Product Description
In 1972 I was getting a divorce and raising an infant daughter. I took a job working at a home for children where I was in charge of the junior boys. The job didn't show good potential when the former housemother screamed out her hate for the boys as she was leaving. Then doom filled my mind when the boys stood up and cheered, “Hoorah the bitch is gone.”

I began working with the boys and was amazed they were becoming fine young men, making me wonder how they had overcome so much. But I also had boys that seemed unsalvageable. From Bully Bill, to a very mentally ill Henry, and a mentally handicapped Al, my nerves at time became rattled.

I learned to love the boys but because they weren't mine, I had to keep them at a distance. The boys and I grew and matured. When I left, there had been no cheers of joy like with the last housemother, but a silent goodbye filled with hugs and held back tears.