Listen to thisWhen we talk about the evolving history of child and youth work, we often return to books that have been significant contributors to our thinking. Certainly such well known pioneers as Fritz Redl and our own beloved Henry Maier, have been profound influences. But sometimes there’s a work that few know about that has played a similar role. Let me describe a bit of The Adolescent in Psychotherapy by Donald Holmes. Publication date: 1964 ! I’ve always kept my copy nearby and treasure it.
I particularly refer to a section called “Other Therapeutic Group Activities" in which the author describes how a new recreation director in a psychiatric treatment hospital for adolescents went counter to the notion that “recreation" was just to be “fun", loosely structured if at all, non-competitive, and to allow the youth “to relieve themselves of aggressive tension" along the lines of a philosophy that had earlier been promulgated. After all, didn’t troubled kids “need" not to have too much expected of them and shouldn’t they be able to just express themselves? Despite this freedom and concession, however, the youth often refused, even vehemently, to attend “recreation". The new director, on the other hand, with the unbending and demanding demeanor of a military drill sergeant, emphasized rigorous skill development, fitness, drill and practice.
With this new regime and philosophy, complaints were high. “He makes us ..." comments were rampant. But “refusal to attend" was “almost zero! The youth would return from a session “bright eyed, square shouldered and flushed with pride in the aftermath of battle". This paradoxical finding finds support in the following sad story I’ve been wanting to tell for years.
I was involved with an out-of-town agency serving children and young adolescents in a residential program. As with so many such places with well-meaning but naive staff, point and level systems were more obvious than an engaging activity program. Putting on a face to the community, however, the agency as a fund raiser ran an annual festival. This included carnival type activities such as pony rides and a 5km (three and two tenths mile) foot race for the public. As I worked to encourage a more structured and challenging program for the children, I suggested: to the staff, “Why don’t you organize a training regime and prepare the kids to run in the foot race ?" It didn’t seem to me as if anything were done, however. The kids continued to languish in their sparsely furnished day room, desultorily watching television and dragging their “behavior sheets" around periodically to the staff who were as desultory as the children as they lounged in the staff room.
Since I “run" (slow but steady jog is probably a more accurate way to describe it) and train continuously, I signed up to run the race myself and turned up in the park on the day it was to be held. I spotted the children with their child care workers under some trees as I arrived, greeted them and said I hoped I’d see them at the starting line. And, as the start was called, we all arrayed ourselves behind the start line.
The start gun commenced the race and we lurched forward. For a bit, some of the kids were ahead of me. As any of them passed me, I’d urge him on: “Go!" “Right on!" “Hey, you can do it" – the usual encouragers in a race. Even before the first mile had been completed, however, something disconcerting began to happen. I passed all the same kids who had earlier passed me. As I plodded on, mile after mile toward the finish line, I realized as well there weren’t any of the agency children on the road any more. No more had passed me. After I finally gasped my way across the finish line, my gaze traveled over to the carnival area. There the kids were, with a settled in air as if they’d been there for some time. Several were eating cotton candy; some sat on a merry-go-round; one was being led around a track on a pony.
As I sadly sucked on a piece of orange provided for the finishers, rather than cotton candy, and thought about the kids, only Donald Holmes” account illuminated why, for them this may certainly have been a day of “fun" but that it was also just another small sad day in child care.
