Kindness and Squeaky Wheels

We've all heard the phrase "the squeaky wheel gets the grease." The idea is simple: If you need something, be the loudest voice, because there are more needs out there than there are resources to meet those needs. Someone/something that appears functional won't get help.

The phrase works just fine as a helpful tidbit, but it's not a great rule to live by. It's difficult to function within systems that depend on it. I've heard this phrase from case workers, foster care supervisors, attorneys, doctors, teachers, therapists. I've heard it as a bit of a lecture, as in "speak up and get pushy or you're not going to get help." I've heard it as an acknowledgment - "I hear that you're being pushy and I perceive that you're doing this to be a strong advocate; let's work together." I've heard it as frustration - "Stop trying to get grease out of me!"

Being a squeaky wheel is uncomfortable. There are limited resources, especially right now as so many programs struggle to get back on their feet in a Covid world. Some children will miss Early Intervention while they linger on wait lists for services. Some elementary children will have unmet IEPs. Some children in foster care will miss visits because of understaffing. Some children will be on wait lists for therapies that drag on for years. Some children who need specialized schools will find the rosters already full. Some children with special needs will find budgets running out too quickly. There's just not enough.

Being a squeaky wheel shows my privilege. I am educated on what services my child should receive, and when I'm not, I'm able to connect with people who are. I have phone access, email access, car access. I can get to the meetings. I can return the calls. I'm fluent in reading, writing and speaking English. I can fax the paperwork by tomorrow.

I would never look directly at another child and say "push them out to make room for my child." Yet I'm aware that this is often what happens when everything is limited. My push is to put my child ahead; that means pushing everyone behind us one slot further on the list. My push for help might be someone else's push further into isolation.

What does this mean? Our children will not get help if we are not advocates. We must push ahead. No child should wait. Allowing my child to go without services they ought to be receiving allows the under-funding, under-staffing and under-spacing of programs to continue. Every moment of advocacy is a moment where I can voice the rights of every child, not just mine. Yet I need to be aware that I'm only an advocate for every child if my voice does not become silent and my attitude complacent as soon as my child has what they need. I have an opportunity to use my privilege for the sake of others.

We can also do our part to stretch limited resources. Each professional only has so many hours. What can we do to help free some of them up? Could we manage: Extra paperwork? Grace when something goes missing and needs to be re-submitted? Quick turnaround on a fast approaching deadline even if the time crunch isn't our fault? Supervising foster care visits? Starting the research for new approaches to help our children at school? Recognition when professionals are doing a great job?

Whenever possible, approach a situation with kindness. Being a fierce advocate does not have to mean being unkind. We can be firm yet patient. We can push yet be forgiving. We can be armed with knowledge yet filled with grace.

It is true that sometimes kindness is taken advantage of. I am not suggesting that we should stop standing up for what is right. Multiple times my family has had to step back, redevelop boundaries, and even move up the ladder for help. But still, I believe our gains from kindness and grace over time have far outweighed our losses.

We're strongest when we're working together. Our kids need a whole team rooting for them and advocating fiercely in unison. This isn't always possible, but I would never want to be the reason it was not achieved.

The measure of a good advocate is NOT an advocate who has never experienced tension. At the same time, the existence of tension does not necessarily mean we have been good advocates. We are imperfect people working with imperfect people. That's messy.

Speak up when you need to. Protect your children - it's your job. Have compassion on the humans you work alongside. Speak up for the need to expand programs that are stretched thin, underfunded, and not made available to children who need them.

And lastly, make sure to tell people when they are doing an amazing job. You might think they hear it all the time, but I promise you, they do not hear it often enough!