Emily always ensure her reports were detailed. Not because it would please her boss, but she felt it was her sacred duty to accurately chronicle the lives of these little ones. The program worked if you just cared enough to involve yourself in the lives of the children.
Mrs Wakefield set a plate in front of her with a couple slices of bread on it.
"There's butter here too, Ma Baker." She smiled as she gingerly sat back down at the table.
"Thank you, Mrs Wakefield. Now as you know, my first visit is just to talk to you. I need to get a feel for how things are going here from your perspective." Emily explained.
Typically, her visit lasted two days, the first day being all about inspecting the house and interviewing the adults. The second day focused exclusively on the children. She would ask the children questions and see if their answers matched up with what the adults had said, and generally assess their well-being. In her successful placements, which luckily were the vast majority, most kids couldn't stop talking about their new lives and all the adventures they were having with the adoptive families. When you've been abandoned, neglected, or abused, every day is like Christmas with your new family. Truthfully, she always listened intently to the children's stories. Their enthusiasm for life was her most rewarding paycheck.
"Of course, I remember! What questions do you have for me, Ms. Baker?" Mrs. Wakefield looked at her intently, obviously excited to share with Emily the excitement these two kids had brought into her life.
"Just a couple basic things, really. I don't mean any offense by this, but how are you faring, Mrs. Wakefield? Looking after these two can be a handful, even for someone my age!" Emily clicked her pen; ready to write down notes.
"Oh, it's not always the easiest, you know. I am slowing down more than I want to admit most days. But the children understand and they've been very helpful. We baked this bread together just a little while ago." She gestured at the loaf sitting on the table. "But, I do my best to make sure they have what they need, too. I try to arrange play dates with friends, or I get out the bin of Legos and sit with them while they build."
"I wanted to ask about that. I have a note from when I talked to one of your neighbors, they haven't seen the kids in awhile. Their son, Jeffery, liked to play at the park with Tyler and Libby. I was wondering if you could shed some light on that?" Emily ventured. This was the only point of concern she had uncovered so far with this placement and it was a minor one at that.
"Well, they had a sort of falling out. Tyler came home crying one evening and after I had gotten him to calm down he told me that Jeffery was being a bit of a bully lately and he didn't want to play with him anymore. I told the kids that they could take a break from play dates with him until they felt comfortable with it again. I hope that's ok." Mrs. Wakefield looked at Emily earnestly. "I didn't want to force them to continue playing with a boy that ill-mannered!"
Emily jotted down some notes in her binder. She would extrapolate them later for a more detailed report.
"No, that's perfectly fine Mrs. Wakefield. It was the right thing to do. Thank you for not forcing them out of the house when they didn't want to go. I'm sure their time at the park was a nice break for you, so I appreciate you sacrificing for them." Emily smiled.
She clicked her pen and closed her binder, resting her hands on its cover. "I think that's all the questions I have for you today. Really this visit is more of a formality, I can hear the kids giggling at the TV in the next room and everything in your home is welcoming and clearly a nurturing environment for Libby and Tyler. You should feel some pride, Mrs. Wakefield. If there were more people like you, then I would be out of a job. And that would be a happy day for us all." Emily said as she rose from the table.
"I want to thank you again for sharing the bread you all make, it was quite delicious. I'll take my leave now and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to talk to the kids briefly. Do you have any questions for me?"
"Thank you, dear. I'm so glad you stopped by. Do you want to take some bread with you? I could get a little baggy!" Mrs. Wakefield said cheerily as she leaned over to one of the drawers to rummage around for a zipped bag.
"How could I say no to that? I really appreciate it -- and all you're doing for the kids."
Mrs. Wakefield finally found a bag. It had clearly been used in the past, but it looked clean and Emily reminded herself that people from Mrs. Wakefield's generation grew up in hard times and saved everything they could. Waste not, want not.
"Here you go, dear." Mrs. Wakefield rose from the table with some effort, Emily reached over to grab her elbow and help her up. "Oh, thank you! I'll walk you to the door."
The pair walked from the kitchen towards the front door. Awkwardly slow for Emily as she tried to adjust her pace so as not to leave Mrs. Wakefield behind. For a moment, she worried that this placement was a bad idea; that Mrs. Wakefield wouldn't be able to keep up with the kids. But she squelched that thought. It was important to recognize people for what they were willing to offer, not their outward abilities or appearances. And Mrs. Wakefield had generously offered some of her golden years in service to these two children.
They said their goodbyes, and Emily smiled as another round of giggles permeated from the living room. The kids were having a good time and that meant tomorrow would be full of smiles. Those were the best kind of visits. As she left the house, she was treated to another inhalation of that odor she smelled earlier. Old person smell.
Inwardly chastising herself for thinking it, Emily shook her head and continued down the pathway to the sidewalk. What did it matter if Mrs. Wakefield smelled like an old person? And what kind of thinking was that, anyway? Emily made a mental note to keep track of these preconceived notions she had about old people, or really anyone in general. In her line of work, it was paramount to not stereotype or assume anything.
It was a short walk back to the small hotel she was staying in. The little town was buzzing with activity. People leaving work and going home, children running around in their neighborhood. What a pleasant place to raise a family. This was really one of her better placements. She would have to see if there were other willing adoptive families in this town. Simple, small town values. Family. Friendship. Love. What more could a child ask for?
Entering the lobby, she stopped by the front desk to place a room service order for dinner. Something to accompany the bread that Mrs. Wakefield had given her. Eating in her room would allow her time to go through her notes, fill out some reports, and prepare for her interview tomorrow with the children.
She had a few standard questions she was required to ask, basic probing inquiries to determine whether or not a follow up visit by a psychologist was required. Other than that, Emily had free reign to assess the kids as she pleased. The always touched on the important subjects, how the kids were feeling, were their needs being met, were they being entertained, was their new home providing enough mental stimulation for their little minds to grow? The latter Emily worded a bit differently for each case depending on the age and faculties of the child. Sometimes it was difficult to convey complex questions and get satisfying answers. But it was Emily's job to try.
Finishing her dinner, she went to work on her notes, expanding upon what she wrote earlier in the day and re-reading everything to make sure it represented her experiences at Mrs. Wakefield's home. Satisfied, she closed the binder and spent the next few minutes readying herself for bed. An early turn in was always a nice little reward at the end of the day.
Getting into bed and pulling the duvet snugly against her, Emily closed her eyes and fell into a restful sleep.