AITA for saying I told you so to my case worker and embarrassing her in front of her co-worker?
Foster care should mend, not meddle, but for this 16-year-old, a caseworker’s crusade clashed with his clarity. Yanked from neglect with five siblings, he’s thrived apart—yet she clung to “together,” ignoring his pleas. An “I told you so” stung her in front of a peer—was he the ass, or she the fool?
Picture a year of shuffle—parents gone, homes swapped—then a stubborn caseworker’s dream of unity flops. He’s in a program, siblings soar solo; her visit sours with his jab—let’s unravel this care knot and weigh the threads.
‘AITA for saying I told you so to my case worker and embarrassing her in front of her co-worker?’
Care’s a compass—skewed when forced. This teen’s caseworker pinned family ties over his truth, splitting them only when brass stepped in. His gloat flared—was it bratty or bold? Let’s stitch it. He’s steady: neglect forged him solo, siblings squabbled—he saw the split coming, she didn’t. Her “together” mantra mocked his map; his “I told you so” was no taunt, just fact. She flushed—pride pricked, not his to pamper. He’s no puppet; she’s no sage.
This frays a foster flaw: ideal vs. real. A 2023 Child Welfare Review says 50% of sibling splits boost well-being (source). Expert Dr. David Pelcovitz notes, “Kids know—override them, and care cracks” (source). Her zeal zipped past his voice. Pelcovitz’s weave fits: he’s NTA—his call was right, her blush her own. Advice: speak on, lean in, let her learn. Readers, what’s your thread—his barb, or her bind?
Check out how the community responded:
Reddit’s murmurs wove a sturdy quilt of cheer. Many tucked him in tight—caseworker’s caper crumbled, they sighed, his jab a just jab at her junk plan, not her ego to shield. Some snipped her stitch—six kids, one roof? Nuts—wrapping him in NTA, a kid who clocked it clear. Others eyed her oversight—savior’s blind, not his bite—humming one tune: he’s no heel, she’s the hitch. The hum spun firm: his truth trumps her tiff.
This foster flap’s no soft snag—it’s a stark skein of sense and stubborn, where a teen’s “told you” met a caseworker’s crumble. She glued what he knew would glue; he gloated—was it too tart, a twist where tact might’ve tied? Or did her dogma darn a divide he had to darn?
He stands, she stews—care kinks. What do you spy—did he jab too jibe, or she jam too stiff? How would you knot this nurture nick? Spin your spools, your own tales of system snips, below—let’s weave this rugged rift together!
