UWSC_ACES Case Statement Booklet FINAL

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Growing up my family consisted of myself,

my mother, my brother, my sister, and my

stepfather. My biological father was never

involved in my life. Neither of my parents

worked, so we were dependent on public

assistance to survive. My stepfather was an

abusive alcoholic and, as a result, domestic

violence and substance abuse issues were

things I experienced or witnessed on a regular

basis. Being beaten or kicked yourself, or

watching your siblings and mother being hit

and choked, are not things you can forget and

just move on with your day; particularly when

you are a child, and you don’t understand why

things have to be this way.

I remember moving around quite a bit as a

child, I had always thought it was because

my parents liked to live in different places,

but later I realized it was due to being evicted.

I remember sharing bath water with my

siblings because my mother had to heat it in

pans on the electric stove because we had

our gas shut off. Or staying huddled in one

room with blankets hung on the doors to keep

heat in that room because we were heating

it with a kerosene heater. I was grateful for

the child support my biological father paid

every month. He paid $25 for me and $25

for my brother. There were many times that

the child support gave us food to stretch to

the beginning of the month when the next

assistance check would come in. I remember

the Minerva Police Department giving us

coats, hats, and gloves one winter and I was

so happy to have the warmth. We often would

have to turn to others for assistance with

utilities, food, clothing, and rent.

My earliest memory of school as a child was

coming in from recess and, as all of us kids

were filing in, the teacher pulled me aside.

The teacher got down on one knee and began

to wipe dirt from my face. As she did this,

she was berating me about being dirty, about

having dirty clothes and asking me if I want

to be like my parents and “be on welfare

my whole life.” I don’t remember everything

she said but I remember how it made me

feel, I felt an extreme amount of shame and

helplessness. I remember thinking, it’s not my

fault my parents don’t work. I turned 50 this

year and every time I think of this incident, I

can remember those feelings. You feel a lot

of different emotions growing up in poverty-

shame, fear, anxiety, helplessness, and anger.

A Child’s

Dream for a

Brighter Future:

Matt Kreitzer’s Story

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