Hello Blogville friends! Welcome back, it is so nice to ‘see’ you. This morning I have a honey lemon ginger turmeric concoction that I have started drinking as it is supposed to be good for me. I think it is appropriate to be drinking a clear beverage, maybe it will help me express myself with clarity. 

For some reason, I am inspired to follow up on my last blog (Shadows) as the impact of my birth parent’s ‘shadows’ really impacted on my life in at least two parts. The first part you have read about in my last blog, now let’s talk about the second part.

When something ‘casts a shadow’ it can also have a positive impact. Shadows can protect things from the harsh rays of the sun. For example, you might not be able to see foliage deep down in the shadows but as it grows and matures without being dried up completely by the sun, the foliage can sometimes bloom magnificently. For me, my adoptive parents gave me just enough sun to balance the shadows while I was growing up. They could not protect me completely of course and I did spend some time in the shadows, but they brought balance to being raised as a child who was adopted. Their love for me was the balance of light that I needed, to help me bloom. Though they could not protect me from the shadows of my birth parents, their love warmed me. They were only the first.

Carrying forward my parents’ balance between shadow and light was (and is) my husband. As our relationship got more serious, his willingness to accept a lack of medical history, which might well impact on children we might have together, was reassuring. He honestly felt that no one has a crystal ball that can forecast the future, adopted or not. Since we have known each other as long as I have been legally able to travel the adoption disclosure information path, he has been my travelling companion. He has often helped me see the light when all I could see were the shadows. 

The path to finding and meeting my birth relatives was filled with shadows and light. She had been born before me and also relinquished for adoption. As a result of the tragic practice of separating siblings to satisfy more adoptive parents’ needs, our own parent agency caused us to be separated for just over thirty years; our separation was the shadow. The first ray of sunshine if you will was meeting my maternal birth (half) sister. I wish I could describe to you exactly how it feels to look into the eyes of the first actual adult birth relative you have ever known. It was a bit like looking into the eyes of my newborn children, my only other known birth relatives. I looked for, and found, a kindredness in my birth sister’s eyes. Further, I found acceptance as her sons’ new aunt. Many hours were spent comparing physical resemblances among us and our children as the shadows of knowing no birth relatives began to dissipate.  

The next ray of light in my journey was my birth father. Though he never knew that I was casting a shadow of existence on this earth following his brief relationship with my birth mother, he did not leave adult me in the dark. The day I finally met him face to face was terrifying and filled with the cold fingers of fear that he might not like me, or be disappointed in who I was. Instead, he immediately took me over to a mirror and, standing side by side, the cold fingers of fear were replaced by and indescribable warmth as he compared our images, pointing out all similarities. There are no words except to say I bloomed a little bit more that day. 

My birth father sent me some photos of himself, and also of his children in varying stages of their growing up. I remember one photo, that is memorized in my mind’s eye, of all the children enjoying ice cream cones and I can still feel the coldness of the shadow that passed over my heart as I wondered where my ice cream cone was. I also noticed in these old photos that my birth sister’s ears stuck out just like mine did, my ears had been a source of shame until that moment when I felt the warmth of belonging, of sharing a physical characteristic with a paternal sibling. You might find it interesting that I felt an inexplicable jealousy when I eventually met her and she told me her parents had later arranged for a surgery to pin her ears back, while mine were left to stick out, fodder for teasing by my peer group. 

Before I met my birth father, due to geographic distance challenges, I met his adult children. I met the very children he had kept and raised with his wife, in full sunshine, while I lurked in the shadows of his past. They were wonderful. All shadows were driven away by the warmth of their acceptance. They accepted me as a sibling so unconditionally that I could almost feel the clouds parting, allowing the warmth of acceptance to replace the cold shadow of the fear of rejection. I met my nieces and nephews, immediately searching their faces for any resemblances to my children, their birth cousins. Instead of grandpa’s secret child I became grandpa’s other child, a new aunt. I bloomed even more. We keep in touch to this day and actually visit when I am in their area. There is a warmth when we visit, their acceptance that I am their sister drives away even the darkest shadows.

As you know from previous blogs my birth mother refused the opportunity to meet me, and my sister, casting one of the biggest shadows on my very existence. At our request, she did provide an updated medical history for my sister and I, as well as a single photograph of herself around the age that she was when she had given birth to me. I immediately framed that photograph to protect it from harm. Sadly for her, there would have been a ray of light if she had only seen the acceptance of us from the daughters that she raised. She raised them to be compassionate, and accepting women, whom I have had the pleasure to meet and form relationships with. I regret that she missed the opportunity to have all six of us together with her like a warm ‘Hallmark moment’. For her to have had a photograph of herself with all six of her daughters. But whatever her reasons were, at her request, her two oldest daughters remained in the shadows of her past.

I feel bad that she felt the need to keep us hidden in the shadowy darkness of her past. Her daughters were remarkably accepting when we approached them following the death of their, ‘our’ mother. Once over the shock of our existence, we were as welcomed into their sisterhood as plants welcome the warmth of the sun. If only she had known how accepting and non-judgmental her family would have been, I believe she would have been proud. Six sisters, daughters of the same woman, together at long last, out of the shadows. 
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Thank you so much for visiting with me today. I so enjoy your company and I hope you enjoy my stories. As always, feel free to comment here or send me an e-mail at [email protected]. 'See' you next time.

​Hello everyone and welcome back to Blogville. I am sipping a berry blend tea today hoping to brighten a dull weather day. This morning I had a lazy start and was scrolling through pictures on my phone. It inspired me to write about shadows for some reason. Naively, I thought ‘casting a shadow’ meant to highlight or cover, therefore protecting what it covered, like a cool shade in the summer heat. Apparently I was mistaken.


My web search of the phrase, ‘casting a shadow’, revealed that it actually means to cause something to be less enjoyable. I guess it might be like when someone’s ex-partner arrives unexpectedly at an event, therefore making the event less enjoyable, so that the ex-partner would be ‘casting a shadow’. I mean this only applies if the relationship ended badly of course, some ex-partners have wonderful relationships with each other. But I digress.


I was looking at a photo that I had taken while on a walk in a Canadian East Coast Province that my husband and I visited this past summer. We had hiked a beautiful, though rather steep, trail behind our hotel. It was a beautiful summer day, warm and sunny. It was actually the first time I had ever seen caution signs warning about steepness of a trailside. As we left the treed portion of the trail behind us I was captivated by how our shadows looked on the trail ahead of us, so I took a photo. I also took a photo of our shadows at another point in our journey as we walked down one of Halifax’s steep hills. Somehow, I think that, to me, these pictures mean ‘we were there’ without the distraction of how we looked.


Looking at these photos reminded me how I think that sometimes I can feel my birth mother’s shadow. Not her actual shadow of course but her influence on me and how being relinquished for adoption impacted on my life. Sometimes her shadow even caused some things to be less enjoyable. Things like the anniversary of my birth each year, no amount of candles could extinguish the shadow of hers and my separation on the day I was born. When I would go to the doctor and the topic of family medical history came up, her shadow was cast on the door as it closed behind my mom and the doctor while my mom frantically whispered that I was adopted and she had no birth family history to give him. As a young adult, both of my birth parents’ shadows were there when I was asked about medical histories and hereditary conditions. In fact, I clearly remember my first mammogram after I had met my birth father and all of my birth siblings, I was so proud to say ‘no’ instead of ‘I don’t know’ when asked if there was a family history of breast cancer. I know that does not seem like much but I had lived my entire life until then answering medical questions with “I was adopted, I do not have any birth family medical history information.” Finally getting birth family medical history information through the reunion process was a ray of sunshine on a lifelong medical history shadow.


When my birth mother was offered the chance to meet the adult me, she declined. You can imagine the shadow that cast on my heart. She did provide medical history information and a photograph of herself from about the age she was when I was born (at the request of the social worker). To have had someone give birth to me and leave me to an uncertain future cast a shadow on my existence that I had mostly learned to live with. But for her to later have been offered the opportunity to get to know me as a person and decline it, cast a very different kind of shadow. I will never fully know why she made that decision but I will always believe it was my fault somehow, something I had done in utero, or even during my birth that had ‘cast a shadow’ on our future and our ability to become a reunited birth mother and birth child. 


I used to feel my birth father’s shadow too but it had a more subliminal feel to it than hers did. Did he know I existed? His role, or lack of one, cast a shadow on something I was not sure he even knew existed. The information I had been given from my file indicated that my birth father did not know he had left me behind; the unintended  product of a romantic tryst. There is a shadow of irresponsibility to that as he moved on to live his life, presumably never looking back. Yet there I was, existing in the shadow of their brief relationship. Once I had met my birth father, I felt his shadow less. Perhaps because he had taken shape and became real; I could see and hear him. He became less of a shadow and more a ray of light, though my heart still held him accountable for abandoning my birth mother and leaving her with the responsibility of deciding what to do about me. At the same time, he could shed light on where I came from, who my paternal ancestors are, and yes, provide me with some medical history information. Even after he passed I can still feel his energy, his light as opposed to his shadow I suppose, maybe because he let me get to know him. Maybe because he accepted me as his birth child, he was able to fill in his chapter of the book of my existence. 


Growing up adopted involved many unanswered questions as you might guess. These are often the shadows that darken the lives of adopted people. These shadows cover school activities such as learning about genetics and not being able to fill in any of those blanks. These shadows cover the fact that you began life as ‘illegitimate’, a child born to unmarried parents. By today’s standards, this is no longer an issue, however, in my generation it was fodder for teasing, shame and embarrassment. It is hard to build self-esteem when you actually should not have existed; when your very existence was an accident, a mistake. This shadow still lives in me, even into my 60s. 


Today the term used for these shadows is typically referred to as ‘adoption trauma’ and is acknowledged as a side effect of being adopted. Our ‘shadow’ finally has a name. Now I know why I suffered such low self-esteem for so much of my life. Though I never met my birth mother, I have gotten to know who she was through her children and grandchildren. Meeting my birth father made me feel acknowledged, that once he knew I existed, I mattered. Meeting and maintaining some level of contact with his children and grandchildren is inexplicably gratifying. These are my maternal and paternal ‘blood’ sisters and brother, but more importantly, they accept me as their sister, even as an aunt to their children.


As you may or may not know, from previous blogs, I have a maternal birth half-sister who was also placed for adoption. The greatest cloud over this relationship was the Ontario Government’s denial of my right to connect with her at the time I learned she existed. I had grown up knowing that there was a half-sibling out there and subsequently fought for the right to gain access to them once I was an adult. Eventually, I won a battle, that happily no one should have to fight today thanks to legislative changes, and I was eventually able to meet my birth sister. We were robbed of the opportunity to have grown up together in an adoptive home under the shadow of an agency’s practice of satisfying more adoptive parents’ needs over the meeting the needs of siblings by placing them together in the same adoptive family. Under the shadow of the provincial adoption disclosure laws, we were further robbed of the opportunity to know each other for the first thirty years of our lives. The government’s actions clearly ‘casting shadows’ on our lives, and the lives of generations of adopted persons.


As always, thank you for stopping by. I look forward to reading your comments here, or via email at [email protected]! See you next time in Blogville!

Hello everyone, welcome back to Blogville. I appreciate that each of you come back to read about my thoughts and I truly enjoy reading the comments that some of you are comfortable in sending my way. Thank you. Today I am sipping a blood orange based herbal tea while I write this blog. I hope you gain some insight from reading it.

As you know, I teamed up with one of my maternal birth sisters to write and self-publish a book to help families talk with their children about adoption and kinship. Krista, my birth sister, illustrated the book. It was an accidental project that I am actually really proud of. As an adopted person, being proud of things takes an extra effort, given that I was never really meant to exist on the planet. But I am really proud of our book.

So, one day I was speaking with a friend about my book and explaining how I had teamed up with a maternal birth sister to create it. My friend looked at me and asked, “Why do you say ‘birth sister’ when talking about Krista and not just ‘my sister’? I thought about what she just said and replied, “That’s a great question.”

When I hear the word siblings, I think of my brother right away. We are not blood related but we were raised by the same parents, and parented as brother and sister. I wonder if I think of sibling relationships being like the one my brother and I have is a result of having shared parenting parents and childhoods, rather than having shared a womb? I only ever refer to him as my brother, without feeling the need to qualify by saying my adopted brother. Hmmmm.

Come to think of it, whenever I am talking with people about my parents the term ‘real parents’ often comes into the discussion (from them, not from me). For some reason, most folks seem to think of my adoptive parents as just that, the parents who adopted me. But when I am talking about my birth parents, often people will question if I mean my ‘real’ parents. It occurs to me that when I talk about my biological siblings, those born to my birth parents, no one ever asks if I mean my ‘real’ siblings. Isn’t that interesting?

Getting back to my friend’s question, I wonder if I refer to Krista as my birth sister because I do not think I am entitled to just say ‘my sister’. I did not have that role with Krista, nor with any of my birth mother’s other daughters while growing up. We did not even meet until after our birth mother had passed away. Being a sister typically means more than sharing blood, especially blood from only one birth parent, doesn’t it? Apparently I think it has to do with being parented as siblings more than being blood related. When I watch my maternal birth half-sisters together I can see, and feel, their history as sisters. This also applies to my birth father’s other children.We do not share childhood experiences and relationships, nor any kind of history together that I feel makes us ‘true’ sisters and brothers. 

It’s funny that when I refer to my older birth sister (also named Lynne, but that is a topic of a different blog lol) I do not say ‘birth sister’. I usually say Lynne is my older half-sister who was also placed on adoption, but separately from me. In truth, I am as biologically related to Lynne as I am to my maternal and paternal half-siblings but I feel differently toward her than the others. I wonder if I feel this way as a result of having shared relinquishment and adoption journeys, rather than having been raised and parented together? Even though we were raised apart, in many ways I feel that we are ‘sisters in adoption’ if you will, through our shared birth mother, our relinquishments, and our adoption journeys.

Being a sister usually, but not always, means sharing a history. Perhaps that explains a little why I refer to my (also adopted) brother as my brother, to Lynne as my half-sister, and to the children raised by my birth parents as my birth half-siblings. Frankly, I’m not sure. I do love hearing parental stories from my birth half-siblings about my birth parents. It helps me to get to know them as people and as parents. It helps me to hear how they were with their other children. Sometimes it hurts too, to have missed being raised by them. I even wonder what my life might have been like if my birth parents had married and raised me together. Please know that this is no reflection on my ‘real’ parents (as I see my adoptive parents to have been) or how they raised me, but a simple curiosity about what might have been without relinquishment and adoption in my life.

I do know that when I am not invited to events in the lives of my birth half-sisters such as their children’s weddings, I truly understand. I love to look at the photos they send or post and cannot seem to stop myself from seeking out physical resemblances between me and the adult children of my half-siblings, or even between my children and theirs. I am not offended by not being invited because I believe that I am too hard to explain to the other wedding guests. I believe they are respecting their mother’s privacy, even her reputation if I’m being honest, and I respect that. Her daughters clearly loved and respected their mother as her children should. That I share some DNA with these women is a source of pride for me. 

I remember how interesting it was when my older half sister Lynne attended my daughter’s wedding. People were intrigued by the fact that we had been able to find each other despite having been separated by the adoption system. No one was more curious than my mom. She was both intrigued by Lynne’s story and upset that she and my dad had not been given the opportunity to raise us together, or at least, upset that we were not able to have been raised together as sisters. She thought that this had been a system failure, and I can’t say I disagree. Until her passing, my mother always asked about Lynne and whether or not we had been in touch lately. 

In the end, I cannot express how much it means to me to have contact with the children of my birth parents, aka my half-siblings. When I think of each of them today, I don’t worry about titles, I simply wonder how my sisters and brothers are doing. 

As ever, thank you for reading. I love that you visit me in Blogville and look forward to your comments either here, or more privately through my email at [email protected] 
Until next time…

Hi everyone, thanks for coming back to visit with me in Blogville! I am currently sipping on a white hot chocolate with a chai teabag to spice it up! This blog’s topic is the continuing saga of the challenges educators face in the world of new family dynamics and student assignments! 

I think educators in general need to reconsider the questionnaires they send home about ‘family’ dynamics. Some new questions might be more comfortable, such as: 
Who lives in your house and what are their relationships to the student? 
Who can we expect to come to school activities with the student?
Who should we call if the student is ill or injured at school?
Is there any thing special we should know about your family and the student?
Be creative and open in your questions to help normalize today’s family dynamics! Knowing the family dynamics of your students will help you to adjust class activities. One example that comes to mind are Family Tree activities. I believe that this type of activity could be renamed as My Family Orchard. You can see how simply adjusting the title makes the activity more inclusive for students who have more than one set of parents/caregivers. I prefer to look at the activity as trees in the student’s orchard, rather than branches on a single tree. I probably do not have to, but I will offer a couple of examples: Children and youth living in step families; single parents and their support system, kinship families; adoptive families; and so forth all have orchards, versus one tree with maternal and paternal branches. Further, I believe completing an ‘orchard’ offers students the option of adding a foster family tree as well. For students who have not experienced multiple families, their craft can allow them to expand their orchards by creating trees for grandparents, aunts, uncles, and their families as well. In this way you may also learn who their support systems are.

I believe it will also be helpful for educators to look at their students’ orchards to help determine the supplies you will need for special occasion cards and crafts as the school year unfolds. When the inevitable Mother’s Day and Father’s Day card-making days approach you will be much more relaxed when you ask the student how many cards or crafts they wish to make. The student will be more relaxed too, knowing they do not have to ‘pick’ the person that ‘deserves’ a card or craft. It may even be more economical to buy enough supplies for multiple bookmarks, sun catchers, handprint bunnies, and coffee filter butterflies, than the cost of supplies needed to make one extravagant craft per student. It’s worth looking into. 

Moving on now to biology class . . .

Looking at common family traits or tendencies instead of focusing on eye colour, hair colour, and other physical commonalities may also help a student maintain a sense of belonging to their current family. As well, it may help prepare them for the future when they meet a relative, even a parent, whom they never met when they were a child but that they discover they share a family trait with. I’m thinking of family traits such as athleticism, musical talent, and so forth. Belonging to a family, whether the student was born into it or not, should be the educators’ focus. A personal example was when I discovered I have a birth nephew who has the natural ventriloquial talent that I have. Now that was an unexpected bonus! 

Often one will hear how a child or youth is very musical while their adoptive family is ‘tone deaf’ or they can draw beautifully while their adoptive parents struggle to colour in the lines of a colouring picture. Science is suggesting that there may be more to family traits or tendencies than we know. Perhaps modelling is not the only way to encourage talents in children and youth, but simply offering the opportunity to grow is the true way. Educators need to focus on the talents and abilities the child or youth is showing, not simply on inherited traits expected because of biology. One example is avoiding questions like: Who in your family can draw like you?; Can your dad skate like you?; Does your whole family sing? Trust me, if there is someone in the family the child shares their talent with, they will tell you. If a biological child of two talented singers cannot sing, we should avoid commenting on that as well. Children and youth, given the opportunities and tools, will develop their own paths. 

I don’t think we expected to have the ability to one day pick up our phone and go on line to do all of our grocery shopping, or seasonal gift shopping, nor did we expect such variety of students’ life experiences in a single classroom but we must adjust. Educators need to adapt and adjust the curriculum activities that relate to students and their family dynamics.

No student of any age in any classroom setting should feel uncomfortable because they are being asked to complete a craft or activity that is only applicable to the concept of ‘mother/father/sister/brother/dog/cat’ that dominated outdated text books. Like family members of this new world, educators must learn to embrace and encourage a new understanding and acceptance of loving family units. No student should feel ashamed of being adopted, a step-child, a child being raised by grandparents, aunts, uncles, two moms, two dads . . . I think you get my meaning. 

Maybe when adults learn to accept these differences and model their  acceptance, there will be less shaming and bullying in our schools. 
We are all trees in a child’s orchard! 

As ever, thank you for your continued support as you read my blogs. I write from my heart in an effort to make a difference for children, youth and families. As ever, please feel free to leave me a comment, your comments give me the encouragement to carry on. If you prefer a more personal comment forum, please send me an email at [email protected]

​Dear Teacher Part I . . .

Hello my Blogville friends, so nice to see you again! If you are a first time reader, welcome! Today I am sipping a green tea as I write my thoughts in this back to school time of year. I hear the school busses on their runs, I see the groups of children and youth walking together, laughing at some shared joke. I also see students walking quietly on their own. These things made me think of children and youth who are adopted, living in kinship scenarios, or even in foster care. As I was returning to school each September, I remember the pressures school brought on me as a student. When I think of the explaining that children and youth living in adoption, kinship and foster families have to do, it is exhausting.  I thought I would share my thoughts with you, and together we may be able to give a new perspective to teachers, other school staff members, and parents. Thanks for joining me. 

I know that back to school is an overwhelming time, both exciting and terrifying at once for many. For children and youth who are living in a new family or for those who have already been adopted, it can be even more stressful. When students start school in the fall they are usually worriedly anticipating who their teacher(s) and their classmates will be. Often, usually based on experience, students are excited or nervous once they learn who the teacher(s) and classmates actually are. Students living in a new family are often also new to the community, and the school, so their anxiety is already up a notch on top of these normal worries. 

I always thought it was too bad that school boards do not offer a ‘new student’ parent/teacher event a day or two before school starts. It could offer new students, and their new parents/caregivers, an opportunity to meet the teacher and other administration staff, as well as seeing the inside of the school; The student could learn where their classroom is, and where to put their things when they get to school on the first day. Additionally, the parents/caregivers may need to know where the office is, where to park to pick up or drop off the student, and other such details that others may take for granted. I believe that this would benefit adoptive, kinship, and perhaps even foster families. They could call it, “New Family Orientation” or something like that. 

With older children in particular, school is often a consideration when placing them with their new families. If the child is in school and has been matched with a family in the spring, it is often beneficial for them to finish their school year where they are while building a relationship with their new family on weekends and perhaps evenings if possible. Of course this would only apply to planned placements where there is time to begin building a relationship, and when a student will be moving to a new school. Foster care and kinship placements often happen quite quickly and often unexpectedly, and this can mean initiating a mid-year school change as well.

Which leads me to point out that there are times when a student will be changing homes but not schools. This may happen more often when a student is in foster care, but sometimes in kinship placements as well. Please do not think that this will mean that there needs to be no explanation. In addition to focusing on what stays the same for the student, also focus on what will be different. Talk with the caregivers, and the student, about changes such as a new bus, or now being able to walk to school instead of taking a bus. Is the new caregiver familiar with the school? If not, this may leave both the school and the caregiver open to manipulation by the student. This will be even more critical if there are family oriented events planned such as report card day, or meet the teacher, or back to school barbecues coming up. There may need to be a more effective communication system in place than simply a note home delivered by the student. 

When a student has changed caregivers but not schools, talk with the student and the caregivers about the fact that fellow students will likely notice new people dropping off or picking up the student, as well as attending events. Ask the caregivers and the student if they have thought about this; clarify what the student calls the caregiver(s) and offer options for them when explaining this to their peers: (“I’m living with my aunt and uncle for a bit.”;”I’m staying with my grandparents right now.”; “Those are the people I’m staying with right now.”) A student can, and should, also be supported to say, “Actually my living situation is private.” If you have talked about managing options of what to say and everyone is on the same page, the student may not be rendered speechless when faced with questions and comments from other students (because we know they will be). Also, by being prepared they may avoid becoming angry or defensive in these types of interactions with other students. 

Further, as we know that children and youth are naturally curious, also work together with the student’s new caregivers to help the child or youth be prepared for questions like; ‘Are those your foster parents? ‘Where are your other parents?’ (perhaps referring to previous caregivers)’ Why did you move?’ ‘Did you get kicked out of your other family?’ Oh, and my favourite, ‘Where are your real parents?’ Please, do not think the child or youth will not be faced with the curiosity of their peers. Instead, help them be prepared to respond in a comfortable manner, so they are not caught off guard. It is important for the student to know that people are usually asking to understand and not necessarily to be mean; though, you will also have to prepare them for those peers as well. Again, encourage the child or youth to only share what they are comfortable with, and as often as necessary remind them they can say, “Actually my living situation is private.”

Personally, I think children are more adaptive and accepting of change if they have a reasonable explanation. Questions like; ‘Why is your skin a different colour than your parents?’ ‘How can you have two moms?’ ‘How can you have two dads?’ ‘Why is your mother so old?’ (referring to kinship typically) ‘Why do you talk funny?’ (referring to accents) are simply the curious nature of children, with some rare exceptions of course. I believe children usually drop the issue when given a ‘reasonable’ explanation’. As mentioned earlier, if you notice this is happening to a student, meet with the student and their parents/caregivers and discuss their comfort with responses such as; I am adopted. I live with my grandparents now. I was born in a different country. I learned a different language before I learned . . (current language), and even, those are my foster parents. Again, assist the student in finding responses they are comfortable with.

Most of the concerns I have mentioned typically occur for students on the first days, or within the first month or so in a new school. Once the child or youth has survived the first days of school, and a million questions, they can relax right? I wish. Though there have been significant improvements since I was a student, and even since I was employed by a school board, some things stay the same and run the risk of humiliating or traumatizing students who are living in kinship, adoptive, and even blended families. These often come in the form of school activities that focus on the student’s family. This will be explained in my next blog post; Dear Teacher Part II.

In the meantime, thank you for your continued support as you read my blogs. I write from the heart as I try to make a difference for families. As ever, please feel free to leave me a comment, your comments give me the encouragement to carry on. If you prefer a more personal comment forum, please send me an email at [email protected]

“See you” in two weeks for Dear Teacher, Part II