I was seven when I went into foster care. Social services were going to remove us anyway, but one day my mum just took me and my siblings to the council offices and left us; she told us we were going on holiday. We went to an emergency place for a week and then my older sister and I went to live with Janet and Robert, who ended up being my foster carers until I went to uni. My younger siblings were adopted.
Living with my mum was chaotic: there was domestic violence, drugs and neglect. We moved around a lot and different guys came and went. There was no nurture, it was just seeing your mum off her head on drugs and getting battered. It wasn’t nice.
With Janet and Rob it was stable and loving, with firm boundaries. They were very focused on education as they’d been to university themselves, and Rob was a teacher. They told me my options were an apprenticeship, uni or a job. It was the same for my sister. She’s now a director of learning at a school in Manchester.
I studied education at Sheffield Hallam University, with a focus on primary school teaching. It was then I realised I’d be better suited to social work because I’ve lived it. I can put myself in other people’s shoes and think, what would I have wanted at that time in my life? I know what a good social worker is and what a bad one is.
I’ve been a qualified social worker since October. The youngest child I’ve got is two and the oldest is 16. The kids are all over the place so I go wherever that takes me – to different institutions, homes, foster carers.
On my social care course the average age was 30 and it went up to around 50; it was mostly women. Being a young social worker, I think I can relate to the kids, especially the teenagers, because it’s not long since I’ve been there.
Being in care has made me realise you are in charge of your own destiny and education is your ticket out. That’s what I tell the kids: once you have GCSEs or A-levels you can do whatever you want.
I’m fed of reading about negative outcomes for looked-after children, about them going to prison and so on. I want to show that care leavers can do well despite what they’ve been through. The way I see it, you have to strive to be more than what society gave you. You have to prove people wrong.
When I tell people I’ve been in care they can’t believe it. But it shouldn’t come as a shock that kids from care are achieving what normal people achieve. That’s why I think care leavers have a lot to offer the social work profession and future families and children.
I was in contact with my mum until I was about 14, but she was all over the place. She was always moving to get away from stuff that was happening. I got in touch again when I was about 21. I wanted to tell her that I’d gone on to study social work. I was proud, but she wasn’t best pleased at my choice.
You don’t get to decide who your mum is and there is still a sense of loyalty. We stay in contact over the phone now; I like to check she’s alive, really. Sometimes it just feels like speaking to one of the mums of the kids I work with. It’s a shame I couldn’t have her at my graduation, or my wedding if I get married. She’s too chaotic.
On reflection, being in care was the best thing that happened to me. There’s no chance I’d be in this position today without social workers and my foster parents. They had their care plans in place and I’d say they did a pretty good job.
