On Being a Case Worker
The usual game of "Since I Last Wrote" is not so fun this go around, as not a whole lot as happened. At least, not that you'd be interested in :) I finally got my phase 2 certification in Child Welfare, so there's that. I decided to quit bootcamp. I went to two very different and very enjoyable baby showers in one weekend. Lindy continues to love her dog endlessly and I pretty much like him a lot too. Jonathan started Welding School (and he's already kicking butt)!!! My dear friend Elizabeth has recently decided to take me on as a work in progress for health and fitness (bless her heart). I signed up for a 5k (here's to actually running it!) with my co-worker. I did my first weight-lifting work out last week, that was funny. I might join a gym. Jonathan and I have gone on a total of 3 St. George trips together, each one very different and very wonderful and I love doing things with him. Work is hard. Got my oil changed. The Ka-Boom that comes out blue and changes white when your shower is clean is fun to use….
I'm supposed to be a grown up now which actually means when people ask you "What's new?" you say, "oh, not much…just workin'" because you assume no one really wants to hear about any of the stuff I listed up there or any of the answers you might think in your head..."oh you know, just struggling with the love/hate relationship I have with my job" or "oh, just seriously questioning my strengths and weaknesses at age 25," or "been falling in love actually, that's been pretty cool," or "been feeling like God is trying to whip my heart into shape, kinda cool, kinda exhausting." I think those things a lot but still don't really know how to answer questions sometimes.
Lately I've been pretty fixated on wanting to go to Europe this summer since I didn't travel last summer and my heart has been so thirsty for it. I desire to see the world as bigger than my community and taste and smell and see things I've never heard of. I think that's ok and I think God has given me that desire.
But this week, I've been trapped in my thoughts about the worlds spanning across my day-to-day work life. Yesterday, I got a new case with a 7 day old out in Hastings (a poorer, more rural area with a high meth problem). She was placed there with her grandmother who has already been awarded custody of her older brother. It was a small (and I mean SMALL), poorly lit trailer, stacked floor to ceiling with random items. She appeared embarrassed by it as she kept apologizing for the state of things, stating the home was "just well-lived in" over and over again. I stayed for about an hour as it was my first visit and I wanted to answer any questions she had about the process or just listen if she hadn't gotten a chance to digest how caring for a newborn was suddenly effecting her day-to-day life. She was missing her top row of teeth so I had some difficulty understanding her at first but once I adjusted, I thoroughly enjoyed her and laughed several times at her candid outlook on life. She stated she didn't much care for people and kept to herself but she was glad I'd be her worker because I "seemed real nice" and "looked just like my daughter. She's 19 and I don't know how she's so beautiful. She just graduated high school and she's a CHEER LEADER FOR JACKSONVILLE!" She was so, so proud. I asked her more about that just because making people feel proud is one of my favorite things.
I left from that visit to head out to the 210 area, near Jacksonville and definitely a more affluent area of St. Johns county. One of my older cases, a 1 year old girl, resides there with her foster mother who wishes to adopt her. I was a little early so I stopped at a Starbucks (which you won't find in Hastings), ordered an overpriced drink, patted myself on the back for refusing the $1 pastry deal, and read the psycho-sexual evaluation I had gotten back that day on one of my 8 year old boys who is Hispanic and resides with his white grandmother and two siblings in the guest house of their former foster parents because they don't have anywhere else to go. Reading about his remarkably low self-image and some of the content he's been exposed to left me feeling so helpless.
20 minutes later I was in the sizable home of this foster family where her two biological children were playing with all the gadgets they could ever dream of, chasing their ginormous dogs about the massive living room, begging their mom to order Papa Johns because they were over home cooked meals, and gathering relevant information on my kid's well-being. I was out in 20 minutes.
I had an hour drive home and I couldn't help but wonder about how the women in my two visits would feel if they were placed in each other's environments. I imagine "uncomfortable" would be a good place to start. Yet, I seem required to thrive in both. As caseworkers, it seems wet are expected to transition from settings of desperation, hopelessness, poverty, and ignorance, to settings of abundance, entitlement, and higher education multiple times through out one day. We are supposed to not wrinkle our noses when we walk into a home that reeks of animal and cigarette smoke and has roaches crawling over our shoe or filthy cats climbing up our legs or attack dogs biting at our heels as they're chained away from us or has no heat or air no matter what the weather is. We're also not supposed to hold it against other families who seem too privileged for their own good, assuming their money and education make them infinitely superior parents to the people who birthed these children. We're supposed to relate to all people in all the ways they need oh, and document the shit out of it. We're supposed to do this then return to our friends and families to talk vaguely about the people we were with all day so as to protect their confidentiality. Or not talk about our days, depending on how depressed we want to make a room. That's what caseworkers do and I still wouldn't trade it for anything right now. I care about my families deeply and believe in advocating for people who aren't equipped to advocate for themselves.
But this week I am tired. This week I had two failed placements two days apart. This week I spent three days trying to figure out why one of my teenage boys, (16 and still in 8th grade) keeps getting suspended even though he's working his tail off to do better and called me himself to apologize for messing up and tell me his goals and ask how he keeps getting punished even as he's trying harder. This week I spent 3 days stalking the home of a near-80 year old woman caring for one of my teenagers who we were, to be completely honest, partly convinced had been killed by the teenage after being referred to by his principle as a "budding sociopath." This week I had to explain to a grandmother why the pre-adoptive psychological evaluations on her grandchildren were recommending they be removed from her due to her inability to control them and all she could keep saying was, "but I painted their rooms just the colors they wanted." This week I'm not working late hours but I'm still waking up at odd hours of the night because I can't remember if I set up so and so's doctor appointment or if I missed so-and-so's IEP meeting. This week I got another abuse report called in on one of my families. This week I'm making Lindy's ear bleed with work-related venting because she's the only person who understands the system I'm working in and can put a face to the name of the children I'm fighting for…or even against at this point. This week I'm feeling bad for Jonathan because he's been working his butt off all week and we can't wait to have normal time together this weekend and I'm fearful I can't be my best self because I'm feeling so discouraged by a job that doesn't notice the work you do until you do something wrong. I'm feeling discouraged by a system that can have you working your butt off only to give you a front row seat to children falling through the cracks. And this week was only 4 days!
Today, at our All Staff meeting, my co-worker got to share an amazing success story. He had nominated a father on his caseload for a sports program recognizing "All Pro Dads" and the father had won. This co-workers first visit with this man was in jail and he ended up fighting like heck to get his daughter back. That is a rarity ESPECIALLY for fathers. I found myself tearing up because, unbeknownst to myself, I am desperate for a success story. I've been spending all week cupping my hands as tight as possible, only to watch all the water I keep trying to catch slip through more and more.
I am blessed to work with people who care about child safety. I am blessed to have a supervisor who sincerely wants me to learn to be the best at my job that I can. I am blessed to be at a small agency that (more or less) works hard to be kind to its employees. It isn't the job that's the problem, it's just brokenness. The system is flawed but it's run by mankind and mankind is flawed. Show me a system that is effective. This week I've been so aware of how we endlessly seek to put protocols and procedures in place and cite proper documentation and assume that this is what puts families back together. I did that. I crossed all my Ts and dotted all my Is and all I saw this week was failure. Sometimes that's ok, sometimes it's extremely disheartening.
So, basically, I'm tired and suppose I needed to process some of this before I tried to switch work off for the weekend. So as not to leave on just a pessimistic note, I'd like to finish with something Jonathan and I were talking about when our jobs were really testing our limits this week.
Yesterday I went running at 6:30 am with a coach assisting my co-worker and I in training for the 5k. She's part of a running club and was so kind to meet us then as it's the only time we all had available. I was not looking forward to getting up before dark, especially on such a grumpy week, but as I drove over the Bridge of Lions to meet at the Light house, I watched St. Augustine wake up and realized I hadn't done that since Kayla and I used to chase sunrises on our runs months and months ago. I do love this town. As we were running through old neighborhoods, there were twisting oak trees, morning mist, and angel rays floating all around us. The conversation was easy and the air was perfect. I looked out over the water and very clearly heard God remind me about his promise of new mercies every morning. I went home and looked up the verse that was in and found:
I'm supposed to be a grown up now which actually means when people ask you "What's new?" you say, "oh, not much…just workin'" because you assume no one really wants to hear about any of the stuff I listed up there or any of the answers you might think in your head..."oh you know, just struggling with the love/hate relationship I have with my job" or "oh, just seriously questioning my strengths and weaknesses at age 25," or "been falling in love actually, that's been pretty cool," or "been feeling like God is trying to whip my heart into shape, kinda cool, kinda exhausting." I think those things a lot but still don't really know how to answer questions sometimes.
Lately I've been pretty fixated on wanting to go to Europe this summer since I didn't travel last summer and my heart has been so thirsty for it. I desire to see the world as bigger than my community and taste and smell and see things I've never heard of. I think that's ok and I think God has given me that desire.
But this week, I've been trapped in my thoughts about the worlds spanning across my day-to-day work life. Yesterday, I got a new case with a 7 day old out in Hastings (a poorer, more rural area with a high meth problem). She was placed there with her grandmother who has already been awarded custody of her older brother. It was a small (and I mean SMALL), poorly lit trailer, stacked floor to ceiling with random items. She appeared embarrassed by it as she kept apologizing for the state of things, stating the home was "just well-lived in" over and over again. I stayed for about an hour as it was my first visit and I wanted to answer any questions she had about the process or just listen if she hadn't gotten a chance to digest how caring for a newborn was suddenly effecting her day-to-day life. She was missing her top row of teeth so I had some difficulty understanding her at first but once I adjusted, I thoroughly enjoyed her and laughed several times at her candid outlook on life. She stated she didn't much care for people and kept to herself but she was glad I'd be her worker because I "seemed real nice" and "looked just like my daughter. She's 19 and I don't know how she's so beautiful. She just graduated high school and she's a CHEER LEADER FOR JACKSONVILLE!" She was so, so proud. I asked her more about that just because making people feel proud is one of my favorite things.
I left from that visit to head out to the 210 area, near Jacksonville and definitely a more affluent area of St. Johns county. One of my older cases, a 1 year old girl, resides there with her foster mother who wishes to adopt her. I was a little early so I stopped at a Starbucks (which you won't find in Hastings), ordered an overpriced drink, patted myself on the back for refusing the $1 pastry deal, and read the psycho-sexual evaluation I had gotten back that day on one of my 8 year old boys who is Hispanic and resides with his white grandmother and two siblings in the guest house of their former foster parents because they don't have anywhere else to go. Reading about his remarkably low self-image and some of the content he's been exposed to left me feeling so helpless.
20 minutes later I was in the sizable home of this foster family where her two biological children were playing with all the gadgets they could ever dream of, chasing their ginormous dogs about the massive living room, begging their mom to order Papa Johns because they were over home cooked meals, and gathering relevant information on my kid's well-being. I was out in 20 minutes.
I had an hour drive home and I couldn't help but wonder about how the women in my two visits would feel if they were placed in each other's environments. I imagine "uncomfortable" would be a good place to start. Yet, I seem required to thrive in both. As caseworkers, it seems wet are expected to transition from settings of desperation, hopelessness, poverty, and ignorance, to settings of abundance, entitlement, and higher education multiple times through out one day. We are supposed to not wrinkle our noses when we walk into a home that reeks of animal and cigarette smoke and has roaches crawling over our shoe or filthy cats climbing up our legs or attack dogs biting at our heels as they're chained away from us or has no heat or air no matter what the weather is. We're also not supposed to hold it against other families who seem too privileged for their own good, assuming their money and education make them infinitely superior parents to the people who birthed these children. We're supposed to relate to all people in all the ways they need oh, and document the shit out of it. We're supposed to do this then return to our friends and families to talk vaguely about the people we were with all day so as to protect their confidentiality. Or not talk about our days, depending on how depressed we want to make a room. That's what caseworkers do and I still wouldn't trade it for anything right now. I care about my families deeply and believe in advocating for people who aren't equipped to advocate for themselves.
But this week I am tired. This week I had two failed placements two days apart. This week I spent three days trying to figure out why one of my teenage boys, (16 and still in 8th grade) keeps getting suspended even though he's working his tail off to do better and called me himself to apologize for messing up and tell me his goals and ask how he keeps getting punished even as he's trying harder. This week I spent 3 days stalking the home of a near-80 year old woman caring for one of my teenagers who we were, to be completely honest, partly convinced had been killed by the teenage after being referred to by his principle as a "budding sociopath." This week I had to explain to a grandmother why the pre-adoptive psychological evaluations on her grandchildren were recommending they be removed from her due to her inability to control them and all she could keep saying was, "but I painted their rooms just the colors they wanted." This week I'm not working late hours but I'm still waking up at odd hours of the night because I can't remember if I set up so and so's doctor appointment or if I missed so-and-so's IEP meeting. This week I got another abuse report called in on one of my families. This week I'm making Lindy's ear bleed with work-related venting because she's the only person who understands the system I'm working in and can put a face to the name of the children I'm fighting for…or even against at this point. This week I'm feeling bad for Jonathan because he's been working his butt off all week and we can't wait to have normal time together this weekend and I'm fearful I can't be my best self because I'm feeling so discouraged by a job that doesn't notice the work you do until you do something wrong. I'm feeling discouraged by a system that can have you working your butt off only to give you a front row seat to children falling through the cracks. And this week was only 4 days!
Today, at our All Staff meeting, my co-worker got to share an amazing success story. He had nominated a father on his caseload for a sports program recognizing "All Pro Dads" and the father had won. This co-workers first visit with this man was in jail and he ended up fighting like heck to get his daughter back. That is a rarity ESPECIALLY for fathers. I found myself tearing up because, unbeknownst to myself, I am desperate for a success story. I've been spending all week cupping my hands as tight as possible, only to watch all the water I keep trying to catch slip through more and more.
I am blessed to work with people who care about child safety. I am blessed to have a supervisor who sincerely wants me to learn to be the best at my job that I can. I am blessed to be at a small agency that (more or less) works hard to be kind to its employees. It isn't the job that's the problem, it's just brokenness. The system is flawed but it's run by mankind and mankind is flawed. Show me a system that is effective. This week I've been so aware of how we endlessly seek to put protocols and procedures in place and cite proper documentation and assume that this is what puts families back together. I did that. I crossed all my Ts and dotted all my Is and all I saw this week was failure. Sometimes that's ok, sometimes it's extremely disheartening.
So, basically, I'm tired and suppose I needed to process some of this before I tried to switch work off for the weekend. So as not to leave on just a pessimistic note, I'd like to finish with something Jonathan and I were talking about when our jobs were really testing our limits this week.
Yesterday I went running at 6:30 am with a coach assisting my co-worker and I in training for the 5k. She's part of a running club and was so kind to meet us then as it's the only time we all had available. I was not looking forward to getting up before dark, especially on such a grumpy week, but as I drove over the Bridge of Lions to meet at the Light house, I watched St. Augustine wake up and realized I hadn't done that since Kayla and I used to chase sunrises on our runs months and months ago. I do love this town. As we were running through old neighborhoods, there were twisting oak trees, morning mist, and angel rays floating all around us. The conversation was easy and the air was perfect. I looked out over the water and very clearly heard God remind me about his promise of new mercies every morning. I went home and looked up the verse that was in and found:
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
and therefore I have hope:
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”
25 The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
-Lamentations 3:21-26
I found it ironic (in a funny God way) that this verse was out of Lamentations when I felt like all I was doing all week was "lamenting" yet this was the place I was being reminded of hope…in my sorrow. I like to think it was God's way of reminding me to keep trudging even when it feels too heavy. A reminder to wait quietly even when the discouragement seems deafening. Here's to wishing you a well placed Lamentation :-p Happy Friday friends.
Such a good post. Miss you, Lady.
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