Critical Anaylsis

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UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH CAROLINA SOWK 718: SYSTEMS ANALYSIS OF SOCIAL WORK PRACTICE

COURSE CALENDAR AND REQUIRED READINGS

All required readings are included in a course reader available for sale from University Readers, if not readily available via the Internet. Required readings not included in the course reader are available on Blackboard (and hyperlinked below). January 17-20 Introduction to course, objectives, assignments, and decision case method Golembiewski, R. T., & White, M. (1983). Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team.

In Cases in public management (4th ed.; pp. 273-279). Boston: Houghton Mifflin. (Case #0)

January 24-27 Wolfer, T. A. (2006). An introduction to decision cases and case method learning. In T. A.

Wolfer & T. L. Scales (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Thinking like a social worker (pp. 3-16). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole Thomson Learning.

Wolfer, T. A., & Scales, T. L. (2006). Tips for discussing decision cases. In T. A. Wolfer & T. L. Scales (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Thinking like a social worker (pp. 17-25). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole Thomson Learning.

Rhodes, D., & Wolfer, T. A. (2017). Inside or out [Unpublished decision case]. Austin, TX: University of Texas—Austin, Steve Hicks School of Social Work. (Case #1)

January 31-February 3 Conklin, J. (2005). Wicked problems and social complexity. In Dialogue mapping: Building

shared understanding of wicked problems. CogNexus Institute. Available at: http://www.ideapartnership.org/documents/wickedproblems.pdf

Parker, R. C., & Wolfer, T. A. (2008). Unusual appeal. In T. A. Wolfer & V. M. Runnion, Death, dying and bereavement in social work practice: Decision cases for advanced practice (pp. 88-97). New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #2)

Recommended: Gambrill, E. (1997). A problem-focused model based on critical inquiry. In Social work practice:

A critical thinker’s guide (pp. 96-124). New York: Oxford University Press.

February 7-10 Wirth, K. R., & Perkins, D. (2008). Learning to learn. Available at:

http://www.macalester.edu/academics/geology/wirth/learning.pdf Lamb, B. (2011). The board chair’s dilemma (A). Seattle, WA: Electronic Hallway. (Case #3)

February 14-17 McMillen, J. C., Morris, L., & Sherraden, M. (2004). Ending social work’s grudge match:

Problems versus strengths. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Social Work, 85(3), 317-325.

Hogan, M., & Wolfer, T. A. (2017). He won’t go there. [Unpublished decision case]. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina, College of Social Work. (Case #4)

February 21-24 Congress, E. P. (2000). What social workers should know about ethics: Understanding and

resolving practice dilemmas. Advances in Social Work, 1, 1-22. Available at: http://journals.iupui.edu/index.php/advancesinsocialwork/article/view/124/107

Wolfer, T. A. (2014). Driven to drink. In T. A. Wolfer, L. D. Franklin & K. A. Gray (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Confronting complexity (pp. 166-171). New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #5)

Recommended: Levy, C. S. (1976). Personal versus professional values: The practitioner’s dilemmas. Clinical

Social Work Journal, 4(2), 110-120.

February 28-March 3 Hardcastle, D. A., with Powers, P. R., & Wenocur, S. (2011). Using self in community practice:

Assertiveness. In Community practice: Theories and skills for social workers (3rd ed.; pp. 182-214). New York: Oxford University Press.

Golensky, M. (1995). Conflicting agendas for the future of a youth agency (CNG No. 14). Hartford, CT: Yale University, Program on Non-profit Governance. (Case #6)

March 7-10 Dweck, C. S. (2009). Mindsets: Developing talent through a growth mindset. Olympic Coach,

21(1), 4–7. Available at: http://www.teamusa.org/~/media/USA_Volleyball/Documents/Resources/OlympCoachM ag_Win%2009_Vol%2021_Mindset_Carol%20Dweck.pdf

Dweck, C. (2006-2010). What is mindset. Available at: http://mindsetonline.com/whatisit/about/ Flaherty, A., Reitmeier, M. C., Browne, T., Dehart, D., Iachini, A., & Christopher, R. Second

time around [Unpublished decision case]. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina, College of Social Work. (Case #7)

March 14-17 NO CLASS—SPRING BREAK

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March 21-24 SAGE 2YC. (2016). What is self-regulated learning? Available at: http://serc.carleton.edu/

sage2yc/studentsuccess/self_regulated/what.html Franklin, L. D. (2014). Gay-for-pay. In T. A. Wolfer, L. D. Franklin & K. A. Gray (Eds.),

Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Confronting complexity (pp. 15-29). New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #8)

March 28-31 Sloan, R. (2014, September 5). The steel man of #GamerGate. Retrieved November 24, 2017,

from https://medium.com/message/the-steel-man-of-gamergate-7019d86dd5f5 Hoffman, E., & Myers, D. R. (2002). Why can’t they make this place more Jewish? In T. L.

Scales, T. A. Wolfer, D. A. Sherwood, D. R. Garland, B. Hugen & S W. Pittman (Eds.), Spirituality and religion in social work practice (pp 117-121). Alexandria, VA: Council on Social Work Education. (Case #9)

April 4-7 Dvorsky, G. (n.d.). The 12 cognitive biases that prevent you from being rational. Retrieved May

9, 2016, from http://io9.com/5974468/the-most-common-cognitive-biases-that-prevent- you-from-being-rational

Forlani, V. M., & Stone, M. M. (1996). Neighborhood agencies, businesses, and the city: Boston Against Drugs (CNG No. 17). Hartford, CT: Yale University, Program on Non-profit Governance. (Case #10)

April 11-14 Garber, M. (2017, December 15). The weaponization of awkwardness. The Atlantic. Retrieved

from https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/12/the-weaponization-of- awkwardness/548291/

Busch-Armendariz, N. B., Nsonwu, M., & Heffron, L. C. (2017). Family business. In Human trafficking: Applying research, theory, and case studies (pp. 145-156). Los Angeles: Safe Publications. (Case #11)

April 18-21 Hovis, M., & Franklin, L. D. (2014). Private, dismissed. In T. A. Wolfer, L. D. Franklin & K. A.

Gray (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Confronting complexity (pp. 108-122). New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #12)

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April 25-28 Cherniss, C. (1995). The first year: “I thought I’d died and gone to hell.” In Beyond burnout:

Helping teachers, nurses, therapists, and lawyers recover from stress and disillusionment (pp. 17-36). New York: Routledge.

Lee, J., & Miller, S. (2013). A self-care framework for social workers: Building a strong foundation for practice. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Social Services, 94(2), 96–103. doi:10.1606/1044-3894.4289

*Permission to reprint all selections granted to University Readers by the publishers for this individual course reader. Please don’t photocopy – to do so would be a

violation of copyright law.

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40 Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team

The meeting he dreads will begin in less than an hour, so Jerry Feldman reluctantly takes out the files on Arthur Harris and Frances Carpenter for one last review.

As Director of Field Services for the Human Services Coordination Team of the State Services Department (SSD), Jerry supervises both people. Arthur is Northeast Regional Director, and Frances is Arthur's specialist in inner-city problems. The team's mission is to work with citizens' groups, private agencies, other public agencies, and SSD's own program divisions; to coordinate the targeting of social services; and to increase citizen involvement in their delivery. A major part of that mission involves identifying individuals and groups that need specific services and assisting them in making claims on those best able to meet their needs. The team's activities are conducted in five regions, and the field staffs in each region average a half-dozen professionals and two clericals. Headquarters for the team is the SSD office in the capital, but Jerry spends a lot of time on the road visiting the regional offices, which are the central units of the team.

The regional directors like Arthur Harris have multiple responsibili- ties. They develop work assignments for their subordinates, maintain communication among them so they do not work at cross-purposes, elaborate headquarters strategy and priorities as well as implement them in the field, evaluate their staff and make recommendations for promotion, termination, or reassignment, and supervise the administra- tive details that arise from the constant travel of each of the field work- ers. The nature of the team's mission is such that the regional directors have to supervise their subordinates closely and give them more cor- rective feedback than is common in most social-service work. After all, the team's mission is coordination, and that means that its own staff should be the best coordinated of all.

Arthur Harris 's file reveals that he has been a member of the team since it was authorized a year and a half earlier, all that time in the

273

northe'1st region. The details reveal that Arthur is a real comer. He has a college degree, with a double major in sociology and political science, gained about five years earlier after three years in the Army. He did one year of graduate work in sociology before taking a planning position elsewhere in the department. Selected for the team because of interest and performance, Arthur receives generally good evaluations and re- flects increasing interest in "street-level" administration. Arthur is among the younger employees expected to rise to positions of consider- able responsibility in the department. He is white.

Frances Carpenter is quite different from Arthur. She is seven years older, has two children, has completed about two years' college credit, and is black. Her interest in street-level administration is not new. Be- fore joining the Human Services Coordination Team at the same time Arthur did, she was a community-relations specialist with the Com- munity Action Program in Benton, which with its sister city of Fillmore constitutes the major urban center of the northeast region. Almost everyone in Benton at least knows Frances's name, and in the black community of about 15,000 there are few people who do not know her personally. She led a well-publicized rent strike, worked for community control of the police, and helped initiate compensatory programs for the disadvantaged in Benton County Community College. Her specialty in the northeast region is working with the black communities of Benton and Fillmore.

Jerry found her to be capable at the start. She is the best person in the region for handling service delivery foul-ups, both because she knows the right people and because she is inventive at creating con- structive responses. Evaluations of her performance during the first year are positive. Arthur Harris 's predecessor as regional director was an older black man who left the job for a top position in post-release correctional services. He knew Frances for many years, and they worked well together.

Jerry feared that some trouble might develop when he promoted Arthur Harris, even though Arthur seemed to have support from each of his co-workers. But, initially, Arthur worked out well. After a couple of months, friction developed between Frances and Arthur, who began to write that Frances was resisting direction. He even entered notes in her file that she failed to carry out an assignment that he requested her to undertake. Other notes-none part of the permanent record-indicate that Frances frequently gets into arguments with other staff members, all of whom are white. And most recently, she missed two weekly meetings of the field staff without notice or explanation.

When Arthur told her that if she missed a third consecutive staff meeting he would consider giving her a written reprimand, Frances

274 Supervisory Problems

blew up, called him a racist and sexist incompetent in tones that could be heard by anyone nearby, stormed out of the office, and disappeared for a day and a half. She returned to the office in a subdued manner with a signed agreement by a voluntary agency to open a day-care cen- ter in the inner city of Benton. That was a good piece of work.

But Arthur still feels he needs Jerry's intervention, and hence the scheduled meeting to which Jerry is not looking forward.

Frances arrives first in the regional office's conference room. Jerry asks her to have a seat. "Good to see you," he says. "I heard about your blowup with Arthur the other day and thought the three of us ought to get together. You've worked together for long enough that an incident like this is cause for concern. Do you want to talk for a few minutes before Arthur comes in, or would you rather wait?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replies. "I'm sorry I yelled and got him upset, but he's really been after me. I used to think he was under- standing, but now I'm not sure. He tries hard, but he's not as grown-up as he thinks, and he's been putting on a lot of airs."

"What do you mean?" Jerry asks. "You know, playing like he's the big boss with all these evaluations.

I've worked here as long as he has, and I know my job. He should be helpful, but instead he's always trying to act superior."

"What kind of things does he do to act superior?" Jerry inquires. "Well, you know, Mr. Feldman, like always trying to pretend he

knows better than I do what's happening in Benton, like he knows the needs there. He gives me a lot of things from books and then tries to make me feel like it's my fault, not his, when they don't work."

"Like what?" "Like the time he wanted me to get young mothers organized for

prenatal care," Frances explains. "You can't change kids' habits like that. Some are 14-year-olds hardly aware of what's happening to them. I tried a little, but there are so many other things to do, it wasn't worth the effort right then. A time will come for that. If Arthur really knew the black community here in Benton, he'd understand that."

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. "Is that you, Arthur? Come on in," Jerry calls.

Arthur is a little nervous and awkward as he sits down. He smiles at Frances and then asks Jerry how things are at headquarters. After a brief reply, Jerry suggests that they get down to business. "Why don't each of you tell what you think is going on? Arthur, do you want to go first?"

"Well, if that's the way you would like to proceed," Arthur offers. "I think this is a very complicated situation with a lot of elements in it."

40 I Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team 275

Arthur pauses and thinks for a minute. "I respect Frances a lot, and I'm a little uneasy saying some of this because we have worked together as equals before I became her supervisor."

"I have an idea," Jerry interrupts. "Why don't you talk to Frances as well as to me? After all, whatever is going on, and whatever we manage to do here today, you two are still going to have to work things out between you."

"All right," Arthur responds. "Before I became your supervisor, when the office first opened, Frances, we worked mostly on helping people caught between the cracks in social services or people getting a bureaucratic pass-me-around-you know, case kinds of things. I don't know if you have an equal around here in handling that kind of matter.

"Well," Frances says with feigned surprise, "that's the first time you have ever admitted that!"

"Hmmm," Jerry murmurs. "Continue?" "All right," Arthur says. "You know, casework isn't all that we

should be doing. Our real goal is human-services integration. I've felt that one of the reasons I was promoted, Jerry, was because you felt that I could help this region get more into programmatic activities, you know, the kinds of things where instead of helping a few people, we implement a change that will help lots of people now and into the future.

"It's been my goal to try to do that," Arthur continues. "Things like helping service-delivery agencies establish good coordinative mech- anisms between city agencies or between the county and the depart- ment, for example. We shouldn't do all the coordinating, we should be setting it up so other people do that. Isn't that right, Jerry?"

"That's one of the objectives. Yes, certainly," Jerry replies. "Well, I've tried to do that since becoming regional director," Arthur

says as he looks back at Frances. "For some reason-I don't know why--you 've always seemed to resist that idea."

"That's not true," Frances says. "You '11 get your tum," Jerry cautions. "Go on, Arthur, and remem-

ber to tell Frances your thoughts." "My feeling is that both your experience and your talents lead you

to prefer casework," Arthur continues. Frances looks upset. "Wait a minute," Jerry says. "Let's try and avoid motivations and

interpretations. Just describe what happened. We'll look for causes in due time."

Arthur agrees and goes on. "The first few suggestions I gave you just seemed to bounce right off and disappear, Frances. I suggested that you try to improve coordination between County Probation and the

276 Supervisory Problems

summer softball programs in Benton County. You said you didn't know anyone in the athletic programs and that they didn't work in the city. Then there was the business with developing support in the Fill- more City Council for community-based mental-health halfway houses, which nothing ever came of. I tried to talk to you about that and tried to get you to set down on paper your goals for the next six months. But you never did. Instead, you gave me a lot of excuses about how busy you were. Then you began getting into arguments a lot during the last two or three months and ... "

"What do you mean, a lot?" Frances retorts. "And besides, I didn't have many arguments, just a few disagreements."

"Man, if those weren't arguments, I don't know!" Arthur notes with an exaggerated shrug.

Jerry laughs. "What's an argument to you, Arthur?" "That's kind of hard to define," he says. "I guess when people start

getting heated over their disagreements." "What about you?" Jerry asks Frances. "Well, both people at least have to start yelling. If my ears don't hurt

it's not much of an argument," she responds. "OK," Jerry says. "What happened next?" "I don't know," Arthur says. "Things just started to go downhill. I

feel that Frances just hasn't kept up with the others in terms of pro- gram improvements. I tried to get her to see this at the weekly staff meetings by having other people talk about what they were doing."

"That was an attempt to put me down," Frances asserts. "Hold on," Jerry says. "Let's keep motives out of it. How did you

feel; that's the question." "Well," she says, "I felt angry. He never wanted to ... " "Tell it to Arthur," Jerry reminds her. "Man, you are something," Frances says. "All right, you never

wanted to hear about what I was doing. I was doing a lot of things. I got the locations changed on the health clinics, and I found a way to get hot meals for the old folks, and I steered a group of kids into a teen center they never knew existed, and a whole lot of other things. But all those meetings just were a lot of talk about bureaucratic I-don't- kno.w-what. I thought I was supposed to work against that, not make more of it!"

"That's just the point," Arthur says. "If we don't make these agen- cies work right, then no one will get the services they need. I know you mean well, but in the long run this way is better for the black commun- ity and all people."

"What do you know about the black community?" Frances shoots back. "Have you ever lived there? That's what I'm supposed to know.

40 I Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team 277

If you knew anything about the blaL:k community you'd know better what is an argument and what isn't."

"Well when someone stomps around an office picking fights and contradicting everyone, that's an argument," Arthur says.

"Oh, you and your bourgeois standards," Frances replies. "What do you know? I have a right to get upset once in a while," she says assert- ively. "Besides, what am I supposed to do? There's no one in that office I can talk to. Everyone's so concerned with doing good they never bother to find out what the people are like."

"You don't have any monopoly on the people," Arthur responds. "We work with lots of different kinds of people. It's not just the black community, and you have to understand that."

"I think we are getting diverted from the main issue," Jerry pro- poses. "Why don't you tell Arthur more about his idea of programs?"

"Well, he's got some problems about black folks that need some work, but all right." She turns back to Arthur. "I never did understand all that program stuff. I remember about the softball leagues, but I don't know any of those people. When I came to you about that you just gave me some names to call. Well I already had got the names! And I tried to talk to people in Fillmore, and they gave me the run- around. They're a lot of racists over there, and you never should have asked me to deal with them. Charlie Welsh knows all those people. Why don't you ask him?"

"That's just the point. You have to expand your base of operations if you are going to become programmatic," Arthur says. "You should be able to deal with all kinds of situations. If you are going to get good evaluation reports, you have to do the same as all the other field officers."

"Who's doing the evaluations? You?" Frances asks. "How are you going to evaluate me? You don't understand the black community, and you don't know our needs. I was hired to work on the things I know best," Frances states. "And that's what I do. You got all these fancy ideas about programs and all that bureaucratic stuff, but you don't understand blacks or how to evaluate us. You don't understand me enough to help me when I ask for it, so how can you evaluate me? All you do is put me down at staff meetings, then you wonder why I don't come and threaten me with reprimands and all that."

"I certainly can evaluate you and your work," Arthur maintains. "I use the same standards that I use to evaluate anyone's work. There's no difference between black or white. This isn't a race issue, and I resent your trying to make it one," Arthur snaps.

"Well, that's where you 're wrong," Frances responds. "If you think you just go out and hang the same standards on all people, you are a racist and you don't even know it!" Frances yells. "You call yourself

278 Supervisory Problems

a supervisor and think you can evaluate me? You don't even know whi:lt I do, and you don't even care. All you care about is your so-called pro- gram plans, and I don't need any of that white middle-class stuff that's been keeping black people down for years!"

Directions:

You are Jerry. A welcome emergency long-distance call gets you off the spot for a

few moments. You steal a few more minutes to reflect on the meeting. So far, the discussion has ventilated some issues, and things are beginning to get

hot. As Jerry. where would you like to see the discussion go from here? How do you think you have handled the conflict so far, and what would you have done differently? What do you think you have done well about directing the discussion?

You tick off some of the issues. Is Arthur racist? Do you think he understands the "black community?" Do you think there is such a thing? Should Frances be evaluated or otherwise treated differently from the other members of the field staff?

You also are aware of the differences of opinion and values between Arthur and Frances. Which are proper subjects for management concern? Should you try to help find a way toward a resolution of their conflict that helps each better under- stand the other's goals and needs and still is consistent with the agency's mission and the community's needs?

With this kind of thought in mind, what is your opening intervention to be when you reenter the conference room? How do you expect Frances will respond? Arthur?

40 I Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Tearn 279

Decision Cases for

Advanced

Social Work Practice

Thinking Like a Social Worker

Edited by

TERRY A. WOLFER University of South Carolina

T. LAINE SCALES Baylor University

THC>IVISC>N • BROOKS/COLE Australia • Canada • Mexico • Singapore • Spain

United Kingdom • United States

Chapter 1

An Introduction to

Decision Cases and Case

Method Learning

TERRY A. WOLFER

"Good judgment comes from· experience. Experience comes from bad judgment."

WALTER WRISTON (CITED IN BRUNER, 1999, p. xxi.ii)

T he case method of learning typically involves in-depth class discussions based on detailed, open-ended accounts of actual practice situations. These accounts, referred to as decision cases, require students to formu-

late the problems and decide on potential courses of action. The case analyses and class discussions help students learn to apply theory to practice and to develop important problem-solving and critical-thinking skills. Because this particular form of cases may be unfamiliar to you, we intend this introductory chapter to provide background information on cases and the case method. This chapter will do the following:

1. Consider the ubiquitous nature of cases and decision making in professional social work education and practice.

2. Differentiate cases for decision making from the more common cases for examples or illustration.

3. Help students understand how case discussions differ, both philosophically and practically, from traditional approaches to social work education.

4. Identify general learning outcomes associated with analyzing and discussing decision cases, and the importance of these outcomes for social work practice.

5. Explain where these cases came from, and how they were written.

4 PART I TO THE STUDENT

In the next chapter, we provide concrete tips for analyzing and preparing to discuss cases.

WHAT IS YOUR EXPERIENCE WITH CASES?

No doubt, you are well acquainted with the use of cases in your social work program. Many social work instructors and textbook authors provide cases to aid your understanding of social work practice. In field supervision, you likely discuss individual cases and the problems or challenges these pose for you. In your field practicum or social work employment, you may measure your workload in terms of the number of cases you carry at any point in time.

This collection of cases is similar in some ways to these various types of cases but different in other important ways. Like cases in your classrooms or textbooks, these cases were developed for teaching purposes. However, these cases have a more specific teaching purpose that probably differs from pub- lished cases with which you may be familiar. In social work education, most published cases have an illustrative purpose. They provide examples of good practice, or even exemplars for you to emulate. Such cases depict difficult prac- tice situations and show how social workers dealt with these situations. They typically show how a social work theory was applied in the particular situa- tion, providing insight or understanding, or how a social work intervention was carried out, providing guidance in use of the intervention. In short, such cases show you how some theory or intervention applies to practice or, more simply, how the theory or intervention works.

Discussing cases with your social work field instructor or supervisor also has a teaching purpose, though it might be more accurate to refer to this as a learning purpose. In supervision, your field instructor "looks over your shoul- der" to ensure that things are going well and to provide direction as necessary. When you discuss difficult cases with your field instructor, you may review what has happened, what you have tried to do, and so on. Initially, your super- visor carries important responsibility for guiding your efforts. But as you gain practice experience, you will increasingly use supervision to make collabora- tive decisions about what to do next. In these situations, your field instructor or supervisor is not directing your work so much as helping you decide how to proceed, what to try, what the likely consequences will be, and so on.This type of supervision shifts the focus from the past to the present and future, from what happened to what to do next. And it shifts the emphasis from your instructor "teaching you what to do" to the two of you (or the supervision group) collaboratively figuring out what to do. This approach to supervision is common in professional social work practice, and this set of decision cases is intended to resemble and promote it.

In direct practice settings especially, the set of cases (caseload) for which you have responsibility also provides a shorthand way of referring to your

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING

workload. In this usage, a case refers to the client system for which you have some professional responsibility. The client may be understood to be an indi- vidual, a couple, or a family unit.

In this casebook, however, the word case does not refer to cases of this type. Instead, we use case for referring to specific situations in professional practice that pose problems and dilemmas, and these situations are more like those described in the previous paragraph. Furthermore, these cases may come from any level of social work practice. As a result, the client system may include a supervisee, program, organization, community, or state in addition to individ- uals, families, or groups in direct practice. This brief reflection reveals how ubiquitous cases are in professional social work practice, and also alerts us to some important distinctions in use of the term.

CASES IN SOCIAL WORK EDUCATION

The use of cases is nothing new. For more than 100 years, social work instruc- tors have used cases in the classroom to educate students (Fisher, 1978; Reitmeier, 2002; e.g., Reynolds, 1942; Towle, 1954). Over time, these cases have taken many forms, ranging from brief vignettes only a few sentences or paragraphs long to complex book-length accounts.

Merseth (1996) identified three basic educational purposes for using cases: cases as examples or exemplars to illustrate practice, cases as foci for reflecting on practice, or cases as opportunities to practice decision making. For the first purpose, mentioned above, cases provide concrete and specific examples of how professional theories or interventions apply in practice situations. As illus- trations, cases can help students understand theoretical content and practice skills. During the past few decades, most of the available social work casebooks provide cases for this purpose (e.g., Amodeo, Schofield, Duffy, Jones, Zimmerman, & Delgado, 1997; Haulotte & Kretzschmar, 2001; LeCroy, 1999; McClelland,Austin, & Este, 1998; Rivas & Hull, 2000).

Although most cases in social work education have an illustrative purpose, the cases here have primarily a decision-making purpose. They resemble the type of cases that social workers take to their supervisors when they are un- certain how to understand a situation or how to respond. In fact, the cases in this collection troubled the practitioners who experienced and reported them. For some, the situations remain perplexing months (and even years) after they occurred.

Rather than provide good examples of how practice theories or interven- tions might work, these cases present challenging problem-solving opportuni- ties. As a result, they provide opportunities for you to practice · decision making, to refine the skills you need in social work practice. Like social work practice dilemmas you might take to a supervisor, these cases present messy, ambiguous, problematic situations that invite and merit professional thinking

6 PART I TO THE STUDENT

and intervention. Discussing these challenging cases will clarify the funda- mental importance of problem framing or formulation; they require you to bring structure to complex, ill-structured situations. Having formulated the problems, you must decide what to do about the various situations.As you will see, many social work interventions may be possible or even relevant in partic- ular cases but these interventions will vary by the extent to which they actu- ally help resolve the basic dilemmas. Class discussions will clarify the probable consequences of various formulations and strategies, and help you refine your decision-making processes.

DISTINGUISHING DECISION CASES

FROM OTHER TYPES

In defining decision cases, scholars note several characteristics that distinguish them from other types of cases. For example, Mauffette-Leenders, Erskine, and Leenders (1997) define a decision c~se as "a description of an actual situation, commonly involving a decision, a challenge, an opportunity, a problem or issue faced by a person (or persons) in an organization. The case allows [the reader] to step figuratively into the position of the particular decision maker" (p. 2). Similarly, Christensen and Hansen (1987) define a decision case as:

a partial, historical, clinical study of a situation which has confronted a ... [practitioner]. Presented in narrative form to encourage student involvement, it provides data-substantive and process-essential to an analysis of a specific situation, for the framing of alternative action programs, and for their implementation recognizing the complexity and ambiguity of the practical world. (p. 27)

These definitions highlight several key characteristics of decision cases. Like case examples or exemplars, decision cases provide accounts of social

work practice situations but they differ in several important ways (Wolfer, 2003). Perhaps most distinctively, decision cases involve a dilemma of some sort for the practitioner and the written cases end with the situation unre- solved (Leenders, Mauffette-Leenders, & Erskine, 2001; Lynn, 1999; Weaver, Kowalski, & Pfaller, 1994). As a result, students must "untangle situations that are complex and undefined and impose a coherence of their own making" (Barnes, 1989, p. 17; cited in Merseth, 1996, p. 729). By presenting incomplete and ill-structured or "messy" situations (Boehrer & Linsky, 1990), decision cases especially stimulate readers to analyze the information they contain and formulate problems, and then to decide how to intervene in the situations. In short, open-ended cases spur readers to seek resolution.

Furthermore, decision cases generally depict actual situations encountered by social work practitioners rather than generic or composite situations.While

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING

some identifying information may be disguised to protect individuals and organizations, case writers try to avoid making any changes to cases that alter case dynamics (Cossom, 1991). Indeed, ~case writers construct decision cases based on multiple interviews with key participants, usually the protagonist and sometimes other people (Leenders et al., 2001; Lynn, 1999; Naumes & Na um es, 1999; Welsh, 1999). Case writers gather detailed information, includ- ing conversational dialogue as case reporters remember it (Weaver et al., 1994). As a result, cases reflect the perspectives of case reporters, with both the strengths and limitations of their subjectivity. Well-written cases "put the stu- dent reader squarely in the shoes of the social worker" (Cossom, 1991,p. 141). They allow readers to "inhabit" or empathize with the world of the case reporter, to both know and "feel" the information that constitutes the prob- lematic situation.

Decision cases typically differ from example cases in several additional ways. They often include more background information than example cases, including details about the time period, the social service agency and other organizations involved, organizational and social policies, and the community setting. In this way, cases better reflect the "complex, messy, context-specific activity" of professional practice (Merseth, 1996, p. 728). As experienced prac- titioners recognize, such information often plays an essential role in situations and their possible resolution (Doyle, 1990; Shulman, 1992). However, some of . the included case details may be extraneous and potentially distracting, requir- ing readers to sort through the data, just as they must do in actual practice (Weaver et al., 1994).

Typically, decision cases also include more information about the protago- nists than example cases, because this information also plays an essential part in the situations (Weaver et al., 1994; Wolfer, 2003). Where example cases often invite readers to identify with a generic social worker (i.e., "Ms. Green"), deci- sion cases provide details about the social worker that may be relevant for case dynamics. Putting this information on the page helps readers to recognize and consider how the self of the social worker may interact with problems and

· their resolution. Further, it encourages readers to reflect on how their own selves may also have consequences in professional practice.

Usually, decision cases do not include much theoretical content, except when case reporters explicitly mention it themselves. In professional practice, most situations do not present with explicit theoretical frameworks (Lynn, 1999; Sykes & Bird, 1992). Decision cases simply reflect that lack of explicit theory. As a result, the raw case data requires that readers supply theory for understanding the situations and helps them come to understand the critical need to do so (i.e., theory provides a "handle" on case situations). It also allows instructors considerable latitude in discussing cases from different theoretical perspectives.

These cases may provide little new information about topics you have been learning in other courses (though you may learn about particular social

8 PART I TO THE STUDENT

work settings, interventions, or problems with which you are unfamiliar). Instead, they emphasize the use of previous learning, especially in novel situa- tions. In that way, these cases resemble social work practice, and discussing these cases resembles peer supervision. The cases themselves seldom make clear what theory or interventions might be suitable. You must decide about that, drawing from what you have learned up to this point. Hopefully, by pro- viding opportunities for you to practice decision making in complex and challenging situations, analyzing and discussing the cases will also help you to refine your decision-making skills and to become a more self-reflective deci- sion maker. Some of the things you will learn from discussing these cases would likely have occurred during your initial years of social work employ- ment. But by discussing these cases, you can accelerate your learning and aid your successful transition to professional social work practice.

For these reasons, this collection of decision cases is especially well suited for use in capstone courses or integrative field seminars. For all students, these cases help provide a bridge between theory and practice, between the class- room and their agency settings. For students nearing completion of their edu- cational programs, these cases may assist their transition from student to practitioner as they assume greater decision-making responsibility.

OUTCOMES OF DECISION CASE LEARNING

In part, the differences between novices and experienced practitioners may have less to do with what they know than with how they use their knowledge (Livingston & Borko, 1989). Business educators Barnes, Christensen, and Hansen (1994) argue that case method instruction helps to develop in students an applied "administrative point of view" (p. 50). In other words, case method instruction helps business students to develop the perspective of experienced business administrators or practitioners. In social work, we could refer to this as "thinking like a social worker" (hence the title of this book).

Barnes, Christensen, and Hansen suggest that an administrative point of view includes several components. These are (1) a focus on understanding the specific context; (2) a sense for appropriate boundaries; (3) sensitivity to inter- relationships; (4) examining and understanding any situation from a multidi- mensional point of view; (5) accepting personal responsibility for the solution of organizational problem; and (6) an action orientation (pp. 50-51). These components reflect a thoroughly systemic approach to understanding practice.

Furthermore, the latter component (6) above, an action orientation, includes several dimensions acquired through practice experience. These dimensions are (a) a sense of the possible; (b) willingness to make decisions on the basis of imperfect and limited data; (c) a sense of the critical aspects of a situation; (d) the ability to combine discipline and creativity; (e) skill in

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING

converting targets into accomplishments; and (f) an appreciation of the major limitations of professional action (Barnes et al., p. 51). Together, they distin- guish expert practitioners from novices. In short, the concept of an adminis- trative or practitioner point of view redirects our attention from what students know to their ability to use their knowledge judiciously. From this perspective, theoretical knowledge and technical skill are essential but insuffi- cient for competent practice. Not only must competent professionals have knowledge and skills, they must know how to use them, and exercise good judgment in doing so.

Although the knowledge, skill, and value bases differ significantly between business and social work, we think there are some important parallels between how business and social work professionals need to think and act in profes- sional practice.As Barnes and his colleagues argue, competent practice requires profoundly systemic ways of thinking and deciding. Hopefully, analyzing and discussing these cases will help you to acquire some of the attitudes, knowl- edge, and skills that experienced social workers identify as critical to their pro- fessional success.

Several teacher educators identify other outcomes of case method learn- ing. At the most basic level, cases convey information or declarative knowl- edge, that is, what to know. For example, education researchers have explored the effectiveness of cases for introducing multicultural perspectives, pedagogi- cal theory, and mathematics content (e.g., Merseth, 1996). At a deeper level, cases can promote different ways of thinking or procedural knowledge, that is, how to know and do. For example, education researchers have begun to explore the effectiveness of cases for developing problem-solving and decision-making skills, beliefs about professional authority and personal efficacy, more realistic perspectives on the complexities of practice (and new ways oflooking at prac- tice), and habits of reflection (Merseth, 1996).

Lundeberg (1999), another teacher educator, provides an alternative con- ceptual framework for understanding case method learning outcomes. Based on empirical research, she reports benefits in five categories, most of which relate to different ways of thinking. The first category, theoretical and practi- cal understandings, combines two kinds of knowledge that researchers have often separated. She combines them because of the ways instructors can use cases for generating theory from practice, encouraging students to apply the- ory in practical situations, and for helping students discover when and how theories may be useful (p. 4). The second category, improved reasoning and reflective decision making, reflects a basic purpose of case method instruc- tion. Decision cases are specifically designed for helping students develop their abilities: "to identify, frame, or find a problem; consider problems from multiple perspectives; provide solutions for problems identified; and consider the consequences and ethical ramifications of these solutions" (p. 8). As another teacher educator notes, "Many students see problems as no more

10 PART I TO THE STUDENT

than common-sense, obvious difficulties. They have not developed the idea that problems are constructed and can be constructed in more and less fruit- ful ways" (Kleinfield, 1991, p. 7; cited in Lundeberg, 1999, p. 9). Case discus-, sions provide significant opportunities for developing more sophisticated decision-making abilities. The growth of reasoning relates to a third category, metacognition, the process of reflecting on one's own thinking processes (Lundeberg, 1999, p. 12). While awareness of thinking and learning processes is obviously important for classroom teachers, it has an important parallel for social workers. Thinking and learning processes are part of a broader category of change processes. Case discussions may help students better understand the nature and difficulty of change processes, especially as they become more self-reflective regarding their own learning. For education students, metacog- nitions are closely related to a fourth category, beliefs about learning (p. 14). Early literature on cognitive change suggested that awareness of one's own beliefs and how they conflict with empirically based ideas about learning would lead to change in beliefs. More recent literature reveals that cognitive change is less rational and more dependent on social interaction. Applying this insight to change processes more generally, case method may provide experience and insight regarding the importance of relationship dynamics in social work interventions, whether at the micro or macro level. Lundeberg refers to a final category of benefits as social, ethical, and epistemological growth (p. 15). Her colleague, Harrington (1994), wrote:

The knowledge of most worth is brought into being dialogically. It is said and heard in multiple ways-transformed in the sharing-enriched through multiplicity. Dialogue allows students to become aware of what they share in common, as well as the uniqueness of each of them as individuals. (p. 192; cited in Lundeberg, 1999, p. 16)

Deep appreciation for dialogue, as a means of comprehending similarity and difference, represents a profound type of growth fostered by case method. Dialogue is relevant for social work practice with clients but also for interac- tion with colleagues, agencies, and communities. And it leads to greater appre- ciation for the ethical context of practice. In their book, Lundeberg and her colleagues review the empirical evidence for these benefits of case method learning (Lunde berg, Levin, & Harrington, 1999).

Although originally identified in the context of teacher education, these benefits of case method learning seem highly relevant for social work practice as well. Competent practice requires both theoretical and practical knowledge, reasoning and reflective decision-making skills, metacognitive awareness (especially regarding change processes), appropriate beliefs about change, and social, ethical, and epistemological growth. Unfortunately, these significant benefits of case method learning are sometimes overlooked in social work education, or at least not addressed in formal ways. In that respect, case method may prove to be a valuable supplement to the traditional classroom.

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING

CASE METHOD TEACHING

To most fully exploit the teaching potential of decision cases, instructors must use a "case method teaching" approach (Barnes et al., 1994; Cossom, 1991; Erskine, Leenders, & Mauffette-Leenders, 1998; Lundeberg et al., 1999; Lynn, 1999;Welty, 1989). Because this approach may differ from what your instruc- tors normally do, it may be helpful for you to have some advance warning about what they may do differently and to be aware of their reasons for it. Case method teaching relies heavily on discussion, and case method instruc- tors essentially lead discussions by asking questions (Boehrer & Linsky, 1990). The overarching questions are twofold: What is the problem? And what would you do about it? In classroom discussions, however, instructors may not actu- ally ask these two basic questions. Instead, they ask many more specific ques- tions designed to explore these two questions. Instructors formulate and select questions based partly on their instructional goals, what background knowl- edge students bring to the discussion, and the direction and flow of the imme- diate discussion. As discussions develop, instructors may encourage individual students to elaborate on their perspectives, seek divergent viewpoints from other students, and ask about connections or dis'crepancies between new com- ments and previous comments. Although it sometimes frustrates students, case method instructors consistently refrain from providing their own perspectives or opinions about the cases. Rather than identify possible errors of fact or judgment themselves, instructors promote critical thinking by asking good questions. Indeed, case method instructors consider students' increasing ability to pose good questions, as importance evidence of their learning (Boehrer & Linsky, 1990).

Much like group therapists, case method instructors must also attend to the level of discussion process (Lundeberg et al., 1999; Welty, 1989). For example, instructors seek to distribute speaking turns, steering the discussion away from overly talkative students toward quieter students. They monitor perceptions of classroom safety, and consider the effects of their own and students' contribu- tions. In their questioning, they sometimes push students to express disagree- ments and at other times allow students to go more slowly. More than some other teaching approaches, case method teaching requires that instructors lis- ten well (Christensen, 1991; Leonard, 1991), to maintain simultaneous aware- ness of both discussion content and discussion process.

THE CASES

This book includes a diverse mix of cases, some involving predominantly micro settings and issues and others involving predominantly macro settings and issues. In ways that may surprise you, however, you will come to see how micro and macro issues are frequently intertwined, how the traditional

12 PART I TO THE STUDENT

distinction between micro and macro practice does not work well at times in actual practice. These cases make clear the systemic nature of reality and pro- vide support for the widespread emphasis on systems thinking in social work education. We created the mix of cases to reinforce this point.

Occasionally, some students object to the mix of cases. Students who may be focusing on micro practice, for example, may not understand why they should know or care about political intrigue in policy making at the state level. Or students who may be focusing on macro practice may not under- stand why they should be familiar with controversial practice interventions for .·· individual clients. Hopefully, this collection will help you to see common threads across these situations, to develop your skills of assessment and decision making, and to better understand the interactive nature of systems. Discussing these cases will also help you to return to your own area of specialization with increased insight, :flexibility, and creativity. These assertions may prompt you to wonder about the intended benefits oflearning with decision cases.

WHERE THESE CASES CAME FROM,

AND HOW THEY WERE WRITTEN

Most of the cases in this collection were originally developed for a case- based capstone course at the University of South Carolina's College of Social Work (Wolfer, Freeman, & Rhodes, 2001). Because we intended the cases for students in the final semester of the MSW program, the cases all involve MSW-level practitioners. Most of the cases were reported by doc- toral students, faculty members, field instructors, or recent graduates of the college. As a result, the cases come disproportionately from the southeastern United States. But because many people at the college, in each of those categories, have moved to South Carolina from other areas of the United States, the cases come from other parts of the country as well. To qualify for use in the course and inclusion in this case collection, cases must have met several criteria:

1. The situation may be drawn from any field of social work practice.

2. The situation may be drawn from direct practice with individuals, families or groups, or indirect practice with organizations or communities.

3. The situation must include a social worker with some critical decision- . making responsibility (the social worker serves as the protagonist).

4. The situation must involve some type of dilemma for the social worker. The dilemma may include, for example, conflicting values or ethical principles held by individual clients, their families, the social worker, the social work organization, or social policies. In the best cases, competent social workers may disagree about appropriate responses to the dilemma.

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING

5. The social worker must have '(or be working toward) an MSW degree, so that MSW students can reasonably identify with and learn from his or her dilemma.

6. Finally, the social worker must be interested and willing to report the situation in confidential interviews with a case writer.

As implied by these criteria, the cases were all field researched. That is, they were all based on in-depth interviews with individual social workers who agreed to report their experiences. More specifically, the cases were researched and written using a conjoint, repeated interview process developed by Welsh (1999). It typically consisted of several steps.

First, before the case reporting sessions, case reporters prepared brief writ- ten accounts of a problem or decision they actually faced in social work prac- tice. These accounts helped case writers determine the likely appropriateness of a case dilemma before they began in-depth research.

Second, during the reporting sessions, case reporters told case writing teams the story behind their accounts. In addition to the cas~ reporter and case writer, each team typically included one or two additional social workers from the case reporter's field of practice to assist with questioning. Following Welsh (1999), we have found that conjoint interviews broaden and deepen the case writer's understanding of the case situation. We audio taped these interviews to collect detailed descriptions and numerous direct quotes from case reporters.

Third, after the reporting session, the case.writer(s) prepared a working draft of the case that included a title, an opening paragraph or introductory "hook," necessary background sections, and the story line with descriptions and quotes.

Fourth, case writers sought additional information from case reporters as needed, exchanged working drafts with the case reporter, co-interviewers, and editors for editorial feedback, and returned a final draft to the case reporter for confirmation. Case writers did not release cases for publication until case reporters signed release forms indicating they felt satisfied that the written cases accurately reflected their experiences and adequately disguised the situation.

In consultation with the case reporters, we disguised the cases to protect them, their clients, and their social service organizations. In most cases, the dis- guise involved changing names of people, organizations, and places, and selected details. As much as possible, however, we avoided changing case data that would alter essential case dynamics. For example, we did not change the gender of case reporters or clients, or the geographic regions in which cases occurred. In subtle ways, these and similar factors influence how the case situations developed and how they may be interpreted, and we did not want to undermine the reality of what the case reporters experienced. As suggested above, learning to take account of such details distinguishes expert practitioners from novices.

Whatever you think of particular decision cases in the collection, avoid jumping to conclusions. The case reporters have been generous and coura- geous in telling about particularly challenging, even troubling situations they have faced in professional practice. For that, we are most grateful. For some

14 PART I TO THE STUDENT

case reporters, the situations continue to frustrate, perplex and concern them, and that was part of the reason they agreed to report their cases.

READING THE CASES

The decision cases in this collection can be read on several levels. On one level, they simply depict a variety of settings that employ social workers and the types of situations that occasionally crop up in those settings. Obviously, the cases rep- resent only a small sample of practice fields (e.g., homelessness, mental health; wife abuse, public education, and international community development).

On a second level, the cases depict specific challenges that individual social workers encountered in certain settings and at certain points in time. From a systems perspective, the multiple and overlapping factors will be quite evident, though the specifics vary from case to case. In various combinations, these fac- tors include client needs and values; social worker needs, values and skills; needs and values of other individuals related to the client(s); organizational philoso- phies, policies and procedures; professional social work values and ethics; and government policies and laws. These multiple factors create the complex and particular environments in which social workers must function, and which they must carefully consider when attempting to resolve the dilemmas.

But on a third, more abstract level, the cases also reflect common chal- lenges of social work practice across settings (and, we might add, of human experience). These include, for example, balancing client and organizational needs, resolving contradictory policy requirements, making decisions with incomplete information, identifying the appropriate limits of professional intervention, anticipating unintended consequences of decisions, and resolv- ing value or ethical dilemmas.

As you read, try to consider the cases on each of these levels. You may begin by asking yourself, "What is this case about?" Repeatedly asking and answering this question can help you reach for deeper levels of understanding. The next chapter goes further in suggesting ways to read and analyze the cases and to prepare for discussing them.

REFERENCES

Amodeo, M., Schofield, R., Duffy, T.,Jones, K., Zinunerman, T., & Delgado, M. (Eds.). ( 1997). Social work approaches to alcohol and other drug problems: Case stud- ies and teaching tools. Alexandria, VA: Council on Social Work Education.

Barnes, L.B., Christensen, C.R., & Hansen, A.J. (1994). Teaching and the case method (3rd ed.). Boston: Harvard Business School Press.

Boehrer,J., & Linsky, M. (1990). Teaching with cases: Learning to question. In M. D. Svinicki (Ed.), The changingjace of college teaching (pp. 41-57). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Bruner, R. F. (1999). Note to the student: How to study and discuss cases. In Case studies in.finance: Managingfor corporate value creation (3rd ed.; pp. xxiii-xxvi). Boston: Irwin McGraw-Hill.

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEAR.NING

[Also available online at http:/ !faculty. darden. virginia. edu/brunerb I resources_ studentnote.htm]

Christensen, C. R. (1991). The discussion teacher in action: Questioning, listening, and response. In C. R. Christensen, D.A. Garvin, & A. Sweet (Eds.), Education for judgment: The artistry ef discussion lead- ership (pp. 153-172). Boston: Harvard Business School Press.

Christensen, C.R., & Hansen,A. (1987). Teaching and the case method. Boston: Harvard Business School Press.

Cossom,J. (1991). Teaching from cases: Education for critical thinking. journal ofTeaching in Sodal VV<:>rk, 5(1), 139-155.

Doyle,W (1990). Case methods in the edu- cation of teachers. Teacher Education Quarterly, 17(1), 7-16.

Erskine,]. A., Le enders, M. R., & Mauffette- Leenders, L.A. (1998). Teaching with cases (3rd ed.). London, ONT: Ivey Publishing, Ivey School of Business Administration, The University of Western Ontario.

Fisher, C. F. (1978). Being there vicariously by case studies. In M. Ohmer and Associates (Ed.), On college teaching: A guide to contemporary practices (pp. 258-285). San Francisco:Jossey-Bass.

Harrington, H. (1994). Teaching and know- ing.journal efTeacher Education, 45(3), 190-198.

Haulotte, S. M., & Kretzschmar,]. A. (Eds.). (2001). Case scenarios for teaching and learning social work practice. Alexandria, VA: Council on Social Work Education.

LeCroy, C. W (1999). Case studies in social work practice (2nd ed.). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole.

Leenders, M. R., Mauffette-Leenders, L.A., & Erskine,]. A. (2001). Writing cases (4th ed.). London, ONT: Ivey Publishing, Ivey School of Business Administration, The University ofWestern Ontario.

Leonard, H.B. (1991). With open ears: Listening and the art of discussion lead- ing. In C. R. Christensen, D. A. Garvin, & A. Sweet (Eds.), Education for judgment: The artistry ef discussion leadership (pp. 137-151). Boston: Harvard Business School Press.

Livingston, C., & Borke, H. (1989). Expert- novice difference in teaching: A cogni- tive analysis and implications for teacher education.Journal efTeacher Education, 40(4), 36-42.

Lunde berg, M.A. (1999). Discovering teach- ing and learning through cases. In M.A. Lundeberg, B. B. Levin, & H. L. Harrington (Eds.), VVho learns what from cases and how? The research base for teaching with cases (pp. 3-23). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Lunde berg, M.A., Levin, B. B., & Harrington, H. L. (1999). VVho learns what from cases and how? The research base for teaching with cases. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Lynn, L. E.,Jr. (1999). Teaching and learning with cases:Aguidebook. New York: Chatham House.

Mauffette-Leenders, L.A., Erskine,]. A., & Leenders, M. R. (1997). Learning with cases. London, ONT: Ivey Publishing, Ivey School of Business Administration, The University ofWestern Ontario.

McClelland, R.W,Austin, C. D., & Este, D. (1998). Macro case studies in social work. Milwaukee: Families International.

Merseth, K. K. (1996). Cases and case meth- ods in teacher education. In]. Sikula, T.J. Buttery, & E. Guyton (Eds.), Handbook of research on teacher education (2nd ed., pp. 722-744). New York: Simon & Schuster Macmillan.

Naumes,W, & Naumes, M.J. (1999). The art and creft ef case writing. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Reitmeier, M. (2002). Use ef cases in social work education. Unpublished manuscript, University of South Carolina, Columbia.

Reynolds, B. C. (1942). Learning and teaching in the practice of soda[ work. New York: Farrar & Rinehart.

Rivas, R. F., & Hull, G. H. (2000). Case stud- ies in generalist practice (2nd ed.). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole.

Shulman, L. S. (1992). Toward a pedagogy of cases. In]. Shulman (Ed.), Case methods in teacher education (pp. 1-30). New York: Teachers College Press.

Sykes, G., & Bird, T. (1992). Teacher educa- tion and the case idea. In G. Grant (Ed.),

16 PART I TO THE STUDENT

Review of Research in Education (Vol. 18, pp. 457-521).Washington, DC: American Educational Research Association.

Towle, C. (1954). The learner in education for the professions: As seen in education for social work. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Weaver, R.A., Kowalski,T.J., & Pfaller,J. E. (1994). Case-method teaching. In K.W Prichard & R. M. Sawyer (Eds.), Handbook of college teaching: Theory and applications (pp. 171-178). Westport, CT: Greenwood.

Welsh, M. F. (1999).A technique for cross- cultural case research and writing. In H. E. Klein (Ed.), Interactive teaching and the multimedia revolution: Case method and

other techniques (pp. 3-9). Madison, WI: Omni.

Welty,W M. (1989). Discussion method teaching: A practical guide. To Improve the Academy, 8, 197-216. [For a briefer version, see Welty, WM. (1989). Discussion method teaching: How to make it work, Change, 21(4), 40-49.)

Wolfer,T.A. (2003). Decision cases for Christians in social work: Introduction to the special issue. Social JiV<Jrk & Christianity, 3 0(2), 103-116.

Wolfer, T.A., Freeman, M. L., & Rhodes, R. (2001). Developing and teaching an MSW capstone course using case meth- ods of instruction. Advances in Social JiV<Jrk, 2(2), 156-171.

Chapter 2

[I]

Tips for Learning

from Decision Cases

TERRY A. WOLFER T. LAINE SCALES

W hat you get out of reading, analyzing, and discussing a particular case depends largely on the method and thoroughness of your prepara- tion. The following provides sequential tips regarding effective

processes for reading and analyzing cases and for participating in decision case discussions. Some sections are drawn directly from a "Note to the Student" (Bruner, 1999), written by a master teacher for business students, while other sections were written for social work students specifically.

READING THE CASE

There are many ways to read cases.You can increase your reading effectiveness and efficiency by deliberately using different ways at various points in the process. From the very first reading, you can maximize your learning with a decision case by active, purposeful, and discriminating engagement. Bruner (1999) suggests:

The very first time you read any case, look for the forest not the trees. This requires that your first reading be quick. Do not begin taking notes on the first round; instead, read the case like a magazine article. The first few paragraphs of a well-constructed case usually say something about the problem-read those carefully. Then quickly read the rest of the case,

18 PART I TO THE STUDENT

seeking mai~y a sense of the scope of the problems, and what information the case contains to help resolve them. Leaf through the exhibits, looking for what information they hold, rather than for any analytical insights. At the conclusion of the first pass, read any supporting articles or notes that your instructor may have recommended. (pp. x:xiii-x:xiv)

This brief, initial review of the case will quickly orient you to the situation and its overall context.

DIGGING INTO THE CASE SITUATION:

DEVELOP YOUR II AWARENESS"

Reading the case a second time will deepen your understanding, as Bruner (1999) reminds case readers:

With the broader perspective in mind, the second and more detailed reading will be more productive. The reason is that as you now encounter details, your mind will be able to organize them in some useful fashion rather than inventorying them randomly. Making linkages among case details is necessary toward solving the case. At this point you can take the notes that will set up your analysis. (p. x:xiv)

While your instructor may provide questions to aid your preparation for particular cases, you can promote your own analytic skills by learning to pose and answer questions of your own. To begin this process, try to keep the fol- lowing generic questions in mind:

1. Who is the protagonist in the case?Who must take action on the problem? What does he or she have at stake? What pressures is he or she under?

2. What is the field of practice? Who are the usual clientele?What is the demand for services? How are services funded? What are the professional affiliations and qualifications of staff? What services do the social workers provide?

3. What are the organizational auspices (e.g., public, private nonprofit, private for-profit), and who has primary authority in the organization? With whom does it collaborate or compete? Is the organization comparatively strong or weak? In what ways?

4. What are the organization's goals or desired outcomes? If not a social work organization, how does social work contribute to its goals? What are the primary intervention methods used by the organization or, if not a social work organization, the social workers who work for it?

5. How well has the organization performed in pursuit of its goals? How clearly does the organization identify its goals?

CHAPTER 2 TIPS FOR LEARNING FROM DECISION CASES

At the outset, this may sound rather daunting. There is so much to consider! Understand that thinking of these factors will become more natural and rou- tine as you become more acquainted with the process of analyzing cases. The goal here is to develop greater awareness of fundamental and perennial issues, and a routine habit of attending to them. As Bruner suggests, awareness is an important attribute of successful practitioners.

DEVELOP EMPATHIC UNDERSTANDING

When reading the case, seek empathic understanding of the situation from the protagonist's perspective. It may be helpful to imagine yourself as a personal consultant to the social worker in the case. As such, you need to "start where the social worker is," to paraphrase an old cliche. Take account of the social worker's background, experience, skills, thoughts, biases, and emotions, and also of your own. Because the particular case dilemmas often involve these very factors, it is not possible or appropriate to simply replace the protagonist with your self in the case situation. These factors cannot be wished away. Any solution must take account of them, much as a consultant or supervisor would do in actual practice.

Having read and reread the case-to get a sense of the story, develop your awareness, and empathize with the protagonist-you are ready to begin more deliberate analysis.Analysis may begin with an initial statement of the problem but beware of simply adopting the perspective of the protagonist or other par- ticipants in the case.

DEFINING OR FORMULATING

THE PROBLEM

Defining or formulating the problem represents one of the most important and challenging aspects of case analysis and discussion.

A common trap for many [practitioners] is to assume that the issue at hand is the real problem most worthy of their time, rather than a symptom of some larger problem that really deserves their time. (Bruner, 1999, p. xxv)

Students tend to take the "presenting problem" at face value, whether it's posed in the case by the client or the social worker protagonist, and assume that it represents the real problem.

Students who are new to the case method tend to focus narrowly in defining problems and often overlook the influence which the larger setting has on the problem. In doing this, the student develops narrow

20 PART I TO THE STUDENT

specialist habits, never achieving (a broader systems perspective]. It is useful and important for you to define the problem yourself, and in the process, validate the problem as suggested by the protagonist in the case. (p. xxv)

At this point in your analysis, it is also wise to define the problem tentatively. Treat your problem definition as a hypothesis to guide further analysis, a way to provide some structure for your thinking and questioning.

ANALYSIS: IDENTIFYING THE KEY ISSUES

AND HOW THEY RELATE

The next, most time-consuming stage involves careful analysis of the case. There are several things to understand here. First," case analysis is often itera- tive: an understanding of the big issues invites an analysis of details-then the details may restructure the big issues and invite the analysis of other details. In some cases, getting to the 'heart of the matter' will mean just such iteration" (Bruner, 1999, p. xxv).

Second, when doing analysis, mental experiments often help to develop insight. For example, if the client is a man, you might consider how the case might be different if the client were a woman. Or, if the client is a person of color, consider how the situation might differ if she or he were white. Alternately, you can sometimes determine a factor's relevance by mentally subtracting it from the case and considering whether the problem goes away. If there is still a prob- lem, then the particular factor has limited relevance. Compare contrasting defi- nitions of the situation offered by people in the case, and ask yourself how else it may be construed. Consider the client system and whether it could be defined differently. Brainstorm possible factors, on other system levels, that may cause or influence the situation. Identify what organizational policy may be relevant, unclear, or absent. Determine whether multiple ethical standards may be rele- vant. In short, play with definitions, comparisons, and contrasts.

Third, as you analyze the case, be prepared to revise your initial problem definition. Ask whether your emerging insights fit the problem definition. If not, try to redefine the problem in a way that accounts for your new insights. Redefining the problem requires that you reconsider other aspects of your analysis as well.

Fourth, understand that problem definition both guides analysis and also captures or reflects analysis. For most people, writing concise problem state- ments represents a major challenge. Skill in problem definition comes with practice and experience. "The best case students develop an instinct for where to devote their analysis. Economy of effort is desirable. If you have invested wisely in problem definition, economical analysis tends to follow" (Bruner, 1999, p. xxv). Carefully consider what belongs in the pro bl em statement, versus what is important but not central to the problem, and therefore only belongs in

CHAPTER 2 TIPS FOR LEARNING FROM DECISION CASES

the contextual analysis that supports it. Although these analytic processes can be tedious and time consuming, with practice you will become faster and more efficient.

PREPARE TO PARTICIPATE: TAKE A STAND

Eventually, you must shape your analysis of the situation into an argument for action.

To develop analytical insights without making recommendations is useless to [practitioners], and drains the case study experience of some of its learning power. A stand means having a point of view about the problem, a recommendation, and an analysis to back up both of them. To prepare to take a stand, remember the words of Walt Disney: "Get a good idea and stay with it. Dog it and work at it until it's done, and done right." (Bruner, 1999, pp. xxv-xxvi)

Developing an argument for action requires courage; it represents a test of your case analysis. Often, there are many things at stake--especially for the client and social worker directly but also for the client's family members and associates and the social worker's organization, program, and coworkers. Despite these risks, you must choose how to act. In the world of practice, analysis that does not lead to action has limited value and may even be counterproductive.

Recognize, however, that if all students take stands, as they should, this will likely produce vigorous disagreements. Many students feel uncomfortable tak- ing a stand, especially in the face of such disagreements. Having a strong desire to get along with their peers and instructors, they may downplay differences in their analysis or recommendations in order to reduce interpersonal tension. But this undermines the potential benefit of the process, for the group and also for the individual student. Without vigorous debate, the group may not consider diverse perspectives and students miss opportunities to practice intro- ducing and defending their ideas. Developing the confidence and skill to assert yourself in group contexts will increase your effectiveness in family and group treatment settings, supervision sessions, meetings of professional teams, committees, or boards, or advocacy situations. In many situations, social work- ers will often agree and disagree. The case discussion process helps you prac- tice doing so in direct and respectful ways.

THINGS TO AVOID WHILE PREPARING

When preparing for case discussions, there are several things to avoid. Skipping or shortchanging preparation will limit your ability to participate effectively in the discussion and, more importantly, will limit what you personally can learn from the discussion. You may find that reading decision cases for comprehension requires more careful and focused reading than you typically do with textbooks.

22 PART I TO THE STUDENT

Endorsing the presenting problem may seriously bias your analysis of the case, while ignoring the presenting problem reflects a failure to understand an important per- spective in the case. Focusing on either details or the big picture, to the exclusion of the other, undermines your analysis.Jumping to conclusions without adequate evi- dence prematurely ends your analysis and risks gross misunderstanding of the case. On the other hand, not drawing conclusions about the problem and its resolu- tion circumvents the challenge and purpose of decision cases, reducing the opportunity to exercise and develop your decision-making skills.

ACTIVELY SUPPORT YOUR CONCLUSIONS

IN THE DISCUSSION, BUT STAY OPEN

TO EMERGING INSIGHTS

As a result of preparing, you may come to the discussion having already for- mulated conclusions, sometimes very firm conclusions, about the nature of the problem and appropriate responses. ~haring your conclusions can benefit both you and your classmates but you must remain open to their conclusions and further insights that will emerge in the discussion.

Of course, one can have a stand without the world being any wiser. To take a stand in case discussions means to participate actively in the discussion and to advocate your stand until new facts or analysis emerge to warrant a change. Learning by the case method is not a spectator sport. A classic error many students make is to bring into the case method classroom the habits of the lecture hall (i.e., passively absorbing what other people say). These habits fail miserably in the case method classroom because they only guarantee that one absorbs the truths and fallacies uttered by others. The purpose of [decision case method] is to develop and exercise one's own skills and judgment. This takes practice and participation,just as in a sport. Here are two good general suggestions: (1) defer significant note-taking until after class and (2) strive to contribute to every case discussion. (Bruner, 1999, p. xxvi)

In short, active participation is critical for your learning. But thoughtful responding to new insights, whether these come from you or other partici- pants, will be important, too.

LISTEN CAREFULLY

Because considering what others contribute is so important, effective partici- pation in case discussion also requires that you listen carefully and actively. Concentrate on what others say, and on what they mean. Focus on their explicit content but also try to discern their underlying assumptions and values.

CHAPTER 2 TIPS FOR LEARNING FROM DECISION CASES

The active listening skills you may have learned for social work practice can apply in the case discussion, too. You must gain adequate understanding, through careful listening, before you can make a fair evaluation. But do evalu- ate what you hear, comparing it with your own ideas. Do you agree? Why or why not? (Mauffette-Leenders, Erskine, & Leenders, 1998, p. 94). At the same time, guard against focusing on what you will say next because that under- mines your ability to listen effectively.

MAKING CONTRIBUTIONS

During the case discussion, students may make either content contributions or process contributions (Mauffette-Leenders et al., 1998). Content contribu- tions include separating facts from opinions, providing analysis, identifying reasonable assumptions, or offering an action plan. An example of a content contribution would be "The immediate issue is ... and the basic issue is ... " (p. 86). Process contributions, in contrast, refer to the structure of the discus- sion. They require careful listening and obseryation of how the discussion unfolds. Process contributions include clarifying questions, suggesting that a certain area of the case needs to be explored further, linking points raised ear- lier, or summarizing the discussion thus far.An example of a process contribu- tion would be "We need to spend more (or less) time on ... "or "We should hear from Harry because ... " (p. 86).You may recognize that process contri- butions are similar to comments an instructor or group facilitator makes. Ideally, you will learn to make both content and process contributions and also learn to recognize when either would be most appropriate and helpful. As you practice thinking like a social worker, you are practicing roles as an active member of a task group, or even as the facilitator. The point here is to contribute in various ways that move the discussion forward.

THINGS TO AVOID IN CASE DISCUSSIONS

When participating in case discussions, there are several things to avoid (Mauffette-Leenders et al., 1998, pp. 89-90). For example, simply repeating case facts contributes little to the discussion unless there is some confusion about the facts. Repeating someone else's comments reflects a failure to pay attention. Inconsequential interjections such as saying, "I agree;' without explaining why contribute very little to the discussion. Likewise, asking questions that divert the discussion such as asking the instructor for his or her opinion may only delay or derail the discussion. Other digressions include irrelevant or out of place com- ments such as personal anecdotes that have little relevance to the situation. Monopolizing the discussion reflects an unwillingness to listen and learn from others. Sometimes students believe they have special understanding of case situ- ations because of previous experience, and they actually do. Nevertheless, their

24 PART I TO THE STUDENT

understanding may be limited and biased by those insider perspectives. In such cases, they may benefit from the comments and questions of others having less experience. In sharp contrast, disengaged students rarely contribute to the dis- cussion or, when they do jump in, tend to make superficial or irrelevant com- ments. Finally, undvil behavior such as attacking, ridiculing, or putting down other participants or their views can have a damaging effect on case discussions.

Though in different ways, students exhibiting dominant, disengaged, and uncivil behavior all limit the diversity of viewpoints available in a discussion. Dominating behavior limits the opportunities others have to participate, while uncivil behavior may frighten and discourage others from participating. Disengaged students simply withhold their own contributions.

TRUST THE PROCESS

Case discussions may be complex, unpredictable, and bewildering. As a result, you may wonder at times where a particular discussion is headed or what you are gaining from the process. Brune~ (1999) offers some good advice:

The learnings from a case-method course are impressive. They arrive cumulatively over time. In many cases, the learnings· continue well after the course has finished. Occasionally, these learnings hit you with the force of a tsunami. But generally, the learnings creep in quietly, but powerfully, like the tide. After the case course, you will look back and see that your thinking, mastery, and appreciation for [social work] have changed dramatically. The key point is that you should not measure the success of your progress on the basis of any single case discussion. Trust that in the cumulative work over many cases you will gain the mastery you seek. (p. xxvi)

With that in mind, you can hopefully maintain the kind of openness and engagement that contributes most to your learning and growth.

FOCUS ON HERE-AND-'NOW PROCESS,

AND RESULTS WILL FOLLOW

Bruner (1999) reminds us that the case method helps you develop and prac- tice new ways of learning and thinking:

View the case method experience as a series of opportunities to test your mastery of techniques and your [professional] judgment. If you seek a list of axioms to be etched in stone, you are bound to disappoint yourself. As in real life, there are virtually no "right" answers to these cases in the sense that a scientific or engineering problem has an exact solution. Jeff Milman

CHAPTER 2 TIPS FOR LEARNING FROM DECISION CASES

has said, "The answers worth getting are never found in the back of the book."What matters is that you obtain a way of thinking about [social work] situations that you can carry from one job (or career) to the next. In the case method it is largely true that how you learn is what you learn. (Bruner, 1999, p. xxvi)

MAINTAIN PERSPECTIVE

Because case method learning may be quite different from what you've expe- rienced before, it's helpful to know that you may respond with strong emo- tions. These emotions may stem from unfamiliarity with the method and uncertainty about what to expect and how to participate, the unsettling nature of some case dilemmas, profound differences and conflicts that emerge in the case discussions, and the ambiguity of solutions and their likely consequences.

FINALLY, FOCUS· ON

LONG-TERM OUTCOMES

At the same time, remember the learning outcomes identified in the previous chapter. These outcomes of case method learning can be quite significant overall, but less obvious for individual cases. In fact, the specific content you learn from a particular case may seem to have little value for you personally and professionally. But even when cases seem irrelevant, you can still gain experience in understanding and resolving novel situations. It's the process of analyzing the situation, more than the situation itself, that generates the learn- ing. The case analyses and case discussions can help develop and refine your abilities for analyzing and resolving difficult situations.And that is good practice for learning to think like a social worker, and for the world of practice.

REFERENCES

Bruner, R. F. (1999). Note to the student: How to study and discuss cases. In Case studies in finance: Managing for corporate value creation (3rd ed.; pp. xxiii-xxvi). Boston: Irwin McGraw-Hill. [Also available online at http:/ /faculty.darden. virginia. edu/brunerb I resources_ studentnote.htm]

Mauffette-Leenders, L.A., Erskine,]. A., & Leenders, M. R. (1998). Learning with cases. London, ONT: Ivey Publishing, Ivey School of Business Administration, The University ofWestern Ontario.

Inside or Out1 Diane Rhodes and Terry A. Wolfer

Sexual Assault Counselor Rebecca Collins and client Lauren Peters approached the locked

door into the Pflugerville police station. As Detective Rogers put her keycard up to the scanner,

she lifted a staying hand to Rebecca. “Okay, well, you’re good.”

“This is as far as I can go?” Rebecca asked.

“Yeah,” the officer continued offering a staying hand gesture.

“I need her in the room with me,” Lauren spoke up.

“That’s not what we do.” The detective had not yet scanned the lock. “I’ll be in there with

you.”

“I want her in the room with me,” Lauren indicated Rebecca. “Is it possible?” Lauren stayed

back from the door.

“Is it possible? Well, I don’t know. It might be interfering,” Rogers explained. “The DA

might not like it.”

“Maybe this could be an opportunity to try and find out,” Rebecca offered. “I’m not here to

interfere with the investigation.”

“I don’t feel safe unless she’s with me.” Lauren added.

Detective Rogers dropped her hands and faced Lauren, eyebrows raised, “Are you telling

me you don’t feel safe in the police department?”

Austin, Texas

In 2016, Austin was an urban community of 947,890 people sprawled across Travis County

and spilling into Hays and Williamson Counties. The fourth most populous city in Texas,

Austin was growing fast, often appearing on national ‘best of’ lists. Austin’s story was one of

rapid growth accompanied by persistent structural and spatial socioeconomic and demographic

separations. Also home to the flagship campus of the University of Texas System, the city was

well educated, with more than 49% of adult residents holding a bachelor’s or higher degree.

While there was a core liberal center in Travis County, its neighbors were significantly more

politically conservative, consistent with the state’s conservative climate.

Austin and its surrounding counties had a large and well-connected network of agencies

that provided social services. As the Texas state capital, Austin was home to social services

operated at the federal, state, county, and local levels. Pflugerville was a small city of nearly

60,000 people north of Austin that overlapped both Travis and Williamson Counties.

1 This decision case was prepared solely to provide material for training discussion and not to suggest

either effective or ineffective handling of the situation depicted. While based on field research regarding

an actual situation, names and certain facts may have been disguised to protect confidentiality. The

authors wish to thank the case reporter for cooperation in making this account available for the benefit of

trainers and professionals in the field of sexual violence. Development of this case was supported by a

grant from the Office of the Governor, Criminal Justice Division (Contract No. UTA14-001266).

Williamson County social service included a small domestic violence and sexual assault shelter

program.

Stop Abuse For Everyone (SAFE)

One of the largest local agencies, Stop Abuse For Everyone (SAFE) had helped victims

recover from child abuse, sexual assault, and domestic violence for more than 40 years. While

SAFE was one of the few programs in the state with a shelter built using public city bond

dollars, the responses to sexual assault victims across the metropolitan area were varied and

uneven. Like several other local social services agencies, SAFE was the product of the mergers

of smaller programs over the course of its long history in the community. In 2016, the agency

had more than 200 paid staff, a counseling and administrative building, a shelter for 120

families, a state-of-the-art hotline call center, a shelter for children, a transitional housing

complex, a daycare center and school, and more than 1,000 active volunteers. SAFE provided a

continuum of services ranging from emergency shelter to individual counseling. Services

included basic needs provision, legal advocacy, referrals, hospital and court accompaniment,

and prevention initiatives. In addition, SAFE offered extensive educational, advocacy, and

prevention programs to Travis County. The agency owned and operated several buildings on

two campuses in East Austin. The sexual assault services were housed in a non-residential

building at an imposing twelve-acre campus with visible security.

Potential clients accessed SAFE services by first calling the hotline. In an initial call, a hotline

advocate screened callers by gathering brief demographic and background data and some

information about their relationships with perpetrators on a one-page call record. From there,

the advocate and potential client worked together to plan for safety and discover what services

would be most useful to the situation. When a caller was interested in scheduling an intake for

in-person services, the hotline advocate used an online agency-wide scheduling calendar to

arrange the next available intake appointment.

Rebecca Collins

Rebecca Collins grew up the older of two girls, with parents who worked long, hard hours.

There was a history of mental illness in the family. Rebecca’s mom had a diagnosis of borderline

personality disorder that resulted in frequent hospitalizations. The family had moved a lot,

primarily around the Gulf Coast region.

An outgoing child, Rebecca saw her role as taking care of her little sister after school and

making her sister’s way easier. When she was young, Rebecca wanted to be an architect and

planned to attend Rice University in Houston, Texas. While she was in high school, however,

the family moved to the Ft. Worth area and Rebecca stumbled upon journalism and writing. She

worked on the student newspaper and was the editor during her junior and senior years. Those

experiences led her to Journalism School at the University of Texas at Austin in 2006. Then, also

interested in studying religion, Rebecca added a second major to her degree program. However,

she graduated in 2010 still unsure what profession she wanted to pursue. She moved with an

intimate partner to a small town and took an administrative job while she continued searching

for professional direction. Her boss, observing that Rebecca was extremely good at listening to

others, suggested she become a counselor.

It was not the first time. Rebecca had been told repeatedly she would be a good counselor

throughout life. She spent many high school hours in the girls’ bathroom hearing confessions of

friends who were having trouble in school or at home, coerced into sex, abused by boyfriends,

or other stories. Then she’d go home and look up resources to help. After looking at several

programs she chose to attend the University of Texas Masters in Counseling Psychology

program. At SAFE, she was the first intern assigned exclusively to the Sexual Assault program.

Following the internship, Rebecca knew she’d found the work she wanted to pursue. After

Rebecca graduated in 2013, SAFE hired her part time and she supplemented her income with

another position at the local Mental Health Authority. She learned a lot from her second job, but

didn’t like working in a setting that was less client centered and empowering. When a full time

position opened up at SAFE, she immediately applied for it and got it. In the new position, she

used her fluency in sign language to do outreach and counseling for clients with disabilities.

She loved her work, but still really wanted to be a sexual assault counselor.

After a one-year wait, she finally got the job she wanted as the Senior Sexual Assault

Counselor. Part of Rebecca’s role was to provide intake assessments for sexual assault survivors

several times a week. Each Monday, the call-logs for the week’s upcoming intakes arrived in her

mailbox. She glanced at the logs for the week, made notes about the scheduled clients in her

calendar, and prepared to conduct the intakes as part of her work week.

Meeting Lauren Peters

On Thursday, Rebecca answered a call from the receptionist. “Hey, your 11 o’clock intake is

here.” Rebecca confirmed that the client was the one she was expecting and went to the front of

the building to meet her. The public waiting room was busy that morning and Rebecca quietly

asked the receptionist to point out Lauren Peters before stepping into the waiting room.

“Ms. Peters?” Rebecca asked.

Lauren Peters made eye contact with a nod as Rebecca crossed the room.

“Hi, my name is Rebecca, I’m a counselor here, and you have an appointment this morning.

Does that sound right?”

Rebecca practiced an informal manner in her professional interactions with clients but was

cautious about public conversation. On the way out of the lobby and into the hallway, she

asked Lauren about the notorious Austin traffic and the humidity. In the privacy of the hallway,

Rebecca asked whether Lauren had been to SAFE before. Rebecca went on to describe the

layout of the large building and how they would get to the counseling rooms.

Lauren Peters was a white woman in her early 40’s, older than Rebecca, but dressed down

in casual clothing. She lamented the awful traffic and the heat. Lauren and Rebecca both had

several visible tattoos, and Lauren complimented Rebecca’s body art. She spoke with a

forthright manner. She asked if Rebecca was queer. Rebecca answered yes. As they turned a

corner and approached the client lobby, a private waiting room, Rebecca asked Lauren if she

needed the bathroom, or would like some water. Knowing they were headed to one of the

smaller counseling rooms, Rebecca also picked up a box of tissues and a spare pen. Rebecca

assured Lauren that although they weren’t meeting in her office, they would be meeting in a

comfortable, private space further into the building. “It will just be me and you.”

The counseling rooms were located near the center of the large building. Each room was

small and windowless, yet at the same time cozy, private, and intimate. The women made

themselves comfortable in the chairs. As they settled, Rebecca introduced herself again.

“I understand you made this appointment with the hotline.” She went on to describe the

current session as a registration intake, not counseling. “I talk fast, I might skip some things. If

you have a question just let me know. Stop me right there, nothing’s off limit and nothing is

TMI.”

“Cool – I’ll do that,” Lauren answered. And, based on the ease and directness of their

conversation in the hallways, Rebecca had every indication she would.

Together, they went over the agency confidentiality policy, signing and dating the

document for Lauren’s file. Then they tackled the demographics form that touched on what

brought Lauren to the agency, what her reactions were, what services she might want, what her

goals were, and what services were available.

“Have you been in counseling or therapy before?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes, but not in Texas,” Lauren offered. “It was in another state.”

“Was it for this same event?”

“No, it was about other abuses I’ve had before – other trauma.”

Rebecca noted Lauren’s use of the term trauma, which wasn’t common for clients in a first

session. “The first couple of forms might seem familiar if you’ve been in counseling before.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Lauren smiled.

They companionably plowed on through the forms and explanations. Rebecca covered

issues of informed consent and detailed the second parts of that form which described the rights

and responsibilities of a client at SAFE. Rebecca made sure to explicitly state those rights rather

than assume Lauren read them. “You have the right to refuse services, you’re not promising us

anything, all services are totally up to you, we’re not going to come looking for you. You have

the right not to be discriminated against because of your race, ethnicity, gender, orientation,

religion, national origin, gender, or ability.”

“So,” Lauren lifted her hand, “do you see men here?”

“We do – we do see men and children and non-binary folks. Why do you ask?”

“Because I used to work at a trans hotline and a lot of people don’t serve men or don’t serve

the trans community.”

“No, we do.” Rebecca assured.

“That’s great,” Lauren’s relief and approval evident in her voice.

Rebecca continued with an outline of client responsibilities. “Don’t be violent with anyone.

Keep everyone’s information confidential.” She explained the exceptions to confidentiality

involving child abuse, elder abuse, and a present danger to one’s self or others all of which must

be reported by law. “Another exception to confidentiality – if you want us to talk to someone –

if you have anyone you want us to be able to talk to, then that will take a Consent to Release

Form which is coming up.” Rebecca also explained about the rare instances that a session might

be recorded for supervision or educational purposes and how that was kept confidential. She

wrapped up with a description of the agency grievance policy and procedures.

Lauren listened to everything carefully. “Okay. Sounds like y’all take this really seriously

here.” Lauren wanted two release of information consent forms on file. One was for her

roommate, Ashley, and a second was for the Pflugerville Police Department.

With the critical service documentation taken care of, Rebecca sat back a bit and repeated

her original question to help Lauren get started talking. “Can you tell me about what brings you

here today? What experience resulted in you calling?”

“I had a really horrible experience. I was raped by this guy who worked for me.” Lauren

became tearful while she spoke. “I was his boss at the restaurant. He came over, and it was

terrible, my roommates saw it, I don’t know if they saw it, they were outside – I was smoking

pot. Is that okay? The cops didn’t think it was. I still smoke pot.” Lauren’s beginning was a bit

of a jumble.

“We’re not going to judge you,” Rebecca said. “It’s okay.”

“We’re smoking, then I went to sleep. I was on medication for anxiety. Then I called the

cops, but I didn’t call them right away like I’m ‘supposed to’,” Lauren made air-quotes. She was

getting wound up, the tears increased with her distress, “which is why they gave me sass . . .”

“We’re gonna pump the breaks here, take a breath,” Rebecca leaned forward. “Let’s just

slow things down.” She offered Lauren more tissues.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lauren gulped a little and swallowed.

“It’s fine,” Rebecca said. “Can you tell me what happened when, slowly? When did this

happen?”

To Rebecca’s surprise, the incident of Lauren’s rape was only days in the past. It was not

unusual for new clients to seek services for sexual assaults from months or even years past.

With immediacy, Lauren offered a detailed moment-by-moment account of being raped by an

employee. Her true distress however, was with how the responding police officer handled her

report, leaving her feeling as if she couldn’t make a police statement in the near future with any

hope of being taken seriously.

“I did not like the way she looked at me,” Lauren said. “I didn’t like her tone, I felt like I

was being judged. I thought, ‘This is fucked up.’ But, this is what I had. This is who I had to talk

to. I was going to walk her through everything but she just immediately started asking

questions. Like, ‘Are you sure this wasn’t consensual?’ ‘I don’t see any bruising?’ ‘Where’s the

evidence?’ I’m like, ‘Are you fucking kidding me? No. He is not my boyfriend.’ She goes, ‘Then

why was he staying on the couch? ‘Because we’re nice people and he’s my employee?’ We

didn’t want him to be homeless,” Lauren sounded sarcastic. “‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Calm down,

ma’am.’ She asked, ‘Did you swab yourself? Did you go to the hospital? When did this

happen?’ She counted off hours on her fingers and said, ‘You can’t get a rape kit.’ I go, ‘What?!’

because I had Googled some information about sexual assault investigations earlier in the day,

and that didn’t sound right. She says, ‘You showered and didn’t swab yourself—that’s not good

for the case. Because you were high—and you shouldn’t be smoking pot—that’s assuming you

even recall who he was.’”

Interrupting her story, Lauren asked Rebecca, “Have you ever seen that YouTube about If

Burglary was Investigated like Sexual Assault (Kao, 2015), where two officers do everything

wrong? It’s like she watched that video and decided, ‘This is the way I’m gonna talk to

people.’”

“Then, she goes, ‘Can I see the bed? Did you change the sheets?’ ‘Yes,’ I told her, ‘but I kept

them.’ So I brought out the sheets. And she wanted to know if there was any evidence on the

sheets. I said, ‘Isn’t that your job?’ She wants to know, ‘Why are you keeping your doors open if

you know there’s a strange man in the house?’ ‘I was strangled!’ I was getting so mad. ‘You

don’t have any bruises,’ she says. ‘Yeah, well I don’t bruise easily and wouldn’t have visible

bruising yet.’ She seemed skeptical, so I told her how Cole had held me down. She didn’t seem

to understand, so I put my hands on my neck to show her. Then, she reaches her hands and

touches my neck, like the assault. Shit! I jerked out of her reach. After that, I just wanted her to

leave and lied about having to go to work. ‘What needs to happen next?’ ‘Well,’ she goes, ‘there

could be an investigation, and you would need to make an official statement.’ I’m like, ‘What?! I

thought that’s what we were doing.’ I was so tired of talking to her, I didn’t pursue the subject.”

Seeking More Help

“After she left, I called the Women’s Center, hoping to get some answers about procedures

and perhaps complain about the report she’d just made. But that person was no better! She

goes, ‘Why do you want to call the Center if you’ve already called the police?’ I didn’t like her

either, so I hung up on that bitch. Next I called RAINN,2 – and talked to an advocate there. I

asked her, ‘Where else can I go? I need to talk to somebody who’s not going to be a judgmental

prick and I need to talk to somebody who can do something.’ She connected me to the SAFE

hotline.

Rebecca listened closely while Lauren talked, taking few notes. As Lauren wound down by

repeating how badly she’d been treated by the responding officer, Rebecca set her pen down.

“Thank you for telling me what happened,” Rebecca said.

“Can you believe this shit?” Lauren asked.

“I’ve heard similar stories,” Rebecca responded. “What are you looking for here? What

would you like to do now?”

“I want somebody to tell the police they fucked this up,” Lauren said, “and they shouldn’t

do that to people.”

Rebecca described legal advocacy and asked if Lauren was also interested in counseling

services.

“Yeah. Whatever you’ve got,” Lauren agreed. “This is bringing up other stuff for me.”

“Do you want to talk about that now?”

2 Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN) is the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence

organization. RAINN created and operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline (800.656.HOPE).

“Nah,” Lauren shook her head. “I experienced some abuse as a kid and spent some time in

foster care. I spent time on the street, and was raped when I was tricking. But I dealt with that at

the time, you know, just charged it to game.” Lauren paused, “I have a job now, I have

insurance, I’m doing what I do. Now this.”

“It’s normal,” Rebecca offered softly, “for trauma to trigger past trauma. I recommend you

think about both group and individual counseling.” She took time to describe the waiting list

for counseling as well as how to contact a victims’ advocate at the Pflugerville Police

Department.

“Yeah, but I’m wondering,” Lauren asked, “if you could help me if I have to deal with the

Pflugerville police again, or if I want to make a complaint about the police?”

“That makes sense, although that’s not usually what we do here,” Rebecca responded, “but I

want to be sure you get the help you need. Let me know if I can help with that.”

As their conversation came to an end, Rebecca made sure Lauren had her card and walked

her back to the lobby where they said good-bye.

Lauren’s Request

The following Monday, Rebecca had a long voicemail message from Lauren:

Hey, Rebecca. This is Lauren. Listen, Detective Rogers called to ask me to come in for an

official statement. I asked her, ‘Can I have my counselor come with me, because I met

with her and she wants to come with me to do that statement?’ She said you can come,

but won’t be allowed in the room with me, but you can be outside. In the building. I told

her, ‘I need to call my counselor and see when she’s available.’ And I told her you would

call her to make an appointment. While I had her on the phone I asked her who that first

cop was. ‘Can she give me her name?’ I told her, ‘She was unprofessional, she touched

me, she was judgmental and blaming. Someone needs . . .

The message cut off, too long to record. So Rebecca returned Lauren’s call to get the rest of the

information.

“I told Detective Rogers that the first officer told me not to get a rape kit. She was surprised

by that. Detective Rogers didn’t seem to know that I gave her my bed sheets. She also asked me

to look at the mattress pad to see whether I could find any blood. I told her I already washed

the mattress pad but took photos of the stain with my phone. That officer fucked up—she could

have had a rape kit done and evidence that could’ve been collected wasn’t. Do you think any of

this sounds right?”

“No,” Rebecca replied. “I believe you. I’ve never heard an officer asking a victim to wash

evidence. But, there are bad encounters. So, I believe you, but I haven’t had this happen before.

I’ll call Detective Rogers and make an appointment for us.”

After several rounds of phone tag, Rebecca was blunt with Detective Rogers: “Ms. Peters

wants me to accompany her to give her statement.”

“Okay,” Rogers responded, “I told her that you can come, but you won’t be allowed in the

room.”

“I’ll be in the lobby?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the point of that?”

“Well, you’re still there . . .”

“Lauren wants me in the room with her,” Rebecca repeated. “She prefers me to be in the

room. Is that an option?”

“I don’t think so,” Rogers said. “I don’t see how that would work.”

Rebecca realized she wasn’t getting a hard no. Rogers explained she had no real ability to

schedule an appointment, but Rebecca proposed a day and time for the statement.

Rebecca called Lauren back to confirm. “I’m going to try to see if we can work around the

situation and I can be in the room with you.”

“Given how awful this has been—I need someone in the room with me.” Lauren said, her

voice cracking. “I’m not talking to anyone without you in the room.”

“I’ll find out what we can do,” Rebecca assured. “But you and I will meet before the

appointment and we can talk about what I’ve found out about being in the room with you.”

“You need to be in the room.”

“I understand. I’ll find out what we can do. I’m here to support you regardless of what you

decide.”

With the appointment for Lauren’s police statement looming, Rebecca talked with the

attorneys and legal advocates at Texas RioGrande Legal Aid and at Legal Aid for Survivors of

Sexual Assault. She also put in a call to the Texas Association Against Sexual Assault. She

wanted to find out what the options were. She was looking for any resources to bolster her

argument for being present with Lauren when she gave her formal statement.

The SAFE consulting attorney listened to the details of the situation and commented that it

was not a clearly defined circumstance. “We’re not explicitly allowed in the room, but we’re not

‘not allowed’ in the room either. The Crime Victim’s Bill of Rights is extremely clear about a

victim’s right to have an advocate present in the hospital and in court, but it’s silent on any

portion of the investigation in between. You can try citing the Crime Victims Bill of Rights3 and

carefully use the words, ‘I’m not here to interfere with the investigation.’ The conversation

might take some creativity. You know, good advocacy requires adhering to the rules and if

there’s no rule, keep pushing on behalf of the victim until you find a rule. But don’t get too

adversarial, because that could ensure failure.”

At the Police Station

Rebecca arrived at the Pflugerville Police Department several minutes before the meeting

with Lauren. As their appointment time passed and Lauren wasn’t at the agreed upon meeting

3Victims of crime are guaranteed certain rights and participation in the criminal justice system under

Texas law. The Crime Victims’ Rights are within the Texas Code of Criminal Procedure arts. 56.01 –

56.021. https://www.tdcj.state.tx.us/divisions/vs/victim_rights.html

spot, Rebecca called her.

“Sorry, I’m about ready,” Lauren was still at home, her voice was reedy and unsure. “I had

a hard time getting out of bed this morning. I’m feeling really nervous.”

“I can go back to work,” Rebecca offered, “if you’re not feeling ready.”

“Please wait,” Lauren pleaded, “I’m walking toward the station now.

Lauren’s house was only a few blocks from the police station, and she arrived shortly. The

two women sat outside the station on a park bench and went over what Rebecca had learned

about using the Crime Victim’s Bill of Rights. Rebecca did not want to influence Lauren to do

something she didn’t want to do.

“If it’s okay with you,” Rebecca said, “I will cite this – I will not lie – but . . .”

“I’m not going in the fucking room if you’re not with me,” Lauren interrupted.

“Okay, let’s try this,” Rebecca responded.

They went in to the station and Rebecca let the receptionist know they had arrived. While

they waited for Detective Rogers, Rebecca continued to clarify with Lauren, “They don’t have to

let me in. How much bargaining are you willing to let me do?”

“Do whatever you gotta do,” Lauren insisted. “Inside the room. Not out.”

Rebecca and Lauren were the only people in the station lobby when Detective Rogers met

them. “Hi guys, good to see you. Are you ready?”

Both women stood up and approached the locked door into the station. As Rogers put her

keycard up to the scanner, she lifted a staying hand to Rebecca. “Okay, well, you’re good.”

“This is as far as I can go?” Rebecca asked.

“Yeah,” the officer continued offering a staying hand gesture.

“I need her in the room with me,” Lauren spoke up.

“That’s not what we do.” The detective had not yet scanned the lock. “I’ll be in there with

you.”

“I want her in the room with me,” Lauren indicated Rebecca. “Is it possible?” Lauren stayed

back from the door.

“Is it possible? Well, I don’t know. It might be interfering,” Rogers explained. “The DA

might not like it.”

“Maybe this could be an opportunity to try and find out,” Rebecca offered. “I’m not here to

interfere with the investigation.”

“I don’t feel safe unless she’s with me.” Lauren added.

Detective Rogers dropped her hands and faced Lauren, eyebrows raised. “Are you telling

me you don’t feel safe in the police department?”

Reference

Kao, C. (2015). If a robbery report was treated like a rape report. Retrieved from

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0L4V5BWITM

6 Unusual Appeal

Rachel C. Parker and Terry A. Wolfer

"YOU KNOW, (do ign your paycheck."

ynthia Sanders was taken aback. he knew she was a good mitigation in-

v ·tigator. Hut had Diane Epp . her boss, a dedicated and talented lawyer, just

threaten d her job? Diane often joked around, but thi5 time ynthia sensed

anger as well.

Diane adamantly believed that the death penalty was wrong aod llad

dedicated her are r to preventing executions. Cynthia al o oppo ed the

death penalty, l.>Ut ~he argued that their ·lient might have a right to lf-

determination.

Their lient, a death row inmate named Jose Aranda, wanted to waive hi

right to appeal his death sentence. He preforred to die. Hut Diane didn 't want

to allow it; ~he planned to do everything In her power to keep Jose alive. Di-

ane not only vehemently opp< ed the death penalty but also believed that

] se wa innocent.

Dewlupmeni nf 1hl decision lase wu 'upporttd In p.trt by the rro1c t \ln Dealh In ml'rka and the University ol outh rollna C:ollc!(c of Soclnl Work. 11 wa prepared solely 10 provufr material for class discussion and not to ~uggcst either dtective or mefft>ctlve hamllinll of 1he •i tuat ion depiocd. Although the Cl! e ts based on fiekl re,ea1 h wgardtng an actual •l tuntion, names and rertairi f,1ct . may hove been 1ll~gui ed IO protect confidemiality. The authors wl\h to thank the cu\· rer>ort.cr lor cooperation In making this account avall~hl~ Jor the benefit nf \Oda I work ~1 ud.,ms dnd practitioner~.

UNUSUAL APPEAL I 89

Florida Project for Human justice

Cynthia worked at the Florida Pr ject for Human Justice, a nonprofit agen y

in downtown Tallahassee that provided le•al s rvices to inmates pro bono.

The agency's primary mission was to rcpre ·ent death-sentenced Inmates

across the late who were appealing their sentences. It also advocated for life

~enten e for clients and for a change In state law to end th death penalty. Th ultimate mi sion wa.s to protect and ustain the lives of those on death

row. l"he agency received funding through the f deral Indigent Defense Fund,

ourt allocations, and donations from a tar e private law firm.

even emplo ee · taffed th agenc , in ludlng Diane Epp , e, ecutive di-

rector; J e Moran, the other lead attorney (and the only African American on staff); a legal fell wand two other lawyers; ynthia, the mitigation investiga-

tor; and n ac ountant. However, the employees were constantly hanging.

l'be work was stressful, staff turnover was high, and the agency operated on

a hoe Iring budg t.

The agency was prlmarll devoted to appellate work. As Diane e plained

during the hiring interview, "Appellate work involv appealing death en-

tences. When a person is sentenced to death, he has three appeals. The first is

a tlir cl appeal, which Is filed immediately after the ·entencing. Thi cur

automatically, and the inmate do n't need a privat lawyer becau e the state app Hate defense division automatically pur ·ue it. The second appeal is post-

con iction r view, which i where we come in. We look at three thing : first,

did the client 's attorneys neglect omething or do something they houldn't

have that caused their client to lose the ase? econd, wa there juror mis-

conduct, such as watchin new about the case on TV, drinking, or fee.ling

pre ured to make a erta in de I ion? Third, are there psychosocial mitigat-

ing factors that pre ipitated the crime, omething In the person's background

that helps to ex plain why they did what they did? The third app aJ, which

our a •en al ·o work on, go s to the upreme court."

iane Epps

Diane Epps, a fifty-five-year-old Cauca ian woman, had dedicated twenty-five

years of her career to the agency. Diane was no-nonsense and sh t traight

90 I UNUSUAL APPEAL

from the hip. She was fair, intelligent, and had a great wit. She was Immac-

ulately d ressed and always appeared professional, whether meeting a death

row inmate or a supreme court judge. Raised in the hills of central Alabama,

she was a true Southerner. She was sharp as a tack and smarter than many of

her coUeagues, but would defer to them and let them take credit. When !>he

did take a stand, it was for either her beliefs or her clients' weU-being; then

she could be hard-no~ed and inflexible. Years ago, she had believed in execu-

tions, but during law school, her sense of justice broadened and deepened.

She changed her mind and had not looked back. At the time of Jose Arant.la's

case, she was known nationally for her work; the media often called her re-

garding death row stories.

Cynthia Sanders

Cynthia Sanders was a petite twenty-eight-year-old Caucasian woman. She

had an intense presence about her; ~he talked with great energy dnd confi-

dence. With a sharp, active mind, she was always questioning and, seemingly

at the same time, answering herself. Feisty and self-assured, she could hold

her own with lawyers, even the long-timers.

Cynthia knew th.e fob was made for her the moment she interviewed for

it. Although fresh out of an M.S.W. program in 1998. she had significant

life and work experience. She had worked as a waitress and a menta l health

aide, and met count less characters in the process. As a result, ~he was some-

what fearless. She had also worked in a mental health hospital, where she

gaint!d important knowledge about mental illness, and a rnrrectionaJ imtitu-

tion, where she learned to work with disenfranchJsed and stigmatized males.

These experiences had 11elped to clarify her values and ethics regarding self-

deterrnination, mental competence, and execution. She had also developed

empathy for lnmates. As Cynthia liked to say, "Many death row inmates have

a lot stacked against tht>m. You have to consider their experiences with pov-

erty, education, abuse, and mental health issues when making judgments

about their character." Diane saw that Cynthia was perfect for the position;

she hired her on the spot.

UNUSUAL APPtAL I 91

A Troubling Case

One Monday ewning after a long work day, Diane. Joe, and Cynthia sat

discussing cases over dinner. Diane began telling Cynthia about an espe-

cially troubling case, that of Jose Aranda, a thirty-four-year-old Mexican

American man.

"l:ive years ago," Diane recounted, "Jose walked Into a pawn shop. His tim- ing couldn't have been worse. jewelry was stolen, a gun tired, and the clerk

killed. Everyone inside ran. Because of his mental health history, the police

were familiar with Jos~. They had picked him up often. So he made an easy

target for them. He was arrested, eventually convicted for the murder, and

~entenced to death. The thing Is, I don't think he really committed the mur-

<ler. Me was probably there, though.

"Not only does he claim that he didn't do it," Diane continued, "we have

a nack record here in Florida of granting death row inmates new trials if

prosecutors withheld evidence suggesting Innocence or knowingly used false

evidence. We think it's likely that Jose is yet another innocent victim of our

wonderful court system."

"Of course," Joe cut in, "here in Florida, just because you murder someone

doesn't mean you get <leath. There have to be aggravating circumstances-

rape, robbery, kidnapping, or some other crime, along with the murder-to

get the death penalty. Since Jose was convicted of robbing 1111d mur<lering a

man, he got sentenced to death. If he llad just killed him, he wouldn't have

gotten such a hacsh sentence. But, of course, t agree with Diane. I don' t think

he did it either."

"Untortunately," Diane resumed, "since he's been in prison, he's been ex-

tremely violent. He's gotten into several knife tights; one guy he fought al-

most died. So the guards consider him extremely dangerous. He lives on the

Q wing of the Florida State Prison In Starke, which is reserved for the most

violent crimina ls in Florida. Living conditions are pretty rough In there; the

guards usually don' t allow him clothes, blankets, pillowcases, or anything

else he could use to harm himself or other prisoners. There are no windows,

and the noise of the buzzing doors keeps him awake. Sometimes he sleeps un-

der his mattress because the noise grates on his nerves. He doesn't see many

people, only the guards who bring his food and check on him. And it's really

hard to get him tilings, like books. You shou ld have seen the hassle we had

92 I UNUSUAL APPEAL

to go through to get Jose a picture of his mother. rhe guards really hate the

prisoners."

fhis information reminded Cynthia of how such cont.litions affeded pris-

oners. Life was dlfficult for all Inmates, but for those with mental illness,

prison conditions cou ld exacerbate their psychotic symptoms. She knew, for

example, ll could worsen halluclniltions, delusions, and inability to think or

concentrate.

Diane's voice interrupted Cynth ia's thoughts. "And that brings us to what

makes this case so difficult for us. Because his living comJittons are so i11hu-

mane, he doesn 't want us to appeal his death sentence. We don't think he's

competent to make that decision because he's been diagnosed with paranoid

\Chlzophrenia. Our main focu~ Is to show he's not competent to waive his

appeal."

"Cynthia, maybe you ought to t"Ome out and meet him," Joe .~ugge~ted.

"Me's reaUy Interesting. When you're with him, it feels like his eyes are bor-

ing holes into you. He'~ intense."

"He's not a very big man," Diana added, "but his demeanor makes him

~eem much larger than he is.H

"Sure! I'd like to meet him," Cynthia responded. "I've worked with a lot of

people with schizophrenia, so I might be able to offer some insight."

"Well," Diane offered, "we're going tomorrow; you're welcome to come

along. We'll leave early, because it iakes more than two hours to drive over to

Starke."

'' I'd love to," Cynthia replied.

The Meeting

fhe next day, in the car on the way to the prison, Diane and Joe told Cynthia

more about Jose to prepare her ror her first visit.

Oiane began. "Jos~ ha~ been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. He

thinks he's Chae, a Mayan god. According to ancient Mayan religion, Chae is

the rain god. Jose believes that when he dies, he will fall on the whole world

as rain and bring peace and prosperity. He thinks that this heroic an will cause everyone to worship him, and he will no longer be the long-forgotten

god that he Is now. Because he's paranoid, he doesn't trust professionals, and

UNUSUAL APPEAL I 93

he tests them. When you meet him, be sure to maintain eye contact. ff you

don't, he won't trust you. He' ll also test you by putting h.ls leg against yours

under the table. Don't move. lf you do, he won' t trust you."

"Yeah, and remember," Joe joked, "don't flirt with him, because he thinks

he's a Casanova."

Cynthia tried to digest all this information. She was determined not to

undermine the rapport Diane and Joe had worked so hard to build with Jose,

especially because trust was hard to rebuild with people who had paranoid

schizophrenia.

lnside the prison, the guard led them to a dusty room furnished with a

battered table, mismatched chairs, and old odds and ends. Two small win-

dows placed nigh in a concrete wall provided tile on ly connection to the

outs.ide world. Jose was brought in, dressed in pajamas and slippers. Shackles

were clasped aroum.1 Ills ankles and chains ran up the sides ()f his legs, then

attached to the shackles on his wrists. Although, as she had acknowledged

previously, Diane did not feel comfortable being alone with Jose, she felt suf-

ficiently safe with Joe and Cynthia present to ask the guard to take a shackle

off one of Jose's wrists.

Wt tat first struck Cynt hla was Jose's regal demeanor. After they had settled

into their chairs and greeted one another, Jose looked intently into Cynthia's

eyes and, with a dignified air, asked, "So, Cynthia, how did you come to be a

social worker?"

As Jose looked intently at her, waiting for her answer, his back straight and

hands folded, Cynthia felt as though she was being Interrogated. Tllen she

fell something more physical. He had leaned his leg against hers. HI~ move-

ments had been slow and deliberate, and he continued to hold her gaze, as

if waiting for her next move. Careful not to flinch, she tried to respond as lf

nothing was awry.

"l have always enjoyed working with people. I like talking to them, and

learning from them," Cynthia answered evenly, wondering whether she had

passed his test.

IJiane and Joe allowed Jose to control the session. They knew if they

didn't, he might lose trust in them, something they needed desperately and

worked hard to maintrun. Any information they needed from hlm had to be

extracted from whatever he wanted to talk about.

94 I UNUSUAL APPEAL

When Joe asked Jose if he had any issues he wanted to discuss, Jose's

countenance changed. A shadow fell over his face and he began to fidget in

his seat.

"Yeah, l have something to discuss, all eight. This morning, they busted

into my cell, threw me on the bed, yanked my pants down, and shot me in

the ass. It really pissed me off."

Cynthia felt a pang of empathy for Jose; it was clear he felt violated. She

shared his anger with the prison system that treated people like animals. She

had seen it fail so many. The rest of the meeting, he voiced other nagging con-

cerns: he was cold, he wanted a book on Mayan gods, and he wanted to discuss

his art. Joe offered to post Jose's art in a prison newsletter for other inmates to

see. Cynth.ia noted that Jose seemed very intel ligent. She couldn't imagine the

double hustration of being cooped up in a small cell and trapped in his own

psychosis. She knew that it was going to be hard for Joe to get Jose a book.

An Informal Staff Discussion

During the car ride back to the office, Diane steamed. "We had a court order

that Jose was not to be medicated against his will. Who ordered this, right

before the competency hearing on Thursday'? We need to find out what that

~hot was aad how It will affect him. We may need to seek a postponement

until the meds clear his system."

Cynthia offered, "I could look into that for you. From what I know, I bet

it was a long-acting, time-released Haldol shot, an anUpsychotic drug. The

guards were probably just afraid of him. It's easier to give him a shot than to

have to deal with him. It will probably take a month for it to wear off."

Joe replied, "That would be great, Cynthia . I think you should get more

Involved in this case. Your psychiatric background sure would be helpful."

L)lane added, "Actually, I think we need you on this case. Why don't you

plan on coming to the competency hearing on Thursday?''

''Sure, but how can we have a competency hearing now, if he's been

drugged?" Diane replied, "Well, we probably won't complete the hearing now. I' ll

request that we postpone It for a month or so. But I'm sure the judge will still

want to meet with Jose."

UNUSUAL APPEAL I 95

The Hearing

The following Thursday, Cynlhla accompanied Joe and Diane to court. The

fudge began by asking Jose. "ls II true you don't want to appealt"

Jose replied, »Ye~, sir, that is true. I would rather die than live like an

animal."

"For you, what docs it mean to die?" tbe judge asked.

Jose replied, "I would be ~trapped into a machine, and be given three in-

jections." Jose explained each of these injections, what they were for, and

how long it would take him to die.

The fudge then asked, "What happens when someone dies?"

Jose ~aid. "When you die you are buried, and your family has a funeral.

If you believe in God you may go to heaven or hell, and if you don't you just

get burled."

The judge then asked, ''Mr. Aranda, your doctors said that you have some

beliefs about Mayan gods. Would you mind telling me about those?"

Jose straightened his back and held his head high. "Those are my personal beliefs and I don't want to discuss them."

As the judge continued his questioning, Cynthia wondered whether Jose

really believed what he was saying about death. He could just be repeating

what he knew others believed. It was clear that Jose knew he had to seem as

rational as possible. From the judge's reaction, Jose had accomplished this; the

judge was impressed. Still, he agreed with Joe and Diane to allow a month and

a half for the shot to wear off, and then hold another competency hearing.

A Month and a Half Later

After the medication had worn off, Cynthia .ind Joe visited Jose again. Now

fami liar with Cynthia, Jose was more personal, even flirtatious. He talked

more freely about Mayan culture and, without pause, reminded Joe that he

wanted to waive his appeal

Joe t rled to talk him out of It by asking questions. "You're not going to let

the state government fry another innocent person in Old Sparky, are you"!

You aren't going lo let them get away with that, are you? Aren't you going to

stand up to them?"

96 I UNUSUAL APPEAL

Jose responded, "Look, man, l already told you, I'm livlng in a cell, and

those door buzzers keep me awake. Half the time I'm naked, and the guards

walk by staring at me. It's like being an animal. I'm sick of it. If I could l1ave

the drugs l need, I might be able to muddle through it. But they won't give

those to me. They say it's too expensive. They don't think I'm worth it . AJI

they give me ls that poison, and I know it's all part of their plot. I hate Hal-

dol! It makes me stiff, and I drool like a damn mad dog. I can't have anything

to read. l can't even get a clarnn photo. I don't want to live like this any-

more, man."

Jose was so adamant, so sincere, that Cynthia began to wonder about his

right to self-determination, and basic human dignity. She wanted to tell Joe

to just stop pressuring Jose. It made her stomach twist to hear him have to

argue about why he wanted to die.

The Argu ment

Back at the office, Cynthia brought up her concerns. "Muybe we shou ld let

Jose waive his appeal." Diane and Joe looked at her Incredulously.

"But he doesn't think he will die." Diane insisted. "He thinks he's going to

fall as rain on the whole world and reinvigorate the world's worship of him."

Cynthia replied, "l agree. He might not know what will really happen to

him when he dies, but he does understand that his life will continue to be

hell if he lives. He doesn't want to live like that anymore, Diane. He feels

degraded, he is degraded, and he knows he's degraded. I'm not sure I would

want to live llke that either."

Diane's voice began to rise. "I don't think he is compt'tt•nt enough to make

lhat decision. Plus, I think he's innocent."

Cynthia could feel her own adrenaline kicking in. "Still, doesn't he have a

right to have a voice in the matter and have his reasons considered? He's ob-

viously miserable lo that cell. He cou lu live like that for another thirty years

or more. I'm not sure that we have a right to make that decision for him."

Diane's face was red. "Cynthia, we have got to present a united front to that

judge next week." She paused briefly. "You know, I do sign your paycheck."

Cynthia felt confused and frustrated. She knew Diane and Joe believed

they had Jo.se's best interests at heart. She had seen their dedication over the

past year; they often visited former clients, even when their professional work

UNUSUAL APPEAL I 97

wa' done. fhey would put a few dollars into inmates' accounts so they could

buy cigarette). They had made huKe sacrifices in their personal relatiomhips.

rhey got to know their clients and developed compassion for them. They

held scrupulously to their own ethics.

llut would she be able to reconcile her ethics with theirs! They l>elieved

Jose was not competent to make the decision to waive his appeal. 8111, she wondered, Jww rnmpete11L is w111pete11t e11cmglr! Sllo11/d11't he hallf! a rigl11 lo l1t1ve

llis wislu·s \erim1sly co11sitlered? Wlrat i( it'ss 1101 j11s1 c1 dedsio11 11lx.111t life but a

decision c1bo11t quality of life? Wlmt is my re~pcm~ibility as 11 social worker lo lllis

dimt?

This case was prepared by Bruce Lamb, while a candidate for a Masters in Public Administration, at the Evans School of Public Affairs, University of Washington, under the general supervision of Associate Professor Jonathan Brock. This is a fictitious case based on real situations in several non-profit organizations concerning interactions on boards of directors. It is not intended to show effective or ineffective handling of the situation described. All rights reserved to the contributors. The Electronic Hallway is administered by the University of Washington's Daniel J. Evans School of Public Affairs. This material may not be altered or copied without written permission from The Electronic Hallway. For permission, email [email protected], or phone (206) 221-3676. Electronic Hallway members are granted copy permission for educational purposes per Member’s Agreement (hallway.evans.washington.edu).

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)

The meeting started as usual, with the board members arriving one by one in the small upstairs room of the Lutheran Church in downtown Pacific City. The first to arrive was Nancy, the executive director and founder of the organization, which was now in its sixth year. She was accompanied by a staff member. Next to arrive was Peter, the longest continuously serving board member, in the middle of his fifth year on the board. He had stepped down as board president four months earlier, after serving for two years. A large, worn wooden table with 14 chairs barely fit in the small room, and each board member had to side-step around it to the nearest empty chair. The spring sunshine still shone through the only window, painted shut, as the 6:30 p.m. meeting time approached. It was uncomfortably warm in the room, though no one complained. Of the 12 members of the board, eight made it to the meeting. They came from diverse backgrounds: activists and middle-class professionals. About half were from the Latino community that the organization served. Board composition was a nearly equal number of men and women. The mission of the nonprofit they served, El Dormitorio, was to empower homeless Latinos. The board members shared a deep personal commitment to the mission of the organization, and they were all tired from long days at their regular jobs. Peter had agreed to chair the meeting that night as a favor to Ted, the new president who said he would not make it because of a “conflict of interest” involving an issue on the agenda. Peter felt like he had grown into his leadership role in the organization. He was comfortable, even confident, as he called the meeting to order, 10 minutes after it was scheduled to start. The last arriving board members had just walked in, bringing the group to 10 in all. A few minutes into the meeting, anxiety and confusion replaced Peter’s confidence as Carrie, the organization’s volunteer coordinator, led a handful of people that Peter didn’t recognize into the room. Squeezing between the wall and the seated board members, the unexpected entourage made their way to the last empty chairs scattered around the table. One had to remain standing. Peter knew Carrie from numerous organizational functions over the years. She had always been pleasant to him and had a good sense of humor. Peter did not recognize any of the other new arrivals, though. “Who are these people and what are they doing here?”

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)

asked Juanita Moreno, one of the newer and more outspoken board members. Carrie, in a challenging tone that Peter had never heard from her before, responded that they were there to oppose Nancy’s decision to eliminate the volunteer coordinator staff position and “testify” about why the position should be retained. Carrie happened to be the live-in girlfriend of Ted, the new board president, who had purposely, (and wisely, Peter now thought) missed the meeting. He must have known about this walk-in “protest.” Peter wondered why Ted had not given him a heads up. Serving as a Nonprofit Board Member One year after its start-up, El Dormitorio’s executive director Nancy asked Peter to serve on its board of directors. Peter was a litigation lawyer in his mid-thirties working in a private practice who had done pro bono work representing refugees from El Salvador and Guatemala in political asylum cases for another nonprofit. As Nancy told him about El Dormitorio’s mission and programs, Peter was moved and wanted to help. He had never served on a nonprofit board, but he believed in the mission of the organization and said yes—not knowing how he was going to be able to help. At the time, El Dormitorio had a budget of about $48,000, with a paid staff comprised of one full-time director and a part-time outreach worker. A VISTA volunteer and an Americorps volunteer coordinated its classes and programs. All of its teachers were volunteers. Its programs served over 100 clients. As a new member of a small board of about seven members, Peter first served as secretary, which helped him to learn names and organizational issues. Realizing he had a valuable role to play, he researched nonprofit law and the duties of board members. He chaired a committee that authored the organization’s first personnel manual, and he contributed 1 percent of his own income and did some fundraising. He learned about strategic planning, and helped the director coax the organization to be more intentional about its planning. He helped draft job descriptions for each of the officers on the board, and recruited and helped train new board members. The Making of a Board President After two years, Peter was asked to serve as board president. He was primarily concerned with mitigating organizational growing pains by formalizing procedures and policies: He set higher expectations of board members to make the board function more efficiently and effectively. During his five years on the board, the organization grew to have 14 full- and part-time paid staff positions. It had added programs and now served over 1,000 clients per year with a budget of close to half a million dollars. Peter felt that the organization’s success was due in very large part to Nancy. He thought she was an exceptional executive director who had learned, grown, and evolved along

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)

with the organization. He admired her leadership and tireless dedication to the organization. He was amazed at how many responsibilities she had and how she seemed to perform at such a high level in all of them: program development, personnel management, grant writing, fundraising, event planning, public relations, external advocacy, and board development and training, to name a few. Peter had visited all of El Dormitorio’s programs at one time or another, but relied on the executive director to keep him informed of the issues and needs of the clients, the organization, and its staff. He occasionally met some of El Dormitorio’s volunteers at fundraising events, but knew only one or two on a first name basis. Not being responsible for the day-to-day operations of the organization, Peter had time to think and reflect between meetings. The organization needed someone who would study, learn, and then act with the confidence that the board’s actions were consistent with “best practices” and their legal obligations. Though he wished he could spend more time visiting the programs and getting to know the staff, there was only so much time he could devote to his volunteer role on the board, and he didn’t want to interfere with the executive director’s responsibilities. At times the importance of the decisions regarding the direction of the rapidly growing organization would cause emotions to run high. Under pressure, Peter was tactful and diplomatic and could act as a detached facilitator. This approach had served him well in the past. Now Peter was faced with something he had never expected. A staff member who had left on her own to take another job, and who was involved with the present chair of the board, was there to challenge the director’s decision not to replace the volunteer coordinator position. She had also brought a group of volunteers and staff to support her in this. As he listened to Carrie announce the purpose of her appearance at the meeting, Peter began to feel the heat in the room. He was confused. He had noticed the more frequent written reports from Nancy, but thought they were signs of progress toward better communication and documentation in an organization that was outgrowing some of its informal ways of doing things. In anticipation of chairing this meeting for Ted, whose style he knew was different than his own, Peter had met the week before with Nancy with whom he had developed a close working relationship over the years, but no longer had frequent contact. They had talked about the volunteer coordinator issue over coffee. Nancy had told him that she had decided to eliminate the position to make room in the budget for another paid position. Carrie, who done her job well, had already accepted a new job in another organization, and this was a good time to make the move. Peter agreed. It involved some re-structuring, and they both agreed that the decision should be run by the full board. There, decisions were normally made by consensus, and Peter anticipated no objection to this decision.

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)

Several emails went back and forth in the weeks preceding the meeting between Nancy and Carrie debating Nancy’s decision. One or both of them had copied the board members on their debate. Carrie and the volunteers were not on the agenda, and no one expected them to show up. Peter had read the emails and remembered Nancy telling him that Carrie disagreed with her decision to eliminate the position. Peter remembered thinking that Carrie’s disagreement mattered little, because she was leaving, and he had seen no reason to inquire further. Although not on the agenda, Carrie was loudly demanding an opportunity to address the board and to allow other volunteers who were with her to do the same. Peter looked at the faces of his fellow board members and realized that most knew even less about what was going on and were looking to him to restore order to the situation. He wondered if he should let Carrie and the volunteers speak their minds, which would be consistent with what Peter thought was the traditional open nature of the organization’s board meetings. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Juanita declared that the staff member and volunteers had no right to be at the meeting at all, let alone interrupt it. They should leave, and would be informed of the board’s decision later. Peter’s blood pressure rose along with his sense of indecision. Noting how uncomfortable the newest board member, attending his first meeting, looked staring head down at the far end of the table Peter tried to clear his head and decide in the next few seconds, what he would do.

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)

Attachment 1: The El Dormitorio Board of Directors

Board Members Present  Peter Marks—attorney, longest serving board member, former board president  Sebastian Ramirez—first generation Mexican immigrant, founder of another

Latino nonprofit service organization; currently doing sales work for high- tech communications company

 Juanita Moreno—middle-class professional and activist  Sebastian Hernandez—first generation Mexican immigrant, team leader at

software company  Elsa Peterson—teacher  Miguel Sanchez—Costa Rican immigrant, hospital administrator  John Trabolsi—small business owner  Jose Dominguez—Carpenters’ Union representative, activist Also Present  Nancy Burns—co-founder and executive director of El Dormitorio  Conchita Ramirez—development assistant for El Dormitorio, staff

representative at the meeting; also a former client of El Dormitorio; wife of board member Sebastian Moreno

Board Members Absent  Jose Orosco—co-founder of El Dormitorio  Marta Hughes—daughter of migrant farmworker parents, second generation

Mexican immigrant, manager at high-tech firm  David Hughes—husband of Marta Hughes, also manager at the same high

tech firm  Ted Guillen—current board president, high tech entrepreneur

He Won’t Go There! 1 Maria Hogan and Terry A. Wolfer

In April 2012, field instructor Ellen James and field liaison Julia Cathcart visited

Calvin Ellis at his field placement with Champion Academy, an alternative school in

Jackson County, Georgia. Before bringing the end-of-year field visit to a close, Julia

asked Calvin, “What was your greatest challenge?”

“One night after field,” Calvin answered, “I had to drop by a student’s house to

make a home visit. I wanted to check on a student because he didn’t show up to

school that day. It was dark when I pulled up and got out of the car. When I got to

the door, there was someone standing there with a gun.”

“What?! Did you call the police?” Ellen asked, incredulous. “What did you do?”

And why, Ellen wondered, are you mentioning this now?! I gave you every opportunity to

tell me that this horrible thing happened. Glancing sideways at Julia, Ellen’s mind was

racing, What do we do with this information now?

Jackson County, Georgia and Champion Academy

With just over 60,000 residents, Jackson County’s population consisted of over

80% Caucasians, 12% African Americans, and 7% Hispanics. About 13% of its

residents were below the poverty line, and the county continued to struggle with the

effects of the 2008 recession that occurred four years before. Pockets of impoverished

areas scattered the county, and crime was rampant. Because of budget cuts, Jackson

County schools had eliminated social work positions, leaving fewer resources to

address student problems.

Located in the town of Jefferson, Champion Academy served as Jackson

County’s alternative school for students expelled from the three other high schools.

The school was going through a transition to make it more therapeutic, including

hiring an on-site psychologist. The school had also recently changed its branding by

using vibrant colors and renaming the school to instill more positivity. This new

branding included the principal broadcasting positive affirmations across the PA

system throughout the day.

Despite the recent changes, the school building itself remained dark, dirty, and

run-down. It was old and very small, and the narrow halls lacked the typical team

spirit that tended to fill the hallways in a high school. Security guards stood at the

doors, and students were often accompanied by staff as they walked the halls. The

school’s census ranged from a few dozen students to more than 100 students at any

given time.

Dr. Christopher Haines was one of the key people behind the rebranding. As

Champion Academy’s principal, Dr. Haines was kind, generous, and welcoming.

1 This decision case was prepared solely to provide material for class discussion and not to suggest

either effective or ineffective handling of the situation depicted. While based on field research regarding

an actual situation, names and certain facts may have been disguised to protect confidentiality. The

authors wish to thank the case reporter for cooperation in making this account available for the benefit

of social work students and practitioners.

Standing 6’4” tall, he was a 55-year-old Caucasian man with blonde hair. He always

wore khakis, a belt, and a white dress shirt. A long-time educator, he had a passion

for working in difficult educational settings, and people perceived him as an

innovator.

The academic support staff at the school included guidance counselor Trina

Brown. Trina was a quiet, reserved, modestly-dressed African American woman in

her early 60s. Small in stature, she always appeared proper and hospitable. Trina

had a Master’s in Guidance Counseling, and had worked in the Jackson County

School District for 22 years. As a guidance counselor, she worked closely with

Champion’s students to help them plan their futures and overcome obstacles. She

missed collaborating with school social workers.

Social Work Placement

To replace the missing school social workers, Jack Thomas strategized with

Kristen Dane. Jack was the dynamic and gregarious fundraiser, grant-writer, and

developer for Jackson County schools. Kristen was Dean of the School of Social

Work. Together, they wrote a successful grant to create three new social work field

placements for the 2011-2012 school year. Because there were no on-site social

workers at Champion, Dean Dane arranged for the School of Social Work’s Field

Office to provide an off-site field instructor for the social work students placed there.

After the grant was awarded, Dr. Haines and a team of staff members

interviewed several social work students for the three new field placement positions.

Dr. Haines was looking for students who were independent and knowledgeable. He

eventually selected Calvin Ellis, an older African American man, and two women in

their early 20s, one an African American and the other a Caucasian.

School of Social Work Team

The Field Office selected Ellen James, a social worker with extensive practice

experience, to provide off-site supervision for the social work students at Champion.

Ellen was a 48-year-old Caucasian woman, about 5’2” tall with short brown hair.

Originally from Georgia, Ellen moved to Chicago to get her Master’s in Social Work

from Loyola University. She stayed there for 12 years doing federal grant-funded

street outreach with individuals experiencing homelessness and who appeared to

have mental illnesses, developing a strong commitment to social justice and people

on the street. In 2008, Ellen returned to Georgia to begin her doctoral program at the

University of Georgia’s School of Social Work. While taking classes, Ellen also

worked for the Department of Mental Health funded by the same grant as her

Chicago position.

In 2011, Ellen left her job at the Department of Mental Health to focus her time in

the academic setting. She earned income and reduced tuition by teaching two classes

per semester and providing field instruction while she worked on her dissertation.

Though Ellen had been the field instructor for one student at the Department of

Mental Health, she became an off-site field instructor for the first time when she took

on the three students placed with Jackson County schools.

Ellen worked closely with Julia Cathcart, the field liaison for the Champion

Academy students. A 41-year-old Caucasian woman, Julia had worked with more

than 25 students as a field instructor. However, this was her first time serving in the

role of field liaison. Julia held a Master’s and PhD in Social Work, and began

teaching at the University of Georgia as an adjunct instructor in 2004. Julia and Ellen

knew each other from teaching some of the same courses and were both supervised

by Dean Dane. Because the Jackson County schools were a new field placement,

Ellen and Julia put extra effort into ensuring that they succeeded.

Calvin Ellis

At age 60, Calvin Ellis was a tall, thin, and light-skinned. He had green eyes, long

manicured finger nails, and a gold tooth. Calvin was always meticulously dressed,

wearing ironed suits, big rings, and gemstone jewelry. He always carried a leather

folio from his time as a military chaplain. With his Master’s in Divinity, Calvin had

served as a military chaplain for 25 years, and he attended a local church where

Trina was a member. Calvin returned to school in 2011 to obtain his Master’s in

Social Work from the University of Georgia. As a foundation-year student in the

two-year MSW program, Calvin demonstrated great interest in leadership and

maintaining a presence in the College of Social Work, including taking part in the

Dean’s advisory council. It was very typical for Calvin to drop by a professor’s office

to just say hello.

Despite his military experience and interest in leadership, Calvin remained

without a placement as the Fall semester approached. Several agencies interviewed

him for a possible placement, but each chose another student. Finally, Calvin

interviewed with Champion in July 2011, and Dr. Haines thought his confident,

outgoing manner made him the perfect student for the new social work placement. It

was a match!

Getting Underway

Calvin began his placement, with Dr. Haines assigned as his task supervisor.

Calvin also started meeting with Ellen, the off-site field instructor for all three

students.

A few weeks after the placement began, Ellen stopped by Julia’s office to give her

an update. “The other day, I told Calvin that I was working on my dissertation, and

he responded, ‘Oh so you’re not a professor?’”

“How rude!” Julia responded. “Did he say anything else that seemed odd?”

“Well,” Ellen replied, “I’ve asked him several times why he chose social work,

only to get incomplete answers that never quite made sense.”

Additionally, in her role as liaison, Julia checked in with Calvin to see if he

needed any help advocating for anything as it related to developing his learning

contract and preparing for his first liaison visit. Julia found that her offer of

assistance seemed to open the door for Calvin to stop by and see her spontaneously

from time to time throughout the year. Their conversations often followed the same

pattern.

“Hi, Dr. Cathcart,” Calvin would begin, “I was in the area and thought I would

stop by and say hello.”

“Hi Calvin. How is the field placement going?”

“It’s going well. I love working with these kids. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well, Calvin. Thanks for asking.”

Typically, this exchange was followed by a pause, and a big smile from Calvin.

Julia would usually conclude with, “Well, I appreciate you stopping by to check in,

Calvin.”

A couple months later, Ellen returned to talk with Julia. “He just seems like a

loose cannon to me,” Ellen stated.

“Why’s that?” Julia probed.

“Every time I meet with him in supervision,” Ellen explained, “he hardly

participates. It seems like he’s keeping information from me, and I never know what

to expect with him. He never tells me his feelings or insights. I can’t figure out how

to rein him in or get him more involved in supervision. It’s like he thinks he has

everything figured out whenever he comes for supervision and he does not need me

to help him along.”

“Do you need me to intervene?” Julia asked. “Or meet with the both of you?”

“No,” Ellen replied, “I think I’m okay. I just wanted to keep you updated.”

As the semester wore on, Ellen tried everything she could think of to get Calvin

to engage.

“This is not going to go well,” she said to him directly during one meeting, “if

you don’t respond when I ask you questions.”

In response, Calvin shook his head affirmatively but pushed back from the table

without comment.

No matter how hard she tried, it seemed Ellen could not get him to participate in

supervision.

On several occasions, without advance notice, Calvin did not show up for

supervision meetings. How can I do better, Ellen wondered, get him better engaged, and

get him working harder? Calvin did not fit her expectations of a social work intern.

While foundation-year social work students often do not know what they are

supposed to do in their field settings, Calvin never appeared to hesitate and never

expressed uncertainty. In fact, Ellen had to admit, as best she could tell he performed

competently, meeting expectations for foundation-level performance. He carried out

his social work role with confidence, immediately meeting with high school students

and building relationships. However, he often called Ellen about technical matters:

to ask how he should keep his files, what to do with his time sheets, and the rules

about taking client information home. When Calvin raved about his positive

feedback from students and staff at Champion, Ellen wondered, I would love to hear

what the students have to say about Calvin. He seems severe and conservative.

As the Fall semester progressed, Ellen noticed that Calvin occasionally

referenced his military chaplaincy. One day, Ellen told the three students she

supervised, “All of you are learning to practice social work, and whatever you were

before, you have to let that go.” Knowing that this directly impacted Calvin, Ellen

was surprised that he did not say anything in return. Most people love that

conversation, Ellen thought. They want to become social workers. I’m not sure he wants to

be a social worker.

Ellen expressed her concerns to Julia about Calvin’s chaplaincy, unsure about his

ability to keep an open mind.

Later, when she again raised the issue with Calvin, he responded, “In chaplaincy,

you are trained not to be any one religion, but you are well-versed in them all and

you take a neutral approach.”

Having an ex-husband who was a chaplain, Ellen was not convinced. She felt

uneasy with the golden cross around Calvin’s neck and the way he talked about his

wife staying home to cook and clean all day.

Calvin’s polite disagreement with Ellen’s feedback bothered Ellen well into

Spring semester. She strongly desired the placement to succeed, so this new

initiative could continue. She felt honored to be chosen as the field instructor in this

new setting, and she wanted to make Dean Dane proud. However, with little

response from Calvin, working with him reminded her of working with reluctant

clients.

Taking another approach, Ellen tried to involve Calvin with the other two social

work students working in Jackson County schools, but Calvin never interacted much

with them either. Ellen occasionally encouraged, “I really want you guys to bounce

ideas off each other.” But as far as she knew, it never occurred.

Feeling stymied by Calvin, Ellen stopped by Julia’s office and knocked lightly.

“How’s it going?” Julia asked

“Good, good,” Ellen replied. “It seems like my field students are mostly doing

okay. But I have some concerns about Calvin. When we’re in supervision, the other

two students engage with me and, when I ask, tell me more about what’s going on.”

“But not Calvin?” Julia guessed.

“Right. When I say something like, ‘Let’s talk a little bit more about that,’ they

open up. But Calvin typically says, ‘That’s really all I need.’ I might respond, ‘But I

want to hear some more. I am concerned about what you said.’ But Calvin always

shuffles me along, ‘No, that’s okay. Let’s move on.’”

“Do you think it’s something that I could help facilitate between you two?” Julia

asked.

“No,” Ellen replied, “I think it’s okay at this point, but thank you for offering.

Maybe Calvin just feels difficult by comparison to the other two.”

An Email from Dr. Haines

Ellen and Julia made a joint field visit in late January 2012 to check up on Calvin

and the two women at Jackson County schools. While students tend to have one

field visit per semester, Ellen and Julia liked to make more visits to new placements

to make sure the placements were going well, and especially for placements where

social workers were not on-site. During this first spring visit, Calvin mentioned that

he was not getting a lot of referrals. Ellen thought that was odd but didn’t say

anything in the moment.

On the car ride home, Ellen and Julia talked about their concern for Calvin. “Is

there something that he’s not telling us?” Julia asked.

“I get that feeling, too,” Ellen replied. “Calvin used to rave about how many

referrals he was getting in the Fall, so why is he suddenly not getting quite so

many?”

“You’re right,” Julia responded. “I got a weird feeling that Calvin was not telling

us everything, could be about the referral situation. Has he said anything to you

about it or anything else in supervision?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything about a lack of referrals,” Ellen said, “or much of

anything else for that matter. Should I ask him about it?”

“We should probably look into it,” Julia stated, “but I don’t want Calvin to think

that we’re questioning him, so let’s ask Dr. Haines first to see what he knows about

that.”

“Maybe it’s just a January slump,” Ellen offered, “you know, getting back to

school after Christmas break.”

“Maybe,” Julia agreed, “but it seemed like something was off.”

When they returned to campus, Ellen emailed Dr. Haines. The next day, she

received a response:

Calvin is doing a terrific job. As for the low number of

referrals, our census is down from over 100 to just over 30.

Maybe a lower number of students is resulting in less

referrals to Calvin.

“Interestingly,” Ellen reported to Julia a month later, “Calvin has called me

several times a week to check in and asked a few small questions. I am glad he’s

doing that, at least, and want to encourage him to use me more often.”

Field Visit

Having made three prior visits together, Julia and Ellen knew right where to

meet for Calvin’s final field visit in early April 2012.

“I have just felt so discouraged about my supervisory relationship with Calvin,”

Ellen confided during the ride there, “and I know you may not want to hear this, but

I am just glad that this placement is almost over.”

“I know this has been a challenging situation for you this year,” Julia responded.

As they drove together, their conversation moved on to another student on the

schedule that day, and whether they would have enough travel time between the 45-

minute sessions they had planned with each student.

Calvin was their first visit of the day, and they arrived on time, eager to begin.

They both knew what to expect from the visit because, the week before, Ellen had

seen Calvin in supervision and Calvin had stopped by Julia’s office as usual to say

hello and report that all was going well. Ellen had also been in contact with Dr.

Haines, who always reported Calvin was doing a great job.

Calvin had his own office, and students came to him on a regular basis. Calvin

had even made himself a name plate and business cards. When Ellen and Julia

reached Calvin’s office, they found him waiting for them at his desk. Wearing his

usual suit, Calvin stood up and shook hands. Then, he went to get Trina and Dr.

Haines from nearby offices. They entered the conference room and sat around the

table, with Julia and Ellen on one side, Calvin and Trina on another, and Dr. Haines

at the head of the table. After some initial pleasantries, they discussed some

therapeutic changes at the school.

“The reason I’m here today,” Julia said, turning her attention to Calvin, “is to

review your learning contract and progress towards your year-end goals.” Julia went

through a list of questions that she asked at every field visit, including questions

about competency attainment and how classroom learning fit with what Calvin was

learning in his placement. She also asked questions about supervision and how it

had gone throughout the year. “Are you getting everything that you need from

Ellen?”

“Oh yes, ma’am,” Calvin responded. “We’ve been meeting regularly.

Everything’s been going okay.”

“What about the supervision you’re getting here?” Julia probed.

“Oh yes, ma’am, Trina is always here and we have been working together.”

“He’s been great with the students,” Trina responded. “We’re really going to

miss him. The students are really going to miss having him here.”

Dr. Haines remained quiet through the discussion.

“Ellen,” Julia turned to her colleague, “what can you say about Calvin’s

progress?”

“I’ve been impressed with what I’ve heard about Calvin’s ability to engage with

students,” Ellen responded. “I’ve also been impressed with his professionalism.”

Because it was the final field liaison visit, Ellen did not want to bring up any

negative aspects of supervision. Instead, she tried to think of positive things she

could say about Calvin.

Julia continued asking about competencies, and termination with clients.

Beginning to wrap up, she asked Calvin, “Looking back, what do you think was

your greatest success?”

“My greatest success has been engaging with the students,” Calvin replied. “One

student in particular comes to mind. He came to my office often to talk about his

awful home life, and I tried to give him hope for his future. A few months ago, he

went back to the regular high school. I was so excited and encouraged to see him

develop his full potential through my work with him. Over the course of the past

year, I like to think I helped empower students so they can break the typical cycle of

going directly to Department of Juvenile Justice after leaving Champion.”

“That’s great!” Julia replied. Before focusing on the transition to next year, she

asked, “And what was your greatest challenge?”

“One night after field,” Calvin answered, after a brief pause, “I had to drop by a

student’s house to make a home visit. I wanted to check on a him because he didn’t

show up to school that day. It was dark when I pulled up and got out of the car.

When I got to the door, there was someone standing there with a gun. I left and did

not get to see the student. It turns out that the student was fine and returned to

school the next day. I must have had the wrong address.”

“What?! Did you call the police?” Ellen asked, incredulous. “What did you do?”

And why, Ellen wondered, are you mentioning this now?! I gave you every opportunity to

tell me that this horrible thing happened. Glancing sideways at Julia, Ellen’s mind was

racing, What do we do with this information now?

“No,” Calvin replied. “I just made sure that I parked in backwards so I would

have an easy out. It wasn’t a very big deal.”

This is not in your learning contract! Ellen blushed. You know you’re not supposed to

do home visits! Ellen noticed Julia scan the room and saw Dr. Haines was bug-eyed, in

apparent surprise. In contrast, Trina appeared unsurprised.

You misled me! Ellen felt anger rising. But almost immediately she wondered,

What do I say in front of all of these people?! What are they thinking about me?

Table of Contents (Course Calendar and Required Readings)
January 17-20

(case #0) Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team

January 24-27

An introduction to decision cases and case method learning
Tips for discussing decision cases
(case #1) Inside or out

January 31-February 3

(case #2) Unusual appeal

February 7-10

(case #3) The board chair’s dilemma (A)

February 14-17

(case #4) He won’t go there