Eight years after
Hurricane Katrina, people in New Orleans still describe their lives in “before
the Storm” and “after the Storm” terms. People still remember where they were
when it hit and share their stories in vivid detail. The most outwardly apparent
signs of Katrina’s lasting effect are blighted properties yet to be rebuilt.
But the storm has had different ramifications on various parts of life.
I saw one such effect
when volunteering at CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates for Children). The
nonprofit matches neglected and abused children with volunteers who advocate in
court for their best interests.
In the chaos of Katrina,
many children disappeared, or were neglected or abandoned. “If another storm
were to hit tomorrow, we wouldn’t have a record of all of our kids in one
place, and we wouldn’t know where they all were,” said Joy Bruce, the Executive
Director at CASA. In the aftermath of the storm, volunteers and DCFS workers
struggled just to ensure their children were alive and well ¾ filing paperwork understandably fell to the wayside. But this
dealt a blow to the infrastructure, as CASA started to lose track of the files
of many children in the system. So we spent our week sorting through stacks of
case files and updating an electronic record of the children CASA had worked
with.
A child
entering the foster care system begins a race against time to return to
permanency. From the dozens of stories I read, I surmised that the longer a
child stays in the system, the more likely she is to never be adopted or
reunited with her family; and the less likely she is to do well in school, go
to college, or acquire job training.
These sobering
realities seemed at first to contrast sharply with the bright, vibrant city we saw
around us. Yet I began to feel that the New Orleans’ vivacious spirit and warm
hospitality didn’t come in spite of it’s struggles, but perhaps became more
pronounced because of them.
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