The stories we create about young people and families can influence what we notice, how we interpret what we see, and how we subsequently engage and intervene (in every situation). Often, we can get fixated on behaviours and forget that there is a whole child inside. Relational Child and Youth Care practice requires us to step outside of the story, look beyond behaviour, and engage with the person.
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Several years ago, while I was working as the Director of an organization providing residential care to young people, I was called on a Sunday evening to work an overtime shift with Lisa, from 6:00pm to 8:00am the next morning. Me being called to work meant that no one else in the organization was available to do this shift.
Lisa was one of those young people who frightened many Child and Youth Care workers, particularly those who were new to the field. She was 15 years old, tall and strong, with a propensity for dramatics and very well-developed pushing, hitting and running skills.
Lisa usually had two staff working with her, but because no one else was available to work, I was on my own for the evening. When I arrived at the house to start my shift, the two staff who had been working all day were waiting by the door with their coats on (even though I had arrived 15 minutes early). They rushed out the door, calling ‘good luck’ over their shoulders. Although it was a chilly evening in early October, Lisa was outside sitting on the porch swing. She had a hoodie pulled over her head, with a long bang falling sideways across her face leaving one eye visible. That eye was staring straight at me. Lisa had a stick in her hand, and she was holding it straight up in the air like a sword. My ‘Hi Lisa!’ was met with a glare.
‘Here we go,’ I thought.
Developmentally, Lisa’s functioning was much younger than her chronological age, with her cognitive capacity equal to that of a 7-year-old, and the emotional capacity of a toddler. Lisa enjoyed playing games (she had a wonderful sense of humour) and was particularly fond of being chased (even if that chase landed her and whoever was following her in the middle of the road, in front of oncoming traffic). She could also lash out verbally and physically if she felt threatened.
I knew that if I went outside and asked her to come into the house this would meet with an immediate refusal. That is what she was counting on. She was also expecting me to be nervously hovering and watching over her. I needed to find an alternative approach.
I assumed that she was feeling anxious about me being there, particularly on my own, and did not trust that I would be able to safely manage whatever happened throughout the evening.
I had a clear view of Lisa from the kitchen window, so I decided to stay inside and discretely watch her while I figured out a plan. I noticed a stack of art supplies on the table – it looked like someone had been preparing to do Halloween crafts. This gave me an idea. I opened all the supplies and started making Halloween decorations and accessories. I made ghosts, pumpkins, witches, hats, masks and crowns. With every new creation, I went outside and excitedly showed it off. The first few times, I got no reaction – Lisa just stared at me with her one eye. While it was a good sign that she was still there, I needed to spice it up a bit if I was going to get her engaged. I became louder and more dramatic. I floated like a ghost, cackled like a witch, and flew on the broom. I performed a puppet show with the pumpkins. With each round of ‘show and tell’ I invited Lisa to join me. Eventually, she started telling me I was ‘burnt’ and ‘stupid.’ I was making progress! Now it was time to shift gears.
I told Lisa I was leaving the rest of the craft supplies for her to use, and I was in the mood for some Halloween cookies and hot chocolate. It was baking time. I left the kitchen door open so the smell of cookies would waft out. I didn’t even get them in the oven before I noticed Lisa standing in the doorway. I nonchalantly (and without mentioning the stick she was still holding) said “Ah, perfect timing! I can’t find the hot chocolate.” With that, Lisa came inside, showed me where the hot chocolate was, and helped me finish making the cookies.
Once all the baking supplies had been put away, we spent the rest of the evening eating cookies, drinking hot chocolate, and singing along to Justin Bieber videos.
When bedtime came, Lisa announced that she was going to sleep in the chair in the staff bedroom (where I would also be sleeping). This was another test. It was also, perhaps, an attempt to extend the evening (which a power struggle would do quite nicely). This was a home in which the staff could sleep, but only after Lisa was in bed.
I told Lisa I was pretty sure she was supposed to sleep in her bed, and it was probably more comfortable than the chair. She said “Nope, I’m sleeping in the chair. That’s where I always sleep.” I replied, “Well, you are much more familiar with the bedtime expectations than I am. If you are allowed to sleep in the chair, you can sleep in the chair. I’m going to go ahead and get ready for bed because I have a long day of meetings tomorrow.”
We both brushed our teeth and put on our pyjamas. Lisa curled up in the chair, covering herself up with a blanket she had dragged off her bed. I turned off the light, said good night, and went to bed. Within 5 minutes Lisa said “You’re too noisy” (I had been deliberately – and loudly – tossing and turning), “I’m going to bed.”
We both slept soundly throughout the night.
In the morning, before I left, I thanked Lisa for a great night. She asked me when I would be back.
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Jack Phelan talks about Child and Youth Care workers as ‘experience arrangers,’ helping young people to have felt, bodily experiences that are different from their previous experiences. Thom Garfat talks about the importance of helping young people to have a different experiencing of themselves in relationship with others. Figuring out young people’s stories about themselves and the world (which are often very different than our stories about them), and responding in ways that disrupt those stories, can result in unexpected moments of encounter and, when repeated over time, promote long-term change.
Reflective Questions
From: Stories from the In-Between: Relational Practice Teaching Tales. (Garfat and Modlin, eds)