Voices in Writing
Assembling this issue of Relationl Child and Youth Care Practice has caused me
to think about what some people call voice especially, because I was editing
these papers, ‘voice in writing.’ One of the things I have always liked
about our journal is how there has constantly been a place for the author’s
personal voice, be that the voice of a practitioner, youth, academic or the
voice of reason, passion, anger, joy. But voice is more than that. It is
also, I think, how the author ‘sounds’ to the reader. The feeling,
impression, picture one gets of the writer as one reads their words.
I remember, years before I had met Henry Maier, how I would read his writing
wondering what he actually sounded like when he spoke. When I finally did
meet him, I was struck and delighted by not only his accent, but his own
unique way of saying things — characteristics which were, unfortunately in
my mind, frequently rendered neutral by the many publications in which his
work appeared. In later years, in some of his writings, one did find the
‘voice of Henry’ shining through. For example:
In being actively involved with the care receivers the worker becomes more
personally engaged, thus enhancing the ability for mutual understanding. In
fact, in doing things together workers become clearer about their own intent
and gain proficiency in their practice. (Maier, 2003)
In that example I am more able to imagine him present as I read his words.
There is a danger, I believe, in editing the writing of others, that in our
rush to convey a certain image about who we (the journal) are, we would
remove the voice of the author and render it the same as all the other
voices in an issue; forcing all the writers to conform to some
pre-determined frame of presentation which affects style, format and, yes,
voice.
I remember one time asking a friend to review an article which had been
written by someone whose daily language was one other than English. “Don’t
worry about the language and language structure,” I told him. “I will fix
that up later.” He wrote back with the following warning. “Don’t do too much
with the language. The way it reads right now sounds like many people I meet
who speak English as a second language.” As I re-read the article in
question I realized that he was right — as it was written, I could ‘hear’
the author speaking. If I had edited severely, that voice would have been
lost beneath the layers of conformity.
I think about the voices of the young people and families with whom we work:
how they all are unique, different, special, and how each voice identifies
the speaker. I wonder how, when we demand certain kinds of compliance, we
affect those unique voices, silencing them in favor of group and program
conformity. I was joking with some friends the other day and I said “you can
always tell when a young person is ready to leave the program. They speak in
the same language as the staff.” Perhaps is was not a joke?
As you read through this issue of RCYCP, you will find many voices — none
neutralized we hope. You will find people speaking in a second language,
people speaking in passion, people speaking with the voice that is theirs,
different as it may be from yours. But then, that is the point, isn’t it?
For all of us, Child and Youth Care practitioners that we are, to allow
ourselves to listen to the voice of others, as that voice is spoken — to
recognize that how a person speaks is a representation of who they are in
the world in relation to us.
You and I are different. You and that family you met recently are different.
You and that young person are different. And in our ‘differentness’ we are
each unique, occupying the world as only we can do. And, hopefully, we can
find gratefulness in that experience of each other — as we do, I trust, find
gratitude in the experience of each new young person or family.
Our identity, our experience of who we are as we live in this world, is
found in our voice. It is the only way we can communicate to other, who we
experience ourselves to be. As you read this you find me, being only as I
can be in this moment of writing. And as you read it, you experience you —
as only you can be in this moment of reading.
And when that young person speaks out — the voice with which she does so
reflects her being only as she can be in the moment. Part of our work may
involve helping her to find different voice but we must begin by respecting
her current voice.
As a journal, RCYCP has, itself, tried to ‘find voice’ over the years.
Sometimes we struggle, as we all do, about how to ‘be.’ In the end, we want
‘our voice’ to be the collective, collaborative voice of the authors whose
words grace these pages. We know, as do you, that we edit, prod, plead and
shape the voices of these generous people. We are aware of our
responsibility to offer up a responsible voice, an honest voice. We hope it
is the voice of the field. But we are also aware, as they often say in dime
store novels, that the successes of this journal belong to those who take
the time to write, and the failures are ours alone.
Just as in our field, in our work, the successes belong to those who
struggle and grow.
We hope you will enjoy this issue — I know I enjoyed reading the articles
and putting it together. I feel fortunate that, as an editor, I get the
opportunity to listen to so many voices. And you, the reader, the
practitioner, the instructor, the trainer (whatever you may be) are
fortunate to hear and listen to the voices that occupy your professional
world. May you, too, be grateful.
Thom Garfat
Editorial, Relational Child and Youth Care Practice, 20.4, pp. 3 – 4
Maier, H. (2003). In a nutshell: Why doing is preferential to talking.
CYC-Online
, 54. Available here: www.cyc-net.org/ CYC-Online
/cycol-0703-maier.htm
