It wouldn’t be proper to cast gloom on what’s supposed to be one of the most sparkling times of the year, on a day of giving and joy, but Christmas can be hard on teenagers in foster care.
They’ve been removed from their parents, of course, and stripped of their homes, none of which is their fault.
Teens are big. They’re not cute like cooing babies, or full of the same glowing wonder as younger boys and girls. And the stuff they want for Christmas?
That tends to be big, too, and pricier, like electronics and clothes that are more expensive than toys.
So, as Jim McClintock well knows — he is a family support worker in Topeka for KVC Kansas, one of state’s two prime foster care agencies — when appeals go out to the public each season to “sponsor” teenagers in foster care, to buy them a few gifts so they’ll have something to open on Christmas morning, those appeals aren’t always answered.
“I have seen kids get no gift at all,” McClintock said.
Not this year.
Because not much more than a week ago, McClintock used a strategy that he first tried last season.
The unexpected result had him driving for miles around Kansas, just days before Christmas, rushing to pick up donated hoodies and makeup and joggers and Kindle Fire tablets from strangers, and checking the mail for packages being sent from people in New York, Illinois, California and other states around the nation.
“I have a pick-up in Eudora,” he said one day last week, having already spent time collecting gifts around the region. “I have somebody who is dropping off gifts in the Olathe office.”
About the kids, he says: “They’re already in a rough spot in life. They don’t choose to be in the foster care system. I can choose to put in extra effort or not.”
On Dec. 12, knowing that gifts to some teens might come up short, the 36-year-old youth baseball coach — having no kids of his own, yet raised with what he called an ingrained sense to help — posted a simple tweet to his followers. It had worked for him last year, even revived his Christmas spirit, he said, garnering more than a dozen last-minute gifts for otherwise forgotten teens.
He tried again. He held out hope.
“Hey Twitter friends ... we are still needing sponsors for some of our kids for Christmas,” he posted. “If you’re interested please contact me.”
The response: Silent as snowfall. Unlike the prior year, only a handful of people stepped up.
“Wife and I would be willing to help out with a kid,” one follower, Mike on Sports, responded.
Few did the same.
KVC services has some 3,800 Kansas children in foster care in the eastern part of the state; another 1,700 are cared for in related programs. More than a third are teenagers.
“We try to get gifts for them all,” said Jenny Kutz, the agency’s vice president of marketing and communications.
But sometimes case managers leave for other jobs in November, when the deadline for kids’ wish lists are due. Other case workers, busy, sometimes inadvertently forget to turn in their lists, leaving the agency to scramble to find ways to bring the children something. Meantime, between November and late December, more children having endured abuse and neglect pour into the system.
“Kids come into care every day. It’s a rolling need,” Kutz said.
The list and the need for sponsors grows.
The next day McClintock appealed once more.
“I still have 9 kids needing sponsored (sic) for Christmas...” That was just for the teens served out of his Topeka office and in nearby rural counties, like Nemaha, Atchison, Jackson and Brown. He included a photo of the kids’ wish lists.
“The response was bad,” McClintock said.
But O Christmas tweet, O Christmas tweet, how lovely are your branches.
Days later, on Dec. 18, sports columnist Sam Mellinger of The Star retweeted McClintock’s message to his nearly 90,000 followers, which made its way to national broadcast journalist Soledad O’Brien, who tweeted it to her 900,000 and offered to sponsor numerous teens.
“Happy to help,” O’Brien wrote, “and maybe some others will see this and jump in.”
They did.
“After that, my direct messages blew up,” McClintock said.
Sponsors poured in.
“Days like this, social media is truly amazing,” McClintock tweeted, then followed with another tweet, “My heart is full right now.”
McClintock began receiving messages from around the country.
Within a day, “Every single teenager out of the Topeka KVC office has been sponsored. It’s well over 200 teens. My goal was to make sure they were taken care of this Christmas ... Thank you, all of you. We did something really good.”
People responded.
“Great work!” one typed.
“That is outstanding! Warms my heart,” wrote another.
“So thrilled for those kids,” said a third.
The drive was a success. McClintock played a role in fulfilling the wishes of close to 60 teens in his area of Kansas who might otherwise have awakened on Christmas morning to very little. Within a day, he was telling sponsors he had no more names to give them.
When McClintock made his twitter appeal last year, he conceded, “I felt more of a Christmas spirit than I had ever felt before. I felt like I was doing my part in helping others.”
But spirit is a ghostly thing. This year, he also sensed a shadow of regret just beneath his Christmas joy, like the shadow of want that lies beneath abundance.
McClintock only had his list. He didn’t have every list of every teen in every KVC office. He didn’t know so many would hear his Twitter appeal.
“The one thing I felt,” he said, “and I’ve said this before, I feel like I could do more. I could have done more. There could have been more kids that I could have helped.”
This story was originally published December 23, 2018 5:30 AM.