Ahhh…we’re coming up on the last day of classes for the winter term. My last assignment is due on Friday but since it’s already done, I can take today off.
Unfortunately, today is not the stress-free day that I had envisioned last night. There is an annoying little boy at my youngest son’s bus stop. He’s not a bad kid…not disrespectful or anything…just gabs (about nothing) too much and is generally annoying. This morning, I think I figured out why.
While waiting for the bus, he told my son that he was absent from school yesterday because his dad gave him a fat lip, then went on to say something to the effect of ‘you DON’T want to make my dad angry cuz this is what he does’. I didn’t say anything, just listened. My son didn’t quite know what to make of it and asked if he was okay. The bus showed up right then, so I saw them off and came home.
For those that don’t know, I used to work in both the child protection and juvenile justice field. I was also a foster parent for many years. I was 8 credits away from a B.S. in social work before I burned out and changed my major to computer science. I REALLY wish I knew nothing about the child protection field, but unfortunately, I can’t claim ignorance to any of it. I know that the state I live in has a wonderful little thing known as ‘mandatory reporting laws’. Anyone who suspects a child of being abused or neglected is REQUIRED to report it. It SHOULD be a simple decision for someone like me to make. Child states that his father gave him a fat lip, parents should be reported and investigated for child abuse. Right?
I really tried to talk myself out of making the call. I didn’t WANT to make the call. Why? Because I know that what happens next is very much dependent upon the view of ONE so-called professional. Maybe the kid IS being abused…he most likely IS being abused from the things I’ve seen. Not to mention the fact that I have a very strong feeling that the kid’s father is a sex offender listed on my local registry list. But on the other hand, I KNOW that mistakes are made and I have huge issues with the way this country’s child protection system works. I, personally, have never known an unfair or overzealous CPW in my life, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.
I’m very much a middle of the road kinda gal. I don’t believe that ALL children can be raised without EVER getting a spanking. Some can (and if YOUR child is one of those, consider yourself very lucky indeed), but the vast majority can’t. I have, on several occasions, spanked my kids to drive a message home. I don’t feel the least bit guilty for it either. What I hate is the fact that, when they were younger, I couldn’t take the chance on immediate discipline in public for fear that some bleeding heart would call the cops on me. It would have been SO much easier to have been able to give them a swat on the ass to get their attention rather than having to carry them, kicking and screaming, to the car, belt them into their car seat and wait for the tantrum to pass. But, no. I couldn’t DO that because there are too many people out there who view ALL physical discipline as abuse.
I’ve grown a lot since my days of wanting to save the world. Maybe I’ve grown more jaded, but I just don’t believe that a government entity should have the power to tell you how to raise your children or to throw your ass in jail and/or take your children if you do something they don’t agree with. By and large, most CPWs walk a VERY fine line between fairness to the parents and protection of the child. They’ve got the public screaming when they don’t act quickly enough and they’ve got the public screaming when they act too quickly. It’s NOT a fun place to be, I can tell you that much.
It took me about 45 minutes this morning to decide that I had to make the call to report the abuse. I absolutely HATED being put in that position…I had hoped when I left social work that I would never have to deal with this bullshit again. Maybe I sound like a bitch for feeling ‘inconvenienced’ and that isn’t my intention. Social work made me question my decisions about EVERYTHING and since I left that part of my life behind me, I never feel the need to do that.
I did it because it’s the right thing to do, I suppose. I had just hoped that I would never be faced with these kinds of situations again. I called the school, who will check in with my son and find out the boy’s last name and then I called the abuse hotline. I’m waiting for the social worker to show up and take a statement, which ought to be a laugh. I know all of the social workers in the area and they all try to get me back into foster parenting when they see me. No fucking thank you. That is one area where I have become completely, 100% jaded.
But that’s a post for another time.
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