The first time I became a foster parent was when I was working with students with emotional difficulties. I had one student with whom I had defintively bonded, and they were looking to place her in a foster home. A man in the higher echelon of the facility where I worked, took me aside and asked me if there was any way I could consider fostering this young lady. I immediately signed up for training. I had planned on doing it since "The Foster Parent's Plan" anyway. This was as good a time as any. By the time I finished the training, both she and I had transfered from the facility. She had become pregnant and was living across the state with the baby-daddy. From there, I lost track of her.
Being unable to provide a loving home for her was something I lamented, but there were plenty of other children out there. The first child came to us because I received a phone call from his mother. Our sons were friends in school and he had come over to play a couple of times (I did not allow my son to go to his house when I realized the extent of alcohol and drug abuse that was going on there). She called to tell me Social Services had removed him from her care, and she was hoping I could take him. "Funny," I said (though I'm sure nothing about the situation was funny to her), "I just finished my foster parent training course last night." So, Joey* became my first, much to the delight of my son. For him, it was an everlasting sleep-over.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the children
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