Abstract
The author uses her background in social work and social anthropology to argue that food does and should play a key role in fostering households. She draws on examples of good practice from the UK, Sweden and Japan to illustrate how the everyday strategies used by some carers can build bonds and relationships, create positive identities and a sense of belonging, and provide preparation for independence. Such practice merits serious attention in foster care training as it has the potential to support carers to promote development of all the social and emotional skills required for a healthy adulthood.
Introduction
Researchers and policy makers have increasingly recognised how the quality of everyday life in fostering households is a key factor in shaping outcomes for children and young people (see Sinclair’s 2005 overview). The latest revision of the English Fostering Regulations and National Minimum Standards reflects this shift, giving foster carers direct responsibilities for keeping children safe, supporting their education, providing leisure opportunities and ensuring they are healthy (Warman, 2013a).
As a result, more attention is now being given to household food practices during the preparation of new carers and especially in the review process, where reports will often refer to carers enjoying baking or providing hearty meals as evidence of meeting expectations.
Yet, while there is some focus on eating and the feeding problems associated with attachment disorders in the adoption literature (see, for example, Rowell, 2012), there remains little published research or other material that considers the wider significance of food in fostering. Furthermore, most carers do not receive any specific preparation concerning the social aspects of meals and eating, what food may represent for the children and young people they look after (Kohli, Connolly and Warman, 2010), or even why mealtimes may present particular challenges for some looked after children (Rees, Holland and Pithouse, 2012).
This article intends to encourage further discussion by using literature from the social sciences to illustrate that cooking, shopping and eating together are meaningful events in the family home. It will also consider the strong connection between food and the emotions, especially for children and young people with traumatic early experiences. As a result, it will argue that there should be greater emphasis on this highly relevant aspect of daily life in current foster carer training and carer development.
The author draws upon her project work with foster carers in England, Sweden and Japan to illustrate that much could be learned from their strategies and good practice, which help to create bonds, and build relationships and a sense of belonging; or from others who have supported children and young people to enjoy preparing and eating food when past experiences had left them feeling anxious or even distressed at these times. Finally, it is shown that with careful thought and the right tools, there is potential for foster carers to be more pro-active, using food activities to promote ‘good health’ in the broadest sense.
The symbols and rituals of food
Social anthropology has been in the forefront of food studies and a focus on the deeper understanding of the use of food cross-culturally can be traced right back to the origins of the discipline (see Mintz and Du Bois (2002) for an overview of the anthropology of food and eating). Mary Douglas (1966), like Levi-Strauss (1966), argued that food should be understood as being ‘good to think with’. So the sharing and exchange of this commodity is a marker of social structures – eating together to make friends or create enemies. Most well known though, is Douglas’s work on taboos where the placing of particular foods in the categories of ‘pure’ or ‘impure’ by cultures or groups is presented as a process which, on a daily basis, repeatedly defines religious, political or territorial boundaries (Mintz and Du Bois, 2002).
Later, anthropologists became more interested in the symbolism and meanings, arguing that the study of food in any society or group will reveal ‘a system of communication, a body of images, a protocol of usages, situations and behaviour’ (Counihan, 1999: 19). These researchers used ethnographic studies to explore how individual and group values and identity are shaped by what we eat and the associated activities and ‘rituals’, ‘whether that identity be national, ethnic, class or gender based’ (Sutton, 2001: 5).
For example, Sutton’s work on the Greek island of Kalymnos highlighted how in daily life food is a key metaphor of social well-being, with people who are felt to be miserly or stingy described as ‘hungry’ whereas ‘Always to have a full plate … and always to have enough to offer others is seen as a sign of fulfilment’ (Sutton, 2001: 27).
In addition, ideas surrounding the daily handling of food, how well a woman cooks, or men's and women’s skills in negotiating a good bargain are presented as evidence of shared ‘core values’ in a culture where good reputations are built on shrewdness, intelligence and not being easily taken advantage of (Sutton, 2001: 25).
Furthermore, the seasons and cycles marked across the years by fasts and feasts on the island are described as linking the past, present and future, producing a ‘prospective memory’ that is shared by all of the residents as well as those who have now moved away. In fact, the power of these memories that may be evoked by the smell or taste of ‘traditional’ foods is said to produce xenitia or a longing for home, and are an essential part of what it means to be a member of this community (Sutton, 2001: 89).
Similarly, Harbottle’s study of middle-class Shi’ite Iranians living in London highlighted the ‘powerful symbolic potential’ of particular food and meals as a ‘marker of identity’, even when people are living far from their country of origin (Harbottle, 2000: 23). However, she also presented evidence about the food preferences of the second generation of young people who have grown up in the UK, who are more likely to eat pizza or fish and chips than rice cooked Iranian style, arguing that ‘flexibility and complexity in their understandings of ethnicity and other intersecting activities, including gender … [are] reflected in their food consumption practices’ (Harbottle, 2000: 133).
Attention to the role that food memories play in forming bonds within families and in the creation of shared cultures can be found in other disciplines, including social history. For example, Allen claimed that foods are ‘cultural objects’ that have a meaning and significance beyond nutritive value. Unlike other animals, humans ‘eat with their brains’ and this involves decision-making and choice (Allen, 2012: 5).
At different times and in different places shared ‘food cultures’ influence how individuals think about what they eat and the ‘tastes’ they find desirable. These cultures have been shaped by the past, by experiences of family life and by shared rituals, such as American Thanksgiving where particular meals also become a celebration of national history and identity. Foods associated with these rituals are passed down in families where they become a ‘potential catalyst for developing personal relationships, [and] … can be a vehicle for sustaining memories across both time and space’ (Allen, 2012: 268).
However, as Nancy Scheper-Hughes illustrated in her ethnography of life in an impoverished shanty town in north-east Brazil, food choice, and therefore food practices, may also be shaped by social and economic conditions. In this community the delerio de fome (the lived experience of hunger) has created particular distinctions between comidas (foods). So while comidas para enganar a fome ou enganar a barrigua (the worthless fillers that ‘fool’ hunger or ‘fill’ the belly) have to be eaten, the tantalising, desirable de luxo (‘luxury’ foods eaten by people with plenty of money) are always out of reach (Scheper-Hughes, 1992: 159).
Food and the emotions
Just as the study of food can tell us a great deal about social structures, group behaviour and identity, so on a ‘micro-level’, food is also an extremely potent symbol of the emotions and has strong associations with our earliest experiences (Punch, McIntosh and Edward, 2010). Feeding is one of the most important channels of infant and child socialisation, and the connections between parents and children that are made through this activity makes eating a lifelong source of love and power (Counihan, 1999).
A great deal has been written about the impact of problematic parenting on eating patterns and habits, some of which draws on personal accounts. For example, Roth described how growing up with parents who were in continual conflict with each other meant that she took comfort from food: ‘If (as children) we feel that the pain around us is too intense and we cannot leave or change it, we will shut it off. We will – and do – switch our pain to something less threatening – a compulsion’ (Roth, 1991: 24). For Roth, this led in her teenage years to a cycle of intense dieting and then over-eating that she continues to struggle to break as an adult.
Much of this literature comes from psychology and psychiatry, with a focus on the relationship between childhood abuse and eating disorders. Here, research with adults who report ‘excessive criticism, repeated insults or some kind of physical (or) sexual abuse’ is used as evidence that they may ‘come to develop a critical view of themselves over time’. The result may be ‘heightened concerns or dissatisfaction with appearance’ and a ‘statistically significant’ risk of developing unhealthy eating patterns (Wilson, 2010: 274–275).
The association between sexual abuse and bulimia for adolescent girls (e.g. Moyer, et al., 1997) and adult women (Smolak and Marnen, 2002; van Gerko, et al., 2005; Wonderlich, et al., 2001) is well established, with the ‘bingeing and purging’ behaviours said to be strategies used to regulate disturbing emotions that arise from this history, and linked to the resulting negative body images and body shame (Moyer, et al., 1997: 375). Recently, a study of gay and bisexual men with similar childhood experiences claimed that they were ‘more likely to have subclinical bulimia … or subclinical eating disorder compared to men who do not have [this history]’ (Feldman and Meyer, 2007: 421).
There have been fewer studies looking at the impact of chronic neglect in childhood, but Tosca and Balfour (2014) used attachment theory to develop a psychodynamic approach to treating eating disorders. They argue that the ‘disorganised’ style of attachment that is most often found in children and adults who have experienced neglect can make reflecting and understanding one’s own (and others’) internal mental states more challenging. As a result, there may be difficulties in showing empathy or even being able to ‘soothe’ oneself in times of need. These individuals will then have to find their own way to block negative emotions and feel ‘better’. For some, the resulting coping strategies may include ‘comfort’ eating. For example, their paper refers to one of the young women from their clinical practice who, when feeling this ‘heightened and unbearable anxiety,’ would often act out, either sexually, through the misuse of alcohol and other drugs or by binge eating (Tosca and Balfour, 2014: 270).
Finally, Evans and Kim (2013) provide further evidence that an early life characterised by deprivation may impact on developing a ‘healthy’ relationship with food. These authors acknowledge what is already known about the impact of childhood poverty on cognitive development, physical health and socio-emotional well-being. However, they argue that, in addition, the experience of ‘elevated chronic stress’ associated with growing up in this environment has far-reaching consequences. In particular, the development of ‘self-regulatory systems’ may be inhibited, with the potential to create problematic relationships with food that will shape children’s behaviours and may persist into adulthood (Evans and Kim, 2013: 45).
Food in the fostering household
Although the social and symbolic meanings of food practices, as well as the associations with emotional well-being, should make food a highly significant aspect of fostering, far less has been written about the important role it plays in the everyday world of foster care.
In one of the few published papers, Kohli and colleagues (2010) used material from a study showing how food and thinking about food is full of significance for asylum-seeking children (see their discussion of the HEAR ME project, p. 237), together with evidence from Recipes for Fostering (Norman, 2009: 239), to highlight how some carers’ strategies support the ‘linking, bridging and bonding’ that these children require to ‘reclaim ordinary life after periods of turbulence’ (Kohli, Connolly and Warman, 2010: 243).
So the way that carers use food to welcome children, for example by encouraging their involvement in shopping, choosing things they like to eat and respecting any cultural or dietary difference, helps them to feel ‘at home’; or recognition by carers that food memories (familiar smells and tastes) that link past and present experiences help them to develop trust and establish new relationships. Raising awareness of the rules and structures acknowledges the social aspects of sitting down together to share a family meal and introduces the new ‘rituals’ and food practices of the society they are joining, encouraging the children’s sense of belonging (Kohli, Connolly and Warman, 2010: 242–243).
But sadly the experiences of some of the HEAR ME participants were far from positive. Their accounts of limited access to food cupboards or fridges, being served less attractive and inferior meals than the rest of the family and being forced to eat food they did not like (or even found offensive) illustrate that not all foster carers make best use of the power they hold, and argue a strong case for raising levels of awareness and improving carer training (Kohli, Connolly and Warman, 2010: 243).
More recently, in an article that draws on a small study of life in 10 experienced fostering households, Rees and colleagues also note how the inclusion of children and young people in the meals that structure and demarcate family life helps them to settle and feel part of the family (Rees, Holland and Pithouse, 2012: 101). In addition, the foster carers who encouraged these new members of the household to become involved in established ‘food routines’ (by helping with making cakes or washing the dishes) support their socialisation into new roles and identities, helping them to find their place as an ‘insider’ in the home (p. 105).
This article pays more attention to the significance of ‘micro-exchanges’ and the emotional content of giving and receiving food, suggesting that caring is demonstrated through the preparation and provision of food and can be experienced by fostered children as evidence of warmth, affection and being in a ‘safe’ place. For example, for one of the children in this study who had a very traumatic and deprived early life, the ‘new combination of regularity and quality of food led him to be sufficiently secure to enjoy [his meals] … for the first time’ (Rees, Holland and Pithouse, 2012: 106).
This research also highlights how foster carers derive their own satisfaction from seeing children eat well and enjoy their cooking, ‘demonstrating reciprocal care, kindness and intimacy’ (Rees, Holland and Pithouse, 2012: 106). Some are aware of how mealtimes provide excellent opportunities for children and young people to relax, talk about their day and even open up about things that are worrying them. Others use food to mark achievements or to celebrate, especially at birthdays or Christmas (p.107).
Yet despite these positive associations, many of the children and young people being looked after had suffered neglect or lived in homes where irregularity in the supply and timings of meals had left them with ‘ambivalence’ towards food. For these children, shared mealtimes were far from happy events and could often be ‘sites of anxiety and potential distress’, triggered by memories of not being fed (Rees, Holland and Pithouse, 2012: 101). As a result, family breakfasts or dinners could become fraught with conflict, the occasions when children who felt powerless would try to exercise some control by refusing to eat or being disruptive, ‘generating frustration for all parties concerned’ (p. 108).
Rees and colleagues found that some foster carers struggle to understand and cope in these situations. Efforts to impose ‘table manners’ or ‘benign’ encouragement of communication and the possible ‘spilling out’ of secrets at mealtimes could be interpreted (especially by older children and young people) as further attempts at being controlling. Foster carers who were looking after children who had experienced abuse could find their highly complex relationships with food especially challenging. Living with ‘gorging’, ‘bingeing’ or ‘purging’ was disturbing and distressing for the whole family, and once again highlighted the need for better training and more support (p. 109).
Food and fostering: learning from practice
These two studies show that there are some foster carers who already recognise the significance of food activities and practices in what they do. In this section, additional material from interviews and discussions in England and internationally provide further examples of carers’ day-to-day strategies. These creative approaches may be rooted in experience rather than theory, but they have helped families to manage some of the more challenging issues and behaviours described here.
In 2007, a Children’s Workforce Development Council (CWDC) grant provided an opportunity for the author to carry out a small piece of practitioner-led research with foster carers. The project focused on the everyday lives of two carers living in London and the West Country. Observing and recording their experiences and daily routines sparked an interest in the key role that food played in welcoming new children into their homes (see Warman, 2007).
Funding from a leading independent fostering agency enabled this interest to be pursued and a second project followed. This study involved 10 diverse fostering households across London, the Midlands and the West of England. Extended interviews and observations with foster carers explored how they used shopping, cooking and eating together to build and sustain relationships with the children they looked after. Their stories, recipes and examples of good practice were used in a book published by the former British Association for Adoption and Fostering (BAAF, now CoramBAAF) (see Warman, 2009).
Several years later, there was a new project involving eight foster families in Sweden, then another with six families in Japan. Food remained the focus of this international work, but with additional attention to how food activities were linked to the personal history and personality of each carer (Sweden) and the meanings of particular foods and how they were used (Japan). The resulting material was presented in books for carers and professionals that were published by the fostering agencies and distributed in the home country and beyond (Key Assets, 2013; Warman, 2013b). In addition, the author held the post of Fostering Development Consultant for a fostering and adoption charity for six years, during which time she worked on a number of initiatives where there was direct engagement with foster carers and many opportunities to hear about what they do.
Kohli and colleagues (2010) and Rees and colleagues (2012) have already illustrated that not all foster carers have the awareness or the skills to do this work well, and their research even provided examples of abuse of power. The author’s role and experiences in the fostering world support their concerns. However, her projects always looked for positive examples to inform and assist carer development, and it is this good fostering practice that will be highlighted in what follows.
Part of the ‘family’
There are many examples of how food can welcome and encourage a sense of belonging for children and young people who join a fostering household. This is most clearly evident when they are refugees and asylum seekers and have arrived in a new country where values, rules and customs may appear strange or be very different.
In Sweden, Anab, 1 a carer who had experienced her own extremely difficult journey from Africa as a refugee, used this heightened understanding to provide the teas and samosas with herbs and spices that looked and smelt familiar and made the new arrival comfortable. However, she was also aware that the child or young person would need to adapt quickly in a society where even the rhythms and pace of life could be disorienting. So Anab found the perfect ‘bridging’ strategy: she showed the children how to cook the most traditional Somalian stew but using only one pot and a streamlined process, ‘because in Sweden we don’t have all day for this!’, making reference to and acknowledging their past, while preparing them for the future.
Foster carers may not always share the same cultural and food heritage, but they can still find a way to make children in this situation feel at home. Another Swedish carer, Johanna, knew very little about Iranian food and was concerned about what she could offer the 14-year-old girl who had come to live with her and whose family and friends were far away. But by asking this young woman to show her how her mother cooked the kofta with turmeric that she loved, and by sharing the preparation of a pancake dessert from her own childhood in Austria, she was able to communicate that she understood.
All of the children who go into foster care will join a new household and it is not only those from other countries or cultures who may feel like an ‘outsider’. Sally, a foster carer in South London, remembered when the twins she had gone on to adopt first came to live with her and had never experienced sitting around a table to eat a meal together. From a large family herself, Sally enjoyed having her sisters, nieces and nephews as well her own (now adult) children to eat on Sundays. After gradually introducing this ‘tradition’ to the twins, she knew they were really feeling that they belonged when they too asked her to make a ‘roastie’, the term everyone in this extended household used to describe her famous roast lamb dinners.
In some contexts or cultures, this sense of belonging may come from being part of a community rather than an individual family. In Japan, where many young people in foster care have spent their early lives in institutions, the need to overcome stigma and be accepted by others can be very strong. So one of the Japanese carers in the suburbs of Tokyo had encouraged the teenager she looked after to join her on the family allotment, growing the seasonal fruit and vegetables she would use in her cooking. Not only would this help to develop his skills, but it would also encourage him to mix, and above all, to show others that he was a hardworking, productive and ‘respectable’ neighbour.
Sharing rituals and practices: creating your own
On the first birthday that her eight-year-old foster son celebrated in her home, Swedish foster carer Cecelia served him the ‘special’ banana dessert always eaten by her family at these times, illustrating in the simplest way how carers introduce their ‘routines’ to new children.
However, Stella in Catford was far more conscious of what she was doing when she cooked chicken and peanut butter soup for a child who until recently had known very little about her Ghanaian heritage. This was an important part of a strategy that involved playing music, buying her African clothes and telling her the stories Stella had heard from her own grandparents – all with the aim of helping this child to make sense of her complex identity and be proud of who she was.
Staffan and Lena, in Sweden, were looking after a young man who before coming into care had spent long periods of time at home on his own or out on the streets with older boys. By telling him in jest that while the kitchen might be Lena’s domain, ‘in this house the men clear up,’ Staffan conveyed a serious message about rules and expectations, reinforced as he led by example in loading the dishwasher.
Similarly, in Japan a foster carer explained with great sensitivity why she was preparing a particular dish for the family supper that evening. The noodles would be presented in a large bowl on the table and everyone would take their share. In this way she and her family were helping their fostered young person, who had grown up in a residential home, to understand table manners. Importantly, he would also learn that eating in this way was far more sociable and enjoyable than being served a meal on a metal tray (his only previous experience).
Foster carers not only share established practices but also adapt what they do to meet the needs of a particular child – or they may even learn from those they are looking after. For example, while bringing up her two boys in inner-city Bristol, Monica had prepared the Caribbean food from her own background, influenced by the English ingredients and cooking her sons also liked. However, she had recently begun fostering a boy from Afghanistan who was a practising Muslim and had his own traditions as well as particular dietary restrictions, so Monica was now ‘mixing it up’ even more. She might serve rice and peas but with fish from the local chip shop (which he really enjoyed). Or she might cook her usual curry but using the halal lamb that he had explained he needed to eat. As a result, she had discovered that this meat was of better quality and more tender and she was now using it all the time.
In a small market town in the West Country, Andi provided a powerful example of how new traditions might be created in the fostering household – and how they might even be passed on. Andi had cared for a number of particularly troubled teenagers over the 20 years she had been fostering. During that time, she had hosted regular contact or planning meetings for professionals and families – occasions that could be fraught, especially for the young people involved. In an attempt to make things more comfortable and ‘homely’, she began serving a cake she had baked herself. Because she used organic ingredients before it was fashionable, some of the teenagers started calling it ‘hippy cake’. As she recalled, ‘Over the years I became famous for that cake. Years later, the kids all remember it, laugh about it – even now when they get together.’
This cake became part of her household’s ‘traditions’ and of the shared memories for young people who had found a home with Andi and with each other. In fact, as some of them still keep in touch and now visit her with their own children, ‘I’m meeting their sons and daughters and they’re eating my hippy cake! So we’re passing those traditions along with all of the memories on to the next generation.’
Making connections
The stories presented in Recipes for Fostering provide examples of how ‘micro-level’ food activities in fostering households develop bonds and build relationships (Warman, 2009). For instance, Dee explained how the smell of the paratha she cooked one morning for the young man sleeping upstairs reminded him of his mother and began the process of him trusting her enough to reveal the full horrors of his journey across Europe to her home.
Short-term foster carers, Jennifer and Vernon, knew that the children whom they looked after had often lived in different places and felt that they had little say in what happened to them. Providing buffet-style meals in the early days of placement was one way of showing that, in this family, relations between adults and children would be different and they would not simply be told what to do: ‘We don’t dish up. Then the choice is there and you can put on your plate whatever it is you want to eat.’
Then there is Shabnam, who by trial and error had found a manageable way to hand some control back to a sibling group joining their household. Rather than continuing to cook a separate meal for each of the five children (which respected their right to choose but had been completely exhausting) she came up with a solution: I gave each child one day and then we’d all eat what they decided. Today is your turn, tomorrow’s yours, next day for you, and so on. And it worked because they saw that on their day we all ate what they wanted, including Abid and me. Then on the seventh day, Sunday, it was takeaway. A rest for me and a treat for them!
This further illustrates how, with skill and imagination, foster carers can prevent mealtimes from becoming the site of conflict, or the battles for autonomy described by others (Rees, Holland and Pithouse, 2012).
Relationships made between children and their foster carers may continue long after they have left that home, along with all the food associations found in other families. In Japan there is a soup which is often prepared by mothers for their children, especially when they are feeling unwell. In Osaka a foster carer described how in times of trouble, the man who had lived with them as a teenager would turn up at her door. Serving him this ‘comfort’ food, which he had eaten for the first time in their home, was her way of showing that she still cared.
However, when discussing her role with teenage refugees in Sweden, Afsar showed how ‘care’ can be demonstrated in different ways and how establishing a relationship as a ‘carer’ with some fostered children or young people can involve tasks that are quite distinct from those performed as a ‘parent’. With the knowledge that these young people would be with her for only a short time and understanding their vulnerability from her own history as a political refugee, she described being very careful to convey that she was not their mother and that although she cared about them, she would not always be there to look after them as she still looked after her adult daughters. The highest priority, therefore, was to make sure they learned how to shop and cook for themselves and that they were introduced to a new way of life (including food practices and customs) that would help them to adapt more quickly and prepare them for any opportunities that came their way (as she and her husband had been 30 years before).
Moving on
Other fostering practice provides evidence about how carers use food activities to bring about change. In some situations, this may be an attempt to address difficulties related to earlier experiences and help children or young people to ‘move on’ emotionally. For example, Peter and Marita, who had been fostering in Sweden for a number of years, knew that some of the abused children they looked after had never known ‘normal’ family activities like the board games, walks in the forest or family meals that were part of their own son’s childhood. Trips to the countryside in their campervan in summer, where Peter would teach them how to catch fish that was then barbecued outside, provided happier memories and some ‘fun’, but might also begin the process of healing.
In London, Jenny showed particular sensitivity when a group of three young brothers were brought to her home in the early hours of one morning, having been removed from their abusive and neglectful parents by the police. Noting that they were all very hungry, she immediately prepared a meal, but ‘something’ in his manner made her believe that the middle boy was especially anxious. As a result, she gave him his plate of food first and continued to do this over the next few weeks – without any fuss or making it obvious. It did not surprise her to learn later that these boys had sometimes been forced by their sadistic father to fight each other for what was available to eat, and that this child often lost out and missed being fed. In time, knowing from the early days of placement that he would be served his own meal, he was able to relax, begin to enjoy his food and was far more ‘ready’ to join his new adoptive family than he would otherwise have been.
Patrick and Linda, carers for an agency in Kent, had been made aware that the 11-year-old coming to them had experienced a series of placement breakdowns related directly to a history of serious abuse, which meant that he had a number of difficulties, including refusing to eat at mealtimes but then secretly ‘hording’ food in his bedroom. Access to this information and being supported by their social worker ensured that his behaviour would not become a source of ‘conflict’ in their home, and meant that they prepared and thought carefully about how they would avoid focusing on what was more problematic. One year later, this placement continued, hiding food happened less frequently and the young person would now sometimes have dinner with the adults in the household.
Andi in Keynsham developed a particularly flexible approach to fostering over the years, which she believes stems from accepting teenagers with very complex backgrounds for who they are: ‘I adapted my life around them. So rather than chuck them out for behaviour most people couldn’t tolerate, I’ve built my home around them. Not made silly rules that I know will be broken …’
Yet even Andi was challenged by one young woman who simply refused to eat anywhere other than in her room where she could be alone: When she wouldn’t join us on Christmas Day I really thought, this has gone too far! But then I took a step back. Put myself in her shoes. Did it really matter if she wasn’t sat around the table? With everything that she’d had to put up with in her life? Why cause a huge argument and make everyone else upset just because I would feel better? Once I’d stopped right there, and climbed down, the tension that was building disappeared. We all enjoyed our Christmas lunch with the usual chaos and she got through another day. And I realised that sometimes these things take more time than even I expect. It took five years, but before she left me she would at least sometimes eat a snack or have a bit of supper with some of the others. For her that was an achievement …
Some foster carers are very good at teaching the skills young people need to ‘move on’ to the next stages of their lives. For example, Cecelia in Sweden was making great efforts to show the 14-year-old girl who had just come to live with her how to shop for and cook healthy food on a budget. She felt that this was particularly important because the girl had often been left to her own devices in the past and only knew about takeaways and convenience food. Cecelia was worried that not only had this diet made her overweight, but also that without this input she was at risk of leaving care with little practical knowledge about how to look after herself.
Dan and Justin in the West Country encouraged a young person to take an interest in their hobby, growing fruit and vegetables and then using them to make homemade soups and healthy meals. He got so enthusiastic that not only did he discover a talent for cooking but it also helped him make the decision to begin training as a chef.
Sandie in the London suburbs took this preparation for adulthood a stage further. The 16-year-old she was looking after often ran away and placed herself at risk of violence and sexual exploitation. When the police brought her home, Sandie’s first instinct had been to talk to this young woman and find out what had been happening to her. But she soon realised that this did not work well and the repeated questions (often following on from police interviews) made her clam up and become angry. So she stopped talking and began using a routine that involved running a bath and making a hot drink, giving the young person some space. As she did not like tea or coffee, Sandie invented the ‘Sandie Special’ – hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. The young woman came to enjoy watching how this drink was made especially for her, and, in time, she began asking for it: Then there was the Saturday when she came home very late and we were all already in bed, and I heard her let out a squeal in the kitchen. I jumped up, wondering whatever was wrong. But she’d made the perfect ‘Sandie Special’. Just so pleased with herself and wanting to show me what she could do. The delight on her face! And the best thing about it was that after that she started offering to make drinks for us. She’d never done that before.
This young woman had not only been introduced to important life skills; Sandie had also helped her to understand how sometimes this drink might make her feel better and that preparing it for others could show (even without words) that you appreciate what they do and that you care.
Conclusion
This article set out to show how food plays a significant part in everyday life in fostering households and that there is much that could be learned from the good practice that already exists. However, as Kohli, Connolly and Warman (2010), Rees and colleagues (2012) and the author’s personal experience suggest, not all carers are sufficiently aware of what they should or even could do. Some struggle to cope with more complex behaviours, and too many agencies currently provide limited or no support at all.
In addition, the most recent Fostering Regulations and National Minimum Standards have increased carers’ responsibilities in this area, requiring them to actively promote the health and well-being of children and young people, to help them understand why being healthy is important and to take the lead in preparing young people for adulthood. There is also a strong case for arguing that these regulations imply that the ways in which foster carers live their lives, including their own relationship with food, should be carefully considered during the approval process and in reviews as they are role models for the children they look after (see Warman, 2013a).
More research might be helpful, but this shift means that we are also badly in need of training and other materials to assist carers to carry out these tasks and support them to do what they do well. Formally acknowledging the value and impact of the day-to-day strategies used by our best foster carers would begin this process, as would learning from and building on the examples of good fostering practice presented here.
Finally, some of this practice material highlights how foster carers could be even more pro-active, especially with older children and adolescents in transition to adulthood. We know that too many young people still leave care without the practical skills they require. Cooking and the associated management of tight budgets are two areas where a high level of need has been consistently identified (e.g. Stein, 2010). The author’s involvement in a project that explored carers’ experiences with this work found that while they all acknowledged that it was important, they also recognised that it was far from easy because promoting emotional well-being and resilience is as essential as teaching a young person how to make a meal. Again, these carers highlighted the lack of tools available to help them, and that much of what exists is too abstract or relies heavily on form filling or other written materials (see Warman, 2013a, for more discussion of the Looking After Yourself project). 2
Yet, Sandie’s skilled intervention with the young woman in her care highlights what can be achieved. A recent piece of US research presents new evidence about how maltreatment in childhood (especially emotional abuse) had affected the emotional development of a group of young people in care. The researchers claim that while childhood experiences had left the adolescents lacking in the ability to ‘see themselves kindly’ (and therefore vulnerable to ‘high risk’ behaviours), there might also be potential for new parents and caregivers to promote development of the ‘self-compassion’ they lacked (Tanaka, et al., 2011). Sandie’s use of a food activity to encourage a young woman to care about others and herself points the way to what might be possible.
Footnotes
Acknowledgement
I wish to thank Jan Rees, OBE for her commitment and support for the project work used in this article. Her ongoing discussion and comments on the ideas presented is always much appreciated.