When wards of the state reach 18,
some exit the child-welfare system and return to the families they
left long ago, a study shows
By Ofelia Casillas
Tribune staff reporter
August 6, 2006
After 15 years as a ward of the state, Shantaye Wonzer had been
through 16 foster homes and two residential treatment centers. She
had slept on a porch in one home and in a kitchen chair at another.
So Wonzer decided to return to the family she'd been taken from as a
toddler.
Now Wonzer, like dozens of other former foster children, is charting
a new, still undefined relationship with her birth mother, whose
drug habit years ago had made Wonzer a ward of the state.
"I never thought I would be, but I'm here," said Wonzer, 18. "And
I'm trying to make the best of it."
In Illinois, foster children who reach age 18 can choose whether
they want to leave the system, or remain a part of it until they are
21.
The University of Chicago Chapin Hall Center for Children recently
surveyed 386 such teens. One hundred and six had left the system.
And of them, more than a third had returned home to live with their
biological families, sometimes to the very parents who had neglected
them.
Despite entering the child-welfare system because of abuse or
neglect at home, most of the youths in the study had stayed in touch
with their relatives. Most reported feeling close to one or more
family members, particularly grandparents, siblings and biological
mothers.
"It's surprising from the standpoint of general public perception
and even to people in the system," said Mark Courtney, the center's
director.
Kendall Marlowe, spokesman for the Illinois Department of Children
and Family Services, said his agency has not "taken a systemic look
at what happens to children leaving care," but he said the Chapin
Hall study is "an important first step" in helping his agency to
better understand these youths.
But returning home isn't necessarily a panacea, said Cook County
Public Guardian Robert Harris.
"You have nostalgia of what life was like before, or what it could
have been," Harris said. "Sometimes it's a rude awakening."
Many older teens--say, those home from college--struggle to balance
parental support and their desire for independence. Former foster
kids find that typical awkwardness multiplied by old wounds and the
distance of years apart.
Longing for family
Erik Farley, 21, found a short stint living with his mother to be
much different than the dreams he harbored while they were
separated.
As Farley tells it, his odyssey began when his mother was working
long hours, leaving him and his brothers alone.
Farley ended up with foster parents in Geneva. After they became his
legal guardians, they moved to Virginia and, later, New York. But he
always longed for his family in Illinois.
"You know how you look up at the moon and wonder if they are looking
at the moon too? That's what I would do," Farley said. "The nights
when the moon was beautiful, I'd look up and wonder if they were
looking."
One month before he turned 18, Farley drove 16 hours home to his
mother. But once he arrived, he longed for independence.
"I didn't have that same love that a child has for his mother
because we had grown so distant," he said.
"She was my mother, and I loved her for that. She carried me for
nine months. She was really strong when I was little. I respected
her and loved her that she had raised me as best she could."
Tenesha Adams, 22, felt she had no option in June but to move in
with her grandmother--though she soon made an even more drastic
choice.
After entering foster care at age 15 because of physical abuse by
her stepfather, Adams lived in shelters, a North Chicago residential
facility, then an apartment on the South Side supervised by
caseworkers.
She tried to keep that apartment after she left foster care but was
evicted because she couldn't pay rent. In June, the Northwestern
Memorial Hospital office assistant moved in with her grandmother in
Gary.
The transition was difficult because Adams also has a 3-year-old
daughter.
"I feel weird right now. It's an adjustment," Adams said at the
time. "I didn't have a choice because I don't have anyone else that
has offered."
By July, she had grown so tired of the commuting time and costs,
Adams decided to move to a shelter in Chicago. She plans to move out
of the shelter in November and try to find her own apartment again.
As a DCFS ward, Shantaye Wonzer estimated she lived in about 16
foster homes and two residential treatment facilities.
This spring, when another foster mother asked Wonzer to leave after
three years of mounting disagreements, Wonzer decided to return
home.
In late May, Wonzer, moved into her grandmother's dim North Side
apartment.
When she walked inside, Wonzer found the home filled with her
childhood pottery. New chocolates had been stocked in the drawers
and, on a shelf as decoration, she saw a familiar stuffed rabbit in
dusty, pink ballet slippers.
The objects not only reminded her of childhood but told her that her
family--who had kept in touch with her through the years--hadn't
forgotten her.
On a recent evening, Wonzer sat at the kitchen table between her
grandmother and her 41-year-old mother, who, with her perky brown
ponytail, could pass for Wonzer's sister.
Restoring relationships
Wonzer said she has forgiven her mother, a waitress, and is
attempting to forge a new relationship.
"I love her, but I don't like her because of everything that has
happened," Wonzer said. "She is my mother, but I don't think of her
as a mother. I don't look to her for motherly advice. She is kind of
like a friend. But on the other hand, I don't want her to think of
herself as that. Our relationship is quite complicated, actually."
Wonzer's mother, Lisa Heath, said she is also trying to strike a
balance as mother and friend to the daughter she is so proud of.
Wonzer's grandmother, Judith Heath, 67, who works for American
Airlines, said the years since Wonzer left feel "almost like there
has been no time at all."
The grandmother and mother are helping Wonzer prepare for
college--she leaves Aug. 19 for Bradley University in Peoria, where
she will get both state and private scholarships. She will be the
first person in the family, her grandmother believes, to attend
college.
"She's our baby right now, and that's the way it should be," said
Judith Heath.
"Here's our center," she said, gesturing to Wonzer, who was sitting
between her mother and grandmother, "right here, with us around it."
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