The Declassified Adoptee

Copyright: kevron2001 Yesterday, a friend posted a link to an NPR piece that drew heartwarming conclusions of Biblical proportion regarding the recent abandonment of a newborn in a New York nativity scene. "Bible stories stay compelling over centuries," writes the author, Scott Simon, "because they show people struggle to do something good." The adoptive father of two seemingly likens the baby left at the church   to Moses being placed in a basket to float in the reeds of the Nile river. In a world where parenting can be difficult and overwhelming, Mr. Simon invites us to find hope and inspiration from people, like this mother, who make hard choices. With this feel-good conclusion to this story, we almost miss the ache from the pit of our stomachs, a reminder that we're all somehow culpable for the separation of a mother and her much loved child. The law under which this infant was abandoned exists less altruistically than as "a door in the law for

When I was an undergraduate social work student, I found myself making a daily pass by a certain poster in the department lounge area. The 9x12 sheet listed dozens of fields that employ social workers, such as "mental health" and "juvenile probation" and "substance abuse" in various fonts and sizes. Upon close inspection, "adoption work" appeared near microscopically at the very bottom, perhaps indicative of how the profession views its overall presence within the adoption institution. Although a great number of adoption workers are also social workers, most social workers are not adoption workers. However, "adoption work" remains one of our profession's most iconic, if not stereotypical, areas of practice. I am new to social work, but not new to serving people. 2.5 years ago, I attained the credentials to be a "social worker" in accordance with state law and CSWE standards, but have worked in human services fields fo