I would like to start by saying that CARE isn’t just something we do—it’s something we live, day in and day out. It goes beyond meeting basic needs and reaches into the deepest aspects of our lives, as well as the lives of persons served. It’s raw and emotional; it’s also fun and laid-back. CARE gives us a secure base to build from and continuously encourages us to simply be better—better for ourselves, for staff, and most importantly, for the youth we serve. Over the last four years working at George Junior Republic, I’ve watched CARE grow. I’ve seen it work, seen it succeed, and seen it used the way it was intended.

One moment that has stayed with me involves a youth who had experienced an especially rough childhood —mainly gang involvement, among other challenges. To keep it short, this young person had really been through the wringer. While in one of our special needs programs, he found out that the man who had raised him—the man he had always called “Dad”—was not his biological father. That moment completely changed his perspective. It left him questioning who he could trust, who had truly been honest with him, and what family even meant.

As one would expect, he went through a roller coaster of emotions. One day, he was struggling to cope—crying, hitting walls, throwing things in his room, completely overwhelmed. Immediately, the unit therapist and I went to his doorway. What I saw was a broken, lost, and scared child. I started talking to him, but got no response. I walked in, with the therapist behind me, and invited him to sit next to me on the floor. Slowly, he slid down the wall and joined me.

Instead of yelling or issuing consequences for the behavior, I simply sat in silence. After a few moments, he began to open up. He talked about feeling betrayed, lied to, and deeply hurt. In moments like these, you see them differently—tired of fighting, tired of pretending to be strong. I stayed as he cried and vented. When he finished, I asked if he wanted my opinion. He said yes. I told him I understood his pain and frustration, and that his reaction made sense. I reminded him that the man who raised him was still his dad—and now, he had the opportunity to have two fathers in his life. I patted his shoulder and let him know I’d be there whenever he needed to talk.

A few hours later, he came into my office. He thanked me for being kind, patient, and present, and for helping him through such a difficult time. Together, we created goals and listed all the positives that could come from the situation. I encouraged him to speak with his biological father—and he did. The conversation went incredibly well. He also talked to the man who raised him, who said that no matter what any paper said, he would always be his child.

It was bittersweet to watch his family grow overnight—and inspiring to see him embrace the resources and connections around him. After the meeting, he returned to the unit, and we had a really good, positive conversation about the experience. He was excited to learn he had more siblings. He thanked me again, saying he never would’ve agreed to the meeting if it weren’t for my “giddy, hopeful demeanor.”

After that, the entire dynamic of our relationship changed. When he was upset, he sought me out. Whenever he had good news, I was the first to hear it. When he was discharged, he thanked me—not just for doing my job, but for being a positive role model in his life. The positive relationship created less tension in the unit, relieved his stress (and mine), and made our days more meaningful. It made time pass faster for both of us. Had CARE not been part of how the situation was handled, I’m not sure he would’ve coped as well. I’m not sure he would’ve trusted me, or that he would have been as successful, but in that moment, he felt seen and heard—exactly how every kid should feel, especially when they’re hurting.

CARE taught me tolerance and patience, but most of all, it taught me that sometimes kids don’t need a consequence. They need someone they can rely on—someone they can open up to without fear of being dismissed or forgotten. This young person was discharged shortly after this experience, but still calls the unit to check in. He is doing well, and his family is doing well. He spent a lot of time with his newfound siblings and biological father. His relationship with his mom is strong, and he has stayed out of trouble. Every time we talk, he always makes sure to say thank you.