Our Child Carers
Hey, look a post not related to fandom. Shocking I know.
This essay is in response to statistics I saw on BBC Breakfast this morning. Link to news article is: www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-11757907. Please take the time to watch the slide show of Victoria's story, and think back your own twelve year-old self.
So, I’m a professional carer. I work with the elderly in a care home and help them with their day to day lives. This includes, but is not limited to, at different times personal care, cooking, emotional support, physical support, intellectual support, protection from abuse, spiritual support, and conflict resolution. The vast majority of the time I have a brilliant time. I love my job and interacting with the residents. Then there are the bad days. The days when everything goes to shit. When you leave so emotionally drained that you wonder how you’re going to make it home in order to fall into bed, but at least we can leave.
It’s not that we get to leave on time everyday, it’s not a drop the broom sort of job. In fact, it is usually the shit days when you leave ridiculously late because you’ve had to sort everything out and then write up three different reports on each incident (and when it rains it pours in social care). But, when everything’s done, the next shift are aware of what has happened, the relatives have been informed, the emergency services have gone and the paper work is filed, we can go home to our glorious, welcoming bed.
There are a huge number of adult carers out there of course, who look after their parents, spouse and children, and whom don’t get the break, or the support they are often in desperate need of. These people are amazing. They keep going through the everyday demands of life, often balancing work and children/other children in the mix. I met a woman on a bus once who cared for her husband who had advanced dementia. It had turned him from a gentle loving man to a scared and violent one. This lady dropped him off at a day-care centre twice a week and rode the bus for an hour as her break. She was incredible because, in spite of how this horrid condition had changed her spouse of sixty years, in spite of how he took his rage out on her, she continued to love him, care for him and put him first. She was a true hero in my mind, as are all of these carers, but at least they are adults.
According to official statistics 2% of children under sixteen are fulfilling the role of full-time carer. A survey by the BBC revealed that this figure could be up to four times as high, at 8%. These children are putting the adult in their life first, a true reversal of roles, while experiencing their own social, emotional and educational development. Often their school work suffers, or their social life because they have responsibilities at home that are more important. These children are wonderful, kind, amazing human beings who are taking on adult responsibilities with very little fuss and bother. An interview with an eight year old carer this morning was enlightening when she said she didn’t see herself as a carer, she was just helping her mum. It puts all of life into perspective to see what this humble little girl does everyday.
The government has sworn to help all young carers. They want to give personal allowances to pay for breaks and cover care during those breaks. They want to train GP’s and teachers so we can find and support the 6% of child carers who are currently doing this completely alone. I applaud this. This is brilliant, and needed. The government is trying to fulfil it’s responsibility and we can’t ask more of them than that. We can however ask more of ourselves.
Community is a rare and precious thing now. As more and more people turn away from organised religion, as more pubs close, as people tend to work farther from where they live, it gets increasingly difficult to live with a sense of true community. The Eastenders and Coronation Street view of life is true fantasy for many people, for even without the meladrama, murder and adultery places aren’t like that anymore. People keep to themselves and their small social group. In our village, for example, it often seems that it is only through the school playground that people connect, even if it is into cliquey little groups. Makes you wonder how those without kids do, or how kids who need adult support find it.
So, here’s my proposal. Keep you eyes open, and if you see a child who’s giving their all to look after someone don’t shake your head sadly and offer only pity. Be pro-active. See if there’s anything you can do to help ease their burden. Could you occasionally cook something so that they have time to do there homework? Is there a chore you can help with just to ease their load a little? Even your phone number in case everything goes tits up and they need an adult quickly?
And, please, mums and dads who’s kids are caring for them, accept this help. It’s not offered to make you feel bad, or because we think you’re awful parents. We don’t. It’s because there but for the grace of God go I, and if our children needed help we’d hope someone would lend a hand.
So come on people of Britain. I know you’re wonderful, warm-hearted souls who care. Together we can help these fabulous, generous children just a little.
This essay is in response to statistics I saw on BBC Breakfast this morning. Link to news article is: www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-11757907. Please take the time to watch the slide show of Victoria's story, and think back your own twelve year-old self.
So, I’m a professional carer. I work with the elderly in a care home and help them with their day to day lives. This includes, but is not limited to, at different times personal care, cooking, emotional support, physical support, intellectual support, protection from abuse, spiritual support, and conflict resolution. The vast majority of the time I have a brilliant time. I love my job and interacting with the residents. Then there are the bad days. The days when everything goes to shit. When you leave so emotionally drained that you wonder how you’re going to make it home in order to fall into bed, but at least we can leave.
It’s not that we get to leave on time everyday, it’s not a drop the broom sort of job. In fact, it is usually the shit days when you leave ridiculously late because you’ve had to sort everything out and then write up three different reports on each incident (and when it rains it pours in social care). But, when everything’s done, the next shift are aware of what has happened, the relatives have been informed, the emergency services have gone and the paper work is filed, we can go home to our glorious, welcoming bed.
There are a huge number of adult carers out there of course, who look after their parents, spouse and children, and whom don’t get the break, or the support they are often in desperate need of. These people are amazing. They keep going through the everyday demands of life, often balancing work and children/other children in the mix. I met a woman on a bus once who cared for her husband who had advanced dementia. It had turned him from a gentle loving man to a scared and violent one. This lady dropped him off at a day-care centre twice a week and rode the bus for an hour as her break. She was incredible because, in spite of how this horrid condition had changed her spouse of sixty years, in spite of how he took his rage out on her, she continued to love him, care for him and put him first. She was a true hero in my mind, as are all of these carers, but at least they are adults.
According to official statistics 2% of children under sixteen are fulfilling the role of full-time carer. A survey by the BBC revealed that this figure could be up to four times as high, at 8%. These children are putting the adult in their life first, a true reversal of roles, while experiencing their own social, emotional and educational development. Often their school work suffers, or their social life because they have responsibilities at home that are more important. These children are wonderful, kind, amazing human beings who are taking on adult responsibilities with very little fuss and bother. An interview with an eight year old carer this morning was enlightening when she said she didn’t see herself as a carer, she was just helping her mum. It puts all of life into perspective to see what this humble little girl does everyday.
The government has sworn to help all young carers. They want to give personal allowances to pay for breaks and cover care during those breaks. They want to train GP’s and teachers so we can find and support the 6% of child carers who are currently doing this completely alone. I applaud this. This is brilliant, and needed. The government is trying to fulfil it’s responsibility and we can’t ask more of them than that. We can however ask more of ourselves.
Community is a rare and precious thing now. As more and more people turn away from organised religion, as more pubs close, as people tend to work farther from where they live, it gets increasingly difficult to live with a sense of true community. The Eastenders and Coronation Street view of life is true fantasy for many people, for even without the meladrama, murder and adultery places aren’t like that anymore. People keep to themselves and their small social group. In our village, for example, it often seems that it is only through the school playground that people connect, even if it is into cliquey little groups. Makes you wonder how those without kids do, or how kids who need adult support find it.
So, here’s my proposal. Keep you eyes open, and if you see a child who’s giving their all to look after someone don’t shake your head sadly and offer only pity. Be pro-active. See if there’s anything you can do to help ease their burden. Could you occasionally cook something so that they have time to do there homework? Is there a chore you can help with just to ease their load a little? Even your phone number in case everything goes tits up and they need an adult quickly?
And, please, mums and dads who’s kids are caring for them, accept this help. It’s not offered to make you feel bad, or because we think you’re awful parents. We don’t. It’s because there but for the grace of God go I, and if our children needed help we’d hope someone would lend a hand.
So come on people of Britain. I know you’re wonderful, warm-hearted souls who care. Together we can help these fabulous, generous children just a little.