My Final Foster Home

By Amanda Plaxico

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.

~Mark Twain

Moving into a foster home is quite a scary experience for a child or young teen. I moved in with my foster parents, whom I now call mom and dad, at the beginning of the second semester of my freshman year in high school. I was fifteen years old. My social worker Tonya said, "They have three children of their own, one boy and two girls, all younger than you. They also attend church regularly."

My reply was, "Okay," as I was too nervous to think of anything else to say. She continued to inform me that they were good people and had been foster parents for a long time, and that they were well known and respected in the community.

As we pulled into the driveway, my heart began to pound hard in my chest. Before Tonya could shut the engine off, a lady and two children came outside to greet us. The lady, Linda, began talking to Tonya as we began to exit the car. The children came to my side and started talking to me, all at once. They could have spoken a foreign language and I wouldn't have understood them any better. Tonya informed Linda that I hadn't said much and that I was pretty nervous, from what I caught of their conversation. As we started to remove my luggage, the children yelled that they wanted to help. They each grabbed a bag, and I grabbed my largest suitcase and another bag. We went into the house while Linda and Tonya continued to talk.

We took my luggage into Sonya's bedroom. She was the youngest and she had bunk beds, so this was to be my bedroom as well. As we laid my luggage on the floor, Sharon, the middle child, sat on the bed asking so many questions that I couldn't answer them all. Sonya remained standing beside me asking questions as well. All the questions and their excitement just added to my nervousness.

When I began to open and unpack my luggage, Sonya and Sharon showed me which drawers to put my clothes in and which drawer I could use as a junk drawer. As I emptied each bag they wanted to see what I had. Linda came to the bedroom and told the girls that they needed to quit bugging me, but I told her it was okay. They were just curious.

After I finished putting everything away, Linda went to another room and Sharon and Sonya took me on a tour of the house. Then they took me outside to show me their horses and barn. Sonya wanted to show me her swing set and asked me if I would push her on a swing for a few minutes. It was Wednesday, church night, so we went back into the house to start preparing for church.

Linda was ironing her clothes as Sharon and Sonya dressed for church. Linda and I talked about my past foster homes and about her husband Ray and Junior, the oldest child. She told me that Junior was at his cousin's house and Ray was at work. Before I could ask what time they would be home so I could meet them, the door flew open and four people came in talking and laughing loudly. They started talking to me all at once. Linda laughed and told them to leave me alone because they were probably scaring me to death, but I thought it was funny.

I was ready for bedtime that day as I was tired from all the activity. But Sonya continued to ask questions and talk to me until Linda threatened to go and get her father.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. As every day went by, my foster parents treated me just as if I were their child. I lived with them for several years and even when I was acting like a typical smart-mouthed teenager, they never called Tonya to come remove me and place me somewhere else.

After living with them and seeing how life could be, I was inspired. I saw how working hard and staying away from drugs and alcohol could lead to a good life. My life before foster care always involved moving from place to place and I saw lots of drug and alcohol abuse. I am so grateful to my foster family for showing me a different and better way of life.

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