User:Willsy69

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

In 2001, Michael, my step-father, the one man who I unwillingly had called Dad, gave me up to a government agency called the Department of Human Services. This decision was extremely hard for him considering that he had known me and that I had known him for 10 years since he had met my mother, Helen in 1991 while she was studying at Monash University.

The reason that he did this had many confusing and complex factors. Here is where I wish to start my story. In September 1996, after only being married for 11 months, my mother, my father and I boarded a plane for New Zealand which unknowingly be my mother’s last holiday. Two weeks through our trip, instead of visiting Dad’s sister Dee, we were visiting Mum in hospital after having various types of Chemo-Therapy and Radiation treatment.

Mum was in hospital for a period of 3-4 days which delayed our trip to the south island of New Zealand where Dad was originally from. When Mum was finally allowed to be discharged from hospital with massive amounts of drugs in her suitcase, we continued our trip with taking a trip from Wellington to Christchurch. While driving to Christchurch, Mum began to contract severe pain in the bowel area of her body with the cancer putting up a greater fight this time. As soon as we arrived in Christchurch, Mum shrugged this off and continued with Dad and I to meet his family.

For the last two weeks of our 6 week trip while Dad and I continued to stay with his relatives, Mum, however was back in hospital having to have again various types of Chemo-Therapy and Radiation treatment to help combat the growing cancer’s in her bowel. After Mum was again finally discharged Dad took no second chances and announced to his family that we would be returning to Australia because of mum’s poor health.

After arriving back at Tullamarine airport our family friends the Yates, consisting of Kerrin, Rob, Sam and Katy collected us and raced mum to the Austin Hospital where mum would spend her last days. Mum only lasted 5 more days after returning from New Zealand and died on Melbourne Cup Day, 1996. For the next 3 years I wondered why mum had left Dad and I, to fight the world alone and it definitely was not because she wasn’t a strong willed person. After my mum’s death, for the next 5 years, I continued to live with my dad, for this period of 5 years I endured him re-marrying another woman, having to play second, to an immature little boy, who now lives a criminal life being involved in drugs and alcohol, also, being told that Dad was not my real father and that my biological father left my mother before I was even born, at a point were my mother needed him the most and to disappear from her the next day.

This fact still hugely annoys me but I don’t let it get me down. The last thing to endure, was being given up to the Department of Human Services because Dad could no longer control me, having being diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder at an early age and I was getting to far out of hand, for him to live a normal life. I now understand why he did this, and I do still hold this against him because I felt that I was unwanted. I also still ask what had I done to deserve not having a stable childhood.

Coincidentally, our family friends the Yates, took me in to their house as a foster child. This enabled mum’s dream of me going to a well-educated school were I could attain an education where I could have a better chance of having a well-paid job which she had wanted for me before her passing. This school was Girton Grammar and I can remember my first thought of going to a school where I had been told that they still used the strap on their students which I found out was horribly wrong and I still can actually remember asking Mr. Jones if he did still allow the strap and his exact words were “we can use it on you if you like” in that amazing accent which to me sounded like a cross between an English and Australian accent which I came to realise was not an English-Australian accent at all, but of a very proud Irish accent which was collaborating with an Australian one.

For 2 and a half years of going to Girton, I endured a very hard part of my life in the Boarding House of Girton, living at Girton from Monday to Friday and living with the Yates of a Saturday and Sunday. This period of two years was very hard emotionally on me seeing Mr. Farquharson leaving for East Timor, halfway through Yr 7 and nearly being expelled from the Boarding House and worst of all from Girton.

If it wasn’t for the dedication and the high belief in me of 5 crucial people I would not be standing up here talking to you and being proud of being in a Girton Grammar Uniform. Those key five people included Mr. Pease, the school counsellor, Mr. Langley, the boys head of boarding who together continually stuck their necks out to devise plan after plan after plan to keep me in the boarding house and school, thirdly, and most importantly, Ms. Kurrle, who I look up to most, aided Mr. Langley devise key action plans like report cards and rewarding me for good behaviour, Brennan O’Brien, who made endless phone calls to keep convincing Mrs. MacCullough at the time (while Mr. Jones was away at University) to allow me to continue studying at Girton and for my favourite person in the world Mrs. Tobias, who helped me through all the bad times no matter how big the issue was she was always there whenever I needed someone to help me get through this very bad and incredibly embarrassing period of Girton Life.

Half way through Year 9, I can honestly say that Kerrin, Rob, Sam and Katy had had enough of my antics and threw in the towel and asked me to leave their house while they were in the early stages of developing Kerrin’s dream of running her own Child Care centre. At this stage I was on my own and was thrown back into the Boarding House, after being out of the Boarding House for 6 months I was back in while Lyn, my new case worker, looked for an alternate accommodation. This is where I met one of the most instrumental people in my life, Brian Burns who worked as my first Social Worker at St. Luke’s Welfare agency. Butch, as most of you in this room know him as, again was another person to add to my huge list of people who stuck their neck out to make sure I lived a normal as possible life.

I must admit though, that moving from the Boarding House into my first welfare home was a big mistake because again I had to play second best to another child who in my opinion was going no where with their life. To add to this, I was constantly roaming the streets and my school work was going down hill. To go along with this the relationships with my friends, who some sit in this room, along with the relationships with my family, the most important one with my Grandfather quickly disappeared.

As quickly as I had moved into to my first welfare home I was out and moved into a stricter regime, out, away from civilisation in a tiny little town called Lockwood with another two very tolerate, and instrumental people, 2 people who I still live with since my birthday in 2005. Ivan and Clare Schmidt. Ivan with his loud voice and comical way of communicating to people which frankly I believe he developed from Butch and Clare with her strict but fair attitude and calm responsible way of dealing with ugly situations.

The first three months of my stay at Ivan and Clare’s was as bad as my period in Yr 8 and Yr 9 at school, if not worse, impacted on my home life with me being faced with being given detention after detention and defect after defect until I hit a mature part of my life halfway through year 10, finally realising that I needed to take responsibility for my actions. This was helped by helping out with various Kangaroo Flat Lions Club activities whether it be Barbecues, Calender Deliveries or other various charity based activity. Last year, in Year 11, I also got closely involved with my studies, for the first time I might add, with going from high 40’s and low 50’s half way through the year to high 70’s and low 80’s in my exams and finally my goal of getting full school colours for my beloved Frew House. I also reconnected with my Grandfather which was a huge step for me because I had to swallow my pride and apologise for my behaviour. I might like to add though that I am happy I did this.

Over the past 6 years I have come to realise that Foster Care is a great opportunity to get out there and make my life something rather than being a typical foster child or welfare child and getting into drugs and alcohol, stealing money and cars or burning down buildings or even worse committing rape or murder. I can now honestly say to myself that if it wasn’t for all the people that have helped me I would not have a chance to become a Police Officer which is what I have wanted to be since I was a small child.

I believe that everyone in Australia deserves to live in a safe and caring environment because I have seen all the negatives of being a parentless child and the affects that it can have on children including going mad and going on criminal rampages and ending up in jail. Foster Care has provided for me the opportunity to do public speaking, various community service and has given me the opportunity to develop relationships with people in this room which I hope will never cease ever.

I have also seen the way that young people treat their father’s and mother’s and in my opinion it is disgraceful to even know people who treat their parents like a right and to have their parents have to cop all the swearing and abuse that young people can give their parents. Children my age are very lucky, extremely lucky to have parents that can pay for all the general needs and even going to the extremes of paying for their tertiary education and even put a roof over their head. Foster Care has made me a stronger person because I have had to live day after day paying my own way and getting a job to buy a car and have enough money to pay for my tertiary education.

Foster Care is not something that should be looked down upon just because everyone associates all welfare kids as criminals and that they will alwats end up in jail. The point that I would like to raise, is that Foster Care children or welfare children make their own decisions on how they live their lives and stereotypes like this really annoy me because there are other kids like me who do go through the system of foster care and do succeed.

To finish, Foster Care has been a great opportunity for me to turn my life around from being a dunce who mucked around in class to the mature Yr 12 student I am now. People like Butch, Ivan and Clare, Ms. Kurrle and all the people that had helped me are the unsung heroes that in my opinion deserve an OAM or a Nobel Peace Prize, for all the flak they have had to cop. For this I would like to publicly apologise so that you know that I am truly behind all children that are in all the areas of the welfare system and that not necessarily just because you are associated with the welfare system doesn’t mean you are a bad person. Just take a look at me.