This is the 18th instalment in Sophie Baker’s ‘What I wish I had known…’ series, where she reflects on her approach to practice when she started out – and what she would tell her younger self now.
A time in my early career when my confidence and sense of ability were significantly tested was when a mother I was working with told my manager that she no longer wanted me to work with her family.
Dawn’s children had been subject to sexual abuse by her husband, who was in custody awaiting a criminal trial. It was an incredibly upsetting time for the family, and my role in assessing Dawn’s ability to protect the children from further harm became increasingly difficult for her to accept.
As our relationship became more strained, Dawn eventually requested a change in social worker.
Here’s what I wish I had known about unpacking why a family no longer wanted me to work with them and keeping it from affecting my self-image as a professional.
Dealing with hostility to social work involvement
It had been difficult to build a relationship with Dawn from the very beginning. She was angry that children’s social care had become involved in her life. From her perspective, the risk of harm sat firmly with her husband.
As soon as she had discovered that he had been harming the children, she had contacted the police and, as far as she was concerned, the danger had been removed.
However carefully I explained my role and why it was important that I heard directly from the children, Dawn’s view did not change. She did not recognise the need for social care involvement and certainly did not see me as someone there to help.
She was often out when I visited and, when she was at home, she would refuse to let me speak to the children alone or answer questions about her own experiences. On the occasions when I did manage to spend time with her, my questions would be met with sarcasm and avoidance.
The request for a different social worker
It wasn’t long before my manager informed me that Dawn had asked for a different social worker, claiming that I had looked at her children in the same way her husband had.
I was mortified.
My first reaction was to ask for clarity. Was Dawn making an allegation about me or about my behaviour towards the children?
My manager reassured me that she was not, but I remember going over my visits in my head, thinking about the way I had interacted with the children, the questions I had asked and how I might have made Dawn feel.
It was deeply uncomfortable to consider that my involvement has been so unsettling to her.
Understanding where the mother was coming from
I wondered whether asking for a different social worker might have been an attempt to regain some sense of control.
Dawn had recently discovered that her children had been sexually abused by someone she had trusted. She was dealing with the impact of that while also being asked to demonstrate that she could protect her children. My assessment may have felt like another layer of scrutiny during a very difficult time.
I also wondered whether her experiences influenced how she interpreted my behaviour. I was focusing closely on the children, asking questions about what had happened and seeking to speak to them alone. To me, these were essential parts of assessing their safety, but, for Dawn, they may have felt intrusive or threatening.
Good intentions aren’t always enough
This was probably the point in my career when I felt the most vulnerable.
It was an important lesson for me. I always entered families lives with the best of intentions and I had gotten caught in a trap of thinking that, if I were kind and empathic, then I would be trusted. Until that point, I had assumed that I could always rely on my ability to connect with people.
My work with Dawn taught me that good intentions and even relational skills do not, on their own, create trust. I had known she was struggling with my involvement, but rather than being curious about why, I was unconsciously doing more of the same, expecting a different outcome.
Using supervision to reflect on the situation
Supervision helped slow down my internal thoughts of rejection and worry, allowing me to explore both Dawn’s experiences and my responses. My supervisor asked me three simple questions:
1. ‘What did you feel when you heard Dawn wanted another social worker and said you looked at her children like the perpetrator had?’
Dawn had made a serious claim about me and, while I knew I had not behaved or said anything that would cause harm to the children, I was worried that someone would think I was an unsafe practitioner. I realised that I felt rejected and worried that my manager would think I was not good enough. By exploring my language, behaviours and actions, my supervisor helped me separate Dawn’s response from my judgement of myself.
2. ‘What might have been behind Dawn’s request and observations?’
We explored how it must have felt for Dawn to discover that her husband had sexually abused her children. We knew she could be experiencing lots of emotions, including shock, disbelief, guilt, shame, anger and betrayal. Using this trauma-informed ‘lens’ helped me think more carefully about what hid behind her request and why she was finding my involvement so difficult.
3. ‘What does a change of social worker mean for the children?’
We discussed the impact a social worker change might have on the children. I had built a strong relationship with them, and, despite their mother’s objections, they wanted to spend time with me and were open about their experiences and the future.
My concern was that introducing a new social worker would mean the children having to retell their story and adjust to another professional, which wouldn’t necessarily address Dawn’s underlying concerns about social work involvement.
Why remaining was the right decision
In the end, I remained the children’s social worker. That decision was accompanied by the recognition that I needed to find a way of working with Dawn that would allow us to explore what she had found difficult about my involvement, while remaining mindful of my responsibility to the children.
Rather than dismissing her initial accusation or becoming defensive, I approached Dawn seeking to understand whether there was something in my manner or the way I interacted with the children that had made her uncomfortable, while also explaining how her claim had made me feel.
Despite the immediate discomfort, being able to talk about this openly seemed to make a difference to us both.
I asked questions such as, “Is there anything about the way I work that you would like me to do differently?”, and, “Are there particular things I do or have done that have made it harder for you to work with me?’”. These conversations gave Dawn an opportunity to influence how we worked together, and helped me reflect on my own practice.
Understanding the role of trauma
While we never fully resolved our differences during our work together, we certainly became better at talking about them.
This family taught me a great deal about what social work means. I learnt that relationship-building methods do not always work immediately, particularly when a parent has experienced trauma.
It was a first-hand experience on how trauma can affect people. What we see as resistance or hostility may conceal much more complexity underneath.
This is not to excuse aggressive behaviour or avoidance, but it can be a starting point to understanding what might be driving these reactions.
Separating personal feelings from social work duty
I also learnt something about myself. Dawn’s comment that I had looked at the children in the same way as the perpetrator had really upset me.
It would have been easier, perhaps, to step back from the family or accept the request for a different social worker.
It was only through good supervision that I was able to separate my own feelings from the decision that needed to be made and keep the children’s welfare at the centre of my thinking.
I learnt that being disliked does not necessarily mean that we are doing bad social work. Sometimes we must tolerate being uncomfortable or even being misunderstood, however hard that is.
Our role is to remain open to reflection and ensure that our decisions continue to be guided by the child’s experiences and welfare. This is a principle that has stayed with me throughout my career and continues to shape the way I approach practice.
Source: Community Care
