OMG! This just sucks! I met that lady like, once, at some lame party or something, and now I have to stay with her and her family for the week-end. My foster mom says that she needs a “break” from me, but what is that all about?! What does she need a break from? What does she do while I’m at school all day? And when I come home all she does is get on my case about doing my homework and getting my grades up. Fine. Whatever. Let me just get through this week-end with these strangers, and everything will get back to normal on Monday.
Oh great. Another foster child who doesn’t know how to behave properly. I have no problem establishing boundaries for the little ones, letting them know what is allowed and what they shouldn’t do. With my words, mannerisms, and my tone of voice, it’s fairly simple to assert my authority and expect compliance. But with this teen, it wasn’t at all simple. I found her to be quite presumptuous, turning on our television without asking for permission, rummaging through my refrigerator looking for food, and just lounging on the couch while I fixed dinner, not even offering to help. How could she not see how rude she was being? Did she not have any common courtesy at all?
I had to quickly remind myself that she had never had a mother to teach her how to be a guest in someone’s home. What I considered to be common courtesy may not actually be “common” at all. It was my home, so I guess it was my responsibility to let her know my expectations. I didn’t want to just let her get away with this inconsiderate behavior, but what should I say? I knew she didn’t want to be here in the first place, and I didn’t want to begin our first day together by correcting every little thing she did wrong. And what if she ignored me, or rolled her eyes at me, or worse, was disrespectful or defiant right to my face? Lord, please give me wisdom to know how to handle this situation, and courage to speak up!
Oh, great. Another home, another set of standards I’m supposed to remember. Actually, I would never admit this to anyone, but I’m kind of relieved that the lady said something to me. Usually the adults in my foster homes assume that I know what to do, and then get mad when I break some unspoken rule that I never even knew about. So now I know to ask before taking things from the kitchen. No problem. I’m good with that.