My social work license expires at the end of June, which means my every-other-year exercise of frantically completing my clinical continuing education units.
I am always fine on overall CEUs, both because I prepare and present so many papers and presentations, but also because I have really wonderful opportunities to attend educational offerings in different fields. I am serious about this lifelong learning thing, and so racking up the credit hours is never a problem.
But 6 of the hours have to be in clinical diagnosis and treatment which, as you have probably noticed, is just really not my thing.
This year, though, I got really lucky and fulfilled the requirement with an online course about motivational interviewing. The instructor is a friend of mine and managed to come across as totally personable and funny even on pretty low-quality video, but the real bonus was that, about 30 minutes into it, I realized
this is about getting people to change, and to find the power within themselves to make even difficult changes.
And THAT is about advocacy.
I’d love to hear from those whose clinical knowledge and skill far surpass mine (say, those who don’t have to cram those six hours of clinical CEUs in at the buzzer every renewal cycle), but these are what I see as some of the applications of this motivational interviewing approach to, especially, grassroots advocacy.
- Express empathy: we have to really meet our advocates (or would-be advocates) where they are, and understand the reluctance they express. Motivational interviewers call this ‘rolling with resistance’, the idea that we have to move beyond resistance as pathological to understand it as completely natural but, still, not a stopping point.
- Develop discrepancy: we talk a lot about the world as it is, versus the world as it should be. To motivational interviewers, this is opening a gap between someone’s life today and their hopes and dreams for that life in the future, and then making that gap a motivation for change.
- Client empowerment and self-determination: there is no one ‘right’ way to stop drinking too much, or, really, no one ‘right’ way to step out as an advocate. Too often, we ask people to step with us through a relatively narrow hole, and then call them apathetic when they decline, instead of promoting their self-efficacy (in MI language) and honoring their right to choose their own path.
When I was watching this webinar, I fixated on this idea that we recognize ambivalence and use it as momentum for change, rather than waiting until someone is 100% sold on a given change.
That point brought me back to the hallway of the Kansas State Capitol, more than 8 years ago, when I had a particularly difficult lobbying challenge to corner one somewhat hostile state senator to see if I could neutralize him in advance of floor debate on an immigrant rights bill.
And I was ambivalent, alright. I think that I would have paid $500 for the floor to open up and swallow me. That morning, I had seriously contemplated driving right past the statehouse on I-70 and heading for Colorado. Sure, part of me knew that I was ready for this and that, more importantly, the futures of thousands of immigrants partially depended on my rising to the occasion. But another part of me just wanted to go home and crawl under the covers.
That doesn’t make me less of an advocate, any more than any of our constituents’ ambivalence makes them less than able allies. We just need to use those clinical skills that are part of what makes us social workers in the first place to unlock the motivation for change.
Thank you, CEU requirement: more evidence that social workers have the total package: commitment to social justice, and clinical abilities to bring others along for the ride.
Classroom to Capitol 
Sometimes you have to hit bottom
Even though I often have to beg off when someone–hairdressers, or my kids’ teachers, or even another mom at the park–thinks that I can help with a psychological problem when I mention that I’m a social worker (I’m completely unqualified to provide counseling, and so I have to add the disclaimer, “not that kind of social worker,” and make a referral), I still think in clinical terms sometimes.
And, you know, working in public policy, and with elected officials, that’s sometimes really helpful.
Like this year, in my state legislative advocacy, I’ve been thinking a lot about psychopathology, or at least what I know of it, and about addictions and recovery.
And I’ve been thinking about the truism that, sometimes, our clients have to “hit bottom” before there’s enough incentive to change, and that crises can be powerful motivators for healing.
To me, that sounds a lot like where we are in our movement-building this year.
It’s hard to imagine things being much worse (although, just like in clinical social work, I’m hesitant to claim that they couldn’t be!): class sizes in public schools are too big, community mental health centers are turning people away, and public assistance offices are closing around the state.
We face the possibility of several lawsuits related to the actions of last year’s legislature–in the areas of reproductive rights and voting rights, most likely–and defending those will take even more money from the state’s coffers. It’s getting harder to be a student, or a woman, or an immigrant in our state, and there’s a collective sense of looking over one’s shoulder to see who will be the next target.
Except.
Just like when faced with a client whose life is crumbling around herself, I see promising signs of renewal.
I’m getting more emails from social service organizations with questions about how they can advocate. A workshop for agencies trying to transform themselves into agents for social change attracted more interest than they could accommodate. More letters to the editor decrying the program cuts are popping up in the papers. A community meeting about the closing of a local welfare office was standing-room only. Our local coalition against anti-immigrant legislation is growing statewide, with organizing cells taking off in communities large and small.
Just like someone dealing with his/her own personal demons, these first steps are only that–tentative, sometimes conflicted, often inadequate.
There will be more dark days.
But if the first step is recognizing that there’s a problem, we’re on the path to healing.
Our struggles have names, and we have a shared hope that comes from having companions on a difficult journey.
We may be at the bottom, or at least near it, but we’re not down here alone.
And if those with whom social workers have the honor to work, every day, can build from their strengths to best their own battles, then we can, too.
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Posted in Analysis and Commentary
Tagged advocacy, clinical social work, Kansas