’ I called. ‘We’re in here.’ Oskar was with me as it had started to rain, so he’d come in from the garden.
‘This is Darren,’ Lucy said, coming into the kitchen-diner.
‘Lovely to meet you.’ I stopped what I was doing.
‘And you,’ he replied a little self-consciously.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I asked him.
‘No,’ Lucy replied on his behalf. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Have a seat,’ I said, gesturing to the table and chairs in the kitchen-diner.
Darren pulled out a chair and sat down as Lucy disappeared up to her bedroom. He was about five feet ten, of average build, with brown hair. He was a bit awkward talking to me but related more easily to Oskar, I guessed from working with children in the nursery.
Lucy got changed incredibly quickly and then he was whisked away. ‘Nice meeting you!’ I called. ‘See you again soon.’
‘Yes, thank you.’
Lucy wasn’t late back and I was still up. ‘Did you have a good evening?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Darren seems very pleasant.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘And he treats you well?’
‘Oh, Mum! Of course.’
I hugged her goodnight. My family were growing up fast.
We were now halfway through June and with just over a month to go before school broke up for the long summer holidays, I realized I should have booked a holiday by now. It’s often difficult for foster carers to plan ahead. We need permission to take the child on holiday, and often can’t be sure if we will still have the child at the time of the holiday, or if we’ll have a different child, or none at all. But I now knew Oskar would be with me until October at least so I raised the matter of a holiday with my family. Gone were the days when they were little and I could assume they’d all be coming with me. Adrian said he and Kirsty were thinking of going youth hostelling in the Lake District. Paula said she’d come with me and Oskar, and Lucy replied that she and Darren were camping at a four-day music festival and she couldn’t take any more time off during the summer. She worked in a private nursery, so unlike schools and colleges it wasn’t closed for the long holidays and the employees had standard annual leave, as did Adrian. Now I knew who was coming with me – Paula and Oskar – I emailed Andrew and asked if I could take Oskar on a week’s holiday in August, preferably abroad. If I was given permission, I’d immediately start looking for a last-minute package deal. I knew Oskar had a passport, which can be a problem for some children in care. Their social worker has to apply for a copy of their birth certificate before they can apply for a passport, which can take some time.
While I was waiting to hear from Andrew, I telephoned my mother and asked if she’d like to come on holiday with us. I explained it would either be a holiday in this country or a package deal abroad if I had permission to take Oskar. She thanked me but said she was going to spend the summer quietly at home pottering in the garden. I tried to persuade her, but I couldn’t change her mind, so I had to respect her decision. Now in her eighties and widowed, she found comfort in being at home surrounded by the familiar, which held many happy memories, although she still enjoyed days out and staying with us for a few nights.
I didn’t hear back from Andrew, but the next day at the start of contact Roksana said he’d left a message on her voicemail. ‘Something about you taking Oskar on holiday?’ she said somewhat confrontationally.
I explained what I was thinking – a package holiday in Europe or a holiday let near the coast in England. I said that my youngest daughter, Paula, would be coming with us and then waited for her reply. The manner in which she’d approached me suggested she was hostile to the idea, which would put a stop to it before the final court hearing in October. After that, assuming the social services were granted a Full Care Order, they could make the decision even if the parent didn’t agree. Some parents of children in care are happy to let their children go on holiday with the foster family, others are not, and some refuse simply because they can.
But Roksana replied, ‘That will be nice for Oskar. Thank you. He’s never been on a holiday before. Neither have I.’ Immediately I choked up.
‘It’s a pity I can’t take you too,’ I said. ‘But it wouldn’t be appropriate with the care proceedings on-going.’
‘I know, and I have to work. My holidays are going to see Luka.’ My heart went out to her. If ever a woman needed and deserved a relaxing break, it was Roksana. She looked permanently worn out and stressed, but I knew she wouldn’t be allowed to come on holiday with us. Had we been working towards Oskar returning home then it might have been appropriate, but at present the care plan was that Oskar would remain in foster care. ‘Can he phone me while you’re away?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘It doesn’t have to be every night. A couple of times, just to reassure me.’
‘Yes, we will.’
She then turned to Oskar, who’d been standing by us, listening. I hadn’t told him I was hoping to take him on holiday as I wanted to obtain permission first. ‘Aren’t you lucky, going on a summer holiday?’ she said to him, and he smiled, bemused.
‘I’ll need to check with Andrew first,’ I said. ‘Although I don’t think he’ll have any objection.’ Generally, the social services like children in care to go on holiday with their foster family unless circumstances don’t allow it. I said goodbye, that I’d see them at five o’clock, and left the Family Centre.
As I sat in my car with the windows down to let in some air, I called Andrew. ‘It’s Cathy, Oskar’s carer. I emailed you about taking Oskar on holiday.’
‘Yes, I’m waiting to hear back from Roksana.’
‘I’ve just seen her at contact and she has no objection; indeed, she is happy for Oskar to have a holiday. Can I go ahead and book something in Europe?’
‘I don’t see why not. Send me the details as soon as you’ve booked.’
‘I will. I’ll need Oskar’s passport.’
‘Roksana has it.’
‘I’ll ask her for it then. I’ll also need a letter of consent from you.’ This was necessary when taking a looked-after child abroad in case the carer was stopped at border control and asked why they were travelling with a child who wasn’t their own.
‘Will Oskar need additional vaccinations?’ Andrew asked.
‘I don’t think so as it will be in Europe, but I’ll check once I know exactly where we’re going.’
‘OK. Thanks.’
Having said goodbye, I remained in the car, phone in hand, and began googling last-minute holiday packages. I came up with a number of possibilities, which I noted down and would explore more fully when I got home. At five o’clock I returned to the Family Centre. I told Oskar and his mother that Andrew had given permission and I’d try to book a holiday this evening. I asked Roksana for his passport.
‘When are you going?’ she asked.
‘August.’
‘Plenty of time then,’ she replied.
There was, but I would feel happier once I had Oskar’s passport, as I knew other foster carers who’d had their
holiday plans scuppered at the eleventh hour because they didn’t have the child’s passport.
Oskar was talkative in the car going home and asked me about holidays. He knew children at school went on holiday but hadn’t been on one himself, so I told him all about holidays and that he’d have a lovely time. After dinner, while Paula played with Oskar in the living room, I sat at the computer in the front room and continued the research I’d begun in the car. I found it so much easier working on a larger screen. Fifteen minutes later I had found what I was looking for. ‘How does Crete sound?’ I called to Paula and Oskar. ‘An all-inclusive beach hotel.’
‘Sounds good!’ Paula replied, and immediately they appeared. I scrolled through the photos of the resort, swimming pools, beach and local places of interest to show them.
‘There is one family room left for the first week in August,’ I said. Paula appreciated that, aged six, Oskar would be sleeping in our room.
‘Shall I book it then?’ I asked.
‘Yes, go for it,’ Paula said.
‘Go for it,’ Oskar repeated, smiling.
‘OK.’
Paula returned to the living room with Oskar so I could concentrate. I booked the holiday and travel insurance, and then spent a few anxious minutes checking the details, paranoid that I’d pressed the wrong button and booked something completely different. When the confirmatory email came through, I checked that carefully too, and was finally convinced everything was correct. I pre-booked seats on the plane to make sure we were all sitting together. I checked what vaccinations were required, if any, and then sent Andrew all the details, including flight times and the hotel address. I was excited by the prospect of going on holiday, but my thoughts returned to Roksana. Her selfless act had allowed not only her son to go abroad on a nice holiday, but Paula and me too, for I wouldn’t have put Oskar in respite care with another foster carer and gone without him. He’d only just built up trust in us, and apart from that, he was one of the family for however long he was with us.
