HOW NOT TO QUIT A JOB

I would love to know what goes through her mind.  She is dismissed from class, she walks outside with her teacher and her classmates, and is greeted not by her Dads, but by her sitter. 

Is there a letdown?  A sense of being abandoned?  A sense that she is not loved enough to warrant her parents picking her up?  Madyson’s mom is here, Ethan’s dad is there....

Last week was rough.  She cried one night at bedtime saying that she is the only one in her class who has a sitter picking her up.  Now, I doubt very much if every child is being picked up by a parent.  Most families have both parents working--especially in this town where the property values have sunk and the taxes remain so high.  But this town is also a depressed one where it is quite possible that some of the families are affected by the economy and unemployment. 

She is fortunate in that she has dads who are employed and busy.  Probably too busy.  And who, she feels, may have more of an allegiance to their jobs in New York, than to their lives in Plainfield, New Jersey. 

She has had sitters since she came home from UMDNJ hospital when she was 6 weeks old.  How many have entered her life?  Too many.  Some stay for a year and move on, some last a few weeks like this last one. 

Hello,

I'm writing to let you know that today was was my last day and I will no longer be able to work for you.

I think Maya needs to be in the care of someone who is specialized in childhood behavior. She has a great many issues that need professional help and I am not qualified to give her that. She is very disrespectful, rude, angry, disobedient, and extremely confrontational.

I also believe, from what I have seen, that her difficulty with reading and comprehension stems from more than ADD/ADHD, and that she has other learning disabilities.

I thank you for the opportunity and I wish you the best in finding someone who fits your family well.

Autumn


This is an email I woke up to Saturday morning.  It was sent at midnight. 

What Autumn fails to acknowledge, is her role in all of this.  Maya is 8--she is a kid who is strong-willed, knows what she wants and will try to manipulate a situation to get what she wants.  Pretty typical.  But she is also a child when she feels a connection, will be your best friend and love you unconditionally. 

It is a shame that Autumn did not have the insight to see this.  She was told in the beginning that there would be testing behaviors--she said that she understood.  She was told that it would be challenging in the beginning.  She said that she understood.  She was told that we wanted to be kept in the loop regarding any behavior issues or struggles she was enduring.  She reported nightly that things were “fine.”  I actually came home early on Friday (her secret last day of work) and, again, things were “fine.” 

Autumn is 18.  Friends and family alike have said, “What do you expect?”  She does not go to college, has no aspirations of going to college.  I looked beyond that and felt that perhaps her youth and energy would work well with Maya.  I looked beyond her piercings and the fact that she and her girlfriend participated in the Slut Walk a few weeks back in New York--it was a good cause!

You know, Autumn, my daughter may have some feelings because she would rather be with her Dads at night rather than with a stranger.   That does not warrant a college degree--just some compassion and empathy.  It also gets frustrating for her as well as us that caregivers who “promise” to stay don’t.  I get it--life happens, people need to move on.  But if you are going to work with kids, be true to your word.

Several years ago, my first job out of grad school, I was a Case Manager at Jersey City Medical Center.  My initial role there was working with adults who were living with HIV/AIDS.  A position in the Children’s Clinic opened up and was offerred to me.  I was forewarned by my bosses that if I took it, then I needed to commit to it for a while.  These kids were sick, their parents were traumatized. 

I did not stay.  It was not a good fit.  While I loved working with the kids, the politics of the hospital and the job itself were wearing me down.  I gave my notice.  My bosses were furious.  I did not get it at first--turnover was high, I was just another going through that revolving door.  What’s the big deal?

But it was a big deal.  Because I did matter to those kids.  I was more than a worker.  I was Mr. Jeff.  I was the guy who helped them navigate the system, help them out with their medical appointments, make them laugh.  I didn’t get that until I became a parent--and even then, I sometimes forget.

But on a night when my girl is crying because her Dads are not home and she is being cared for by a “stranger”, my role in all of this is crystal clear. 

You know, Autumn, I am angry, too.  I am angry that I cannot put my daughter down to sleep each night and be there like my parents were there for me.  But right now, we are doing the best we can.