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Six Social work, power and society

  • Malcolm Payne
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What is professional social work?
This chapter is in the book What is professional social work?

Abstract

I first met Sylvia when I was a probation officer, standing in for the colleague who supervised her because of a series of theft offences, and doing work that would nowadays be the remit of a youth offending team. She was a lively teenage woman who had just started in employment. She had failed to turn up for work for several days and had been sacked. On behalf of my colleague and her distraught mother, a lone parent, I summoned her to the office to remonstrate about her lack of commitment. She giggled through the interview and probably ignored everything I said. Sometime later, I took over a new caseload in the social services department, and Sylvia’s was a name on it. She was not present, having absconded from a residential school for young people with emotional and behavioural disorders, after throwing a senior member of staff across the room – Sylvia was physically powerful. I renewed my acquaintance with her mother, and waited until she reappeared. This happened in due course, when a police officer saw her shopping near her home. I talked to her in the police cells. She had been living at home for about six months, had found a new boyfriend and had not got into trouble.

I wondered what to do. The conventional course was to arrange for her to return to her school to finish her programme. I thought this was inappropriate. For one thing, I knew that she had already been out at work, and I thought putting her in a school was a backward step in her personal development.

Abstract

I first met Sylvia when I was a probation officer, standing in for the colleague who supervised her because of a series of theft offences, and doing work that would nowadays be the remit of a youth offending team. She was a lively teenage woman who had just started in employment. She had failed to turn up for work for several days and had been sacked. On behalf of my colleague and her distraught mother, a lone parent, I summoned her to the office to remonstrate about her lack of commitment. She giggled through the interview and probably ignored everything I said. Sometime later, I took over a new caseload in the social services department, and Sylvia’s was a name on it. She was not present, having absconded from a residential school for young people with emotional and behavioural disorders, after throwing a senior member of staff across the room – Sylvia was physically powerful. I renewed my acquaintance with her mother, and waited until she reappeared. This happened in due course, when a police officer saw her shopping near her home. I talked to her in the police cells. She had been living at home for about six months, had found a new boyfriend and had not got into trouble.

I wondered what to do. The conventional course was to arrange for her to return to her school to finish her programme. I thought this was inappropriate. For one thing, I knew that she had already been out at work, and I thought putting her in a school was a backward step in her personal development.

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