tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41151482011-08-02T15:35:50.182-07:00Each One Reach OneFOr Foster Parents and the Government Agencies that Deal with ChildrenFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comBlogger211100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-79775861636690721722009-09-15T04:50:00.000-07:002009-09-15T08:09:59.518-07:00Josh with Amanda's son Aydn.
Rear left, Jennifer and her daughter, Krystal Bree, who is now 13. Amanda found her on MySpace, having looked for Jennifer all these years.All the kids are of age now, so I can use their real names. Ben is Jerry Kirkpatrick, 27, married with a lovely wife and a dog, a five-year-plan, and loans and scholarships to go to college at last. Prison totally straightened himFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-1134431824779929642005-12-12T15:56:00.000-08:002009-09-15T08:17:18.769-07:00 Jerry is about to come out of prison. I have bought a home in California and am away for the summer. When he comes out, I will take him again into my home to help him transition back into society. It's not easy for a released felon to re-adjust.Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-1057148176500731152003-07-02T05:16:00.000-07:002003-07-02T05:16:16.570-07:00Where Has Everybody Gone?
By Jerry Kirkpatrick, ADOC #165203
It all started when my father killed himself when I was nine years old.
Our family was living in west Phoenix when it happened. I was totally shocked when I was awakened by the Phoenix police telling my mother that my father had killed himself.
I didn’t know what to think of it. I did, however, know my life was changed forever. AfterFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-3901981172003-01-17T07:26:00.001-08:002003-01-17T07:26:08.340-08:00CHAPTER 22
While Ben was in camp, something even more disconcerting than his unhappiness happened. Jose called, thinking Ben was already home. When he heard that Ben had two more weeks of camp, he was sad enough to let it show in his voice. I asked him whether he had been back to see the principal of IntelliSchool about being re-admitted. He told me that principal had advised him to go to the Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901981242003-01-17T07:26:00.000-08:002003-01-17T07:26:51.823-08:00CHAPTER 23
When we picked Ben up in California after camp, we were pleasantly surprised. After three weeks of worry about how he adjusted, he got off the airplane with his diving gear and two certifications. Proudly, he told Gerry and me that he had never gotten a certificate for anything before in his life. He said he was already planning to go back next summer and become a certified Scuba Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-3901981122003-01-17T07:25:00.000-08:002003-01-17T07:25:32.773-08:00CHAPTER 21
And in fact, he began to reveal them to everyone. When Ben first came to live with me, he would never tell anyone about his family, saying it was none of their business. But an interesting phenomenon developed as he got to know the affluent kids more closely. Some of them actually began to envy his ghetto background, while others used it as an excuse to discriminate against him. EltonFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901981092003-01-17T07:24:00.001-08:002003-01-17T07:24:49.553-08:00CHAPTER 20
The boys around the Biltmore continued to make things difficult for Ben. Part of it was the normal course of being a fourteen year old, but I thought most of it was due to his being a foster child. Elton's new friend spent more and more time with him, and they excluded Ben. Ben told me that Elton's friend was from a bad part of town, but that Elton's mom didn't know it because they Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901981042003-01-17T07:24:00.000-08:002003-01-17T07:24:06.506-08:00CHAPTER 19
Ben never seemed to get over the split up of his family, and he tried repeatedly to find his grandparents on his father's side. Because he idolized the memory of his father, he thought his grandfather might want to know him. He seemed to think his grandfather owned a truck or a trucking company, somewhere in Colorado. He repeatedly asked Marilyn's mother if she knew where he was, but Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-3901979612003-01-17T06:59:00.000-08:002009-09-15T08:13:59.757-07:00CHAPTERS 15-18After a while, my message got through. To this day, I don't know where the pressure was applied, but we were finally granted a dispensation: we were treated as though we lived in a rural county. In the rural counties, there are no classes, because there aren't enough people who want to be foster parents in any one locations. In rural counties, a trainer comes to the home to deliver Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901979502003-01-17T06:57:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:57:03.830-08:00CHAPTER 14
Angie was languishing in the shelter. I called Mary every day to see if there was a placement, but Mary was reluctant to make another mistake. I was afraid the time allotted to Angie to be in the temporary shelter would expire and she would be put in a permanent group home if no family was found. Finally a family came forward willing to take Angie. Again, it was a family with four Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978812003-01-17T06:45:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:48:59.000-08:00CHAPTER 12
Ben had finally discovered how to live in the Biltmore, the community in which we lived. He started out by making friends with the women at the guard gate, who were responsible for packages and security. He had a great deal of time in the afternoons after school let out, and he would bike or rollerblade down to the guard house and keep the bored women company. Soon they began to loveFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978612003-01-17T06:42:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:42:30.176-08:00CHAPTER 11
Angie was in worse trouble. Having spent most of the previous year in the care of Ann, she couldn't get used to being separated from her big sister. First she began ditching school, a practice that had begun when she was still with her mother. When she ditched, she got detention, and when she got detention she lost her phone privileges. That meant she couldn't talk to Ann or Ben. Ben Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978552003-01-17T06:40:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:40:35.376-08:00CHAPTER 10
But when she did get a place, it was another motel room on the wrong side of town, and Fabian was with her. Angie called us crying. "I don't want to go with mom and Fabian," she said. "I'm scared." She had never admitted this before, and I had never heard her cry. Somehow, I was galvanized by this phone call. I had been trying to find a temporary place for the kids when I heard that Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978472003-01-17T06:39:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:39:07.513-08:00CHAPTER 9
Ben did not make an easy adjustment to my husband, nor he to Ben. Gerry was a master ironist, and said sarcastically to everyone who would listen that he was scrambling to hold on to his place at the bottom of the food chain. By this he meant that I, who had always been busy with my own children and my business and my friends, now had absolutely no time left to devote to him. Most of Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978432003-01-17T06:38:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:38:07.230-08:00CHAPTER 7
Watching was all. The social worker, Mary, was a wonderful woman, and she seemed to understand the trouble the kids were having. She was young and pretty, and risked her own well-being to go into inner city neighborhoods to investigate the conditions children were living under. She was overworked, underpaid, and committed to her job. However, the state of Arizona has some interesting Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978212003-01-17T06:36:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:36:12.383-08:00CHAPTER 6
Although Marilyn had grown increasingly angry with me after her husband died, and was jealous enough of the attention I paid Ben to be less than civil most of the time, whenever she was in trouble or needy, she came back to me and apologized for being rude. Now she was looking for me to find her another place to live, to move her, and/or to lend her the money for the security deposit. Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978152003-01-17T06:35:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:35:31.036-08:00CHAPTER 5
Marilyn had decided to spend the week-end with her lover-pimp-drug dealer, Fabian. Fabian was a big black guy who sometimes stayed with Marilyn and the kids, and otherwise seemed to be homeless. Even the kids knew he was after the welfare and Social Security checks. But Marilyn referred to him as her boyfriend, and became defensive and argumentative when someone criticized him. Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978142003-01-17T06:34:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:34:59.410-08:00CHAPTER 3
Immediately after Leroy died, Marilyn began to talk about moving from the new apartments. They held too many memories for her, and besides, she was afraid of the people who seemed to come uninvited into her apartment at all hours of the day and night. I was against that, because I had just put down all the deposits, helped register all the kids in a new school, and moved them. More thanFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-901978042003-01-17T06:33:00.000-08:002003-01-17T06:33:10.453-08:00CHAPTER 2
As the summer wore on, Marilyn had more and more trouble. Nothing came easy. The phone bills were astronomical, even though I had limited the service to local calls. The kids spent their summer afternoons dialing directory assistance and letting the charges mount up. One month, I paid a bill for $75 in local service alone. And Marilyn, who had the responsibility for the utility bills, Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-3901939382003-01-16T10:22:00.000-08:002003-01-16T10:22:43.403-08:00CHAPTER 1
He must have been eleven when I met him.
I didn't pay much attention to him at first, because I was trying to hard to help his sister. In my usual off-hand fashion, I had said "yes" when asked to participate in one of those community programs in which a business leader mentors a child from an inner city school. I only said yes because they were short of women, and because the woman who Francine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4115148.post-3901939252003-01-16T10:19:00.001-08:002003-01-16T10:19:34.413-08:00EACH ONE REACH ONE
A Memoir by Francine Hardaway ©
Introduction
I'm putting this message at the very beginning of the book so you can get it without reading all the way through. We have a big problem with our children, especially our poor children. They are not getting educated or socialized for the world they are going to have to live in. As a result, they are violent, ignorant, unemployableFrancine Hardaway, Ph.Dnoreply@blogger.com