Saturday, November 7th
I’ve begun a new job. I am managing a group home in the North Metro of Minneapolis. My clients are between the ages of 18-21, mildly retarded, with various mental health diagnoses. This is the end of week one, and I have already had to reprimand an employee and restrict a client’s privileges.
Maybe you understand. I want people to like me. I don’t like being the “bearer of bad news” or the new tyrant on the block. But, I am doing what I think is right and fair. Sometimes I second guess myself. Did I handle that well? Could I have been a bit more understanding? I am reaching deep inside myself to be firm and yet compassionate.
So, I’m working with the Little Rascals. Sometimes I feel exhausted by just how much attention they crave. They have been in and out of group homes, detention centers, hospitals, treatment centers. Some have dead beat parents. They have been abused emotionally, verbally and psychologically.
Monday, November 9th, 3PM
One of my guys is furious with me today because I restricted him. He has made it clear that he’s going to make my life a living hell. And that’s exactly what he is doing–cursing at the top of his lungs and banging walls. He’s the oldest and he’s very good at dragging the others into his mayhem.
I just heard glass breaking. Turns out, it was a window breaking. One of the guys was tapping out a rap beat and tapped just a little too hard. He felt badly and wanted to know if he was in trouble. He said it was an accident and I believe him.
It’s the other one I’m worried about.
Not sure this job is right for me. It’s stressful. But I’m going to stick it out for a while. Hey, at least I will have some interesting stories to tell, right?
5PM
On my break I drove to the store and picked up some cigarettes. I came back to find everyone, including my support staff in the front yard. They were all yelling something. I came around the side of the house and found another broken window. This one was intentional–knocked out with a broom handle.
I didn’t say anything to my client who broke the window. Honestly, I don’t know how I am going to handle this one. While the other guys went to the library, I hung back with him and talked. He calmed down and finally expressed some remorse for what he had done.
7PM
I was almost home this evening when my support staff called. A consumer was AWOL. I turned my car around and began searching the thoroughfares and streets on the way to the group home. No luck. When I arrived back home the police had already arrived. After we had nearly completed the report, my client returned home. He had run home. I breathed a sigh of relief.
All in a day’s work. But why did it feel like a week!
