Category: All Objects

   S H E I L A   S L E S S E R

My name is Sheila Slesser and I am a lecturer in social work at Robert Gordon University in Aberdeen. Before joining RGU I worked within a voluntary organisation that held statutory responsibilities for the Deaf and Hearing impaired community. I carried a ‘generic’ caseload and had great opportunities to meet and work with a wide variety of service users. Current roles within the university include leading the Practice Learning Qualification which allows the opportunity to get out and about engaging with social workers who are keen to become involved in practice teaching.

 

I chose this model of Postman Pat because …

… he (I call him Patrick) was hand crafted by one of my sons (now aged 35) when he was 5 or 6 years old. Patrick came to work with me and has been a permanent feature on my desk for around 29 years. Throughout my social work career I have had Patrick with me as a constant reminder that although I have been duty bound to take the needs of other people’s children as being paramount, within my personal life ‘my own boys’ always had priority. Managing child care and protection issues as a professional worker and balancing this with my own parenting was always a complicated process which invariably involved issues of guilt and self-doubt. Guilt regarding the ‘mum’ space in my head being used to think about child care cases when I was at home being a mum, and self-doubt around the assessment of what was ‘good enough’ parenting for the children I was working with. Patrick is symbolic of this emotional experience and is also a reminder that although social work can never be termed a 9 – 5 job, it is okay to have a life as well!

Patrick has been through the wars (his head now rests on a bed of blu-tack) and he has moved home on a number of occasions. He now finds himself on a desk within a university and his constancy underpins current practice of supporting emerging social workers around the need to access supervision support, manage boundaries and balance that, often precarious equation, of work and life.

 

 

M A R I O N   R O B B I N S 

I’m a social worker, working within community mental health and have also worked within a hospital social work team.

I chose a Baby monitor because …

… Many many people I have met during my career describe being anxious over someone they care for, resulting in a lack of sleep, or sleeping on the floor next to a person, or an uncomfortable sofa. It is well documented the negative effects of lack of sleep. So … my object of social work would be a baby monitor. It enables people to at least stay in their own bed, to try to get a better quality of sleep, affording a sense of relief but also of personal dignity.

 B E R N A R D   M O S S 

   

I have always enjoyed teaching, especially with a ‘hands-on’ experiential approach, so when I was given the opportunity to teach communication skills on the social work programme at Staffordshire University I jumped at it! I then branched out to explore how to help students engage with grief and loss in their professional practice and to develop an understanding of the relevance of spirituality in both secular and religious contexts to their professional social work practice. Now I am Emeritus Professor of Social Work Education and Spirituality at Staffordshire University and a Principal Fellow of the Higher Education Academy UK.

 

I chose labyrinth because:

… the labyrinth is in itself a fascinating object spanning as it does many cultures and many traditions, secular as well as religious. At heart (unlike a maze) it is a single pathway which weaves in and out until it reaches its centre point. If you trust the path ahead, albeit with all its twists and turns, it will bring you to the centre, and back again, without getting lost or feeling you are somehow ‘doing it wrong’.

I have used this beautiful canvass labyrinth in my social work education teaching in several ways. Giving students (and colleagues) time and opportunity to walk it can be a stress-busting moment in their busy, at times frenetic, lives. Just to take time to walk on this safe, contained space enables people to find themselves. It has also been beneficial when looking at specific social work themes such as dealing with grief and loss, both in themselves and in those who they seek to help. The journey to recovery is rarely straightforward: sometimes you seem to be going back in the direction you came from, and meet others on a similar path facing different directions. It takes persistence and resilience to maintain a direction of travel when compass bearings seem so unreliable.

The labyrinth is also a valuable experience when thinking about one’s social work career, whether that be in training or at various stages on one’s career trajectory. At times when we – or our service users – feel most distant from our goal (the centre point of the labyrinth walk) we may in fact be closer than we realise. Conversely, at times when our goal is tantalisingly within reach, we find ourselves swept by our path to a faraway, sometimes lonely and scarey, place. The opportunity to reflect on this challenging and varied journey is of crucial importance lest we – or those with whom we work – feel lost in a bewilderment of uncertainty. Sometimes therefore the courage to stay on the path even when we are unsure of its final destination is a mark of true ‘grit’ both personally and professionally. As such it is a powerful metaphor for social work.

If you are interested in reading more about the labyrinth please see Sellers J. & Moss, B. (summer, 2016) Learning with the Labyrinth: Creating Reflective Space in Higher Education, Basingstoke, Palgrave Macmillan.

 T A R S E M   S I N G H   C O O N E R

  

After completing my under-graduate degree I worked in number of jobs before applying for a Day Care Organiser role with Sandwell Council. This post enabled me to work in one of the most deprived boroughs in the country. I felt I could do more than my post enabled, so I applied for and was seconded to study for a Social Work qualification. I qualified in 1993 and became a Senior Social Worker working in a variety of settings including adolescent mental health, aftercare, substance misuse, children and families and crisis intervention work. I’m currently a Senior Lecturer in Social Work at the University of Birmingham. I’m also a computer programmer, video editor and mobile phone app developer. I love working at the intersection of the social work discipline, creative digital arts and computer science.

I chose a bike because:

… whilst working with young people I found that taking a bike ride helped to build rapport and trust. Not being confined within four walls would often allow a service user or carer on a bike ride to find time to think and open up about the issues concerning them in ways they would struggle to whilst stuck indoors. Like the cycling activity itself, these bike rides would open up possibilities to travel to new, often safer, happier locations in the troubled lives of these young people.

This made me reflect on how the bike conveys a couple of really useful representations of social work. The first is of creativity in social work practice. When the bike was first produced, it was one of a handful of creative devices humans had developed to help them efficiently travel from one place to another under their own energy. Creative social work interventions can help service users and carers, often using their own energy to move out of the difficult places that they may inhabit and begin the journey they require to travel to new and more fulfilling times and spaces in their lives.

The second representation relates to the fact that the bike is made up of a number of different working parts. Each is an important element, but on its own its usefulness is limited. However, put together it becomes a beguilingly useful object allowing us to traverse from one place to another. This reminds me of the link between theory and practice in social work, each element on its own has its uses, but in my experiences it’s only when they are combined that they become intriguingly useful in helping us as practitioners to enable service users and carers to travel to new locations in their lives, places they may have thought were beyond their reach.

Reflecting on my own journey so far, I relate the different parts of a bike to the knowledge, experiences and skills I have gained from many years of social work practice. Getting all the parts to work together has required hard work and creative thinking, however, when the parts have come together, they have allowed me to travel and take others with me to new social work spaces that we never knew existed. I’m looking forward to continuing the ride and being captivated by the views over each new horizon.

S I M O N   C A U V A I N

  

Social work certainly wasn’t a career path I’d foreseen. I left school early, flunked sports college, worked in a gym, on building sites and an iron castings factory.  My mum was a social worker in Lincoln during the 80s and 90s and whilst it always fascinated me, the very last thing I wanted to do was whatever my mum did! I eventually decided I’d had enough of cracking the ice on my water barrel at 7am, as a brickie’s labourer, breathing in factory fumes and washing the daily grime off my face. These were invaluable jobs to me at the time but I wanted to use my head more than my hands. I joined a private home care company, volunteered as a befriender which led to a community care job for Lincoln City Council. This gave me plenty of experience and paved my way into life as a ‘mature’ social work student. Now I’m a Principal Lecturer in Social Work at Nottingham Trent University.

I’ve enjoyed working with a range of service users in some great parts of the country including: Lincoln, Birmingham, Barnsley and Rotherham.  I’ve been lucky enough to work closely with service users in teaching social work students whilst at the University of York and now in my current post. They play a crucial role in helping students gain knowledge and understanding of concepts like ethics, values and anti-oppressive practice – very much the backbone of good social work practice. I’ve learned so much during this process and feel lucky to be able to pass on my experience to students. My PhD focussed on recruitment and retention of social workers, so I’m naturally interested in what it feels like to be a social worker.

 

I chose a French horn mouthpiece because …

… the horn was one of many instruments my birth father played; it was apparently his favourite. We were estranged after he and my mum divorced, like many of their generation back in the early 70s. She whisked my brother (Oly) and I – still only toddlers – away from the army barracks in Berlin to Nottingham where we lived with my Grandma. My mum met my dad (we’ve never thought of him as ‘step-dad’), eventually they married and he adopted Oly and me. I relatively recently learned that during this process we had a social worker who communicated with all involved … I don’t remember any of this.

Throughout the many years of estrangement I wondered where my birth father was and whether he ever thought of me. I never longed for him but just felt curious as to his personality and what he made of it all. This always felt like a gap somehow but not one I was ever troubled by. Mum was always open about who he was, shared photos and told me of his strengths as well as limitations. He was charming, a talented musician, and a proud army band member who wrote musical scores for the range of instruments. He and his sister were adopted but, sadly, he was severely abused by his adopters as a child. He was violent towards my mum and had problems with alcohol and drugs. She left him to protect Oly and me.

So, after many years of soul-searching I decided to find him. This was 2006. To my surprise this happened within two weeks through the electoral roll. We communicated by letter which was strange but positive and eventually met at his Middlesbrough home. I learned of two sisters I didn’t know existed, one of whom I’m in regular contact with, the other I don’t yet know. We arranged to meet again and exchanged texts. Thirteen weeks later he died unexpectedly. His house was burgled the evening his body was removed. My brother and I cleared his house and prepared for the funeral. I got to know him more through his belongings, ones that he’d never have wanted me to see.

He clearly loved his daughter (my sister) and had saved all her pictures. He’d had a rough time, struggling with alcohol and poverty and he’d also been in prison. The French horn mouthpiece was something he’d kept despite selling his beloved horn for cash. His debts were high and his house was cluttered. Other than some photos, it’s the only item I saved. So, for me it represents our respective journeys that, at one seemingly insignificant point, involved a social worker.

The mouthpiece serves as a never-to-be-forgotten personal reminder that ‘service user’ is not a negative term. Service users are fellow human beings who deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. They need to be not only listened to but heard.

The mouthpiece is a metaphorical voice; the opportunity to play one’s own tune rather than dancing to the tune of others. It is that little something special that good social workers so often somehow manage to see. Despite the clutter.

 

A N D Y   M A L E K O F F

   

My start in social work began when I joined my college’s “action network” as an undergraduate student and became a “big brother” to two school-age boys in the urban community that enveloped my college. After graduation I joined the domestic equivalent of the Peace Corps, known as VISTA – Volunteers in Service to America. My job was to renovate an old church into a community center and develop programs for young Mexican-Americans living in that low-income neighborhood. Fast forward. I attended graduate school a few years later and became an “official” social worker. In my second year student-internship in 1977 I was placed at a children’s mental health agency, North Shore Child & Family Guidance Center. I’ve been there ever since and now serve as executive director.

 

I chose this chandelier because …

… well, let me tell you a story:

The chandelier hangs in the entrance of our headquarters, a mansion. Our board of directors chose houses for our offices as they are more inviting than sterile office buildings. This house was built in 1905 and was believed to be a wedding gift for one of the descendants of a prominent family. It changed hands a few times and one of the owners named the building Whispered Wishes. Her daughter Ruth Moore wrote a poem that celebrated the fulfillment of her mother’s dream. The opening lines were:

Whispered wishes from a wistful heart

So much work to do; where to start?

 

We purchased the property in 1983 and I moved in one year later.

One day, after my teenage boys’ group meeting, one of the group members (I’ll call him Chris) ran down the hall from my office, which was then located on the second floor. Chris reached out over the railing and grasped the chain link that held a chandelier in place. He ever so gently started to shake the chandelier which rested above the waiting area just inside the entrance to the building.

I became anxious imagining the glittering crystal chandelier crashing to the ground and shattering into hundreds of pieces. I remained calm. As I approached 15-year-old Chris, who was about six feet tall and had a history of explosive and destructive behavior, I remarked on how long his arms were and what a great reach he had.

My impulse was to grab his arm and pull him away. However, I realized that if he held tight and resisted that that could have the effect of ripping the chain that held the chandelier from ceiling where it was anchored. I continued to reflect on how much he had grown and what a tremendous reach he had. Then, I directed his gaze to the children and parents sitting in the waiting room below. Smirking, he finally loosened his grip and released his hold on the chain that held the chandelier.

This episode illustrates how, as a social worker who specialized in working with difficult teens, I would be tested over the years; and that there are often no prescriptions, no evidence-based manual or cookbook solutions to the work at hand. What this story and the glittering light of the chandelier affirm for me are the importance of relationship and value of being mindful.

  N E I L   B A L L A N T Y N E

      

My personal social work journey began as a youth social worker working in some of the most deprived neighbourhoods in Scotland. Later, I moved to the social work department at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, from where (later still) I was seconded to the Institute for Research and Innovation in Social Services (IRISS). Six years ago my family and I migrated to New Zealand and, after a short spell as a consultant, I returned to the academy and now teach on a distance learning social work programme at the Open Polytechnic of New Zealand. I must confess that, throughout my career as a social worker and social work academic, I have had a preoccupation with the object I have chosen.

I chose the computer because …

… partly because of the deeply ambivalent, love/hate relationship this object has with social work and social workers; and also because of my own fascination with this incredibly fluid, shapeshifting emblem of modernity. In many respects the computer symbolises the antithesis of social work: the opposite of a quintessentially, human to human, face-to-face, relationship-based profession. Computers have been frequently portrayed by social work authors as instruments of techno-rational managerialism. There are countless pages of research attesting to how database applications have undermined the professional judgement of social workers, stolen precious time from direct work with service users, and reduced complex client problems to a forced choice in a drop-down menu. And yet, that is only part of the story: this peculiar technical artefact is also capable of empowering people with disabilities, telling persuasive stories that win campaigns for social change, and mediating highly effective social services and social work education at a distance. The emergence of mobile networked devices and social media has, in an incredibly short space of time, transformed our perceptions of the communicative and expressive potential of computers. A potential that is enthusiastically embraced by a new generation of social workers and social work educators who are, for example, harnessing twitter to facilitate social work book groups, using Facebook to form communities of practice, and blogging to challenge and resist neoliberal government policy changes.

It is this very fluid, shapeshifting aspect of the computer that I find so fascinating. Although we can describe computer hardware as an object, in reality, it is the interface to a plethora of networked digital applications and objects. Computer technology represents the world of social work in digital form. In digital text, numbers, images, video and audio, human lives are captured, professional opinions shared, risks calculated, services planned and care plans costed. But the powerful affordances of computing power come at a price. Although I have stated that the computer is merely an interface, it is a mistake to think of it as a passive intermediary. The computer, and its software applications, are always active mediators. Computer applications are agents that attempt to shape and configure the actions of users; but they are also, in turn, shaped by our use. (The social work shaping of technology can occur in a planned way, when, for example, applications are built using principles of user-centred design; but, more often, this emerges informally when, for example, social workers develop work-arounds in order to subvert database designs that constrain good practice).

The shapeshifting computer is always on the move. The once ubiquitous beige box topped with a cathode ray tube that dominated the desks of most social work teams is fast disappearing. In their place is a proliferation of digital interfaces in the form of flat screens, laptops, tablets, and smartphones. As the internet of things unfolds some predict that computers will embed themselves in everyday objects forming a web of intelligent, connected devices capable of structuring your day, informing you of the latest legislative change that might be relevant to the case you are working on, or automatically updating a predictive risk score based on your last data input to a client record.

Has the emergence of the computer been good or for bad for social work? Will its future trajectory improve the quality of life of service users; or will it work in the algorithmic interests of bureaucratic, managerial, machine-like organisations? Both dystopian and utopian visions of the relationship between social work and the polymorphous computer are likely to be limited, both tend towards technological determinism, assuming that it is technology that will do the talking. I am confident that the computer will, in its multifarious forms, be a perpetual companion to social workers in ways that are to be welcomed, and in ways that must be resisted. Relationship-based practice is at the heart of social work and progressive social workers must struggle to keep it that way. Part of the struggle will be about harnessing the computer as an ally for an empowering, social work practice based on an ethic of care; part of it will be about resisting unethical, disciplinary uses of computing power to extend the surveillance and control of service users, and the governance of social workers. Either way, love it or loathe it, the computer is an object with which social workers must continue to contend.

What do you think? What do you love or loathe about the computer as a tool for doing social work?

Image credit | Luke Jones | IBM PC

 K G O M O T S O   N T L A T L E N G

    

My name is Kgomotso Ntlatleng. I am third year student in the BSW programme at the Department of Social Work and Criminology at the University of Pretoria in South Africa. I have been involved in community work projects with my lecturer, Prof Reineth Prinsloo, since my first year of study. I am currently a tutor for the first and second year social work students to assist them with integrating their theoretical work. My lecturer introduced this blog project in our group work class and it immediately sparked my enthusiasm for my chosen career.

 

I chose a fluffy cushion because …

The softness of the cushion resembles the warm atmosphere that social workers provide when facilitating an intervention process. Initially, most new cushions are a bit hard but the more the cushion is utilised the softer it gets. Just like clients, until a trusting relationship has been established after having had a few sessions then clients begin to open up and thus start sharing. The cushion stood out for me because social work views clients as unique individuals and each client has his or her own frame of reference. Similarly, cushions come in different colours, designs, shapes, textures and sizes.

Just as a touch of cushions help make a room more appealing, furthermore, when leaning against a cushion, one gets to sit in a comfortable position with back support that will help one’s stay in that room pleasant; social work helps individuals, groups and communities improve or enhance their capacity for social functioning. The stuffing and threads were used to get a finished product (cushion); in the same way, one cannot understand a client by just focusing on just one aspect of their life. Clients are looked at holistically in order to make an accurate hypothesis.

When cushions are exposed to dust, sunlight and when they are utilised for a long period they get torn but can always be sewed back together again. Likewise, people have their unique life experiences and sometimes make poor decisions but the Person-Centred Approach believes in people’s ability to self-actualise and that people have the capacity to grow. When the cushion’s cover is worn out, it can be replaced by another one. In the same manner, bad habits can be replaced with good ones. The replacement of the cushion cover demonstrates hope that social workers give to their clients.

A cushion may be worn out but it’s still a cushion. People may have problems, but at the end of the day they are still people with inherent worth and value.

 J O N A T H A N   P A R K E R

    

I am Professor of Society and Social Welfare at Bournemouth University, with wide experience in social work and social work education, a passion for social justice, compassion and learning across social work and a love of Malaysia as the country strives to professionalise its social work services and education.

In the 1980s I worked in a variety of voluntary and (then) unqualified social work positions with young displaced adults and people with learning disabilities, liaising with my own organisation, local authorities, probation and others to give these people a voice. I found this kind of multi-tasking alongside working in the gaps so energising and meaningful that I returned to university in 1987 to take a Master’s in Social Work determined to work with people with learning disabilities afterwards. In fact after qualifying I worked in a medical social work team, a ‘patch’ team which was mainly child protection and juvenile justice before moving into a specialist dementia team and working as an Approved Social Worker (the precursor to Approved Mental Health Practitioners).

 

I chose these Juggling balls because …

… they epitomise my experience as a social worker and as a social work academic. The link, perhaps, may be considered rather obvious but the ability to juggle many different and often conflicting demands at once almost becomes hidden behind its wide acceptance as something social workers must be able to do.

In my last role in practice I also began teaching at what was then Humberside Polytechnic (now the University of Lincoln) and the University of Hull, researching and writing taking up a full-time academic position in 1994. It was during this first academic post that I bought these juggling balls to demonstrate what social workers in care management need to do on a daily basis – I only hope that I was a better social worker than juggler, although perhaps we all need to be allowed to drop our juggling balls now and again!

The balls have stayed with me as a social worker undertaking competing tasks, and as an academic juggling the teaching, research and external demands; they exemplified my doctorate which focused on learning in practice settings, and they have served as a constant reminder of change and the need for balance and focus in social work practice and education. They are also, interestingly, a great stress buster. They can be squeezed and thrown perhaps showing how we can all use what is happening around us; taking control and moulding our work and our lives rather than being subject to impossible demands!

   S A R A   A S H E N C A E N   C R A B T R E E

  

I am Professor of Social & Cultural Diversity and former Head of Sociology at Bournemouth University, UK. I am a qualified social work academic, but my academic interests straddle the social sciences. I have enjoyed an exciting international academic career in Malaysia, the UAE and Hong Kong, which inspired my work into comparative social work, Social Work & Islam, psychiatry in post-colonial countries, disabilities in the Middle East, racism in Hong Kong and dengue prevention. But the two best souvenirs from these international adventures have been my young daughters, one born in Malaysia and one in the Middle East.

 

Kembang is a rather special painting that I bought recently on a conference visit to the lovely island of Penang in Malaysia. This large, vibrant picture painted in bright Gauguin shades of pink, red, yellow, orange and summer blue, is entitled, appropriately, ‘Kembang’ (blossom) and was painted by a sixteen-year-old Malaysian artist by the name of Siti Atiqah.  Siti is wheelchair-bound with cerebral palsy and studies at the Penang Cerebral Palsy Children’s Association in Malaysia. I cherish the photograph I have of her which shows a smiling, pretty girl working on another of her vivacious canvases.  In return she has a photograph of me and the family, who are the proud owners of this lovely picture, with our message to keep on painting!

Siti sells her lovingly but laboriously created work through ‘Stepping Stones’, a very impressive and welcoming Penang NGO offering supported employment for people with disabilities, run by Ai-Na Khor, the brisk and friendly CEO of Asia Community Service. Penang is famous for its social activism and range of progressive NGOs, but I was particularly taken by ‘Stepping Stones’, which runs a co-operative of skilled workers, regardless of the diverse range of disabilities apparent. Here they have created a flourishing cottage industry of ingeniously recycled goods. Among the handcrafts one can buy wonderful, colourful recycled paper made from banana fibres and where hand looms produce accomplished weavings, including contemporary chain mail: metallic fabric made of recycled cassette tapes!

Here we browsed among an array of crafts, all made on site: mint-scented soap from recycled (halal) oil, lovely ceramic leaf-shaped bowls, clever little fabric bags, cunningly made newspaper origami, and bright batik fabric using the traditional hot wax method.

 

I have chosen Kembang because …

… whenever I am feeling thoroughly disenchanted with social work at home in Britain, I look beyond to social work initiatives, like this NGO which, for me, epitomises all that is best about the developments taking place in social work internationally. Once people with disabilities in Britain had the opportunity to earn a modest wage by developing their skills at Adult Training Centres (ATS), now long closed in an ideological attempt to ‘mainstream’ them into the regular employment market with the inevitable result of many becoming unwaged and entirely dependent on welfare benefits. Such individuals are in turn threatened by neo-liberal government policies to cut their benefits, reducing them to further penury and exclusion from society. Visiting Stepping Stones I recalled my time as a social worker with people with learning disabilities in the post-ATS days where my adult ‘clients’ spent long days unoccupied, eking out their benefit money, supervised periodically by families if they were lucky or exploited by the unscrupulous if not. So much for ‘valuing people’.

Where are those disadvantaged people today? It is unlikely that many have independent and creative jobs to go to, unlike these active Penang citizens, who are, regardless of disabilities, able to make and spend a hard-earned and proudly won wage.