A two-story, tan, brick house on a College Hill corner rumbles with activity and laughter. Detra McCollum's eight children rush to get dressed on this bright Friday morning. They want to pass inspection the first time, so there's no delay in getting to their monthly date with Mom. This month, they will feast at the neighborhood Old Country Buffet.

Detra McCallum with seven of her children: (back) Levar, 14, and DeRonn, 13; (on couch, from left) Michico, 9; Devonna, 10; Tekeya , 7; Mariah, 10, and Jada, 6. (Steven M. Herppich photo) | ZOOM |

        Although harried, they stop to appraise each other. Do my socks match? Are these the right shoes? Is my part straight? You're not wearing that again, are you?

        Detra stands at the foot of the stairs and eyes her watch. She has to go to one of her two part-time jobs. Today, she needs to be downtown in two hours for her hair stylist gig.

        “Let's go, you all!”

        The urgency in her voice charges a surge of activity on the second floor. Chatter stops. The rumble swells. Mama says it's time to go.

        Jade, Tekeya and Michico cascade down the steps. They slide sideways along the banister, landing firmly, but only on every other stair. Their graceful movements on the rail mimic a ballet's choreography. Braids sway back and forth across their smiling faces. Their infectious laughter draws a smile from Mama.

        Joining their sister Devonna on the sectional sofa, the four bounce up and down, anxiously waiting for their older siblings to quit preening. They take turns imitating their mother's demand to the four appearance-conscious teens still jockeying for one last look in the bathroom mirror upstairs.

        “Hurry up!”

        The wooden steps groan as the older children make a rackety descent to the first floor.

        Detra does a final coat check, and they're all out the door. Jada, Tekeya, Michico, LeVar, Mariah, Devonna, DeRonn and Nicole.

        Without argument, they follow their pre-arranged agreement on whose turn it is to rotate into the front passenger seat and all nine load themselves into Detra's white minivan. They take off for the short ride to the restaurant. The McCollum family: a little short on elbow room but filled to overflowing with love.

        Their family is fairly typical until you realize that six of the eight McCollum children are adopted. All were born in Hamilton County. All were placed in foster care. All six, one boy and five girls, were welcomed into the McCollum family with no hesitation and no regrets.

        Detra found it easy to become a foster and adoptive parent. Her mother, Patricia, was her inspiration. Detra grew up helping her mother raise foster children and adopted siblings. She watched Patricia shepherd and love children who were not born to her. In fact, Patricia continues to shelter foster children.

        “When I met the first two kids she brought in,” Detra says, “and I became so attached to them, I fell in love, and I knew I could do it too. Being a mother is what I do best.”

        The McCollum household grew from three to nine in six short years. While raising her birth children, Mariah, now 10, and DeRonn, now 13, Detra took in her first foster children in 1995, then six-month-old Jada and her sister Michico, who was three at the time.

        Another sibling group soon followed. Eight-year-old LeVar was welcomed to the family soon after the girls. A few months later, LeVar's older sister, Nicole, then 12, arrived. Eventually, their little sister, Devonna, who was 5, joined the family.

        On July 30, 1999, all five stood in front of a Hamilton County magistrate and officially changed their names to McCollum. Now the expanding family waits for 7-year-old Tekeya's ceremony to make her a McCollum too. To them, she's been a member of the family since she arrived in September of last year.

        Mariah and DeRonn's dad doesn't live with them, but he is involved as a parent and plays father figure to all the kids. They call Detra Mama (except Jada, who calls her “Mother”), even though some have albums with pictures of them and their birth mothers. Detra encourages each child to know and stay in touch with other biological family members.

        “I want them to know where they come from,” Detra says.

        Detra has to stretch her resources — financially and physically — for her expanded family. She receives some county funds to help meet the special needs of some of the children.

        Detra takes pre-social work classes at UCand works two part-time jobs — as a hair stylist and at Lighthouse Youth Services. She hires a baby sitter to watch three of the four youngest children, Jada, Michico and Tekeya, who get out of school at 3:30 p.m. The other youngster, Mariah, is in after-school activities until 5:30 p.m. Detra's home soon after.

        “I don't work after 6 o'clock. I save my evenings for my kids.”

        The minivan's shocks get a workout, bobbing up and down as each person steps out at Old Country Buffet. Next stop: the cashier's station. Detra motions the younger girls up to the counter. Five of them are younger than 12. The cashier rings up five child plates. While the girls giggle and plot their route around the restaurant, the teens cluster to deflect attention.

        The buffet's employees spot the entourage and move quickly to stock the steam tables. Trays of hot food and breads stream from the kitchen. They know kids like to eat. A lot.

        The McCollums join hands to say grace. Detra calmly assigns one younger child to an older sibling to ensure order and responsibility. They quietly pair up and head for the food line.

        “Make sure they get some vegetables on their plates,” she says. Starchy veggies get a thumbs-down. “Corn doesn't count.”

        The children return with plates brimming with balanced meals. The teens all select green beans as today's vegetable.

        The teens move their “cool zone” into two booths along the wall, away from chattering younger ones and Mama. Ten-year-old Mariah slides into the booth, next to LeVar, and they quietly accept her.

        The younger girls seem oblivious to the teens' power play, happily comparing their lunch choices and swapping recommendations for seconds. Detra briefly surveys each child's plate to make sure they have made nutritious selections. She settles into her seat, pauses to look at her family and smiles.

        “I don't regret taking any of them,” Detra says. “They drive me crazy sometimes but I love them all.”

        Each year, November is recognized as National Adoption Awareness Month. While all adoption-related issues are important, the adoption of children in foster care is spotlighted during this time.

        During any given month, there are as many as 100 children available for adoption in Hamilton County. Most of them are in the Special Needs program for school-age children. These are the kids perceived to be unadoptable because they've grown too old or their lives are too complicated. Many of them have health issues or want to stay with their siblings.

        “A lot of parents interested in adoptions are infertile couples who are looking for babies to adopt,” says Lisa Furbush of the Indiana Special Needs Adoption Program. “Folks have that fantasy of raising a baby so they're not willing to consider adopting an older child. And it's really hard to find parents who would adopt a teen-ager.”

        In September 2001, there were 986 Hamilton County children in foster care. A history of neglect or abuse usually brings these children into state care. About 340 of those children are in permanent custody of the state after their parents relinquished custody rights, either voluntarily or by court order. Because most of these children are school age, many people interested in adoption overlook them in favor of the rarely available infant. The state calls them “special needs” children.

        “Special needs” kids have at least one of the following indicators: age 6-17; a physical, mental or behavioral disability; minority group status or a member of a sibling group who want to be adopted together.

        It's dessert time.

        As usual, the young ones kick off the sweet procession. Their mother admonishes them to not overdo it. A couple of the girls are hyperactive, so she allows very little candy in the house.

        “But this is a treat for them,” Detra says. “It's a special occasion so I let them enjoy it.”

        Sprinkle-laden sundaes are devoured quickly. Next come plates of chocolate chip cookies and chunky fudge brownies. The weight-conscious kids abstain, so the little ones volunteer to bring them chilled grapes and chunks of melon and pineapple.

        Michico brings her mother a small serving of apple crisp. Jada gets a big kiss from Mama and takes off. The other girls compete for equal treatment. Each brings back a different treat. A plate of fruit. A sundae. A glass of Sprite with a lemon wedge.

        The teens have seen enough of the kiddie dessert caravan and decide it's time to head home. They stand up and start stretching. DeRonn walks over to his mother. She looks at the clock and tells the girls to get their coats.

        The family piles back into the minivan, giving it another shock absorber test. They head back to the tan brick home on the corner, a crossroad station where children come to turn their lives around.

Where to find out more about adoption
Nine children who need homes
Adoption ornament available at Lazarus

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