Caleb

Caleb

By

Michael E. Bemis

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Michael E. Bemis

All Rights Reserved.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is dedicated to those being bullied and those who have been.

May you overcome.

Forward

Abandoned by his mother at birth, his biological father unknown, Caleb was placed in state custody before he was a day old. Not eligible for adoption because officials were unwilling to terminate parental rights, Caleb was shuffled from one home to the next in the generally lacking foster care system. Despite this, Caleb, an intelligent, petite boy, managed to excel at home, in school, and in the community. But when the bullying started, Caleb had met his match. Pushed by the bullying into a life he would never have otherwise known, Caleb becomes entwined in a largely uncaring institutional system blind to his situation and generally oblivious to the harrowing freefall he was experiencing.

Because Caleb was both smart and strong, and because of the efforts put forth by staff at his final placement, this book ends happily. However, based on the author’s vast experience, a variety of authentic unhappy endings could easily have been written.

Society too often tolerates bullying until it rears its ugly head in a way that can’t be missed. Some children end their life. Sometimes they end the lives of others.

But mostly these children endure in a world of fear and sadness, sometimes for years, as they struggle to outlast their predicament. The emotional wounds inflicted by bullying cause scars that often never heal, and children, who would have been loving parents, doctors and lawyers, and valuable members of their community, are not.

It is the authors hope that this book, in some small way, will enlighten others that physical attributes are not the only things that make a place safe, and that not all wounds bleed, but they are no less in need of immediate treatment.

Chapter 1

Besides life, the only thing Caleb’s mother ever gave him was a name. Even then, it was a spontaneous act. She had not racked her brain for the perfect one or discussed possibilities with family and friends, nor had she perused the neat columns of names that fill the pages of baby books. Caleb was her Junkie. When the young nurse, indifferent to the task of filling out the birth record, asked for a name, his mother’s yearning for a fix was so great, it was her junkie that was on her mind, so it was his name she uttered, and it was his name the nurse wrote down.

Caleb was born just before the bank across from the hospital opened on Tuesday, and his mother, desperate for cocaine, was gone before it closed that day. She dressed herself in her dirty tight clothes and slipped out the rear stairwell, not bothering to glance into the nursery where Caleb slept.

By nightfall, the hospital’s aging patient administrator called social services, concerned that the situation would delay him leaving work on time, which it did. The state department of health and human services took custody of Caleb, and when the hospital discharged him on Thursday, they placed him in a foster home. The police promised they would look for his mother, but they never did.

The first eight years of Caleb’s life were okay. His first three foster families—while not particularly giving or loving—were adequate custodians, and his fourth foster home was a good one. All along, his prospects for adoption had been excellent. But for some reason the police insisted on keeping his mother’s missing person file open, and because his biological father was unknown, the state department of health and human services was forced to retain custody or go to court to terminate parental rights, which for some reason they did not do.

Qualified for all available social services, Caleb attended Head Start at age three and four and went to kindergarten at age five prior to starting first grade. He did well at both. So well, in fact, his first grade classroom was the one for gifted and talented children. In public school, Caleb excelled in most every academic subject. Distinguished by his attention to detail, his teachers often displayed his art projects, particularly during open houses. During fourth grade Caleb became the school district’s youngest school crossing guard, a position of trust bestowed only upon the very best.

In the community Caleb was a standout Cub Scout despite having to change dens when he moved to a different foster home. Through first, second, and third grade, he had easily earned his Tiger, Wolf, and Bear badges, and he was closer to earning his Webelos badge than any other Cub Scout in the pack, which consisted of several neighborhood dens.

Caleb also volunteered twice a week at a nearby animal shelter where he walked the small dogs that were waiting for adoption.

On his eighth birthday, he took the crisp, new ten-dollar bill that was in his birthday card that had come in the mail from his foster parents and donated all of it to a neighborhood family who had lost everything when their home burned to the ground. His foster mother questioned his desire to donate it all, but he assured her it was what he wanted to do. So he did.

However, just after he turned nine, Caleb’s fourth, and best foster home, gave him up. The foster parents, who Caleb had come to really like during the two years he was with them, were going to have a baby. This was a big blow to Caleb, because this foster mother had become the closest thing to the mother he never had. She made his favorite meals and deserts, took him all kinds of places, played games with him, and even tucked him in bed every night. When he was sick with a case of mild bronchitis she spent two nights in his room keeping the humidifier running and rubbing Vicks Vapor Rub on his back and chest. Some of the attention he got was because he was the only foster child this couple had, but most of it was because she really liked Caleb and treated him like a son. He had grown so close to her he deliberated asking if he could call her Mum but he never quite found the courage to do it, mostly because he was afraid she would say no. They kept Caleb through most of her pregnancy, but just before the baby was expected he was taken away—with just one-hour notice—by a state department of health and human services caseworker. Caleb knew, because he had heard them talking, if it were up to just his foster mother he could have stayed, but his foster father was definite about not having a foster child in the house with their baby.

Likewise, Caleb had overheard them talking on more than one occasion about adopting him if the parental rights issue could be addressed, but the foster father nixed it each time the foster mother broached the subject for the same reason—he didn’t want a child who wasn’t blood.

It was early March when Caleb moved to his new foster home—a ramshackle place that must have barely qualified as suitable—which was located on the fringes of what was otherwise a nice neighborhood. This foster couple had three other foster children, all bigger and older than Caleb, one of whom he had to share a bedroom with. Caleb quickly learned they were in it just for the money, which was considerable since they had four kids. They provided only what the state required—nothing more—and they were most often neglectful when it came to where the kids were and what they were doing.

From the beginning things did not go well for Caleb at his new foster home, and by early May he started being aggressive toward the other foster children, and he was running away a lot, often disappearing for long periods.

Caleb also had to change schools, which was difficult to do three quarters of the way through the school year. Caleb did not do well at his new school, and, just like at his foster home, by early May he was being aggressive toward other students, running away, and spending more time out of his classroom than in it.

The school, which barely consulted his records from his previous school district, was quick to diagnose him with attention deficient hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD. They applied that label despite the fact that he only met two of the criteria on the rating scale—leaves seat in classroom or in other situations in which remaining seated is expected and runs about or climbs excessively in situations in which it is inappropriate—and the only reason he did those things was to get away.

Near the end of the school year Caleb was suspended. The school’s faculty was adamant that the problematic Caleb not return to Bridgewater Elementary School in the fall, so the principal ordered an evaluation to determine if he had a disability.

Following the evaluation Caleb was identified as having an emotional disability and therefore was eligible for special education and related services. An Individualized Education Plan, or IEP, meeting was scheduled.

His foster parents claimed they were too busy to attend the meeting so his foster mother fulfilled their obligation to be present via speaker telephone.

During the meeting Caleb’s needs were discussed and his Individualized Education Plan was written. Then they discussed his school placement. They quickly decided to make a referral for Caleb to attend The School at Belmont, which was five towns away from his foster home, which meant an hour and a half long bus ride each way.

Caleb was interviewed and accepted to what they called day school. If he had not been in a foster home, which meant he already had a clinician, he would have been in day treatment.

The school, called a private special purpose school, was different then any he had been to before. Owned and operated by a large nonprofit behavioral health agency the school served day and residential students in kindergarten through grade 12 who came from more than 40 cities and towns in two states representing 23 school districts. Students had to be receiving special education and related services to attend and were only referred for behavioral reasons.

It was a very hazy, hot, and humid day in late August when Caleb and his foster parents went to the school for the second time for his intake meeting. His foster parents had attended the interview and intake without hesitation and Caleb knew why. Getting him accepted and admitted to The School at Belmont was a priority because had that not happened the only practical alternative would have been tutoring at home and they sure did not want him there during school hours.

Caleb was relieved the school had central air conditioning because their visit was a long one, mostly because the intake clinician, an attractive middle-aged woman, was very talkative.

First, they went to a conference room with a huge rectangle shaped mahogany table, where the intake clinician introduced what she called his treatment plan. It was a thick document but she explained much of it was legal language they did not need to be overly familiar or concerned with. She focused on the description—what she called Caleb’s problem. She read it to them. Caleb has a history of aggression and non-compliant behaviors at home and in school. She explained the objectives that would attempt to address his long-term goal, which she also read. Caleb will demonstrate safe behaviors at home and school. The day school criteria for discharge are when Caleb can demonstrate safe and compliant behaviors at school and follow adult directions without arguing or refusing he will return to Bridgewater Elementary School.

After lots more talking and document signing, which was done using an ePad, they completed his Individual Crisis Management Plan or ICMP. The intake clinician explained that the one page document was used to aid in the early detection and intervention in a crisis, in other words, when Caleb was acting out it helped staff manage his behavior. It took a while to fill in all the boxes on the form which dealt with three levels—early warning signs, signs of progression, and when in crisis—and had the indicators for each as well as the actions that were helpful and the actions that were not helpful and who to involve and who not to involve. The latter produced a unforeseen dialogue.

We probably should be who not to involve, the foster father said, motioning to his wife.

At which level? the intake clinician asked.

The foster father looked at his wife. All of them, he said.

The intake clinician was surprised. Oh, that’s unusual, guardians are often at the second level but always at the third.

The foster father was resolute. Caleb does better with outsiders.

Really, that’s, she hesitated, different.

It’s best, the foster father said, trying to seal the deal.

Caleb knew he was lying because they didn’t want to be bothered during the school day.

With no recourse the intake clinician acknowledged and moved on.

When they finished the Individual Crisis Management Plan a few minutes later, the intake clinician said they needed to talk about holds. We have three types of holds—building, campus, and door. We often refer to them as BCD holds. A building hold means that if a student attempts to leave the school building staff would immediately physically stop him or her from doing so. Generally, it’s used if a student has a history of running away, particularly when that leads to being unsafe. Sometimes it’s imposed as a court condition of release or as part of court ordered probation. She paused, seemingly waiting for a question, then continued. A campus hold is basically the same thing only it’s applied at the point the student attempts to leave campus. However, we have to be mindful this campus is 250 acres, much of it heavily wooded with numerous bodies of water, which leaves a potentially unsafe student a lot of room to be unsafe so if there is any doubt we recommend a building hold. Then there’s door holds, meaning the time-away room door. Agency policy explicitly forbids us from holding shut the time-away room door. However, legal guardians, meaning you, can give permission for us to do it if they choose. Reasons to hold the door shut when a student is unsafe or might become unsafe generally has to do with avoiding putting hands on the student including restraining him or her. Sometimes restraints can be very difficult and counterproductive. Frankly, they can make a bad situation worse—albeit, they do keep the student safe. Another reason to hold the door includes protecting staff from students who spit.

The foster father had a question. So when you hold the door they’re locked in the room?

Essentially, yes. Agency policy requires an interior door handle and they often pull on it, sometimes with a lot of force, but eventually they calm down. Think of it as the lesser of two evils. If we don’t have door holds and a student is aggressive staff usually ends up in the room to get him or her contained. Doing that most often results in them being aggressive with staff, like trying to force their way to the door handle to open the door and get out. Or it might be they assault staff, which would mean hitting, kicking, throwing footwear, swinging clothing, those types of things, and then we have to restrain them. By holding the door none of that is allowed to happen.

It is common, door holds I mean?

Yes, I’d say about half our students have door holds. Mostly it’s our younger students who have less emotional control.

The foster father nodded.

"So do you feel Caleb needs any or all of these holds?