Personal Narrative As A Child Protective Children

Since I was a kid, I had a ton of responsibilities, cleaning up after myself, doing chores, managing to not fight with my brother, although we fought all day everyday, but you know, it happens. One thing that I didn't know wasn't normal was parenting your parent. I go to school do all my class work and during recess and lunch I listened to all the other kids talk about going to the park after school and eating dinner together with their parents. When I got home from school, I had to do my homework and then take care of my mother. Bring her things she needed such as food, water, help her with many other simple everyday activities. Of course I wasn't the only one who was her “little helper” as she put it, my dad helped her and my older brother by two years,

By the way of introduction, I am Aleem Punja's cousin and he suggested I reach out to you to explore possible opportunities at the Children's Aid Society of Toronto.

I remember being taken away from my mother at age seven. My brother was only a year old when we were separated. We were ripped away from her arms and placed in foster care. I can recall that day clear as a crystal. My throat felt constricted as I yelled out for my mother, my eyes were red and puffy from all the crying, my knees bruised because I refused to be taken away. From then out my life tumbled down. I could no longer protect my brother, I could not be there to wipe my mother’s tears away. I was alone and frightened. Now that I look back at my experiences in foster care it made me stronger. As of today I am more grounded, and able to go through life with a new lense. I got to experience foster care and am able to empathize with those who have gone through it as well.

The history of mental health in the United States show a robust movement towards the mental healthcare system we have today. Prior to the 19th century, individuals with mental health issues were widely considered to be demonically possessed, thus contributing to the stigmatization of mental illness and the proliferation of poor treatment conditions. However, in the 1800s, there was a dramatic change in mental healthcare in the U.S. The government took a proactive role in treating the mentally ill, leading to the dawn of state psychiatric facilities.

A few months ago I worked as an attendant to a 12-year-old boy with autism. I would go to his house and help out his family with anything that had to do with him. Some of the things that I would do were pick him up from school, prepare food him, and help him complete daily tasks. He did not speak at all, so it was really hard for me at first, but as the weeks went by I learned his facial expressions, his chart, and his sign language. Although it was difficult to work with him, I would like to continue working with special needs kids but in another setting.

The tone set by these article is one of hopelessness with no voice for children in that time who did not have a strong family presence. It was as if the children did not matter and no one took into account that they would one day be the future. We still hear about child abuse from natural parents as well as foster homes. However, making these conditions public with a message that we do not accept it has helped keep these places under better scrutiny to prevent abuse. I believe that if there had been more visits from local agencies to check on the way the home was run would have limited the power the guards had. Knowing that someone may be coming to walk around and inspect the boys as well as the grounds often would have prevented

Little by little, children finish their meals and get ready for naptime. The children dump the remainder of their milk in the same sink where they wash their hands. Slowly children go lie down on their own. One of the TSS’s turns off the lights on that side of the room. Kayla puts on a rest time cd and goes to start cleaning up the kitchen. I ask what kind of music is playing but Kayla is not sure. Alyssa gets blankets for any children who need them. Kayla tells her the children only get their blanket if they are settled down. Seeing the children start to fall asleep I get ready to leave. Saying goodbye to Kayla and Alyssa, thanking them for their time.

I would ask this to Mrs. Jackson. This whole situation started with a call about the young boys screams heard by the neighbor. The son’s misbehavior is what lead to Child Protective Services getting involved.

2006- Joining Focus children organization – This was the first nonprofit organization that I ever joined. It dealt with handicap kids in developing countries. I believe that I became sensitive to co-cultures that exist in our world. It made me realize how hard it is for others to try and live and adapt to the dominant culture.

Maybe I was too little, or maybe I was too short, but either way I did not make the jump. In the second grade I was your average eight year old, who always wore her hair in ponytails, and enjoyed playing tag at recess. One day I saw the fifth graders on the monkey bars at recess doing something I had never seen before, they were jumping to the fourth bar. I waited untill Kids Inc. that day to try the jump, but it was no use I was acting like a scared baby.

This week in my field experience I did some module training, some paperwork, and also was able to go with my supervisor as she gave a presentation on the Abused Adult Resource Center to a group called Foster Grandparents. They are a group of 55 age or older volunteers that go into elementary schools and help with the kids.

I was in foster care when I was 7 years old. This was hard because imagine being taken away from your parents at that young age and being put in another family. This was a challenge because this meant going to a different school with different kids I didn’t know. I always hated being the new kid at a school because being the new kid meant you didn’t know anybody and everybody always stared at you. Every school had a different way of teaching and so I always had to adjust and adapt to different environments. I went to 5 different homes throughout those 3 years because the families kept giving up on my brothers and I. So every time we moved we also moved schools and so I just started giving up on trying to make friends and started giving up

It was hour four. I glanced at the tiny digital clock on the dusty, outdated, desktop computer. “Five minutes left in free play!” I yelled over the jumbled sound of Mario Kart, xylophones and freeze dance. The daycare had almost a club atmosphere at this point as muffled dance music blasted through the speakers; the only partition between the high-energy fitness center and us was a thin wall of glass, littered with sticky handprints. There were currently thirty children ranging from ages 3 to 12 and it was up to me my coworker to watch all of them, do payments and update the roster. She was busy with the infants, leaving me to take care of everything else. Much like a general getting ready for war, I prepared myself. Sometimes, the room would have up to 40 kids in it at once, so I had to be an authoritarian. I knew I had it in me; I had practice using my voice working at the preschool.

A Child Advocate Attorney is basically a person who protects kids and their rights during trials involving divorce, custody, abuse, neglect, and juvenile cases. Child Advocate Attorneys have to conduct investigations, obtain all records relevant to the parents and child, actively participate in court, receive notice of all of the court documents, present evidence in support of the advocate's position, present the wishes of the child to the court, make recommendations to the court, collect child support payments (at certain times), and much more. I believe that I am fit for this job because I love working with people and helping people and this job is about helping people and working around people so I think I would fit in nicely. A big part

Sitting alone in my new brother’s old room, I chewed at my nails. Over two thousand miles away from home, I am in the new town of Allen, Texas. I know a total of five people so far,  all being a part of my adopted family. I slowly pull myself down off my bed and trudge towards my bathroom. Looking in the  mirror, I pull my long chocolate brown hair out of its bun and rub my face. It’s crazy how things start over so quickly. I’m in a new house with a new family and new people who don’t really know me, again.