DEAR YOGESHREE
This is the first in a connected series of two letters on 'acting out' and seeing it as a way that young people communicate sometimes issues deep inside them that they cannot express verbally. This letter describes the 'acting out' behaviour and the next sets out to explore some explanation through having insight into the young persons world view.
The social worker at the 'Home' said to me " When the kids 'act out' then at least I can get a picture of what is going on..... I can see the colours of the rainbow"
The metaphor of the 'colours of the rainbow' became a useful metaphor . It was more subtle perhaps than the one I had developed for myself in my early days which I called 'flashing neon signs'.which is rather obvious. The idea of the 'neon signs' was that they flash bright incandescent colours, changing their message one after the other but are actually constructed by layering coloured neon lights one over the other. Reminiscent of Bronfenbrenner's Russian dolls
Like 'acting out' behaviour a neon message is designed to capture your attention, to flash and to shout the central idea to you Like flashing neon signs,behaviour-intense dramatic, apparently destructive episodes become windows of opportunity. Yogeshree, please do not think that I hoped for, or looked forward to 'acting out' behaviours in young people, they have to be managed, but I did realise that if I could read the multiple overlayed messages, then maybe the insight could allow me to 'get a handle' on understanding the less dramatic, less threatening moments in the reactions of that child in the life-space.
An early episode comes to mind.
Lebo had been missing for some months. His family was desperate to find him. His mother was dying of cancer in a hospital several kilometers outside the city centre. She had apparently said her 'goodbyes' to all the other significant family members and was hanging on to say 'goodbye' to Lebo.Mom was calling for hime and getting weaker every day.
Perhaps Lebo didn't want to be found and he was not traceable. Even the other young persons in the Centre and in the streets wern't talking.
An otherwise rejecting family became frantic. "She's asking for him," they would say, " and she can't ho;d on much longer - it could be a few days now and it will be too late."
When Lebo did show, feverish family phone calls and family resources were conjured up to get him to her bedside.
They would meet him at the Centre and transport him there themselves to be sure that he actually got there.
That morning Lebo arrived with a handful of plastic flowers, a plastic vase and a camera....... "he must have visited the graveyard last night" I thought. The camera had been hastily 'borrowed' from an uncle who was part of the transportation plan.. Much care was taken to arrange the plastic flowers and then photograph them.
Lebo was not in a good state. The effects of alcohol, glue or cough medicine or possibly all three were written on his face. His call was a constant "Pray for me! Pray for me!"
The next day the telephone didn't stop.
Through everyone's anger and by piecing the pieces together snippets from a number of relatives and their stories, I got a disconnected account of what happened.I will give it to you in point form.
When accompanied into the hospital room and at his mother's bedside:
He shouted and screamed at her, "You were OK in August, why aren't you OK now? Are you mad? Why are you lying in this God-forsaken place? Get up, I'm taking you to the city hospital. What are you doing? What have they done to you?' It was a dramatic and loud performance
Mom became hysterical (family's words).
Lebo took off all his clothes and at her bedside continued to shout at her ... naked.
He gathered up her little money from her bed-side and kept it.
He was hussled out of the room.
But this type of episode was repeated another four times - there was no stopping him it seeemed, so he was evicted from the hospital by the hospital authorites and he made his own was back to the city.
After Mom died , Lebo spoke in a quiet subdued tone, " I thought it was my mother's will and the family's will - not the will of God"
His uncle laid charges of theft against Lebo. ..... he had not returned the camera.
Love
Barrie
,
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Friday, 26 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE personal integrity in child and youth care work
DEAR YOGESHREE
This is the last in a series of letters that investigate something of the very special form of leadership that we as child and youth care workers display in the work we do with children and young people,... or maybe should be showing... We have a particular responsibility to demonstrate a style of leadership that reflects the world as it should be. I call it a future world. .. not the present world tweaked a bit to bring about little compromises to it as it stands, but a vision of a new world where the most important values of love , democracy and justice are seen and experienced by the children as a workable new world through what we say and do... as individual child and youth care workers and as a caring organisation.
It is for this reason that the mantra of 'Think globally.... act locally' is so powerful in the work we do.
So, for example, the new world is a non-violent world , the use of war to bring about peace has no part in the new world, and weapons of violence and harm are melted down and "turned into plough-shares".
You will remember the movement to make South Africa into a "gun-free society" well, as a believer in a non-violent world, the Children's Home joined the movement and disallowed any manner of gun on the property. The play therapy room was permitted to be an exception for reasons best understood by the play therapist.
I can remember that we took a fairly large group of children on a camp at the camping site at Umtentwini near Port Shepstone on the (then) Natal South Coast.(now Kwa-Zulu Natal) The camp-site was used only once a year by the 'Home" and for the rest of the year it was used and looked after by a group who called themselves ' The Bullslingers'. I was not aware of this, but to make money for the 'Home' and to make use of the bush and heavy undergrowth, the Bullslingers had made the site into a place for the playing of paint-ball shooting games. You know how it works. Two sides are identified by some sort of coloured scarf and are armed with guns that shot pellets of paint. I don't know the rules, but they stalk each other and try to shoot the opponent with the pellets of coloured paint. There is a system of knowing whether if you are injured or dead and which side wins. It is a physically harmless simulation of battle. A war game.
I am sure that you see where this is all leading.
When we arrived at the site the Bullslingers came to welcome us onto the site and to check that everything was alright and to plan their input into the programme. The would join us all for an evening campfire and barbecue Then I learnt of the paintball game and how the site was being used so that funds could be raised to support the camp costs for the children. They invited the children and young people to a game of paint-ball as part of the camp progamme.
The children and young people were ecstatic.
So, here I was between possibly offending a funder and making an exception to the gun-free policy or sticking with the values attached to the values of a non-violent society, refusing the game and hugely disappointing the children.
I must tell you that the staff were part of the discussion around the camp programme and the children were brought into this process.
The outcome was that we were prepared to stick with the principles and possibly offend or lose the funder. It was really hard for all of us .
Leaders, especially in the unique form of leadership that we as child and youth care workers adhere to is a form of personal integrity. We demonstrate congruence between what we expect from the children and what we say and what we do.
Please, Yogeshree, in your child and youth care journey .. in your leadership, please, don't lose your personal integrity and the mantra that we 'think globally ... act locally '
As child and youth care workers and leaders, we are trusted to "be the world we want it to be".
Love peace and blessings
Barrie
This is the last in a series of letters that investigate something of the very special form of leadership that we as child and youth care workers display in the work we do with children and young people,... or maybe should be showing... We have a particular responsibility to demonstrate a style of leadership that reflects the world as it should be. I call it a future world. .. not the present world tweaked a bit to bring about little compromises to it as it stands, but a vision of a new world where the most important values of love , democracy and justice are seen and experienced by the children as a workable new world through what we say and do... as individual child and youth care workers and as a caring organisation.
It is for this reason that the mantra of 'Think globally.... act locally' is so powerful in the work we do.
So, for example, the new world is a non-violent world , the use of war to bring about peace has no part in the new world, and weapons of violence and harm are melted down and "turned into plough-shares".
You will remember the movement to make South Africa into a "gun-free society" well, as a believer in a non-violent world, the Children's Home joined the movement and disallowed any manner of gun on the property. The play therapy room was permitted to be an exception for reasons best understood by the play therapist.
I can remember that we took a fairly large group of children on a camp at the camping site at Umtentwini near Port Shepstone on the (then) Natal South Coast.(now Kwa-Zulu Natal) The camp-site was used only once a year by the 'Home" and for the rest of the year it was used and looked after by a group who called themselves ' The Bullslingers'. I was not aware of this, but to make money for the 'Home' and to make use of the bush and heavy undergrowth, the Bullslingers had made the site into a place for the playing of paint-ball shooting games. You know how it works. Two sides are identified by some sort of coloured scarf and are armed with guns that shot pellets of paint. I don't know the rules, but they stalk each other and try to shoot the opponent with the pellets of coloured paint. There is a system of knowing whether if you are injured or dead and which side wins. It is a physically harmless simulation of battle. A war game.
I am sure that you see where this is all leading.
When we arrived at the site the Bullslingers came to welcome us onto the site and to check that everything was alright and to plan their input into the programme. The would join us all for an evening campfire and barbecue Then I learnt of the paintball game and how the site was being used so that funds could be raised to support the camp costs for the children. They invited the children and young people to a game of paint-ball as part of the camp progamme.
The children and young people were ecstatic.
So, here I was between possibly offending a funder and making an exception to the gun-free policy or sticking with the values attached to the values of a non-violent society, refusing the game and hugely disappointing the children.
I must tell you that the staff were part of the discussion around the camp programme and the children were brought into this process.
The outcome was that we were prepared to stick with the principles and possibly offend or lose the funder. It was really hard for all of us .
Leaders, especially in the unique form of leadership that we as child and youth care workers adhere to is a form of personal integrity. We demonstrate congruence between what we expect from the children and what we say and what we do.
Please, Yogeshree, in your child and youth care journey .. in your leadership, please, don't lose your personal integrity and the mantra that we 'think globally ... act locally '
As child and youth care workers and leaders, we are trusted to "be the world we want it to be".
Love peace and blessings
Barrie
Tuesday, 23 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE self sacrifice ..leadership in child and youth care work
DEAR YOGESHREE
You may have gathered the last letter I wrote you was not finished. I was interrupted and toward the end somewhat hastily tried to tie together the ends of the thought it pursued.
It had to do with a contrast in the way we experience and recognise leaders. Those who lead from the front seem to get all the acknowledgement but there are those who lead "from the middle" or, "from behind"..... the hidden leaders, most often not recognised at all, or sometimes even regarded as soft , or foolish.
The Comrades Marathon was an metaphor for those who come out in the front as winners, and those who run their own race helping others with theirs. Who are the real heroes? . ....leading by very special examples of a world as it should be?
The winner of the Comrades Marathon that year said " I know that I am the best", and this does seem to be a trend. People who lead from the front have an uncanny sense of their own genius, They don't seem to mask the fact. They know what they have and what they can achieve. In a true leader, it doesn't come across as arrogance or pride but as a simple knowing of who they are and the responsibility this imposes on them to lead from the front.
In in rare moments there are some leaders who lead from the front and from behind
In the book by Robert H. Schuller, called, Life's Not Fair, But God is Good (Struik 1993),there is a story of two young men who entered military school for the prescribed trial period for final acceptance. It was a particularly prestigious school and the entrance requirements were tough. Both wanted desperately to be accepted and worked very hard at gaining the minimum requirements for entry. One of these was a requirement that they run a battery of athletic events with a minimum cut off time in each. It was a series of events involving both sprints and long distances. A test of speed and stamina.
The first of the two young men, in the practises, showed that he would easily meet all the reqirements. He was able t sprint and managed the long distances with ease. He was showing himself to be a fine athlete, clearly one who already would be an athletic star in te College.
The second was an equally good candidate in the sprints, but somehow, he struggled in the one mile event.Try as he may in the practises he couldn't make the cut-off time. He was always the first out onto the field building up his stamina and strength, but in that one event, it still didn't look too promising
The two young men became friends and would train together.
When the day for the final runs for entry into the College came, the two young men gained entry for their efforts in the sprints. Then came the last qualifying event..... the mile. It started well. The first young man out in front as usual and the second lagging further and further behind. Our leading fellow watched his friend as he came into the final lap of the four lap event. He was already well in front and his place in the College was secure. All he had to do was to finish the lap. As usual his friend was struggling.
Then it happened. Toward the last straight home, the young man in the lead stopped. He walked back to his friend and took up a position at his shoulder, then he fell into he stride and pace of his struggling comrade running with him stride for stride and encouraging him as they went. In this way they went over the finishing line together. It was a humbling and moving moment. For the leader from the front everything was at stake. Now he was a leader from behind.
The Comrades Marathon has a lot to teach us about leadership. Some in life lead from the front. some from behind. Our young man did both. Thers exists among true leaders a sense that an external inspiration moves them to be what they are, but moves them often to be what, on their own, they are not..... or could be.
,,,,,,,,,,,and so it is with child and youth care workers
The story is true.
I am told they both made entry into the College.
Love
Barrie
You may have gathered the last letter I wrote you was not finished. I was interrupted and toward the end somewhat hastily tried to tie together the ends of the thought it pursued.
It had to do with a contrast in the way we experience and recognise leaders. Those who lead from the front seem to get all the acknowledgement but there are those who lead "from the middle" or, "from behind"..... the hidden leaders, most often not recognised at all, or sometimes even regarded as soft , or foolish.
The Comrades Marathon was an metaphor for those who come out in the front as winners, and those who run their own race helping others with theirs. Who are the real heroes? . ....leading by very special examples of a world as it should be?
The winner of the Comrades Marathon that year said " I know that I am the best", and this does seem to be a trend. People who lead from the front have an uncanny sense of their own genius, They don't seem to mask the fact. They know what they have and what they can achieve. In a true leader, it doesn't come across as arrogance or pride but as a simple knowing of who they are and the responsibility this imposes on them to lead from the front.
In in rare moments there are some leaders who lead from the front and from behind
In the book by Robert H. Schuller, called, Life's Not Fair, But God is Good (Struik 1993),there is a story of two young men who entered military school for the prescribed trial period for final acceptance. It was a particularly prestigious school and the entrance requirements were tough. Both wanted desperately to be accepted and worked very hard at gaining the minimum requirements for entry. One of these was a requirement that they run a battery of athletic events with a minimum cut off time in each. It was a series of events involving both sprints and long distances. A test of speed and stamina.
The first of the two young men, in the practises, showed that he would easily meet all the reqirements. He was able t sprint and managed the long distances with ease. He was showing himself to be a fine athlete, clearly one who already would be an athletic star in te College.
The second was an equally good candidate in the sprints, but somehow, he struggled in the one mile event.Try as he may in the practises he couldn't make the cut-off time. He was always the first out onto the field building up his stamina and strength, but in that one event, it still didn't look too promising
The two young men became friends and would train together.
When the day for the final runs for entry into the College came, the two young men gained entry for their efforts in the sprints. Then came the last qualifying event..... the mile. It started well. The first young man out in front as usual and the second lagging further and further behind. Our leading fellow watched his friend as he came into the final lap of the four lap event. He was already well in front and his place in the College was secure. All he had to do was to finish the lap. As usual his friend was struggling.
Then it happened. Toward the last straight home, the young man in the lead stopped. He walked back to his friend and took up a position at his shoulder, then he fell into he stride and pace of his struggling comrade running with him stride for stride and encouraging him as they went. In this way they went over the finishing line together. It was a humbling and moving moment. For the leader from the front everything was at stake. Now he was a leader from behind.
The Comrades Marathon has a lot to teach us about leadership. Some in life lead from the front. some from behind. Our young man did both. Thers exists among true leaders a sense that an external inspiration moves them to be what they are, but moves them often to be what, on their own, they are not..... or could be.
,,,,,,,,,,,and so it is with child and youth care workers
The story is true.
I am told they both made entry into the College.
Love
Barrie
Friday, 19 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE... child care workers leading from the front, the middle and from behind
DEAR YOGESHREE
In my last letter there was lesson in leadership through the capacity of Polvisia, who ran the soup kitchen, to empathise with people to a depth where, she would, for a moment, be those people, or that person. Then, to use her experience of the other, to galvanise herself to act in their best interests. Child and youth care workers are leaders in our own unique way, That quality of Polvisia' is essential for us to practice as we work in the lives of these young persons and their troubled lives The good news is: research has found that empathy can be learned.
We can look elsewhere for examples of the qualities of leadership too.
As you know the Comrades Marathon run between Durban and Pietermaritsburg ( 94k) in Kwa- Zulu Natal attracts 10's of thousands of people. Many just set on finishing what is known as the most gruelling marathon in the world.
Every year I swear I wont get hooked into watching it on TV. But its like a magnet. Perhaps it holds some kind of masochistic fascination. I cry twice every year. Once with the winner and then again as the stragglers are carried over the line as the last seconds to 'cut-off' approach , and with those who don't make it. Tears don't come easily. So clearly there are some deep-seated buttons that are pushed by the images of the winners and the streams of humanity struggling heroically to support each other to the finish.
This year as in every year there were pervasive patterns in the scenes and the comments of those who made their goals and from those who didn't.
There were many who immediately give thanks to their God for his intervention in the most difficult moments in the race. They said that there was divine assistance, lifting them above those moments when they would not have managed in their own strength or by their own effort.
It is interesting that leaders in the creative field especially say this. In a definitive study of about 20 world leaders in the creative fields of Literature, Art and Music... that is those who were willing to be interviewed, said that they experience a source of creative energy that comes from outside of themselves and which lifts them to level of output that they are quite incapable of achieving on their own. They look at their own achievements and say" But this is not me ! I could not have done that. I hardly recognise myself in this !!". There was a persistent pattern among many leaders in the creative fields who refused to be interviewed as they said that they did not want to delve too deeply into the source of their inspiration as they were afraid that if they were led to understand it more clearly, they may lose it ...... that it would be taken away from them..!
There is a pattern among child and youth care workers in Africa, many experience themselves this way too. and many many child and youth care workers who experience themselves as leading from behind. Inspired by some greater power than themselves to inspire others to reach the finish line as in the Comrades' dying moments. These are the leaders who carry others over the finishing line with them as they share the struggle of the race. In Africa as elsewhere too,these are heard frequently to say that the energy comes from outside of them they are the ones who in their self sacrifice are also inspirational. They too give us a picture of a world that should be..
It seems that leaders from the front, and leaders from the middle and the back are frequently profoundly spiritual, experience themselves as 'used' in a bigger providential plan that has to do with something not always understood and certainly beyond themselves.
In my last letter there was lesson in leadership through the capacity of Polvisia, who ran the soup kitchen, to empathise with people to a depth where, she would, for a moment, be those people, or that person. Then, to use her experience of the other, to galvanise herself to act in their best interests. Child and youth care workers are leaders in our own unique way, That quality of Polvisia' is essential for us to practice as we work in the lives of these young persons and their troubled lives The good news is: research has found that empathy can be learned.
We can look elsewhere for examples of the qualities of leadership too.
As you know the Comrades Marathon run between Durban and Pietermaritsburg ( 94k) in Kwa- Zulu Natal attracts 10's of thousands of people. Many just set on finishing what is known as the most gruelling marathon in the world.
Every year I swear I wont get hooked into watching it on TV. But its like a magnet. Perhaps it holds some kind of masochistic fascination. I cry twice every year. Once with the winner and then again as the stragglers are carried over the line as the last seconds to 'cut-off' approach , and with those who don't make it. Tears don't come easily. So clearly there are some deep-seated buttons that are pushed by the images of the winners and the streams of humanity struggling heroically to support each other to the finish.
This year as in every year there were pervasive patterns in the scenes and the comments of those who made their goals and from those who didn't.
There were many who immediately give thanks to their God for his intervention in the most difficult moments in the race. They said that there was divine assistance, lifting them above those moments when they would not have managed in their own strength or by their own effort.
It is interesting that leaders in the creative field especially say this. In a definitive study of about 20 world leaders in the creative fields of Literature, Art and Music... that is those who were willing to be interviewed, said that they experience a source of creative energy that comes from outside of themselves and which lifts them to level of output that they are quite incapable of achieving on their own. They look at their own achievements and say" But this is not me ! I could not have done that. I hardly recognise myself in this !!". There was a persistent pattern among many leaders in the creative fields who refused to be interviewed as they said that they did not want to delve too deeply into the source of their inspiration as they were afraid that if they were led to understand it more clearly, they may lose it ...... that it would be taken away from them..!
There is a pattern among child and youth care workers in Africa, many experience themselves this way too. and many many child and youth care workers who experience themselves as leading from behind. Inspired by some greater power than themselves to inspire others to reach the finish line as in the Comrades' dying moments. These are the leaders who carry others over the finishing line with them as they share the struggle of the race. In Africa as elsewhere too,these are heard frequently to say that the energy comes from outside of them they are the ones who in their self sacrifice are also inspirational. They too give us a picture of a world that should be..
It seems that leaders from the front, and leaders from the middle and the back are frequently profoundly spiritual, experience themselves as 'used' in a bigger providential plan that has to do with something not always understood and certainly beyond themselves.
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE .putting the human condition first... no matter what
DEAR YOGESHREE
My past few letters to you explored the the theme, 'working with children from the inside out' and focused quite a lot on self awareness when trying to find meaning in the children's behaviour in ours as professional child and youth care workers and in ourselves. I have in mind now, a series of thoughts on leadership, especially as it applies to the helping professions, but then I think the thoughts apply to leadership in general.
It took me a very long time to get into my inner being the idea that, no matter what, in whatever circumstances and no matter what the behaviour of the persons, that the human condition comes first, that "THIS COULD BE ME...... THIS IS ME". Until I experienced the world that way, I fell into the trap of finding blame .. the idea that people deserve what they get ......and why didn't they pull themselves together and do or be something different?
"U phuzile i'beer, Father Barrie, aw bornile? U phuzile i'beer!' ( they were drinking beer, did you see. They were drinking beer) and so they were , from quart bottles in a circle around winter fires.
Then she laughed, long laughter as we crossed the road to go back to the soup kitchen.
I looked at my watch. It was only 9.00 in the morning. I thought of Peter the disciple telling the crowds
at Pentecost that they were not drunk as it was only 9.00 in the morning..... even the pubs in ancient Israel were not open at that time of the morning !!!
It was Polvisia who said this. She was not being judgemental, just descriptive. Her laughter was the type that comes from feeling trapped by the realities of the world and not knowing how else to react.
We had just been to the informal settlement ( squatter camp) at the end of the road. That night it had been mostly destroyed by fire. Some makeshift shelters were already up some blankets I had pushed for had apparently been delivered, or so we were told by the children we took into our Centre., but we had to be sure.
As we crossed the road Polvisia lived through the pain and the loss and the struggle for survival and the cold of these people and deep inside her she understood the beer and the drinking.... it dulls the pain and eases the burden if only temporarily . She continued to plan ." I think we must ask for clothing and more food." she said .
Polvisia is always the first to respond, she who is first visible when there is a problem, when someone is arrested or goes missing or there is a death or when there is a crisis. She who plans a response to ease others suffering. It is she who responds as one human being to another in the sharing of our common humanity.
As we crossed the road , it was she was was easing her burdens through drinking beer in the middle of the still smouldering shacks. It was she who hurt in the midst of of the chaos.
Polvisia is a great leader.
My past few letters to you explored the the theme, 'working with children from the inside out' and focused quite a lot on self awareness when trying to find meaning in the children's behaviour in ours as professional child and youth care workers and in ourselves. I have in mind now, a series of thoughts on leadership, especially as it applies to the helping professions, but then I think the thoughts apply to leadership in general.
It took me a very long time to get into my inner being the idea that, no matter what, in whatever circumstances and no matter what the behaviour of the persons, that the human condition comes first, that "THIS COULD BE ME...... THIS IS ME". Until I experienced the world that way, I fell into the trap of finding blame .. the idea that people deserve what they get ......and why didn't they pull themselves together and do or be something different?
"U phuzile i'beer, Father Barrie, aw bornile? U phuzile i'beer!' ( they were drinking beer, did you see. They were drinking beer) and so they were , from quart bottles in a circle around winter fires.
Then she laughed, long laughter as we crossed the road to go back to the soup kitchen.
I looked at my watch. It was only 9.00 in the morning. I thought of Peter the disciple telling the crowds
at Pentecost that they were not drunk as it was only 9.00 in the morning..... even the pubs in ancient Israel were not open at that time of the morning !!!
It was Polvisia who said this. She was not being judgemental, just descriptive. Her laughter was the type that comes from feeling trapped by the realities of the world and not knowing how else to react.
We had just been to the informal settlement ( squatter camp) at the end of the road. That night it had been mostly destroyed by fire. Some makeshift shelters were already up some blankets I had pushed for had apparently been delivered, or so we were told by the children we took into our Centre., but we had to be sure.
As we crossed the road Polvisia lived through the pain and the loss and the struggle for survival and the cold of these people and deep inside her she understood the beer and the drinking.... it dulls the pain and eases the burden if only temporarily . She continued to plan ." I think we must ask for clothing and more food." she said .
Polvisia is always the first to respond, she who is first visible when there is a problem, when someone is arrested or goes missing or there is a death or when there is a crisis. She who plans a response to ease others suffering. It is she who responds as one human being to another in the sharing of our common humanity.
As we crossed the road , it was she was was easing her burdens through drinking beer in the middle of the still smouldering shacks. It was she who hurt in the midst of of the chaos.
Polvisia is a great leader.
Sunday, 14 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE instinct and the learned response in child and worker
DEAR YOGESHREE
In my last letter to you which continued with the theme of working 'from the inside out' with children, young persons and ourselves, I quoted Julie's mother who insisted that horses have instincts.It was probable that she wanted Julie to understand that as humans we function not with reaction but with response. Reaction being the instinctive 'animal' way and response being the rational, learned way. If she was trying to tell Julie that as humans we don't have instincts, then she was wrong .
We do. They are right there in the middle of us.... biological, neurological and chemical reactions triggered for example in situations sexual, threatening and when our loved ones are in need of protection.
Then it seems, we and the children we care for, can be put right in the middle. Our instinct telling us to do one thing and our rational , higher thinking and our learned responses telling us something else.
Julie's mother was telling her that she has a choice then to act either way ........ be a horse, or be a human.
Easier said than done.
By the time I got there they were right in the middle of it all. It always happened like that in the group home setting. There would be the telephone call "You'd better get here quick" No explanations, nothing to tell me what to expect. My first inner reaction was to say, "You're the professional child and youth care worker ... you deal with it." But we did have a policy that if someone was at big risk .... then call for back-up. So procedure over-rode my avoidance, flight reaction. I would get into the car to drive out to the house. I had timed it often, Given a ride clear of traffic, I could get there in seven minutes. To overcome my drive to flight , I had to make a very deliberate, planned effort to get into the car. I had seven minutes in which to prepare myself. Breathing helped... no.. breathing was essential Then preparing my thinking to ready myself for the crisis I knew was coming.
Sipho was plastering himself to a door in the narrow passage; fingers outstretched, his hands flat against the door, as was his back. He pushed backwards wide-eyed, his black skin greyish as he paled,
Two child care workers blocked his way of escape down the passage. A lot of loud voices. but Sipho was silent.
At first I couldn't make it all out or really grasp exactly what we were dealing with, but I knew I had been here before.
As youngsters a group of us had tried to capture a small cat, no bigger than a kitten. It had backed itself into a corner stiff with fear as we slowly closed in. I was the one who put out my hands to take hold of it.. even to hold ever so gently, talking it down. Then, the frightened kitten changed. its hair spread stiffly making it a lot bigger than I had thought it was. It lashed out at me with surprising veracity for such a small creature , hissing. squealing and growling. Its mouth opened to show some sharp little teeth and its pink mouth and wide eyes sent a sudden shock of fear into me and I backed off.. This frightened little fellow was really going to hurt me if I got any closer. I remember saying " one of you guys can try this now,"......hmmmm..... typical.
I manoeuvred my way between the two care workers until I was almost shoulder on with Sipho and facing them with him..
"He's got a knife" they shouted.
The knife was the issue from the start. In short quick phrases the two child care workers jig-sawed out the story. The other kids had complained that they were afraid of Sipho because he had brought the knife into the house. So, a 'weapon search' was started, When Mpho, the male worker got to Sipho's cupboard and opened it, Sipho rushed at the cupboard, pulled out the knife and thrust it at Mpho's stomach. To save himself, Mpho put his hands in front of his belly and got stabbed in the hand near the thumb. The he rushed out of the bedroom into the passage only to be blocked by the female worker Sibongile, a middle aged senior worker.
It was to Sibongile that Sipho addressed his comments now.
"It's alright, Sipho, it's alright" I said, but i was not heard.
"Sibongile, " he shouted. "Do you want me to disrespect you?"
"Do you want me to disrespect you?. again.
"Do you want me to disrespect you?" ...Louder now . High pitched and frantic urgent.
" I don't want to disrespect you".
The passage seemed to me to be getting narrower and the light dimer. I remember thinking that was getting quite dark in here.
" Back off. Let him go.". I heard myself. 'Let him go."
"Do you mean it?" ... Mpho, holding his bleeding hand
'Yes. Let him go"
With the slightest move of his shoulders, sideways and with me doing the same, Sipho took the gap and fled into the night.
He was street-wise and knew exactly how to look after himself . In eight days he returned.
I can identify wit that. It was Rosetta, a third year student in my degree class. " I can be where he is." She said. When he was screaming, " Do you want me to disrespect you?" to Sibongile, I can identify with him.
"Explain, Rosetta, help me" I said.
"He was trapped between his instinct and his culture."she said.
'"But it doesn't make sense - he had just stabbed the male worker and he still had the knife.".
"Mpho is a male?"
"Yes"
" and Sibongile a middle-aged female?"
"Yes"
"He didn't want to hurt HER, there's a difference.... it's his culture."
"You see Sipho was trapped between his instinct and his culture" she said.
"He held off his body chemistry for his culture, ... then you cleared the way for his instinct to kick in"
Rosetta was a good student
In my last letter to you which continued with the theme of working 'from the inside out' with children, young persons and ourselves, I quoted Julie's mother who insisted that horses have instincts.It was probable that she wanted Julie to understand that as humans we function not with reaction but with response. Reaction being the instinctive 'animal' way and response being the rational, learned way. If she was trying to tell Julie that as humans we don't have instincts, then she was wrong .
We do. They are right there in the middle of us.... biological, neurological and chemical reactions triggered for example in situations sexual, threatening and when our loved ones are in need of protection.
Then it seems, we and the children we care for, can be put right in the middle. Our instinct telling us to do one thing and our rational , higher thinking and our learned responses telling us something else.
Julie's mother was telling her that she has a choice then to act either way ........ be a horse, or be a human.
Easier said than done.
By the time I got there they were right in the middle of it all. It always happened like that in the group home setting. There would be the telephone call "You'd better get here quick" No explanations, nothing to tell me what to expect. My first inner reaction was to say, "You're the professional child and youth care worker ... you deal with it." But we did have a policy that if someone was at big risk .... then call for back-up. So procedure over-rode my avoidance, flight reaction. I would get into the car to drive out to the house. I had timed it often, Given a ride clear of traffic, I could get there in seven minutes. To overcome my drive to flight , I had to make a very deliberate, planned effort to get into the car. I had seven minutes in which to prepare myself. Breathing helped... no.. breathing was essential Then preparing my thinking to ready myself for the crisis I knew was coming.
Sipho was plastering himself to a door in the narrow passage; fingers outstretched, his hands flat against the door, as was his back. He pushed backwards wide-eyed, his black skin greyish as he paled,
Two child care workers blocked his way of escape down the passage. A lot of loud voices. but Sipho was silent.
At first I couldn't make it all out or really grasp exactly what we were dealing with, but I knew I had been here before.
As youngsters a group of us had tried to capture a small cat, no bigger than a kitten. It had backed itself into a corner stiff with fear as we slowly closed in. I was the one who put out my hands to take hold of it.. even to hold ever so gently, talking it down. Then, the frightened kitten changed. its hair spread stiffly making it a lot bigger than I had thought it was. It lashed out at me with surprising veracity for such a small creature , hissing. squealing and growling. Its mouth opened to show some sharp little teeth and its pink mouth and wide eyes sent a sudden shock of fear into me and I backed off.. This frightened little fellow was really going to hurt me if I got any closer. I remember saying " one of you guys can try this now,"......hmmmm..... typical.
I manoeuvred my way between the two care workers until I was almost shoulder on with Sipho and facing them with him..
"He's got a knife" they shouted.
The knife was the issue from the start. In short quick phrases the two child care workers jig-sawed out the story. The other kids had complained that they were afraid of Sipho because he had brought the knife into the house. So, a 'weapon search' was started, When Mpho, the male worker got to Sipho's cupboard and opened it, Sipho rushed at the cupboard, pulled out the knife and thrust it at Mpho's stomach. To save himself, Mpho put his hands in front of his belly and got stabbed in the hand near the thumb. The he rushed out of the bedroom into the passage only to be blocked by the female worker Sibongile, a middle aged senior worker.
It was to Sibongile that Sipho addressed his comments now.
"It's alright, Sipho, it's alright" I said, but i was not heard.
"Sibongile, " he shouted. "Do you want me to disrespect you?"
"Do you want me to disrespect you?. again.
"Do you want me to disrespect you?" ...Louder now . High pitched and frantic urgent.
" I don't want to disrespect you".
The passage seemed to me to be getting narrower and the light dimer. I remember thinking that was getting quite dark in here.
" Back off. Let him go.". I heard myself. 'Let him go."
"Do you mean it?" ... Mpho, holding his bleeding hand
'Yes. Let him go"
With the slightest move of his shoulders, sideways and with me doing the same, Sipho took the gap and fled into the night.
He was street-wise and knew exactly how to look after himself . In eight days he returned.
I can identify wit that. It was Rosetta, a third year student in my degree class. " I can be where he is." She said. When he was screaming, " Do you want me to disrespect you?" to Sibongile, I can identify with him.
"Explain, Rosetta, help me" I said.
"He was trapped between his instinct and his culture."she said.
'"But it doesn't make sense - he had just stabbed the male worker and he still had the knife.".
"Mpho is a male?"
"Yes"
" and Sibongile a middle-aged female?"
"Yes"
"He didn't want to hurt HER, there's a difference.... it's his culture."
"You see Sipho was trapped between his instinct and his culture" she said.
"He held off his body chemistry for his culture, ... then you cleared the way for his instinct to kick in"
Rosetta was a good student
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE Our instincts and theirs in child and youth care work
" My mother told me that 'horses have instincts' ". That was meant to tell me that if I acted on my instincts, then I was acting in the fashion of an animal and not like a human being who functions at another level. More than that, it meant that if Julie had instincts, then she could repress them or deny them or choose to act in other higher, more rational ways.
At one level, I also learnt not to trust my instincts whilst working with the children and young persons. If I acted on them, without stopping somehow to think them through, then my behaviour became 'primitive' and impulsive ... and usually wrong professionally.
But then again, I learnt later that to know and to feel my instincts was always useful
It maybe that Julie's mother hoped that Julie wouldn't have instincts at all !. But that isn't possible. All that we know informs us that instincts and therefor instinctual behaviour is "substantially emotional" and "behaviour that is a manifestation on what may be seen to hinge on genetically transmitted physiological factors" (1)..... Oh dear, Julie got her instincts from her mother... and from her species.
In the PART Course ( Professional Response Training Course) it is suggested that in the face of threat, we have triggered in us an unlearned, instinctive impulse to fight or to flight... and I add.or to manipulate. In other writings I learnt of avoidance, but I suppose that is a type of flight. The biological and chemical effects of these two triggered reactions is completely different in us, our thinking perception and our bodies. In horse terms it will either rear up and strike out, or it will run away. There isn't much choice.. What Julie's mother was saying is that we humans can choose something else - and usually should.
From what I can make out, instinctive reaction as have to do with survival of the individual and in this way the survival of its progeny, whether it is a reflex action, like the sucking of a baby, or the desire to hurt others because they hurt us or to reproduce.
It is very useful for us as professionals to be aware of what is happening at this level in both ourselves and in the children that we are helping .After all, my instincts appear to be there for me ... not them.
Let's face it, Julie's mother was worried about matters sexual.She was worried that some male behaviour would trigger reactions in Julie over which she had no control.She wanted Julie to deal rationally with the instinctive "urge to merge".Its not that it doesn't happen in us, we all know that but that Julie must find another way of expressing sexual arousal or to avoid it.
In children and in the intellectually challenged , inhibition may be reduced so we may get a window here on what goes on in us.
Rosa was about eighteen years old at the time, and diagnosed as mildly mongoloid ( I wonder if there is such a diagnosis) Rosa was limited, but functioned sufficiently yo study catering at the Technical College.
One of the boys sneaked some soft porn gay magazines in to the group home and whist ostensibly watching TV the mixed group poured over these. In one was a series of pictures showing sensual massage so they tried this out, somewhat clumsily on each other..The situation reached a point of arousal which we nick-named "pounding ovaries" and "cold shower time".
Rosa left the group, went to her bedroom to masturbate and ripped strips of wallpaper off the wall in the process.
It was the tattered.wallpaper that started the child and youth care worker to enquire into what happened. Rosa had no problem in relating the incident. It was just something that happened Actually, afternoon soapies on TV were enough to get Rosa going like that.
In a moment of being unsupervised, an episode occurred in a group of younger children whilst watching hamsters . As the hamsters mated in rapid copulatory thrusts , so the excitement level rose and escalated to a point where they just openly stimulated each others genital. It was interrupted by the arrival and intervention of the child care worker.
We can be sure that bio-chemical/neurological/ instinct influences behaviour .It sits deep in the layers of our selves and in the children that we work with. In Bronfenbrenner's metaphor of a set of Russian dolls, it could well be at the level of that tiny little solid one in the very core of the nesting set.
Sure, horses have instincts, but then so do we, even as the professional child and youth care workers that we are.
And so do the children
Its the most difficult profession in the world
(1) Encyclopeadia Britttanica Vol 9, p628, 15th Edition
At one level, I also learnt not to trust my instincts whilst working with the children and young persons. If I acted on them, without stopping somehow to think them through, then my behaviour became 'primitive' and impulsive ... and usually wrong professionally.
But then again, I learnt later that to know and to feel my instincts was always useful
It maybe that Julie's mother hoped that Julie wouldn't have instincts at all !. But that isn't possible. All that we know informs us that instincts and therefor instinctual behaviour is "substantially emotional" and "behaviour that is a manifestation on what may be seen to hinge on genetically transmitted physiological factors" (1)..... Oh dear, Julie got her instincts from her mother... and from her species.
In the PART Course ( Professional Response Training Course) it is suggested that in the face of threat, we have triggered in us an unlearned, instinctive impulse to fight or to flight... and I add.or to manipulate. In other writings I learnt of avoidance, but I suppose that is a type of flight. The biological and chemical effects of these two triggered reactions is completely different in us, our thinking perception and our bodies. In horse terms it will either rear up and strike out, or it will run away. There isn't much choice.. What Julie's mother was saying is that we humans can choose something else - and usually should.
From what I can make out, instinctive reaction as have to do with survival of the individual and in this way the survival of its progeny, whether it is a reflex action, like the sucking of a baby, or the desire to hurt others because they hurt us or to reproduce.
It is very useful for us as professionals to be aware of what is happening at this level in both ourselves and in the children that we are helping .After all, my instincts appear to be there for me ... not them.
Let's face it, Julie's mother was worried about matters sexual.She was worried that some male behaviour would trigger reactions in Julie over which she had no control.She wanted Julie to deal rationally with the instinctive "urge to merge".Its not that it doesn't happen in us, we all know that but that Julie must find another way of expressing sexual arousal or to avoid it.
In children and in the intellectually challenged , inhibition may be reduced so we may get a window here on what goes on in us.
Rosa was about eighteen years old at the time, and diagnosed as mildly mongoloid ( I wonder if there is such a diagnosis) Rosa was limited, but functioned sufficiently yo study catering at the Technical College.
One of the boys sneaked some soft porn gay magazines in to the group home and whist ostensibly watching TV the mixed group poured over these. In one was a series of pictures showing sensual massage so they tried this out, somewhat clumsily on each other..The situation reached a point of arousal which we nick-named "pounding ovaries" and "cold shower time".
Rosa left the group, went to her bedroom to masturbate and ripped strips of wallpaper off the wall in the process.
It was the tattered.wallpaper that started the child and youth care worker to enquire into what happened. Rosa had no problem in relating the incident. It was just something that happened Actually, afternoon soapies on TV were enough to get Rosa going like that.
In a moment of being unsupervised, an episode occurred in a group of younger children whilst watching hamsters . As the hamsters mated in rapid copulatory thrusts , so the excitement level rose and escalated to a point where they just openly stimulated each others genital. It was interrupted by the arrival and intervention of the child care worker.
We can be sure that bio-chemical/neurological/ instinct influences behaviour .It sits deep in the layers of our selves and in the children that we work with. In Bronfenbrenner's metaphor of a set of Russian dolls, it could well be at the level of that tiny little solid one in the very core of the nesting set.
Sure, horses have instincts, but then so do we, even as the professional child and youth care workers that we are.
And so do the children
Its the most difficult profession in the world
(1) Encyclopeadia Britttanica Vol 9, p628, 15th Edition
Tuesday, 2 April 2013
DEAR YOGESHREE Our own inside outs meet children's behaviour
DEAR YOGESHREE
You have had from me letters that have emphasized the importance of our self awareness whilst we work with children and young people. Also about trying to 'get into the world' of the child so that we can start responding from the 'inside out'. Thing is, our interactions with children and young people is complicated by the fact that in any interactions, that is exactly what it is... our inner worlds meets with the 'inner world' of the child .. ... and then.... the complexity of our being professional becomes very apparent.
Weekends in the Children's Home were always paradoxically tense. On the one hand, the place was virtually empty, on the other most of the most difficult and dramatic moments were acted out over the weekends.
Tea was always set out in the foyer. It was Friday afternoon and a favourite meeting place of child and youth care workers and the young people 'left in' for the weekend.
Some, like Nceba. were old and responsible enough to go to their homes for the weekend under their own steam on a Friday immediately after leaving school. He would do this straight from school and after soccer practise
By about 4.30 pm, the main rush of getting children ready and packed of for their weekends with parents was over and the remains of tea were inevitably left on the huge coffee table in the foyer. The children could always help themselves .
At about 5.00 pm I came up the stairs from the outside and through the great doors into the foyer and as I did , I saw "the feet". Large dirty tackies attached to scrappy jeans ...... and those feet.... resting nonchalantly on the middle of the coffee table. amidst the cups,sugar and milk.
I saw first the feet and the tackies and then, more and more of the identity of the boy wearing them as I came up the stairs. It was Nceba.
From that stairway came a rush through my body from the pit of my stomach surging through my chest and my head felt asif it would burst.
" NCEBA !! Get those dirty feet of yours off that table!!" It came out as a fierce loud shout..
Nceba, with a full cup and a saucer lifted it above his head and threw it with great force against the wall.of the foyer next to my office door. His feet were on the ground and he stood right up facing me before the whole caboodle smashed . Milky tea , bits of broken china spattered everywhere.
My head was already pumped up and and my mouth runnith over " What the Hell !! blah.... blah .... blah !!!!!"
Nceba slowly sat back into the chair that he had so swiftly vacated, his chest pulsated, and I saw for the first time that this was not anger or defiance. It was rage. Rage fueled by utter despair
Nceba sobbed
This was his world, and his view of it .. then and pervasively in his life, Act 1 scene 1 in Nceba's life was a repetitive cycle ... trapped he was in a plot that repeated itself so frequently that it was his lens through which he interpreted the world.and made it fact. The world let you down.... it rejected you ...that's it... finish !!
Nceba had gone home. He had walked in to find his mother in bed with a man he did not know but who was hastily introduced as ' my boyfriend'. ,,,, and Nceba knew this cue only too well.. He must go back to the Children's Home immediately . The boyfriend had been preference to him for the weekend.... so he returned to the foyer and the tea, too brood again on the patterns of the world and his lost hope. Hope that was dashed like the cup against the wall of the foyer which we cleaned up together that Friday afternoon and together tried to pick up the pieces
It took me a long time to make the connections into my own life and its events that 'pushed the buttons' for me that afternoon.The feet on the coffee table got me going and I misread all the signs that things for Nceba were not what I though they were. I didn't actually see them until the sobbing and then it was too late.At least we could still pick up the pieces . Nceba got the blast from a fuse that was lit in me some twenty years before.
I was a teacher at a High School at the time. I had a free period so I went into Great Hall to watch the rehearsals for a Talent Competition to be held that night, I sat in one row near the side entrance to the hall and put my feet on the chair in the row ahead of me. The Headmaster came up the stairs to the door of the hall, saw the feet on the chair, thought I was a pupil ,and red faced screamed at me " Get your fett off that chair"... right in front of a bunch of schoolboys who were my pupils. The event lives with me even now. My feet broke the sound barrier and as he passed me . he said very quietly "Sorry, I though that you were one of the boys" I sank between the floorboards and disappeared in my embarassment
I can't explain this rationally, but I know that that incident sparked my reaction to Nceba's feet on the coffee table. I still cant condone the behaviour and I still don't like dirty tackies, but I think I have learnt to see more now of Nceba, and less of tackies and tables... to shoot less from the hip and not to come in with six guns blazing... to ask the question "What's really going on in me?".... and "What's really going on here?"
Love
Barrie
.
You have had from me letters that have emphasized the importance of our self awareness whilst we work with children and young people. Also about trying to 'get into the world' of the child so that we can start responding from the 'inside out'. Thing is, our interactions with children and young people is complicated by the fact that in any interactions, that is exactly what it is... our inner worlds meets with the 'inner world' of the child .. ... and then.... the complexity of our being professional becomes very apparent.
Weekends in the Children's Home were always paradoxically tense. On the one hand, the place was virtually empty, on the other most of the most difficult and dramatic moments were acted out over the weekends.
Tea was always set out in the foyer. It was Friday afternoon and a favourite meeting place of child and youth care workers and the young people 'left in' for the weekend.
Some, like Nceba. were old and responsible enough to go to their homes for the weekend under their own steam on a Friday immediately after leaving school. He would do this straight from school and after soccer practise
By about 4.30 pm, the main rush of getting children ready and packed of for their weekends with parents was over and the remains of tea were inevitably left on the huge coffee table in the foyer. The children could always help themselves .
At about 5.00 pm I came up the stairs from the outside and through the great doors into the foyer and as I did , I saw "the feet". Large dirty tackies attached to scrappy jeans ...... and those feet.... resting nonchalantly on the middle of the coffee table. amidst the cups,sugar and milk.
I saw first the feet and the tackies and then, more and more of the identity of the boy wearing them as I came up the stairs. It was Nceba.
From that stairway came a rush through my body from the pit of my stomach surging through my chest and my head felt asif it would burst.
" NCEBA !! Get those dirty feet of yours off that table!!" It came out as a fierce loud shout..
Nceba, with a full cup and a saucer lifted it above his head and threw it with great force against the wall.of the foyer next to my office door. His feet were on the ground and he stood right up facing me before the whole caboodle smashed . Milky tea , bits of broken china spattered everywhere.
My head was already pumped up and and my mouth runnith over " What the Hell !! blah.... blah .... blah !!!!!"
Nceba slowly sat back into the chair that he had so swiftly vacated, his chest pulsated, and I saw for the first time that this was not anger or defiance. It was rage. Rage fueled by utter despair
Nceba sobbed
This was his world, and his view of it .. then and pervasively in his life, Act 1 scene 1 in Nceba's life was a repetitive cycle ... trapped he was in a plot that repeated itself so frequently that it was his lens through which he interpreted the world.and made it fact. The world let you down.... it rejected you ...that's it... finish !!
Nceba had gone home. He had walked in to find his mother in bed with a man he did not know but who was hastily introduced as ' my boyfriend'. ,,,, and Nceba knew this cue only too well.. He must go back to the Children's Home immediately . The boyfriend had been preference to him for the weekend.... so he returned to the foyer and the tea, too brood again on the patterns of the world and his lost hope. Hope that was dashed like the cup against the wall of the foyer which we cleaned up together that Friday afternoon and together tried to pick up the pieces
It took me a long time to make the connections into my own life and its events that 'pushed the buttons' for me that afternoon.The feet on the coffee table got me going and I misread all the signs that things for Nceba were not what I though they were. I didn't actually see them until the sobbing and then it was too late.At least we could still pick up the pieces . Nceba got the blast from a fuse that was lit in me some twenty years before.
I was a teacher at a High School at the time. I had a free period so I went into Great Hall to watch the rehearsals for a Talent Competition to be held that night, I sat in one row near the side entrance to the hall and put my feet on the chair in the row ahead of me. The Headmaster came up the stairs to the door of the hall, saw the feet on the chair, thought I was a pupil ,and red faced screamed at me " Get your fett off that chair"... right in front of a bunch of schoolboys who were my pupils. The event lives with me even now. My feet broke the sound barrier and as he passed me . he said very quietly "Sorry, I though that you were one of the boys" I sank between the floorboards and disappeared in my embarassment
I can't explain this rationally, but I know that that incident sparked my reaction to Nceba's feet on the coffee table. I still cant condone the behaviour and I still don't like dirty tackies, but I think I have learnt to see more now of Nceba, and less of tackies and tables... to shoot less from the hip and not to come in with six guns blazing... to ask the question "What's really going on in me?".... and "What's really going on here?"
Love
Barrie
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)