This piece was written by me for my Higher English essay, under the guidance of my amazing English Tutor, Lynne Pratt, to whom I dedicated my first symphony (big shout out to Lynne!). While this isn’t how I would talk about myself now, I felt it was important not to adjust how 17-year-old Adam viewed his life. I now reflect that this essay captures only three years of his experience since entering care. At 27, my reflections have changed, but it’s not for me to remove my own words.
Taking Care of Me.
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.” – Robert Frost
“Will you come into my office?” Those hallowed words terrified me the most whenever I was around Ms Smart. She was a giant of a woman, towering—she must have stood 8 feet tall, without heels, of course. My friends and I believed she hunted hobbits in her spare time such was the fear she instilled in the mind of every child. Even more so in me. Therefore, being invited into the dragon’s lair was not something I wanted to do. Even now, I’d probably run away.
Reluctantly, hesitantly, cautiously, tentatively, I dragged my legs into her den of detention; her class of confinement; her office of misery and despair. I stood in a militaristic fashion—those six months in the cadets had paid off after all. I stood head high, shoulders straight, legs locked, knees weak, with just an almost detectable slight tremble and tremor encompassing my entire body.
Then she said the most shocking phrase. A phrase unheard of in the halls of this high school. Words that some of my friends still refuse to believe. Words that, even today, echo in my mind: “My dear.”
She pulled out a seat and asked me to sit down.
I was confused. Why was the dragon acting this way, treating me like a pet? Was it part of some evil plan? I realise now how ridiculous my thoughts were. Nonetheless, she continued with these ‘strange’ phrases: “Are you comfy?” “Do you need a drink?” “How are you feeling?” I was bewildered. Where was the giant, the dragon, the incarcerator?
Blowing Dreams into My Mind
I had heard these phrases in children’s stories but never believed them, assuming they were merely Hollywood fantasies. I was fantastically wrong. In hindsight, someone was showing they cared about me. Just like the BFG in Roald Dahl’s book, Ms Smart was blowing dreams into my mind—dreams of someone looking after me, even if it was this terrifying woman. This giant was friendly and caring, gentle and loving, thoughtful, considerate, and—astonishingly—interested. Interested in me.
She bought me lunch from the school canteen and even gave me a little cake—an Empire biscuit (my favourite). I was beginning to like the dragon. She was about to lead me down the road less travelled.
Now, I realise and understand her actions. She wanted to ease my mind, to prepare me for the news she had to share: the bad news. The really bad news. The terrible, horrible news!
Or was it? It turned out to be the best news of my life.
“I’m sorry, but you’re not going home today. You’re going to stay with different people.”
I’m sorry, what. Where was I going? Who would look after me? How would they look after me? I didn’t ask these questions, though they were shouting in my mind. There’s a numbness to life when you have no idea what’s going on, you could call it a coping mechanism, but I’m not sure I was coping.
This was going to change my life. I just had no idea how much.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t move. I didn’t think.
Ms Smart knew this would be difficult for me and encouraged me to return to class to distract myself from this ‘horrible’ day. I don’t remember much after being told I wasn’t going back ‘home’. I still haven’t figured out why I forgot. I only remember being in a state of shock and anxiety.
I spent the entire day in her lair, reading and doing schoolwork, trying to take my mind off what had happened. Ms Smart asked me simple questions: what my hobbies were, what did I do at home, favourite holidays. But I had no answers. I had no hobbies. I had no life.
Surviving and Living Are Different
I still reflect on how I lived. Surviving and living are very different, and I don’t think I was living. It was hard, with no potential to achieve, nothing to show for 14 years of life, and no one to pick me up when I was down. We all take our lives for granted, yet I underestimated my own. It was an incredibly difficult life, but it got easier—a lot easier. I was about to take the road less travelled.
This path was my escape from no-man’s land. I had lived in the trenches all my life—a constant barrage of hurt. I was used and abused. Uncared for and unloved. My life was like a pawn on a chessboard, with others making moves around me, indifferent to my fate. I now see how appalling my family were, meant to provide love and care but offering none.
Foster care was going to change everything. The shy, timid, scared, talentless boy was about to become a confident, happy, outgoing individual (with an amazing sense of humour!).
I was heading down a road that would help me. No child could comprehend how magnificent this change would be. But I took a giant leap of faith. This road would change my life forever, and anything was better than the warzone I’d come from. I should have been scared, but I knew it was for the best. Five years is a very long time. I travelled across Europe, met the future King, made great friends, and collected precious memories—all thanks to my new family.
The Meaning of Family
Family is something I’ve never fully understood. What is a family? Why do we have one? What’s the purpose of a Mum or Dad? Do you really need to see your grandparents every weekend?
Family is “a group consisting of two parents and their children living together,” as the dictionary says. But I live with a very kind, thoughtful, and caring man. A family doesn’t need to be related by blood. This man has led me down a road paved by his love and my hard work. Family should be a group of people who love and care for each other.
My friends ask me if I call him “Dad,” and I say no. He’s so much more than that. He is a Mum and Dad, and a family, all wrapped into one. I may not fully understand what family means, but this incredible man is the closest I will ever get to it.
I remember every detail of that day, down to the number of pens on her desk. Did it matter? No. Not much mattered until that day.
Three years after I left, I visited my old school. It was astonishing. The walls were still that disgusting grey, the broken sign hadn’t been fixed (which I may or may not have damaged three years before). My past flashed before my eyes.
Pondering What My Life Might Have Been
Then I saw the dragon. She was standing, waiting for her next victim to step into her cave. Yet, I could see she was no longer hunting hobbits; she was now hunting a promotion. At first, I tried to escape, but I was trapped between a gaggle of pre-pubescents and a steel pillar. You could say I was between a rock and a hard place. Going into a school wearing a blazer, I quickly realised, was a mistake. The dragon saw me and flew over to me.
She embraced me.
In a hug.
Why was I being hugged by this scary woman? Oh yes, she had helped save my life. If she hadn’t been this brilliant, compassionate woman, I would have been left to face the worst fate of all: nothing. Nothing would have happened. I wouldn’t be living this amazing, joyful life. I wouldn’t be writing this essay.
Ms Smart gave me the foundation to become who I am today. I visited her again, on my own terms. She loved this essay—it made her laugh, cry, and ponder what my life might have been like without foster care. I ask you to do the same.
I am confident, outgoing, and greatly modest. I am no longer a boy stuck in the middle of a battlefield. I am a man walking through Flanders Field, staring at the poppies, reflecting on how I survived. I have everything I’ve ever wanted happiness, belonging, love.
I wouldn’t be who I am without foster care and without Ms Smart.
And that is why I took the road less travelled.