I work in child welfare. I don't save children.

So my official job title is Case Management Coordinator in a social service system we call child welfare, though this position may reside in your mind by various other titles such as "social worker" or "caseworker." I basically am that person that is thought of to visit children in foster care however often it is required (which varies by state) to ensure that the standards of that child's safety and well-being are being met (those standards also being defined by the state). I mention the state regulations as I find it peculiar and do not understand or sympathize with how well-being is defined and monitored. This blog is something I should have started a long time ago, since the onset of my career as a case manager. I have now completed training and have been out in the field for a full two months and I have a lot to talk about. I first explore what I thought this job was before my first bright-eyed day in training and uninformed I was and the entire system still is about what it means to "save children."

I always found the general conception of this job interesting- it is a fairly unglamorous job yet it is a field that has been highly publicized in the media. The news loves to focus on the inadequacies of the system while books and movies effectively portray the horror stories of being a foster child. Social workers in these stories are normally indifferent, cold strangers that pass in and out of a child's life and couldn't be more easily persuaded that everything in that child's life is going perfectly when in fact the child is living a nightmare. I guess I always thought I could change that, I could do something significant for that child who doesn't have anyone. Part of this interest comes from a general public fascination with children whose family situation warranted them removed and suddenly displaced into an unfamiliar unknown situation. Your family after all is suppose to love you and protect you devoid of any extenuating circumstances. In terms of survival and evolution your parents are the most important people in your life and you completely depend on them for all of your basic needs. If this natural support unit fails what hope do you have? A child's biggest fear is that their parents will abandon them. One of the most heart melting scenes is seeing a child hopelessly lost in a store. We all are immediately able to understand or get a sense of the crisis that is occurring before us. So there are nightmarish qualities to both sides: in an abusive/neglective home you wake up every morning into an unpredictable situation, will I get to eat today? is my mom drunk? will her boyfriend shove me in the closet and beat me again? Or to be suddenly transplanted into a home with all new people without a trace of what you new from your previous life.

This horror of the powerless child and the cycle that it develops is why there is even such a system like this in place. WE NEED TO SAVE CHILDREN. However, saving children involves some seriously humbling and invasive initiatives. From what I've learned in this job, decisions are not simple and never completely good. Our actions have significant consequences and deserve contemplation.

I had my first experience of this just in my first week of shadowing other case managers. One of my coworkers asked me to tag along in transporting a couple of kids from daycare back to the office for a visit with their parents. I was happy to get involved. When we got to the daycare, one of the kids was this one year and a half old boy who was incredibly attractive with sandy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes and looked at me suspiciously as soon as he saw me. I kneeled down to his level and said in a super sweet tone, "We're going on a ride to see your mom." He walked backwards towards the daycare provider and would not leave the building with me. The daycare provider had to pick him up and put him in the car seat. The entire time we drove he did not say a work but had a very stern look on his face with his eyebrows pointing downwards and his mouth puckered, he even fell asleep with that look on his face. We got back to the office and I took him out of his car seat and he immediately assumed his disapproving expression (like I'll let you hold me but I am not happy). I began to wonder whether this child had some developmental concerns or if he just hated me but that soon vanished because when we saw his mother in the visitation room his face completely lightened up and began talking about everything and was asking his mother questions. His mother drew pictures with him, fed him juice and snacks out of the diaper bag she brought and my heart sunk. I realized this mother had exactly one hour to be a mother with her child this week and I was nothing to him but a bearer of more uncertainty and the fear of more loss. I don't know what I really expected from these kids when I started this job. Certainly, not for them to jump out and be thrilled to see me and to know exactly why I'm there (to save them!) but what I didn't know was the significance of my being there. For there to be another person, another stranger in their lives. Another example that reveals the complexities of the situation of a child in our care is with my very first case. She was a precocious two and a half year old. I will call her Bethany. Bethany was just removed from her mother and placed with her maternal grandparents and was one of the brightest children I've come across. On my second home visit with her we were drawing pictures together on the coffee table of her home and she drew a colorful boy with blue all over. I asked her what the picture was and she said in a very soft pensive tone "he's a prince and he's very sad." I asked her "Why is the prince sad?" Bethany just looked at me for a few seconds and then went back to coloring.

I remember at the tender age of fifteen I began to tell my family and friends about my ambitions in child welfare to which they normally remarked about how I'm going to hate my life and never make any money. These sentiments however never really disheartened me about my ability to "change" things. In some sense I've always felt like it was somewhat egocentric to think it is your mission or calling in life to make things better in the world but now I think if we are privileged enough to possess awareness and be informed than our decisions carry much more weight and we are responsible for how we decide to live our lives.

The truth is we can't really save anything in regards to the direction of a person's life. I had to learn that I am not powerful, I can only give 100% and allow the ones I work with make their decisions. Even if the children are removed from a bad situation, these issues and what they have been exposed to are going to be things they will have to deal with for the rest of their lives. After it is all done, I can only hope the children and parents affected by our involvement grow stronger from it. That is how I learned how to be okay and accept the pain and misfortune the parents and children I have and am working with had to suffer. We all experience pain and have been hurt. Our experiences shape our passions and our passions drive us.

This job is what I do for a living. This job allows me to eat the things I like and live in a two bedroom apartment with my boyfriend. This job is what I do to make a difference on whatever scale-if it is doing whatever you can to make sure siblings who have been separated in foster care get the opportunity to visit with each other as much as possible or whether it is just listening to someone completely for ten minutes who is too often discredited. That is the social worker's job.