Listen to thisEach man, woman or child living in a residential home or school has a number of roles: primarily as resident, but also perhaps as wife, mother, son, daughter or cousin. Staff, too, have roles: primarily as residential workers, but also as parents, brothers, sisters, uncles or aunts. Both will have idealised pictures of the way in which these roles should be carried out. Some roles have been performed adequately in the past; a number may still be competently filled despite heavy odds; and others may have been messed up. In the TV adaptation of Roots Alex Haley speaks for some residents: “I could set down the last word on failure – as son, as father, as writer." Residents may experience their role failure in both family and work (or school) with a depth of feeling equal to that shown by Alex Haley. For some, the chance to correct their mistakes, to try again, may be long past.
Needed
I remember the five-year-old Anderson twins, Christine and Charlotte,
and their older brother James. Christine and Charlotte lived in one
house unit, while 12-year-old James was in the boys' unit on the other
side of the campus. Mrs Anderson was a voluntary patient in a nearby
mental hospital and Mr Anderson (the father of James but not of
Christine and Charlotte) stayed whenever possible in Salvation Army
hostels, visiting his family from time to time. James was always ready
to protect and defend his sisters, and brought them small gifts nearly
every week. This was a desperate group of people, with different needs
and expectations, held together by a great deal of affection, and trying
to sustain the family roles, yet prevented by the geographical distance
which separated some of them; by their earlier lack of success in coping
as a family; and, in the case of the adults, by the unpredictable nature
of their behaviour.
Neither the mental hospital nor the children's home provided consistent
opportunities for the Anderson family to engage for any worthwhile
period in their various roles. Often when she visited on Saturday
afternoons, Mrs Anderson appeared vague and listless. Yet, for hours she
would sit quietly with Christine and Charlotte by her side, combing
their hair and working at the 'corn row' (or cane row) plaiting in the
ancient African style. In this aspect of her maternal role, Mrs Anderson
remained in command. No members of staff had the skill to care for her
children's hair in such a traditional way. They relied on her weekly
visit.
Visitors and residents
The role of visitor is not easy, and we often underestimate the
difficulties faced by relatives or friends when visiting children or
adults in residential establishments. In many cases they are really
confronted with the question “What do you say after you've said Hello?"
It is unnatural for some people to sit formally for an hour or so,
perhaps in a tiny interview room, or in a massive lounge with a crowd of
other people. It may seem strange to discuss very personal matters in a
vacuum and away from the cut and thrust of their day-to-day shared
environment and common experiences.
The role of resident is equally difficult. Most establishments have a closer definition of the “good" resident than they would care to admit.
One problem for the newly admitted resident must be having to “ask permission" for things which only a few weeks or days before he may have had entirely within his own control: about going out, about coming in, about making a telephone call, about smoking or about inviting a friend into the bedroom.
Staff roles
As residential workers (and to ensure that residents do match up to the
expectations of the establishment) staff have to remain within their
role, observing, anticipating, asserting their authority and, in some
instances, demanding conformity. If residents step too far out of their
role, they may find themselves labelled by the staff as “awkward". When
members of the staff appear to be moving out of their role, they will
quickly be pulled back into line by colleagues, and if persistent in
breaking the recognised (but often unspoken) codes, they may become
isolated or even scapegoated. The role differences between staff and
residents are accentuated in various ways, for example by the fact that
one group is paid to look after the other; that they may eat in separate
places; that staff have keys; that staff may have personal transport and
are therefore more mobile; and that staff may have information about the
residents which they themselves do not possess. Of course, these role
differences are accentuated to varying degrees in different
establishments, the range extending from residential schools where the
senior staff may have built for themselves God-like roles, to other
residential units where role blurring and power sharing are constantly
being worked at. Subtle forces keep people in roles, and we should ask
ourselves the question: To what extent do roles impede the development
of relationships?
Residential homes often place heavy constraints on the emergence of loving relationships between residents, between staff and residents, and between residents and members of the local community. Indeed, the organisational and physical framework of the home may be designed to prevent such love relationships from arising. On the other hand, in the most mature residential centres, a wide variety of relationships may be encouraged.
Loving and being loved
Unfortunately, not every resident has a family member to whom he or she
may relate, and not every resident is able to find and sustain a
satisfying relationship with someone outside the home or school. Some
residents may be so unattractive, damaged or damaging that, without
considerable help, they are unlikely ever to engage in the warm
relationships aspired to by most human beings. Yet, as François Truffaut
reminds us in his film L'argent de poche, life is so arranged
that we cannot do without loving and being loved. Love is often an
embarrassing word in residential settings. I cannot remember the last
time I heard it used positively in a case conference. The role models
demanded of some care givers do not allow love to exist. Fears of “involvement", age-old taboos, and the strong sexual connotations
associated with the development of close relationships, serve to keep
individuals in check.
Real relationships occur between people, whether family members or not, and not between people acting out roles “although efficient role performance often provides a solid backcloth for a different quality of exchange to take place. I remember a young girl called Susan. How she disliked living with the nuns in a community home! She did everything possible to make them dislike her and reject her. One day when I visited Susan she was in a particularly bad mood, shouting and swearing at Mother “X" because of some alleged injustice. The patient sister turned quietly to Susan, patted her on the head and said: “I love you too, my dear." And she really meant it.
This feature: Social Work Today, 13, 3.
