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YOUTH IN CARE
Jonathan Lay
In
many ways, troubled youth share a marginalized status, like other
minority groups. We first met 17-year-old Jonathan when he gave a moving
speech to a conference for Canadian youth workers. He had been removed
from his parents as a young boy and had spent several years in the
custody of the state. With remarkable humor and insight, Jonathan shared
what it was like to be “property of the government” and to be deprived
of voice concerning his destiny. His story is a painful reminder that
even well-meaning professionals can too easily slip into relationships
based on power and superiority instead of relating to young persons with
dignity and respect.
I became a PGO — which we kids in care say means Permanent Government Ownership — because it feels like the government owns us. I check out people very carefully. I am good at reading people. Sometimes I use reverse psychology, like if a counselor is getting too close, then I ask him about his life, his problems, and it scares him away. I can tell if a person really cares and wants to help or is just doing a job for the money. You know the saying: "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer." If I don't trust an adult, I have to watch them even closer. I give staff respect even if they don't show it, but when they are not there, I live my life like I want. If I find a person who is open, his personality reaches my own and I bond quickly. But I don't want to talk about things that hurt. After being somebody who doesn't care about anything for so many years, it is hard to change. When I get upset, I ball things up inside, and then I finally blow up. Sometimes I hit my fist into the wall or I become violent, and then I feel guilty. Over the years, I have had good and bad experiences in the system. The good parts have been some of the caring, trusting, and supportive people I have come in contact with. The bad parts are when people don't listen or trust me. Sometimes people disregard my say in decisions affecting my life. One of my social workers tried to run my entire life. Against my will, she made me move to a foster home in the town where my mother and stepfather lived. I was very unhappy and I begged her not to leave me there, but she made me have contact with my parents. During all of the time I was in their town, my parents only saw me five times. One time I accidentally met my step-father on the street when I was 15. I was smoking a cigarette, and he began to rage at me and pushed me against a building. I thought he was going to hit me, so I hit him first.
My mother
told me once if I got in trouble with the court, she never
wanted to see me again. I would call her and leave
messages, but she doesn't answer my calls anymore, so I quit
calling. My mother chose my stepfather instead of me. After all
the times I got beat by my step dad, I have a lot of hate
for him. He ruined my life, and I don't want anything to
do with him. I know we will never get back together, but
sometimes I think there would be a one in a million
chance that we would bond like a family, like a father and son. I think I would like to be married some day, but I don't know if I want kids. I wouldn't want to hurt them like my step dad did me. But, little kids like me. Someone told me if you are concerned about what your parents did to you, you could change that with your own children. For kids like me in the system, there is a lot of fear. Most kids I know don't want to talk about their problems or experiences because it will cause them more trouble. Adults need to build a bond with kids and then they will tell you if they feel they are ready. Sometimes workers lose sight of the person behind the file number. I have desires and goals, and it is important to be there in helping me achieve my potential. Some people clear the way for me and others put up roadblocks. I am the best resource you have to know and understand what is going on inside of me. * * *
Jonathan Lay, at the time of writing, was a Canadian high school student who was in the care
system from the time he was removed from his family at 13 years of
age. This article is an expansion of a presentation he made before a
conference of youth professionals sponsored by McMan Youth
Services in Medicine Hat, Alberta, on October 26, 1999.
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