April Robinson

I was born in Louisiana, but growing up we moved around a lot. I lived in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama. Alabama is where I spent most of my childhood until about seventh grade. That was around the time I started getting into trouble, and my mom decided to send me to live with my dad in Missouri.

My mom always worked hard and made sure we had a roof over our heads, but she wasn’t the one who did most of the raising. My grandma, aunts, and uncles helped take care of my brother and me. Our life had its ups and downs. Some nights there was food in the house, and some nights I remember wondering what we were going to eat for dinner. Sometimes the house was clean, and sometimes it was filled with garbage and maggots.

As a kid, I remember living with a constant fear that Children’s Division might show up at our door and take me away.

My dad struggled with alcohol. When he drank, things could get scary. Sometimes he would whoop my brother and me with whatever was nearby. A dog chain, a coat hanger, an extension cord just to name a few.

My junior year in high school, my dad moved me to Arkansas. We moved to a very rural area right on the Arkansas River. It was a complete culture shock. I had spent so many years around the same people, and suddenly everything was different. I remember waking up early in the morning to run trout lines before school and pick up pecans to earn a little money for phone cards and gas. Life was simple but hard.

But even through all of that, I was still a daddy’s girl. My dad used to say that alcohol would kill him one day, and eight years ago it did. He died in a drunk driving accident.

Around the time we moved to Arkansas, something unexpected happened. Because of the credits I had earned in Missouri, Arkansas schools counted more credits than they required. I suddenly had enough credits to skip a year and graduate early. I finished high school.

Looking back, I truly believe that was God looking out for me. If I had needed to stay there for two full years, I honestly don’t think I would have made it to graduation.

After I graduated, my young adult years were messy. I tried college three different times, and each time I dropped out. Instead of going to class, I spent my time partying, drinking, and surrounding myself with people who were not good influences. I was in a very dark place in my life.

Then my husband came along.

I say it all the time. If it wasn’t for that man, I would probably be in prison or dead. He was very clear with me from the beginning. If we were going to build a life together, the life I was living had to stay behind.

We’ve been together almost 12 years now, and this month we celebrate 9 years of marriage.

Shortly after we got together, we found out we were expecting a baby. Starting a family changed everything for me. Becoming a mom completely shifted the way I looked at life. For the first time, I realized the choices I made didn’t just affect me anymore. They affected this tiny human who depended on me.

Around that time in our lives, my husband and I were homeless. We had nothing but each other and the determination to build something better. Slowly, we started working toward creating a home and a stable life for our family. This took us moving to Louisiana to figure it out. That journey lit a fire in me. It gave me a drive and motivation I didn’t even know I had.

My goal became clear. I wanted to break the generational cycle. My child deserved better. Shortly after our son was born we moved back to Missouri in July of 2015.

For a while I worked in nursing. I’ve always been passionate about helping people. I knew that was my calling. One day I came across a job posting for Children’s Division. The job only required a high school diploma and some life experience.

So I took a chance on myself and applied. That one decision completely changed the direction of my life. Over the last four years with Children’s Division, I have grown more than I ever thought possible. I started as a case aide and worked my way up to becoming a Social Service Specialist. For someone without a college degree, that is a huge accomplishment.

It proved something important to me. Your past and your circumstances do not define what you are capable of becoming. March 7, 2026 marked four years of serving with Children’s Division. In those four years, this job has stretched me, challenged me, and changed me in ways I never expected.

Right now I carry a caseload of 22 children across Camden, Miller, and Morgan counties. Every month is filled with home visits, supervised visits, meetings with parents and children, court dates, family support team meetings, and countless miles on the road.

Some days are long. Some days are heavy. This work asks for your whole heart, but then there are the moments that remind you exactly why you do it.

The moments where you sit in a courtroom and watch a family who has fought hard to put their lives back together. You see the progress they’ve made, the work they’ve done, and the broken pieces they’ve slowly rebuilt.

And when the judge finally says the words that release the children to go home, you watch the parents realize that they did it. Those are the moments that stay with you. Those are the moments you carry with you on the hard days.

Because at the end of it all, there is nothing more powerful than watching a family be made whole again. My goal with the families I serve is simple. I want to make sure they have the tools and support they need to build a better life so we never have to sit in a courtroom again.

Sometimes that means connecting them to services. Sometimes it means teaching things they were never taught growing up. When it comes to generational cycles, people are quick to judge. But the truth is, some people were never shown the basic skills that many of us take for granted. If you grew up in chaos, you may have never been shown a different way to live.

And that’s where I step in.

What makes me passionate about this work is helping people see that there is another way and giving them the tools to get there. When you sit across from someone and hear their story, it changes you. It makes you slow down. It makes you listen. It makes you more patient.

Because everyone has a story. Sometimes all someone needs is for another person to believe that they can do better. That’s what I try to bring with me every day when I walk into work, because I know from my own life that where you start does not have to be where you end.

And that is what breaking generational cycles looks like.

April Robinson

Missouri Children’s Division

Social Service Specialist III