Crazy about a boy

Teacher shares the joys and the challenges

February 14, 2009 - 9:47 PM

This Mr. Right has a chocolate milk mustache, skinned knees, no job, and he may be a little needy at times.
Tracie Scott sure loves him, though.
And with that 3-year-old's charming grin, who could blame her?

Blake moved in with the woman who would become his mother about 21 months ago, but at the time he was not yet a Scott. He was just Blake, one of that year's more than 33,000 foster children in Texas.

Tracie Scott, a third-grade teacher at Milam Elementary School, took him under her wing. He would be the first of several children to come into her home.

"It's definitely worth it," she said. "I've always wanted to be a mom. This seemed like the right time, so I decided to do it. There are a lot of little ones out there who need a place to stay, and need a place for good."

But the decision to become a foster parent was not made overnight. She had spent two years flirting with the prospect of taking children into her home.

Then it dawned on her. 
"I just thought that, if I'm still thinking about it, it's something I must need to do," Scott said. "I just felt like I was called to do it. I know that sounds cliché, but that's what it felt like."

After completing extensive state-required training and childcare certification classes, the phone rang, and Scott first learned of a 16-month-old boy named Blake. 

"Mom and dad just couldn't take care of him," she said, shrugging. "They didn't have the means. They didn't have the knowledge."

About the time Blake moved in, the phone rang again. It was Pathways Youth and Family Services, a nonprofit 501(c)3 that helps the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services find adoptive and foster parents.

It was through this organization that Scott became a foster parent.

Belinda Jackson, the regional chapter's program director in Midland, said the organization acts as a liaison between prospective foster and adoptive parents and the state. It provides training classes and a support network for the families.

Scott said she volunteered and was certified to take as many as three children up to age 3, and the organization called about a newborn in need of foster care.

But the newborn had a 5-year-old brother who also needed a temporary home.

Scott, cognizant that siblings should not be split up, said she agreed to take both boys, bringing her total to three.

"I couldn't say no," she said. "They're brothers. There's no way you can separate them."

In some instances, however, siblings do go to different foster homes,

Jackson said, because the sheer need for homes sometimes limits Pathways' ability to keep siblings together.

"Unfortunately, we're in a situation where we just hope we have a bed," she said, adding that keeping siblings together is not always feasible.

Each month, the state pays foster parents between $600 and $1,500 per child, Jackson said, depending on each child's particular needs. The state also guarantees a college education for foster and adopted children after they graduate from high school.

The two boys eventually went to the care of their relatives, Scott said, but Blake remained.

With tears in her eyes, she remembered saying goodbye to the two boys who had lived in her home for 10 months.

"It was the hardest thing ever," Scott said. "It was very difficult, but it was the best thing I've ever done. Hopefully, I impacted their lives for the better, because I know they impacted mine."

Originally, she planned not to continue being a foster parent and care only for Blake, but the emptiness and silence of the house felt strange when she returned home at night.
She never thought she'd miss the noise and the chaos of guiding three boys through their nightly routine: dinner, bath time and bedtime.

"But then, when they left, those were the things I missed the most," Scott said. "It was so quiet. It didn't feel right."

In December, she took in a little girl and more life returned to her home.

Blake's biological parents later voluntarily relinquished their status as his parents, which surprised Scott. She quickly filed the paperwork to adopt.

In January, Blake celebrated his third birthday and was given a new last name: Scott.

"Everybody always told me you never get to adopt your first placement," she said. "They said that never happens. I guess it was just by the grace of God that he never had to leave."

But Blake's story is not the norm, Jackson said. As of February, 6,000 children in Texas no longer have the option of returning to live with their biological parents. And the agency needs foster parents, too.

She said 60 percent of local children have to be sent to elsewhere in the state for a foster home because of a local shortage.

When it comes to the 6,000 up for adoption, Jackson said, the older they get, the smaller their chances get for adoption. By age 9, they are considered "old."

"They'll sit there until somebody does adopt them, or they'll just age-out of care," Jackson said. "What I've viewed this as is kids growing up without a foundation. They grow up with the state as their mom and dad. I don't mean the foster families don't provide for them, but they don't have that permanence."

The process of adoption - and foster care application, for that matter - through Pathways basically is free to applicants, she said, so money should be no deterrent. The state takes care of most expenses throughout the process.

"I've grown up here," Jackson said. "I know that we're the kind of community that needs to be made aware of it, and I know they'll do what they need to do."

When asked about the prospect of being a single mother to Blake, Tracie Scott smiled at her son and said she is still waiting for her other Mr. Right.

"When he comes along, that will be great," she said, her eyes locked on Blake playing nearby. "But, until then, it'll just be us."