Yesterday was the last night of my foster parent training classes. (I've done them twice before over our eight years of foster parenting, but this new state's training is different...GREAT)  There was a panel of teens that are currently in the system.  There was such a diverse group of kids speaking and fielding questions.   There was the quiet awkward girl who gave one word answers and kept her arms wrapped tightly around her chest.  There was a severely overweight boy whose hair was dyed black, but was warm and sweet.   Then, my favorite, the unspoken leader.  He reminds me of my adopted son in so many ways.  He wouldn't ever intentionally be a leader.   He, too, is Hispanic.   He spoke of being raised in white homes and about losing his family, but there was a sparkle about him.  He was acting the 'gansta' role--punky tee, shaved head, and earrings.   BUT...his heart and mind was made of gold.  You could see it.  His outer shell...was just that.  As they spoke of their time in foster care, their losses, their feelings of helplessness, their need to feel accepted--you saw all the facades melt.  These kids were more honest than most teens could ever be with strangers.  They had lost it all, what else did they have to lose?  I was amazed that they volunteered to come and talk about how they felt about such personal subjects.  They volunteered because they wanted their voices to be heard.  The moderator asked the kids why someone should foster teens, instead of younger kids because often people are scared of the 'teen stigma."  They all felt a little awkward.  Every one of them said something like "I can help you with your kids?"  Or "I can mow your lawn?"  My heart broke.  Where was their positive self-image?  Why couldn't they see that they had so much more to offer than just helping around the house?  I mean, did they feel they were supposed be hired hands?  ICK, what kind of a childhood is that?  They have their humor, their smile, love, conversations, their sucesses...and failures to share with a family.  I finally mouthed to the leader, "Give yourself some credit.  You're worth so much more than that!"  He thought for a second.  "Hey, I can talk to you.  I bet your kids don't want to talk to you.  I'm worth listening to.  And we can have BBQs!"  I laughed.  He was really funny.  When asked what we could do as adults to help them transition into adulthood, the leader said, "You all say you are listening to us, but you're not.  You're hearing, but not listening."  It totally hit me.  These kids want acceptance desperately.  They think they're not worth getting to know.  And that they are speaking, but no one is really listening.   What can I do about it when I can't parent them all?  I can only do what I can with my kids and the few they place in my home over the years. 

Don't you think that's how many teens feel?  Maybe not as intensely as these kids do, but in many ways it's universal.  Are the teens and youth speaking out...crying out, but we as adults aren't listening?  We want them to grow up into responsible adults, but don't want to hear the frustrations they are encountering on the way?  When doing a voice for a character, are we so busy trying to do plots, weave in the characters, and GASP...even teach (yep, I see it)...that we aren't listening long enough to really portray them?   Focus on not just what they are saying, but what they are screaming out non-verbally.  Write that.  Honest, real, raw.  It doesn't have to be gritty.  I'm saying, that the facade may be gansta...but deep down...where was the real heart and soul?  If all we hear is the outside punk--the outspoken boy with a joke for every question, would we miss the wisdom and heart? Listen don't just hear. 

Hey, "A", I'm trying to listen.  Thanks for the wisdom!  You are definitely worth getting to know, don't EVER forget that!