According to my Generalist Social Work textbook:
"Spiritual beliefs may affect the client’s response to adversity, the coping methods employed, the sources of support available (e.g., the faith community may form a helpful social network), and the array of appropriate interventions available. Particularly when clients have experienced disaster or unimaginable traumas, the exploration of suffering, good and evil, shame and guilt, and forgiveness can be a central part of the change process. Social workers must be aware of their own spiritual journeys and understand the appropriate handling of spiritual content, depending on the setting, focus, and client population involved (Ellor et al., 1999)" (Hepworth et al, 2010, p. 241).
As I have been at my internship, I have been impressed with the way this issue was handled. Spirituality came up in many conversations with clients, and the client's perspective was always treated with respect. The therapists always engaged in a strengths-based perspective, in which they encouraged any ways that a person's spirituality seemed to help them cope with difficult situations. They were never negative or disparaging about a spiritual belief in the client's presence, no matter what their private, personal perspective on that believe happened to be. They asked good questions that made clients feel comfortable discussing their spiritual beliefs.
In many ways I appreciate this approach. I would feel very uncomfortable if I went to a therapist and they were negative or critical of my spiritual beliefs. In fact, I might have doubts about whether that person could be helpful in addressing my presenting issues. However, what happens if spiritual beliefs seem to be harmful to a client? How does a social worker make that determination? I suppose the correct response would be simply to ask questions that would allow the client to determine whether that was the case. However, even in the asking of questions, can we really deny that we sometimes have an agenda? The questions we ask can cause a client to think in one direction or another. Of course, the beauty of questions is that they do not force anything on a client. But can our personal perspective really be so thoroughly removed from view? If so, why do Hepworth et al say it is important for us to be aware of our own spiritual journeys? Only so that we can keep them hidden?
When it comes to issues of suffering, good and evil, shame and guilt, and forgiveness, things seem to get even more complicated. Many religions have very strong perspectives on these issues, but those perspectives may or may not lead to positive change. Within the religion I practice, Christianity, there are many different views on why suffering exists, and God's relation to it. I have found some of these to be helpful in my own times of struggle, and others to be decidedly hurtful. Is there any point in which, as social workers, it is appropriate we express an opinion to a client on something like the importance of forgiveness? Is there any point that we share what has been valuable in our own lives on these topics? Clearly, I have more questions than answers.
Works Cited:
Hepworth, D.H., Rooney, R.H., Rooney, G.D., Strom-Gottfield, K. 2010. Direct Social Work Practice Theory and Skills (9th edition). Delmont, CA: Brooks/Cole, Cengage Learning.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Thoughts on Applying What I'm Learning to Brazilian Culture
Over Thanksgiving, I went back to my home city of Sao Paulo, Brazil. I was full of what I had been learning during my first semester of grad school. In Sao Paulo, I realized anew that different methods might be needed in different contexts. One example of this was in the area of listening. In the US, it seems people feel someone is listening well if the person sits quietly while they are talking and asks good questions. In Brazil, that did not seem to go over as well. When I tried to quietly listen, it seemed I was not as engaged in the life issue as others who were more verbal in their response. When I asked the kind of questions I would naturally ask here, people were sometimes a little taken aback. For example, when I asked questions to check my assumptions, it came across as if I lacked intuitive understanding of what they were sharing. It was expected that conversation would happen more fluidly and less formally, and perhaps even that I would have strong opinions and express them. This was in an informal friendship-based context, but my experience with the counseling professions in Brazil gives me the impression that a strong sense of the "right" direction, of having the answer, is expected from the counselor, also.
As I have spent more time thinking about my interactions in Sao Paulo, I have wondered what kind of counseling approach I should take if I moved back to Sao Paulo as a therapist. Could American listening methods be useful, and even liberating, if people were told what to expect from the beginning? In other words, if a person came in for counseling and I told them that I would not give them advice, but instead was there only to ask clarifying questions that would help them make their own decisions, would that create a greater sense of empowerment? Or would it simply create estrangement? Could I adapt to a style more normal in the Brazilian environment without doing harm through foolish advice or jumping to conclusions? I believe I would have to spend more time in a Brazilian context to reach satisfactory conclusions on these questions.
Even more challenging, in some ways, in Brazil, was thinking about how to respond to physical needs. In my current internship in Pittsburgh, although part of the goal has to do with mental health, a significant piece of is to make sure they have the basic resources they need to live stable lives. On the most immediate level, this includes adequate housing, food, and clothing. On a longer-term level, it includes goals in employment, education, and healthier relationships. In every area, except perhaps the last, meeting these goals is more challenging in Brazil. There is no government food stamps program and food is more expensive relative to an average working class salary. As far as I know, there is no social security, SSI, or unemployment benefits that can provide an income to people who are not working. In terms of housing, although there are a few high rise housing projects, I have never heard of anything like HUD or Section 8. Almost all help in these areas come from the community, non-profits, and religious groups, not from the government.
So how do I apply Mazlow's hierarchy of needs in that context? Or should I even try? In a Brazilian context, sometimes the hierarchy seems to work backwards: encouraging self-actualization (the pursuit of dreams) leads to better esteem and relationships, which in turn provide the necessary community tools for safety and meeting physiological needs. Once again, these thoughts require further pondering within a Brazilian community.
As I have spent more time thinking about my interactions in Sao Paulo, I have wondered what kind of counseling approach I should take if I moved back to Sao Paulo as a therapist. Could American listening methods be useful, and even liberating, if people were told what to expect from the beginning? In other words, if a person came in for counseling and I told them that I would not give them advice, but instead was there only to ask clarifying questions that would help them make their own decisions, would that create a greater sense of empowerment? Or would it simply create estrangement? Could I adapt to a style more normal in the Brazilian environment without doing harm through foolish advice or jumping to conclusions? I believe I would have to spend more time in a Brazilian context to reach satisfactory conclusions on these questions.
Even more challenging, in some ways, in Brazil, was thinking about how to respond to physical needs. In my current internship in Pittsburgh, although part of the goal has to do with mental health, a significant piece of is to make sure they have the basic resources they need to live stable lives. On the most immediate level, this includes adequate housing, food, and clothing. On a longer-term level, it includes goals in employment, education, and healthier relationships. In every area, except perhaps the last, meeting these goals is more challenging in Brazil. There is no government food stamps program and food is more expensive relative to an average working class salary. As far as I know, there is no social security, SSI, or unemployment benefits that can provide an income to people who are not working. In terms of housing, although there are a few high rise housing projects, I have never heard of anything like HUD or Section 8. Almost all help in these areas come from the community, non-profits, and religious groups, not from the government.
So how do I apply Mazlow's hierarchy of needs in that context? Or should I even try? In a Brazilian context, sometimes the hierarchy seems to work backwards: encouraging self-actualization (the pursuit of dreams) leads to better esteem and relationships, which in turn provide the necessary community tools for safety and meeting physiological needs. Once again, these thoughts require further pondering within a Brazilian community.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Where I Stand on the Cultural Adjustment Spectrum
I finished the last blog by saying that I would express where I stand within the Cultural Adjustment Spectrum (assimilation - acculturation without assimilation - ambivalence - opposition/rejection) in this one. However, given that this is a topic my own life experience has led me to think about in-depth, this is still only an initial overview of my thoughts.
Intuitively, due to my own
cross-cultural experience living as an American in Brazil for 16 years, and as
a semi-Brazilian in the US for 11, I tend toward the second option (acculturation
without assimilation), while recognizing that a certain amount of ambivalence
may be inevitable for those who move between worlds. I believe there is
great richness lost in mere assimilation, even if it is easiest for the
receiving country. On the other extreme, the terms "opposition"
and "rejection" do not sit easily with me. This does not mean,
however, that I am always opposed to immigrant or minority groups bringing
social change.
I deeply admire,
among others, people like the Settlement House workers, the women suffragists,
and peaceful participants in the civil rights movement of the 1960s. I
admire their refusal to use violence, despite the intense frustration of their
causes. Instead of bringing destruction, they helped us to live more
fully into the ideals on which this nation was founded. Those ideals - of
justice, liberty, equality, freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and so on -
are, to this day, part of the reason immigrants want to come to the United
States. I think immigrant populations have and can continue to help us
live out those ideals more fully.
Unlike many, I do
not think that change in and of itself is a bad thing - be it change in
culture, in social systems, or in the political forces at work in our
country. We have always been a nation of immigrants, and every new wave
has brought its own set of changes. The realities that some conservative
groups now so vocally seek to defend are not the realities that existed here a
few decades ago, but the realities that were created by interactions between
our culture and the groups of immigrants of each time period. We are a
continually changing nation, and hopefully an ever improving one.
A Spectrum of Cultural Adjustment
In class last Monday, we discussed paradigms for understanding cultural adjustment to a new culture. The professor specifically laid out four, along a spectrum:
1. Assimilation (completely taking on the new culture and abandoning your own)
2. Accommodation without assimilation (adjusting to all aspects of the new culture necessary to positive interaction with it, while maintaining your own culture internally and in your own home, as well as in interactions with others from that same culture)
3. Ambivalence (mixed feelings about your identity, as it comprises an uncomfortable and uncertain mix of the two cultures)
4. Opposition/rejection (maintaining your culture of origin as a social or political statement against the new culture)
We discussed this specifically in the context of assessment - the formal exploration of the current reality experienced/faced by the consumer or community. The point in this context was, I believe, that when responding to people from outside the mainstream culture, it is important to understand which of these approaches they are taking as part of understanding their worldview. But what then? Do we simply note their perspective in passing, or do we have an ideal toward which we would like to move our clients?
American culture has sometimes held up one or the other of these positions as an ideal. Today, there are a wide variety of perspectives. For many Americans, assimilation is still the preference. We continue to hear rhetoric from some of our politicians and from many Americans about how immigrants are dangerously bringing new values into our country and failing to take on a fully American identity as they should.
Others feel strongly that every culture is precious and valuable, and that it enriches our country to have cultural enclaves within it, where we have slightly greater contact with immigrant cultures, and where they can feel at home. The third option, ambivalence, would probably not be the word chosen by any who hold an intermediate view between acculturation and opposition. Perhaps some might instead say that forming a new synthesis from two opposing thesis (cultures) would result in yet a stronger community. However, "ambivalence" does express the complexity and uncertainty often inherent in the experience of people trying to move between cultures.
Finally, mainly among those who feel unjustly treated by those in power, we have movements of outright opposition to our current system. These movements often idealize the cultures from which they came and use them to build a communal consensus against the "enemy" of mainstream culture/power. Some of these groups tried for decades or centuries to live peacefully in American culture, but continual discrimination, oppression and segregation eventually led to more definitive attempts at transformative political action, whether pacifist or violent.
Social workers at times have been the agents of mainstream culture in attempting to help immigrants assimilate or adjust as seamlessly as possible into our current reality. At other times, social workers have been voices for change and social reform, specifically because of the abuses against impoverished or underrepresented (often minority or immigrant) groups in out system. The social work code of ethics speaks always for letting clients/consumers decide for themselves what attitude they should take. However, that does not allow us, as social workers, to simply brush our hands of the dilemma. Consciously or unconsciously, our opinion will make a difference in our relationships, and it is important to be aware of these interactions within ourselves. Furthermore, we often DO try to influence our clients/consumers in one way or another
As therapists, we want to see our consumers become as healthy as possible, and that includes having a picture of what health looks like toward which we hope to move them. As advocates, it is unlikely we will be effective if we do not see the justice of our clients cause. As community organizers, we seek to move an entire community. As policy makers, we seek to influence the direction of an organization, state or nation. Inevitably, our opinion on this debate will influence our practice. The larger our sphere of influence, the more obvious this becomes.
So where do I stand? For a response to that, you will have to see the next blog.
1. Assimilation (completely taking on the new culture and abandoning your own)
2. Accommodation without assimilation (adjusting to all aspects of the new culture necessary to positive interaction with it, while maintaining your own culture internally and in your own home, as well as in interactions with others from that same culture)
3. Ambivalence (mixed feelings about your identity, as it comprises an uncomfortable and uncertain mix of the two cultures)
4. Opposition/rejection (maintaining your culture of origin as a social or political statement against the new culture)
We discussed this specifically in the context of assessment - the formal exploration of the current reality experienced/faced by the consumer or community. The point in this context was, I believe, that when responding to people from outside the mainstream culture, it is important to understand which of these approaches they are taking as part of understanding their worldview. But what then? Do we simply note their perspective in passing, or do we have an ideal toward which we would like to move our clients?
American culture has sometimes held up one or the other of these positions as an ideal. Today, there are a wide variety of perspectives. For many Americans, assimilation is still the preference. We continue to hear rhetoric from some of our politicians and from many Americans about how immigrants are dangerously bringing new values into our country and failing to take on a fully American identity as they should.
Others feel strongly that every culture is precious and valuable, and that it enriches our country to have cultural enclaves within it, where we have slightly greater contact with immigrant cultures, and where they can feel at home. The third option, ambivalence, would probably not be the word chosen by any who hold an intermediate view between acculturation and opposition. Perhaps some might instead say that forming a new synthesis from two opposing thesis (cultures) would result in yet a stronger community. However, "ambivalence" does express the complexity and uncertainty often inherent in the experience of people trying to move between cultures.
Finally, mainly among those who feel unjustly treated by those in power, we have movements of outright opposition to our current system. These movements often idealize the cultures from which they came and use them to build a communal consensus against the "enemy" of mainstream culture/power. Some of these groups tried for decades or centuries to live peacefully in American culture, but continual discrimination, oppression and segregation eventually led to more definitive attempts at transformative political action, whether pacifist or violent.
Social workers at times have been the agents of mainstream culture in attempting to help immigrants assimilate or adjust as seamlessly as possible into our current reality. At other times, social workers have been voices for change and social reform, specifically because of the abuses against impoverished or underrepresented (often minority or immigrant) groups in out system. The social work code of ethics speaks always for letting clients/consumers decide for themselves what attitude they should take. However, that does not allow us, as social workers, to simply brush our hands of the dilemma. Consciously or unconsciously, our opinion will make a difference in our relationships, and it is important to be aware of these interactions within ourselves. Furthermore, we often DO try to influence our clients/consumers in one way or another
As therapists, we want to see our consumers become as healthy as possible, and that includes having a picture of what health looks like toward which we hope to move them. As advocates, it is unlikely we will be effective if we do not see the justice of our clients cause. As community organizers, we seek to move an entire community. As policy makers, we seek to influence the direction of an organization, state or nation. Inevitably, our opinion on this debate will influence our practice. The larger our sphere of influence, the more obvious this becomes.
So where do I stand? For a response to that, you will have to see the next blog.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Self-Determination? Are you sure?
One of the primary values of Social Work is self-determination. We provide clients with information, resources and pathways, but the final choices are theirs. We are, we proudly say, about empowerment, not paternalism.
As an American, I whole-heartedly agree with this policy. After all, I am an independent adult and therefore expect the full right to make my own choices the way I think is best. In fact, I react viscerally to the idea of anyone making decisions about my life for me. As a result, it only seems fair that I would give my clients the same rights and respect I desire. And yet, the more I think about it, the more self-determination seems far from a simple concept. After all, as adult human beings, do we really always know and choose what is best for us? Without the strong intervention of loved ones, there are times I would have plunged down some very problematic paths. This question becomes even more complicated, however, when placed in the picture of the addictions and mental illnesses with which many of our clients suffer, forces often directly opposed to wise decision-making.
Today was the first day of my internship. I shadowed a mobile therapist for a mental health agency that works with people who have been homeless, but now live in apartments partially paid for by the government. Many of these people have drug and alcohol addictions, mental illnesses, or both. The first man we went to see was drinking, although it was only 10:00 in the morning. His whole apartment reeked of alcohol. He was watching tv, and made comments about spending most of his time in front of the tube. Nonetheless, he complained vociferously against his landlord for not cleaning up the black mold in his kitchen, for giving him a terrible fridge in desperate need of defrosting, for the bad condition of the wooden steps leading down to his front door, and the list went on. Some of these things were certainly problems on the landlord's end. Others seemed fixable with a little bit of concentrated effort on his part. Reasonable or not, right or not, I confess to a desire to shake the man. This was probably partly due to the fact that I am currently in school full-time, working part-time and doing a two-day internship, so time to sit and watch a favorite tv show is at a premium for me. The good news is, no shaking occurred. Instead I listened politely, nodding and agreeing when necessary and eventually followed the mobile therapist out the door. She explained to me that this man had not yet recognized that his alcohol addiction was a problem. He was in the first of four stages through which they hoped to guide their clients, something along the lines of approach, persuasion, gaining health and preventing relapse.
With a little bit of time to calm down, I was able to see that shaking the man would not have been a good idea. It makes sense that building a trust relationship is an essential first step, before anything else. The therapist could not simply say, "make different choices," and expect the problems to disappear: addictions do not work that way. Until the man recognizes the destruction caused in his own life by his own alcoholism, the therapist's hands are tied, except for in helping him with practical things essential to physical survival. Throughout the day I met other people much further along in the process, many of whom were, frankly, delightful. I came away admitting to myself that self-determination is not as simple as it initially seemed, but newly committed to trying to practice it. People do need to be respected, and need as much of a voice as possible in their own choices.
As an American, I whole-heartedly agree with this policy. After all, I am an independent adult and therefore expect the full right to make my own choices the way I think is best. In fact, I react viscerally to the idea of anyone making decisions about my life for me. As a result, it only seems fair that I would give my clients the same rights and respect I desire. And yet, the more I think about it, the more self-determination seems far from a simple concept. After all, as adult human beings, do we really always know and choose what is best for us? Without the strong intervention of loved ones, there are times I would have plunged down some very problematic paths. This question becomes even more complicated, however, when placed in the picture of the addictions and mental illnesses with which many of our clients suffer, forces often directly opposed to wise decision-making.
Today was the first day of my internship. I shadowed a mobile therapist for a mental health agency that works with people who have been homeless, but now live in apartments partially paid for by the government. Many of these people have drug and alcohol addictions, mental illnesses, or both. The first man we went to see was drinking, although it was only 10:00 in the morning. His whole apartment reeked of alcohol. He was watching tv, and made comments about spending most of his time in front of the tube. Nonetheless, he complained vociferously against his landlord for not cleaning up the black mold in his kitchen, for giving him a terrible fridge in desperate need of defrosting, for the bad condition of the wooden steps leading down to his front door, and the list went on. Some of these things were certainly problems on the landlord's end. Others seemed fixable with a little bit of concentrated effort on his part. Reasonable or not, right or not, I confess to a desire to shake the man. This was probably partly due to the fact that I am currently in school full-time, working part-time and doing a two-day internship, so time to sit and watch a favorite tv show is at a premium for me. The good news is, no shaking occurred. Instead I listened politely, nodding and agreeing when necessary and eventually followed the mobile therapist out the door. She explained to me that this man had not yet recognized that his alcohol addiction was a problem. He was in the first of four stages through which they hoped to guide their clients, something along the lines of approach, persuasion, gaining health and preventing relapse.
With a little bit of time to calm down, I was able to see that shaking the man would not have been a good idea. It makes sense that building a trust relationship is an essential first step, before anything else. The therapist could not simply say, "make different choices," and expect the problems to disappear: addictions do not work that way. Until the man recognizes the destruction caused in his own life by his own alcoholism, the therapist's hands are tied, except for in helping him with practical things essential to physical survival. Throughout the day I met other people much further along in the process, many of whom were, frankly, delightful. I came away admitting to myself that self-determination is not as simple as it initially seemed, but newly committed to trying to practice it. People do need to be respected, and need as much of a voice as possible in their own choices.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Theological Follow-up
This blog is not for a class assignment. I just felt compelled to present what I left out of my last post: the spiritual perspective that I did not mention in "A voice for change or a voice for the status quo?" In Christian circles, we speak of the Kingdom of God as the coming of all good things: a world without suffering, violence, sickness, hatred, oppression, pain, etc. The Kingdom of God, the Bible says, is both already among us, and yet still coming. We see it continuously as we see relationships healed, forgiveness rendered, transformation for the good occurring. On the other hand, we will never see it completely in this life. This world is tragically marred, and will only be fully fixed when God makes the world new. This perspective fuels my impetus for change: I have a profound belief that positive change can occur in the world around me; simultaneously, I have no expectation that it will happen easily, immediately, or in all cases. Thus, my belief in God produces patience and perseverance. Despite the difficulties of bringing about positive change, I still believe it is worth pursuing.
Today in class we had a special presentation from PFLAG: Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It was an excellent presentation, from which I learned a lot. However, at times the word "sinful" got thrown around as an entirely negative, oppressive, judgmental word. I can certainly understand why, as calling any group of human beings "sinful" over and against any other group of human beings is both hurtful and bad theology (the Bible teaches that we are ALL sinful, none more or less than any other). But to put "sinfulness" in a different light, I openly say that the concept has been very helpful to me in reaching out to other human beings. In truth, the recognition of my own sinfulness has been essential to forming a functional, resilient interaction with the world around me.
By admitting to myself that I am no better than human beings who have committed the acts with which I find it hardest to come to terms, such as the genocide in Rwanda, or the holocaust - by recognizing that my essence is no different than theirs, I find that, though horrified by their acts, I am no longer surprised by them. In fact, I can reach out in compassion and understanding to these fellow human beings - if I had been in their circumstances, I may have responded the same way. By not expecting human beings to be better than we are - by recognizing my own sinfulness and our common sinfulness - I find that I can admit the reality of darkness, but not lose hope, for the change - or, to be more precise, the change agent - I have seen in my own life is continually at work all around me.
My theology frees me not to get lost in a world of despair, but instead to pursue the positive difference I can make, trusting that a bigger power has the bigger picture in God's hands. I forget this sometimes, when life just feels too out of control, too big, too problematic. But as I turn to God, He restores sense, restores balance, restores perspective, restores sobriety.
Today in class we had a special presentation from PFLAG: Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It was an excellent presentation, from which I learned a lot. However, at times the word "sinful" got thrown around as an entirely negative, oppressive, judgmental word. I can certainly understand why, as calling any group of human beings "sinful" over and against any other group of human beings is both hurtful and bad theology (the Bible teaches that we are ALL sinful, none more or less than any other). But to put "sinfulness" in a different light, I openly say that the concept has been very helpful to me in reaching out to other human beings. In truth, the recognition of my own sinfulness has been essential to forming a functional, resilient interaction with the world around me.
By admitting to myself that I am no better than human beings who have committed the acts with which I find it hardest to come to terms, such as the genocide in Rwanda, or the holocaust - by recognizing that my essence is no different than theirs, I find that, though horrified by their acts, I am no longer surprised by them. In fact, I can reach out in compassion and understanding to these fellow human beings - if I had been in their circumstances, I may have responded the same way. By not expecting human beings to be better than we are - by recognizing my own sinfulness and our common sinfulness - I find that I can admit the reality of darkness, but not lose hope, for the change - or, to be more precise, the change agent - I have seen in my own life is continually at work all around me.
My theology frees me not to get lost in a world of despair, but instead to pursue the positive difference I can make, trusting that a bigger power has the bigger picture in God's hands. I forget this sometimes, when life just feels too out of control, too big, too problematic. But as I turn to God, He restores sense, restores balance, restores perspective, restores sobriety.
A voice for change or a voice for the status quo?
Several times, the professor of my generalist social work class raised the following question (my paraphrase): Do social workers exist simply to make the current social machine function more smoothly, or are we reformers, bringing change where change is needed? I have found this to be a fascinating question, as I have always imagined social workers as movers and shakers, and yet can see how easily we could be pressured into simply representing the powers that be and maintaining the status quo. Through my social welfare class, I have discovered that this question goes back to the very beginning of social work.
Social work was first seriously conceptualized as a profession during the time of the Settlement House movement (around 1890 to 1920), as these urban slum reformers discovered the value of having trained agents in the field, instead of just well-meaning volunteers. However, in order to gain standing as a profession, it was necessary to gain the approval of the upper echelons of society, of academia. A change in this direction occurred during WWI, as "caseworkers" played key roles in identifying enlisted men who suffered from mental illnesses, thus serving the wider society, not just the poor. The process opened a whole new perspective of social workers as caregivers for the mentally ill, a service needed by every socio-economic class. In gaining status through this means, however, social work largely turned its back on its reformist roots. To this day, a small group continues to rage against this shift in identity.
Currently, of the major sociological theories, social work adheres primarily to Systems Theory (initiated by Weber), a perspective that takes into consideration both the person and their environment. In many ways this is a rich perspective, bringing attention not only to the inner psychological workings of the individual, but also to the external realities that make up our lives. However, it is also a basically conservative perspective, encouraging the smallest possible tweaking of the external situation that will solve the immediate problem: in most cases, this mainly involves changes on the part of the individual or their family. Another major sociological theory, Conflict Theory (initiated by Marx), on the other hand, raises questions about problems with the systems themselves, encouraging radical reform. The difference can be seen in the case of a teenager truant from an inner city school. Is the main problem the way the teenager interacts with his/her environment (Systems Theory), or is it that the school system is not set up to deal with or respond to the realities faced by the teenager's community (Conflict Theory)?
Both responses to that particular question have been proposed. Both may contain helpful aspects of truth. The difficulty with Conflict Theory in practice is that changing systems takes a lot of effort - sometimes across multiple decades or generations - and in the end is not always possible. Also, the change that benefits one community too easily hinders another. It is easier to work with individuals and their families, to do as much as we can to bring positive change on a smaller scale. Sometimes, it even seems more effective. Sometimes, however, it seems we are continually fishing people out of the water, without ever going upstream to find out how they got there in the first place.
I entered social work to become a counselor. I still have that intention. I believe my personality and talents function more effectively on a small group or one-on-one basis. I am more skilled as a therapist than as a social reformer. However, that does not mean I am content with the status quo. It does not mean I will ignore the problems in our systems, problems that cause never-ending headaches to the hard-working poor of our own country, not to mention communities internationally. I will continue to seek to understand the problems and flaws in our society, for in so doing, I better understand what my clients can and cannot effect in their own lives. I hope to continue to delve into them, that at the right time, and in the right ways, I might be a voice for change.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Good, Bad, Ugly or Just Poor? Reactions to Social Work.
As I have prepared for graduate school, I have gotten an interesting range of reactions to social work. The most negative interaction occurred in conversation with a medical student. We had just met and were talking pleasantly until he asked me what I did. When I told him I was about to start a social work masters, for a moment I could see a look on his face that said, "you're doing WHAT? Why would you ever want to do THAT lowly thing?" However, knowing this was hardly a caring response, he mastered himself, and we continued to talk agreeably.
Admittedly, in comparison to the rigors of medical school, an MSW must seem pretty tame. Two years in a grad program, not including a thesis, and a licensing exam. Hardly on the same level, right? Now that I think about it, I can remember a similar disdain on the faces of my sociology professors in college, as they talked about social work. After all, sociology requires "hard thinking" and, if you really want to go somewhere, getting a PhD. In comparison, social work is hardly rigorous. Or is it?
More-so than some social sciences, Social Work is an applied field. The theoretical base is mostly created by other fields such as sociology, psychology, anthropology and political science. Although we study the theories, the point in social work is not the theories themselves, but what they mean when you come face to face with the people you are trying to help. When you look in the face of a suffering person, how do you work with them to reach a better quality of life? Although this does not necessarily require years spent in academic thesis-writing or fact-memorization, it requires a different, just as essential, process of education.
When I spoke to veteran social workers, I got some very positive perspectives, but admittedly others communicated things like "this profession rung me dry, but now I'm stuck in it" and "its full of disappointments and barriers, but every once in a while there's a victory that makes it all worth it." Easy? Lacking in blood, sweat, and tears? Hardly. Although I can say without hesitation that school is going to be plenty challenging, the real challenge comes on the other side of school.
Unfortunately, I think the people we seek to serve sometimes have a reaction to the profession as a whole that is also negative. To the poor and underprivileged, social workers sometimes seem TOO powerful. Aren't we the ones on the other side of the phone or the desk when someone applies for welfare? Aren't we the ones handling the caseloads for medicare and medicaid? We seem to hold so many facets of their well-being in our hands. Unfortunately, social workers seldom, if ever, set the limits on that kind of aid. Although we may be the ones to tell a person, "yes" or "no," the reasons for those decisions are usually determined by government or agency policy, often putting us in difficult positions.
Undoubtedly the most common casual objection to social work I encountered, however, was the question, "you DO realize social workers don't make very much money, DON'T you?" Sometimes I wanted to laugh. As a culture, do we REALLY think that is what matters most? Well, how often do we express the value we give to something by how much we're willing to pay for it, or automatically assign more value to something more expensive? In the case of a profession, how much do we honor people according to the level of salary they receive? As far as I know, the underlying reason for social worker's salaries is that we tend to work for organizations with tight budgets and serve populations on the least-advantaged side of the spectrum. However, does the fact that our salaries are lower than, say, psychologists or psychiatrists, automatically cause us to be seen as less valuable in the eyes of society? While in some cases the answer is yes, thankfully most of my conversations have included a very positive response to my chosen profession.
Admittedly, in comparison to the rigors of medical school, an MSW must seem pretty tame. Two years in a grad program, not including a thesis, and a licensing exam. Hardly on the same level, right? Now that I think about it, I can remember a similar disdain on the faces of my sociology professors in college, as they talked about social work. After all, sociology requires "hard thinking" and, if you really want to go somewhere, getting a PhD. In comparison, social work is hardly rigorous. Or is it?
More-so than some social sciences, Social Work is an applied field. The theoretical base is mostly created by other fields such as sociology, psychology, anthropology and political science. Although we study the theories, the point in social work is not the theories themselves, but what they mean when you come face to face with the people you are trying to help. When you look in the face of a suffering person, how do you work with them to reach a better quality of life? Although this does not necessarily require years spent in academic thesis-writing or fact-memorization, it requires a different, just as essential, process of education.
When I spoke to veteran social workers, I got some very positive perspectives, but admittedly others communicated things like "this profession rung me dry, but now I'm stuck in it" and "its full of disappointments and barriers, but every once in a while there's a victory that makes it all worth it." Easy? Lacking in blood, sweat, and tears? Hardly. Although I can say without hesitation that school is going to be plenty challenging, the real challenge comes on the other side of school.
Unfortunately, I think the people we seek to serve sometimes have a reaction to the profession as a whole that is also negative. To the poor and underprivileged, social workers sometimes seem TOO powerful. Aren't we the ones on the other side of the phone or the desk when someone applies for welfare? Aren't we the ones handling the caseloads for medicare and medicaid? We seem to hold so many facets of their well-being in our hands. Unfortunately, social workers seldom, if ever, set the limits on that kind of aid. Although we may be the ones to tell a person, "yes" or "no," the reasons for those decisions are usually determined by government or agency policy, often putting us in difficult positions.
Undoubtedly the most common casual objection to social work I encountered, however, was the question, "you DO realize social workers don't make very much money, DON'T you?" Sometimes I wanted to laugh. As a culture, do we REALLY think that is what matters most? Well, how often do we express the value we give to something by how much we're willing to pay for it, or automatically assign more value to something more expensive? In the case of a profession, how much do we honor people according to the level of salary they receive? As far as I know, the underlying reason for social worker's salaries is that we tend to work for organizations with tight budgets and serve populations on the least-advantaged side of the spectrum. However, does the fact that our salaries are lower than, say, psychologists or psychiatrists, automatically cause us to be seen as less valuable in the eyes of society? While in some cases the answer is yes, thankfully most of my conversations have included a very positive response to my chosen profession.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Falling in Love: How I Came to Social Work
I have just completed my first week in social work grad school, and every moment has been a reminder that this is exactly where I want to be. Not to put too fine a point on it, I LOVE it! I have also been asked the question of how I came to social work multiple times. So here's the story... in brief.
Given the fact that some social workers can be antagonistic to Christianity, it might be surprising to some to learn that I came to social work through the church. My parents were missionaries (another bad word among some social scientists) in São Paulo, Brazil, where I grew up, and spent my first years after college. My parent's early work had a lot to do with providing strategies and mechanisms to help churches become healthier. Among other things, they provided training and material for small groups. It was in those small groups that I formed my most influential teenage relationships, and where I first discovered the power of empathetic listening joined with prayer.
Skip forward. I'm a freshman psychology major at Wheaton College and don't hit it off well with the only clinical psych prof, as she doesn't seem to take seriously the importance of considering spirituality in a clinical setting. Meanwhile, my gen ed Intro to Sociology professor blows open my vision of the world with my first formal contact with the ways systems determine aspects of people's lives. I change majors.
After college, I struggle for some years with where I will go professionally. The change from psychology to sociology throws open a gamut of options in social justice or community organizing, but with a wider set of possibilities, I find myself wandering somewhat lost. While earning my bread in administrative positions, I volunteer with several different organizations, but fail to find a place where I can see myself long-term. More and more, I discover my personality is better suited to one-on-one or small group counseling then to community or systems change.
The more I delve into the idea of working with individuals for their transformation, the better I like it. My personal experience confirms that this is a good area for me. However, counseling in the state of Pennsylvania requires a masters-level license. I explore the possibilities of a masters in counseling or in social work, and discover that the latter not only provides more job options than the former, but merges my love for individual counseling with my college-produced passion for the role of larger systems. Not wanting to leave Pittsburgh made the University of Pittsburgh, with a program among the best in the country, the perfect answer.
After college, I struggle for some years with where I will go professionally. The change from psychology to sociology throws open a gamut of options in social justice or community organizing, but with a wider set of possibilities, I find myself wandering somewhat lost. While earning my bread in administrative positions, I volunteer with several different organizations, but fail to find a place where I can see myself long-term. More and more, I discover my personality is better suited to one-on-one or small group counseling then to community or systems change.
The more I delve into the idea of working with individuals for their transformation, the better I like it. My personal experience confirms that this is a good area for me. However, counseling in the state of Pennsylvania requires a masters-level license. I explore the possibilities of a masters in counseling or in social work, and discover that the latter not only provides more job options than the former, but merges my love for individual counseling with my college-produced passion for the role of larger systems. Not wanting to leave Pittsburgh made the University of Pittsburgh, with a program among the best in the country, the perfect answer.
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