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The American Fertility Association Blog
JCCA - Jewish Child Care Association
August 26, 2008 - Tuesday
Posted by admin
I was 9 years old when I was placed at Pleasantville Cottage School as an “emergency placement.” I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was a Wednesday, I remember, because I was wearing my Assembly Day outfit; a white button-down shirt, a plaid blue-and-red wool skirt, white tights and flat shoes. These were the clothes I would wear for the next two weeks.
My grandmother picked me up at school earlier than was normal that day. I remember thinking that it was strange and found out later that my mother had been notified by Child Welfare that they were coming that day. When my grandmother and I got home we found the Child Welfare people already there with my mother and younger sister. My memory is a bit sketchy but I mostly remember how I felt—scared and confused. It happened so fast. One minute, the Child Welfare lady is asking me questions, and the next, my sister and I are at their Bronx office building. We were there until late that night and then my sister and I were separated. She was placed at St. Christopher’s in Queens and I was placed at Pleasantville Cottage School (PCS). Even though I was only 9 years old, I knew why we were taken away from our mother.
I can almost pinpoint when my life changed. It was the day my mother decided to marry my stepfather. He was a drug addict and though everyone told my mother so, she decided not to believe it. It wasn’t long after they were married that she too became a drug addict, and pregnant. My sister was born mentally challenged and soon after her birth, my mother and stepfather split up.
My mother’s drug addiction ruled our lives. She would sleep all day and I was left to take care of my sister. At night she would leave us for hours to go and get her next fix. Sometimes she would take us with her to Hunts Point drug spots. I preferred being left alone with my sister in our apartment. At least I felt safer.
During that time I didn’t go to school much. It became my responsibility to look after my sister and so at 7 years old, I barely knew how to read or write. The days I did go to school were always filled with trepidation. When my mother was in her drug-induced sleep there was no waking her. After school I was left pounding on the apartment door trying to wake her up and let me in. I always ended up falling asleep outside the apartment door and would be out there at least until 7 pm, when she would wake up and notice I wasn’t there. I don’t know how my sister survived when I wasn’t around. For 2 years I went through this. I guess my neighbors had had enough of seeing me sleeping in front of my door, so that is one of the reasons I was taken away from my mother. Another is because she would go into rages and beat me. Sometimes I would go to school with bruises and a busted lip. It wasn’t too hard to figure out why I was taken away from my mother.
My first two weeks at PCS were spent in respite—wearing the same clothes. After that, I was transferred to Cottage 14 and taken to the maintenance building to get clothes from what was called “The Clothing Room.” My “emergency placement” became a permanent placement that lasted 12 years. My years at PCS offered me consistency and security. Eventually my mother became drug free and I was given the choice to go back to her. I chose to stay at PCS. It wasn’t a decision that I regretted because a few years later my mother went back on drugs. I guess deep down I knew it was going to happen and I wanted to keep the stability I already had.
I graduated from high school and went to college to complete my associate’s degree. After I turned 21 and moved out on my own, I still had the support from people at PCS, which continues to this day. Through their scholarship program, JCCA has given me the opportunity to go back to school to complete my BA. And through the Sokoloff Fund, I am able to continue my therapy work with a doctor at PCS. When I turned 22 my mother passed away. It was the hardest time in my life and having my therapist there to help me through it meant the world to me. I wouldn’t be where I am today if JCCA didn’t offer me these opportunities.
People assume that you can just open an agency and kids will have better lives. Everyone looks at this agency as the answer to problem children and puts the total responsibility on it. But no one knows what it takes to work with troubled teens. There will always be a few out of the many who will make something of themselves. Maybe a few is not considered enough, but in the scheme of things, those few should be looked at as a success beyond the odds. We all have the choice to be what we want to be despite how bad our childhood was. Be proud that the kids who did make it through could not have done it without Pleasantville. I know I wouldn’t have.
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