Cleansing Breaths: Memories of a Child Protective Worker

By Clystia M. Skinner

When reading these memories be prepared to laugh, to cry, to get angry, to question your beliefs about family, discipline, human sexuality, parenting, and children in general. Be prepared to have your beliefs about child protective workers challenged.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jul 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504356091

Clystia M. Skinner

Clystia has a BS in Education and a Masters in Social Work. She spent 7 years in the teaching field and 23 years in the child protection field. On a personal note she enjoys music, singing and writing songs. Getting published was on her “Things I want to do list” for years. She is retired and has become adept at seeing the beauty of God’s world. She delights in beautiful sunsets, lilies in the front yard, hay rolls in wheat fields, rainbows, stars in the heavens, puppies, kittens and babies. She is married with two adult children and two marvelous grandchildren. Her husband has been instrumental in helping her write. She has written a children’s book entitled Around Our Town published by WestBow Press. The book incorporates a children’s song involving the characters introduced in that book. She invites you to read that book after reading this book, and then sing the song along with her.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 Clystia M. Skinner.

Julie K. Skinner: interior images

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5608-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5607-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5609-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016907370

Balboa Press rev. date: 07/14/2016

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Preface

Chapter One

Beginning as a Volunteer

Very First Memory

One Big John Deere Tractor

A Mess of Greens

Child Protective Services in Texas

Chapter Two

I wish I had a dollar

Another Day, another Dollar

Born Social Workers

Social Work within Society

Chapter Three

The Memories

A Practical Joke

Mighty Max

Time Management and Posting Angels

Moving a Mountain

Chapter Four

Judicial Reviews

Three Knowledgeable Judges

A missed Court Date

Cell Phones and Court

A Court Transcript

Chapter Five

Criminal Court

A Video used in Criminal Court in Texas

Back to Court in Session

Chapter Six

Medical Neglect Charges

Returning to the Scabies

Adoptions - Intuitive Children

An Emotionally-Charged Adoptive Sibling Group Placement

Adoption of Newborn Babies

Transporting Children

Life Books

Back to the Life Book

Many Successful Adoptions occur from a Good Foster Placement

Documentation

Lost Files

Anonymity of the Reporter

Undisciplined means Unloved

Birth Family Goal

Chapter Seven

Investigations

Foster Home Investigation

A Child Abuse Referral can be made on any Parent

The First Investigation on My Own

Use of Wit, Sarcasm and Laughter

A Gun in the Hands of an angry Parent

A Walled Fortress, Security Cameras, two Houses, two Thugs, a Yacht and a Limousine

Chapter Eight

A Case of Bad Parenting

Facilitating Sexual Abuse Groups

Resiliency

Acronyms, Sexual Abuse Groups and a Purple Tator

What did he say?

A Presentation

Direct Entry with a Merge

My Time as Intake Supervisor at Statewide Intake

Back to my New Job

Just give me Chicken!

Supervision was not for Me

Chapter Nine

My Time as a PRIDE Trainer in Foster Adopt Development

A Wonderful Volunteer and Skilled Foster Parent

Spiritual Awareness

Seeing Full Colors

A Local Hero

Good People do bad Things

Timely Consequences - Punishment

Mr. GQ

Most Difficult Confession

The Non-offending parent

Sexual Abuse Grooming

Why I Specialized in Sexual Abuse

Another Response to Physical Abuse

Attorneys

Home Studies

Physical Discipline seen through a Child’s Eyes

My Longest Home Study

Adoptive Placement of Six Siblings

Adoption Subsidies

Controversial Placements

Controversial Adoptive Placements

Chapter Ten: Soap Boxes

Luggage: I do mean Suit Cases

Medication

School

Chapter Eleven: Yearning for Zion Ranch

Chapter Twelve

Family Group Conferences

Confidentiality

Night Duty

Cards for Lunch, Anyone?

Lots of Workers for some Children

Rolling Marbles into Retirement

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Heartfelt thanks to:

Wendell Skinner, husband, editor and my best friend

Julie Skinner, daughter, illustrator and encourager

Greely Osborn, brother, financier and encourager

Jeannie Armstrong, sister, reader/evaluator and encourager

Reneé Beyea, Christian sister, reader/evaluator and encourager

Amber Irvin, Christian sister, reader/evaluator

DEDICATION

From the depths of my heart I dedicate these memories to future child protective workers. My prayer is: Lord, hasten the time when child protection will not be needed.

PREFACE

When I retired from a career of social work, I found myself thinking about incidents from the 23 years as a Social Worker in Child Protective Services. Writing these thoughts and memories are my Cleansing Breaths. I will share both good and bad thoughts and memories. I hope that you enjoy my memories and are able to learn from them. I have at times felt compelled to write this but writing this has also been gratifying and fun.

Most pregnant delivering mothers have been told about cleansing breaths. Cleansing breaths help revitalize and refresh the mother during labor. This is portrayed on TV at the exciting few minutes when a baby is about to come. At every contraction, the mother starts doing a Hee-Hee-Hee Haaa panting thing. The panting is done to take air in and out quickly. Then when a contraction is complete, the Doctor or Nurse will say, OK, take a deep breath in and let all your breath out. I am going to attempt to take some deep breaths and let some of the many memories and experiences out in hopes I will be refreshed and revitalized. What you are about to read are my experiences, opinions and feelings. This is not a documentary and no facts are discussed thoroughly.

The names of all the children and participants have been changed. The names of supervisors, judges and co-workers have been changed or never mentioned. However, some of these issues may be familiar to the people or persons involved. Should anyone reading this recognize themselves, I want to thank you for the memory you provided.

Many people desire to write about things that have happened to them. We all have one good book in us, right? It is cathartic to put life’s stuff on paper. In the past some have used diaries and journals. I now believe that is why blogs, twitters and Facebook pages are consuming much of our personal time today. This will be my catharsis: good, bad, unbelievable, and, I certainly hope, interesting.

Along with putting my memories on paper, I would also like anyone reading this book, to gain a new perspective about child protective workers, child welfare workers or whatever name you use for people charged with protecting children. In the beginning of my career, I was always willing to tell people where I worked. After a few years, when asked about my profession, I began to find myself saying only, I work for the state. I believe that happened because of the reactions I saw from most of the people who learned about my profession.

It may be my imagination but people treat me differently when they learn I worked in Child Protective. Many want to tell of a particular bad case of child abuse that someone had handled poorly. Others wanted to tell me about a reported case that never got investigated or where nothing was done. Others just got quiet and changed the subject. Whatever the response, I usually felt some desire to justify being a child protective worker. I now know that response was in part due to the reputation of social workers working in the protective fields.

As I was finishing this book, I mentioned I was writing it to a Christian sister. She and I attended the same small church. In conversation, she mentioned the children’s book I had published. I then mentioned the second book endeavor. She said, I didn’t know you were writing another book. She knew I had been an elementary school teacher and had recently been teaching at a local college and said, What is it about? I replied, It is a book about child protective service. She turned to look at me and repeated, child protective. I said, Yes, I worked for over twenty years in that field. She looked astonished and then quietly said, That certainly changes my perspective about you. I was put in foster care several times as a child. I have even had complaints turned in about me as a parent. I have felt the cycle would continue with me.

I was unsure what to say. So I asked Were the referrals against you found true? She told me, No. To which I replied, The majority of cases I investigated over all the years were ‘Unfounded’ or untrue, just like yours. She did not say much after that. I said, I would like your opinion of my book sometime. She did not immediately comment. We, as Christian sisters, pray about many issues together. She shared her triumphs of college and lovingly shares her children with me. I hope to share these memories with her in the future.

The nature of some of these memories will make them difficult to read. The details are graphic concerning physical and sexual abuse. These cleansing breaths are not meant to embarrass or offend you. These are true events. Writing them down brought back some of my tears. They brought back some anger. They brought back some smiles. They brought back some of the past twenty-three years in a flurry of words. These memories are also free flowing and are not in an exact time line. The memories weave in and out of the various positions I held.

A second purpose for writing these memories is to show how God has worked in my life through this career to change me and provide positive changes to me and to many of the families and children involved with me during my labor of love in Child Protective Services.

CHAPTER ONE

Beginning as a Volunteer

Arkansas001.jpg

How does one begin a career in Child Protective Services? you may ask. I cannot answer that for everyone but will tell you how I became involved. I was sitting at home, while my children were attending school. I was not working and had not worked for about seven years. As I was reading the paper, I saw an article about volunteers being needed to help mentor inexperienced parents. I thought, I am certainly not an expert parent but I could come alongside of other parents and share ideas that have worked with my family. I prayed about it, talked it over with my husband, then I called and volunteered. The agency was in Arkansas and called Suspected Child Abuse and Neglect (SCAN). SCAN provided me with some of the best training of my total career. I went to work. Though I was not paid a salary, I gained lots of experience and lots of knowledge about child abuse, family dynamics and myself. During that time, I worked with two families for about one and a half years.

One day the secretary for the local SCAN office called and asked, Mrs. Skinner, would you be interested in coming to the office and answering our telephone for a few hours this afternoon? I answered, Yes, I am good at taking messages and I will work on the progress reports for my families at the same time.

I arrived at the office immediately after lunch and began doing my paperwork. The telephone remained quiet and I finished my work quickly. I was beginning to feel bored when I noticed a stack of papers on the corner of the desk near the telephone. I pride myself on not being nosey, however, I picked up the stack and saw the word résumé on the top page. I then investigated farther and learned there were about five résumés for a position of SCAN investigator. I began reading over the papers and, as I read, I thought to myself, I have as many if not more required qualifications than any of these people. That thought intrigued me. When the director returned to the office, I said, I see you are hiring an investigator. She began chuckling saying, If you are interested in the position, it is yours. I would have offered the position to you, but I did not think you wanted to work full-time. I said, The job description says the position is part-time. She stopped and looked me straight in the eyes saying, If you take the job, you will learn a new meaning for ‘part-time.’ You already work part-time as a volunteer and I know you stretch the part time into more time, many times. I said, Let me talk it over with my husband and get back with you tomorrow.

When my husband got home that evening, I mentioned the position and he agreed to pray with me concerning the decision. We prayed for wisdom, courage and blessings. The next morning, before my husband left for work, he said, I agree and think you should try this new position. I remarked, Ta Da. I called the SCAN director and began the unexpected, exciting position of child abuse investigator. I worked all facets of the investigative job for approximately one and a half years in Arkansas.

At the end of the one and a half years, the part time position was up graded to a full-time position and I was offered the new position. However, I had learned that the part-time position had in fact been full-time; I did not want to work any longer hours. My children still needed much of my time and the family had begun to notice my long hours. So I turned it down.

Most case workers in Child Protective begin their job with the agency in Investigations. I had, however, begun my career as a volunteer. I was a trained volunteer-mentor for families where abuse had been found and the parents were taking advantage of help offered to keep the children safe in their home. The training I received as a volunteer was both intensive and excellent. That training provided a strong base of support for me when I became an investigator and began a career in Child Protective.

During my last day at SCAN, I was cleaning out my office, and a SCAN volunteer was in the main office bringing in paper work. He was working as a Principal at a local Parochial School. He and I had attended some SCAN training sessions together. He jokingly said, I am looking for a teacher. Since you are out of a job, are you interested? I laughingly said, It just so happens, my bachelor’s degree is in teaching. He responded quizzically, It is? I went on packing a box, while he appeared to become more seriously interested. He said, The position is teaching Second Grade Language Arts, all school Physical Education and Music. He quickly reviewed my qualifications, right there in the office and said, If you are serious, I certainly am and you are hired. It was a full-time position but not near as many hours as the part-time child protective job. I then worked three years as an elementary school teacher before we moved out of Arkansas.

Very First Memory

When writing this, I realize this was not my first involvement with Child Protective Service. I had forgotten my husband’s and my time as foster parents. My Bad, as they say. We had been foster parents in North Dakota during my husband’s second military assignment.

Our son was about to turn two years old and I was staying home with him. I read in the paper about a need for foster homes for newborn infants. There was a home for unwed mothers in the city near the base. The babies being put up for adoption would only be in the foster home until an adoptive placement was quickly found. Almost every adoptive family wants a newborn baby.

I called the telephone number from the paper and met the director. This is embarrassing to write, but I do not remember a home study being done on us. If it was done, I did not ask for a copy and I never saw it. Anyway, the director learned I still had everything I needed for an infant, the bassinet, lots of clothes, some bottles, etc. We were blessed with five placements during the one and a half years we fostered.

I would try very hard to take lots of baby pictures and to have at least one professional portrait taken before each baby left our home. I knew the adoptive parents would love to have those memories to share. I also sent all the baby clothes from the pictures so the adoptive parents could keep them if they desired. I also kept a list of firsts if there were any. The first time the baby slept through the night, etc. I was told to expect each placement to be less than 1 month.

There were two difficult placements for both my husband and myself. The first placement was Princess who came to us when she was only three days old. All but one of the babies came to us directly from the hospital. They came with a receiving blanket, their newborn under garments and their little hats. That was it.

I am going to tattle on my husband and tell you that he sleeps best with an infant on his chest. I have many pictures of him asleep in the recliner with foster infants asleep on his chest. He had done this with our son, and continued the practice. Since I do not function well with little sleep and I was staying busy with our two-year old, my husband would take the night feedings when he was home. We shared care of Princess just as we had with our son.

Now for some reason, the placement for Princess took about five months. That is a long time. Remember I said I was told to expect each placement to be less than 1 month. Ok, by five months we were more than bonded with Princess. Our family was complete with Princess. We came to realize how much we would miss her and how difficult it was going to be when they came to get her. Confession: I called and asked if we could be considered as an adoptive family for Princess. The reaction I heard over the telephone was odd to say the least. The person answering the phone, said loudly to whoever was listening, It’s the Skinner family. They want to know if they can adopt. Someone get the calendar. Who won? Then the person said to me, Oh, I am sorry that was rude. She said, We have a bet on how long it would take your family to call about adoption. She then mentioned the shortest time had been a month the longest time would have been at the end of the current month. I then said, Is there any possible way we could keep her? The worker became professional and compassionate in the same breath and said, I am sorry but the home here is sponsored by the Catholic Diocese. Any family considered for adoption must be Catholic." I started crying and when I looked at my husband his eyes also filled with tears. We had not planned on adoption. We were not considering another child quite so soon. We sent Princess off with lots of pictures, a letter describing her likes, dislikes and all firsts that had happened. She had smiled. She had rolled from back to tummy and tummy to back. She was a bouncer. She was showing signs of teething. Ok, I am stopping now, because otherwise I will cry. We both sent her off with a prayer for a blessed home and lots of love and for her finding salvation with Jesus. Be aware, I make no apology for our Christian faith.

Remember I said there were two placements that had been difficult. The second most difficult was our last placement; it was a short one. It was only four days. The placement was for a ten-month old baby boy. He was our oldest foster child. He was a chubby, beautiful, dark-haired baby. He was mixed race, African American and Anglo. He arrived with several sets of clothes, several favorite toys and a long letter from his birth mother. The letter explained his likes and dislikes in depth. She explained his cries and what they meant. If you are a mom, you know what she meant. She begged for patience from me and thanked us for caring for her son since she could not. I was told the placement may be a little longer since most of the studies considered were for newborns.

We were told his first name, but I cannot remember it. We did use his name. My husband immediately took to this boy and the boy to him. My husband was off duty for three days. During those days, he spent lots of time with both boys. Remember we had our two-year old son. My husband taught the ten month old to pull up to a stand. He taught him to step. My husband, my son and the baby played ball for long periods of time. They rolled the ball between their legs. They chased the ball when the toddler threw the ball. When my husband was running errands, he would say to me, The boys and I are going to the hardware store. When he would leave them home, as soon as they heard the car in the drive, both boys would get to the door; press their noses to the screen my son hollering, Hi, hi daddy and the baby bouncing and babbling. They did high 5’s. They played Patty Cake. They did high airplanes and low airplanes. They played fast horse and slow horse. You think of it, or maybe I should say, if they thought it, they did it. It was a hoot and a joy to watch all three of those boys play hard together. That little guy arrived at our house on a Thursday. We loved him every minute of the four full days he was with us. On Sunday evening, I got a telephone call and was informed his mother wanted him back. She was working with the social services in the city and they had worked up a plan. She had never been abusive. She had been influenced by relatives and friends to give him up for adoption since she was only nineteen and not married and the child was mixed race. She had a job but had struggled with daycare. Arrangements were made and they were coming to get him Monday morning. My husband was very quiet after that call and later he hesitantly asked me if it would be alright for him to not be there when they came to take him home. I said, Yes. We both had tears in our eyes and love in our hearts. I sat down and wrote the birth mother a letter. I told her all of the above things and told her what an amazing job she had done in helping her son be adaptive, healthy and happy. I thanked her for sharing him with us and told her I would pray for her and him. Monday morning he was gone. The memories linger on.

One Big John Deere Tractor

tractor002.jpg

When doing an investigation in Arkansas, I was sent to a small community in a rural area of Mississippi County. It was a vague referral concerning the abuse with less than clear directions to the house. I do not remember the specifics of the referral. I do remember a tractor.

It was miserable, cloudy, misting or outright raining all day. The wind was a bit blustery but was not cold. I drove slowly through the main street of the small community and on the way through I noticed a small grocery with a post office sign in the door. I kept driving until I realized I must have missed the house. Turning around I slowly started back through town. I then saw a wooden address sign with the house number. There was a very narrow unpaved road with trees running the length to an opening. I quickly turned right onto the road and kept going. It took about 30 seconds into the trip down the road, when I thought about mud. The road was a tad slippery. I thought I can’t turn around here. Just have to keep going. At the end of the very long road, there was a trailer house sitting on the other side of a big earthen yard. There were no cars and no lights on in the trailer. I thought I will wait for the rain to stop and attempt to knock on the door. I sat for about 4 or 5 minutes when I felt a strange sensation. The front end of my van was sinking; the driver’s seat was tilting; I was going down. I tried to think of a solution and quickly thought; get some weight to the back of the van. I am always fighting my weight and thought I can do this. I got up and went to the back of van and bounced. I bounced quite a while. I am not sure what I was thinking.

Guess what, the van kept sinking. I launched myself to the front of the van and tried to open the driver’s door. There was mud up to the window and over the front hood of the van. The van creaked and then stopped. The door did not open. I do remember saying to the Lord, Thank you. I then thought; now what do I do? To tell the truth, I sat there. I sat for possibly another five minutes. I realized I had