by Sophie Baker

This is the fourth installment in Sophie Baker’s ‘What I wish I had known…’ series, where she reflects on her approach to practice when she started out – and what she would tell her younger self now.

Watching Adolescence this month brought back many memories of my early career. I was struck by the powerful acting, especially in an intense scene between Jamie (played by Owen Cooper) and his psychologist, where he was shouting, swearing and knocking over furniture.

It reminded me of my experiences with Shauna, a ten-year-old girl who spent much of her childhood in and out of care and who was one of the first children I worked with.

Shauna’s mother, who had bipolar disorder, provided loving care when well. But during her low periods, she couldn’t get out of bed and struggled to meet her children’s needs. In her highs, she took risks, falling into debt and forming unsafe relationships.

During these times, Shauna experienced physical and emotional neglect in a home environment that was dysregulated, chaotic and volatile.

Each time their mother’s mental health declined, Shauna and her siblings were moved to a temporary foster home, waiting for the moment they could return to her care.

As a result of her experiences, Shauna was often oppositional, impulsive and confrontational. It also meant that it became harder and harder to find her a stable foster placement.

Looking back, the memory of one afternoon I shared with Shauna leaves me contemplating what I wish I had known during my work with her.

Children won’t always behave in a way you expect

Sophie Baker has over 20 years of experience working in children’s social care

Some of my most treasured memories of my early career were spent with Shauna. For the most part, our interactions had been positive.

However, this afternoon was different. We were sitting in my car when I broke the news that she would be moving to another carer.

Abandoned. Again.

She immediately started shouting and screaming, banging her fists against her head and the car dashboard. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as she moved her face close to mine. She glared at me and then spat on my cheek.

Shauna spent the next five minutes or so in what I can only describe as white rage.

She took out my CDs and snapped each one.  She bent my sunglasses out of shape and threw them out of the car window.

Lastly, she got out of the car and climbed on to its roof. As I tried to encourage her down, she jumped up and down, denting it in the process.

Children with trauma will struggle to regulate their emotions

I can still remember the emotional and physical responses I experienced during her outburst. Initially, I was shocked.

I had been told that Shauna got angry, but up until that point had never experienced it firsthand. I was frightened that she would not only hurt herself but also hurt me as she hurled herself around.

My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest, and I could feel my cheeks burning red. My hands were shaking and as I tried to calm her down, my voice was trembling. I felt helpless to calm the situation.

What I learnt over the first few years of my career was that children that have experienced trauma like Shauna often struggle to regulate their emotions and behaviours. They can have impulsive and intense reactions to stress.

If I were able to turn back time, I would tell myself that Shauna was communicating in the best way she knew how. My role in that moment was to listen and to reassure her that I would stay with her until she calmed down.

No judgement – just unconditional support.

Their anger probably feels as frightening for them as it does to you

I am not ashamed to say that I was petrified during those moments. What I wish I had known was that Shauna was probably very frightened too, struggling to recognise the huge feelings she was experiencing.

Even as an inexperienced social worker, I knew it was imperative that I stayed calm and did not get caught in any kind of power struggle with Shauna. She needed time and space to calm down.

I knew that I needed to validate her feelings and show her I could contain her (and myself!). I needed to remain a positive role model by handling my own feelings in a calm way and modelling a healthy response to stress.

That was easier said than done, but I took deep breaths and kept reminding myself that I needed to be a source of strength for her.

Work to help a traumatised child to feel safe

There are some techniques I have learnt along the way that I wish I had known then. These start with seeing beyond her immediate behaviours and asking myself, ‘What does Shauna need?’, rather than, ‘What is wrong with her?’.

Looking back, I now see I should have helped Shauna feel safe. Instead of immediately trying to calm her down, I wish I had started by reassuring her that she was safe.  She was safe with me as a trusted adult, and I wasn’t going to leave.

I also wish I had asked Shauna if there was anything I could do to help. Then and there. Did she need a hug?  To hold my hand? A drink of water? For me to put on some chilled-out music in the car? Letting her have a bit of choice and control over the situation may have helped her calm down a little easier.

In hindsight, I probably tried too hard to offer solutions to Shauna during her outburst.

I was trying to make her feel better, but offering solutions to problems in a time of absolute crisis was not helpful. Mentioning how a new foster placement could be great or that they had a dog (she loved dogs) was not an appropriate response for that moment.

Managing professional guilt

I remember the feeling of overwhelming sadness washing over me as I watched her. She was distraught.

The sensible part of me knew that it wasn’t my fault that Shauna needed to move to new carers, but I was wrought with guilt.

I felt like she had been failed by a ‘system’ that was unable to match her with foster carers who would offer her unconditional care; failed by the social workers who had come and gone over her short life; failed by me, who hadn’t been able to visit her as often as I would have liked.

I was devastated.

As I matured in my practice, I came to realise that there is a real danger for social workers to hold feelings of guilt. Much of our work relies on resources that are often lacking and can be hard to manage.

However, with good supervision, I got to a place where I felt I was practising in the best way I could and felt less guilt about the constraints of the resources available to me.

Is that good enough? Sometimes it has to be.

by Gemma S.

I have been a qualified social worker since July 2021, and ten months ago, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

An estimated 40 million people live with bipolar disorder worldwide, yet this is often viewed negatively in society. Stigma and discrimination are widespread, both within communities and health services.

‘I found myself hiding my diagnosis’

When I received my diagnosis, I really struggled emotionally. In truth, I mourned for my former self.

I strove to be open, raise awareness and show there was no shame in being bipolar. But I soon discovered it was not as easy as I initially thought. I found myself hiding my diagnosis and feeling ashamed of it.

At the beginning I was even unsure about disclosing my diagnosis at my workplace, out of fear I would be regarded negatively.

As a social worker, I pride myself on showing kindness, challenging injustice and working with people who feel on the margins of society.

But I was not giving myself that same kindness and understanding or standing up for what I thought I needed.

Ultimately, talking to my team felt right – I had built a good relationship with them and had a desire to support others in understanding mental health conditions.

A third of people with bipolar disorder face workplace discrimination

According to a 2020 survey carried out by mental health charity Bipolar UK, while 90% people disclosed their condition to their employer, 24% ended up regretting it.

The reasons for this were evidenced in a follow-up 2024 survey, where nearly a third (32%) of over 1000 individuals with bipolar disorder revealed they had faced workplace discrimination.

This time a quarter chose to keep their condition private.

A 2024 Community Care poll, meanwhile, found that over half of 625 respondents had either experienced or witnessed mental health-related prejudice.

However, one commentator on the related article spoke about how disclosing a diagnosis could help model authenticity about anti-discriminatory practice. That resonated with me.

I do feel that sharing my story with my manager and team has allowed me to be my authentic self.

‘They huddled around me like one big hug’

Having the right people in your corner is paramount.

I feel very fortunate to have an amazing team at the council I work at. They have shown understanding and care about my wellbeing.

On one occasion, when I was experiencing a depressive episode, I messaged my team and manager that I was struggling and feeling low, but that I still felt able to work.

They huddled around me like one big hug; checking in with me, offering a listening ear and recommending support services like occupational health and counselling/support groups within the local authority.

My team supported me with my workload and even brought in snacks and pop. It meant the world to me, and I truly appreciate them all.

Most importantly, this allowed me to continue working full-time and progress in a job that I love.

It makes me sad to know this is not everyone’s experience.

Receiving services as a social worker 

Adapting to my new identity as ‘someone who receives services’ has been a challenging experience.

As a person with lived experience and a professional, I was able to fight for the care I wanted. But there have been times when I felt vulnerable and powerless.

I have had to really fight for person-centred care for myself, to have a say and be part of the co-production around my own care.

When picking up my prescription from the pharmacist, medication changes were made without my input or any notification. I challenged this and asked the community mental health team to work with me, not for me.

I requested regular reviews and asked to be included in all discussions and decisions, as this is what I advocate for the people I support.

‘It’s important to be kind to yourself’

Currently, l feel positive about my future in social work and am returning to university to enhance my learning.

I am managing my bipolar disorder through medication, with support from my mental health team, practising good self-care and managing my wellbeing.

I have realised that being kind to myself is so important, especially when navigating life as a social worker. It requires much self-love, empathy, kindness and understanding.

‘Reach out for support’

I am sharing my experience to raise awareness that, even as a professional working within health and social care, I have faced difficulties with receiving person-centred support.

Working in a pressurised and demanding environment can be a challenge for anyone, but particularly for people with a mental health condition.

It is so important to reach out for support and have the backing of a marvellous team.

by Sophie Baker

This is the third installment in Sophie Baker’s ‘What I wish I had known…’ series, where she reflects on her approach to practice when she started out – and what she would tell her younger self now.

As a newly qualified social worker, I was taught that building trust sat at the heart of social work.

During my studies, I heard that children were more likely to share their thoughts, feelings and worries with professionals they trusted. I understood that secure, consistent relationships were vital for children to feel safe enough to open up about their experiences and hopes for the future.

What I hadn’t fully grasped was just how difficult a task building the foundations of a trusting relationship was going to be.

Creating true connections with children who are going through difficult experiences is an exceptional skill. It takes patience, warmth and sincerity.

Here are some lessons I learned when trying to form impactful relationships.

Being clear about my role

Sophie Baker has over 20 years’ experience in social work

I remember how difficult it was to explain my role to children in a way that felt honest and comforting.

In the early days, I often used vague phrases like, ‘My job is to keep children safe’. While this wasn’t wrong, it didn’t give a full picture of what that actually meant for them.

I wish I had taken the time to explain more. I could have said, ‘I talk to your family, teachers, and other people who care about you to see how we can make things better’; or,  ‘Sometimes families go through difficult times and I help find ways to make things better’, or, ‘I will listen to you  and make sure your voice is heard when decisions are made about you’.

Children want to understand why we are there and how we can help. We need to be as clear and transparent in our answer as we can.

Keeping promises

Not long after qualifying, I remember my supervisor telling me, ‘If you say it, do it!’.  What a great piece of advice!

Many of the children I was working with had been let down by adults and, consequently, they needed to see the actions behind my words.

Children need to know they can rely on us. I learned that it’s not just about saying I would do something, it was also about following through with my promise.

Showing up when we say we will and doing what we promised is how we can demonstrate we are trustworthy. Children sometimes need deeds more than words.

Being present during visits

I knew that building a connection would be much easier when offering the child my undivided attention during our time together.

Yet the anxiety I felt during the first few months of practice hugely impacted on my ability to be truly in the moment at times.

In the rush to manage my workload, I sometimes found myself distracted. I would grab a few minutes here and there during home visits to speak to children, but I struggled to give them the uninterrupted, meaningful time they deserved.

I felt deeply ashamed. It took me some time to confess these issues to my manager, but it was ultimately supervision that helped reframe my way of thinking.

Techniques to prepare for sessions

I came to understand that relationship-building with children wasn’t an ‘extra’ part of the job, but the heart of effective social work.

I developed simple techniques to get mentally prepared before one-to-one sessions.

During car journeys, I created space in my mind by slowing my breathing and using affirmations such as ‘I am here, and I am ready to listen with my full attention’.

I also practised techniques like the 5-4-3-2-1 method, where you name things you can see, hear, touch, smell and taste to ground yourself in the present.

These small steps made a real difference, helping me to be fully engaged with each child and leave the ‘to do’ list aside.

Using creative tools for communication

Children often have a hard time expressing their feelings with words.

In my early days, I sometimes relied too heavily on traditional methods of talking and using worksheets.

However, I knew I needed to change that when Freddie, a young boy I was supporting, told me he had completed the same ‘Who Am I?’ worksheet multiple times with other workers. He was fed up, and rightfully so. It didn’t feel special to him.

He taught me the importance of diversifying my approach.

I started exploring more creative tools like sand trays art materials, and role play with him. A simple ice cream tub filled with sand and miniature figures allowed us to explore Freddie’s relationships, dreams, and strengths in a meaningful and playful way. It worked wonders in helping him open up!

Were I to have been developing this knowledge now, I think I would have also explored digital tools, such as apps and online games, which can engage children in new ways and make it easier to connect.

Being honest with children, even when it is painful

Throughout my career, I’ve had many painful conversations with children.

It’s an inevitable part of being a social worker. I sometimes needed to explore deeply distressing topics with children: grief after the death of a sibling, allegations of sexual abuse by a parent, the repeated disappointment of a parent failing to attend family time, the serious illness of a foster carer.

I always dreaded these discussions, and the emotional weight of them lingered long after with the memory of some of these still bringing a lump to my throat.

An important lesson for me during those interactions was always coming from a place of honesty and transparency.

It was so tempting to protect the children from stress and worry by softening the truth, being a bit vague or moving on quickly after I had delivered the news or asked a difficult question.

However, I came to understand that, when lacking accurate information, children will often make up their own versions of what is happening. The real danger lies in their imagination making things feel scarier than they really are.

I wish I had known that providing clear, age-appropriate information helps children make sense of the situation and gives them a greater sense of control.

Being honest during the most painful moments is one of the most valuable ways we can build trust with the children we work with.

Celebrate those who’ve inspired you

Photo by Daniel Laflor/peopleimages.com/ AdobeStock

Do you have a colleague, mentor, or social work figure you can’t help but gush about?

Our My Brilliant Colleague series invites you to celebrate anyone within social work who has inspired you – whether current or former colleagues, managers, students, lecturers, mentors or prominent past or present sector figures whom you have admired from afar.

Nominate your colleague or inspiration by filling in our nominations form with a few paragraphs (100-250 words) explaining how and why the person has inspired you.

*Please note that, despite the need to provide your name and role, you or the nominee can be anonymous in the published entry*

If you have any questions, email our community journalist, Anastasia Koutsounia, at anastasia.koutsounia@markallengroup.com

by Sophie Baker

This is the second installment in Sophie Baker’s ‘What I wish I had known…’ series, where she reflects on her approach to practice when she started out – and what she would tell her younger self now.

As I perched on the edge of the two-seater sofa in the lounge, facing Vicki*, I knew I had made a big mistake.

Not because I was intimidated by her, but because I was frightened of her boyfriend, Danny*. He stood leaning against the doorway of the lounge, blocking the only exit, with his arms crossed and his anger palpable.

Neighbours had reported incidents of suspected domestic abuse after hearing Vicki and her two young children screaming and crying.

I was freshly qualified and had been told that the police had asked Danny to leave the home, so I hadn’t been expecting him to be there.

He was immediately angry that a social worker was visiting and did not feel it was necessary. He denied that the children had been impacted by the arguments and described the neighbour who had referred them as nosy and interfering.

His eyes were bulging and he kept pointing his finger at me as he spoke.

In social work, we often visit families alone; many of these families are experiencing crises or challenges that can evoke strong emotions, like anger or fear. These situations make safety a crucial part of our practice.

Here are the lessons I wish I had known before I knocked on that door.

Making sure my supervisor knew where I was

It seems obvious, but it’s vital to let someone from your office know where you are at all times.

In this instance, I hadn’t told my supervisor where I was heading. This left me especially vulnerable.

I should have provided my supervisor with the details of whom I was visiting, the address and my estimated return time. We should have also agreed on a plan if I didn’t return as expected.

If I could go back, I’d also make sure to discuss the home visiting policy with my supervisor early on, so I was clear on how best I could be kept safe.

Better preparing my journey

Sophie Baker has over 20 years of experience working in children’s social care

I hadn’t thought through my journey to the family’s home. It was dark, it was raining and I had to park far away and walk through a poorly lit area.

By the time I reached the door, I already felt uneasy – not the best mindset for a home visit.

In hindsight, I should have parked my car as close as possible, ensuring it faced the exit and was in a space where it couldn’t be blocked in. I’d also avoid parking in a family’s driveway to ensure I could leave quickly if needed.

Before leaving my car, I’d take a moment to get my bearings so I wouldn’t feel disoriented. A great tip I’ve learned over the years is to keep your car keys in hand as you leave so you’re ready to unlock your car quickly.

Thinking about where I positioned myself 

During my visit, I unknowingly positioned myself with my back to the lounge door while speaking with Vicki.

This meant I didn’t notice Danny’s presence until he started speaking. His positioning against the doorway meant I was trapped in the lounge.  He could have easily stopped me from leaving had he wanted to.

At that moment, I felt incredibly vulnerable and unsettled. It made me realise just how important it is to be aware of my surroundings.

From that day forward, I made a conscious effort to choose a seat where I could clearly see both the exit and the entire room, ensuring that I always had a sense of security and control over my environment.

Trusting my instincts

Reflecting on that day, I think I sensed something was wrong as soon as Vicki answered the door.

She looked worried, but instead of pausing to ask if everything was okay, I pushed ahead with my introductions. I didn’t give her the chance to tell me that Danny was in the home.

If I could advise my younger self, I’d say to listen to those nagging feelings.

It’s perfectly acceptable to make an excuse and leave if something feels off. You can always return later with additional support, or, if you’re worried about someone’s safety, you can call your office or the police for assistance.

I’d also recommend asking directly who is in the property or if they’re expecting any visitors. This simple question can provide clarity and help you prepare for unexpected situations.

Being brave enough to ask a colleague to join me

Early in my career, I did not feel I could ask for someone to accompany me to visits. I felt that, by seeking help, I was admitting that I lacked the courage to be a social worker.

I think it’s completely normal to feel this way, especially in a profession like social work, where staff strength and resilience are celebrated. However, I now know that asking for help is actually a sign of self-awareness, not weakness.

Visiting in pairs can prove vital. Not only does it provide added safety, but it’s also a great opportunity to observe and learn from others.

On a subsequent joint visit, I remember witnessing a colleague’s compassion as she sat beside a mother experiencing postnatal depression and held her hand.

That moment profoundly influenced my practice and taught me the importance of empathy and human connection.

The impact of fear

When people are angry, it can feel very scary.

During my conversation with Danny, my fear affected my ability to respond effectively.

I became flustered, interrupted him and struggled to find the right words, desperate to help him see how his alleged behaviour could be affecting his wife and children.

Unsurprisingly, this only escalated his frustration.

He started speaking louder. His tone became sharper and more aggressive, his body posture stiffened and his jaw was clenched. He was also muttering under his breath and scoffing at my efforts to explain why I was worried.

Learning to listen

In that moment, I felt unsure as to how I was going to calm the situation, but, over time, I’ve learned techniques to help de-escalate tense situations.

The most valuable lesson? Stop talking and listen. Let people express their feelings without interruption.

I learnt how to use a calm, steady voice and have open body language. Reflecting peoples’ emotions back to them can help too with phrases like, ‘I can see this is really upsetting for you’ or ‘I understand how frustrating this must be’.

Sometimes, just giving someone space to vent can help them feel heard and ease their tension.

Being mindful of language

I should have given more thought as to how Danny and Vicki were feeling about my visit. Home visits by social workers can feel intrusive, so building rapport and trust from the start is crucial.

Additionally, I fear the language I used felt accusatory and critical. This has made me mindful of ensuring families feel heard and supported before diving into the gritty details.

By focusing on building partnerships and genuine connections early, I found parents were more likely to co-operate and accept help.

Trust cannot be built immediately, but we can help move things along by proving early on that we are collaborative, reliable and consistent.

Fear can distort priorities

Looking back, this visit taught me the danger of fear unconsciously distorting our priorities.

If the children had been present, I might have overlooked their needs due to feeling so intimidated. Fear could have led me to rush the visit or avoid direct interactions with them.

It’s important to ensure our safety so we can think clearly and offer the best possible support to the family we’re working with.

I’d remind my younger self to pause, take a breath and remain focused on the children’s wellbeing, even in challenging situations.

*Names have been changed for anonymity.

by Sophie Baker

When I announced my decision to study social work, the reactions from my family and friends were a mixture of disbelief and concern.

I was the child who clung to my mum’s coattails, shied away from meeting new people and flatly refused to try anything remotely out of the ordinary. For me to step into a field that demanded courage, resilience and confronting the unknown? It seemed unthinkable.

And yet, in 2001, aged 22, I found myself freshly qualified and wide-eyed in a children and families’ team.

Those first years were undoubtedly the most challenging of my career. But they taught me so much.

The whirlwind of the first few post-qualification months

Sophie Baker has over 20 years of experience working in children’s social care

In my first months as a young newly qualified social worker, I wasn’t just learning the intricacies of my new profession; I was also learning how to navigate the complexities of adulthood.

Moving out of my family home, figuring out how to pay bills, negotiating the ups and downs of a relationship with a demanding boyfriend and carving out time to laugh, dance, and drink cheap wine with friends – it was a lot.

Meanwhile, my professional world introduced me to different realities.

I worked with a teenager who had abused his younger sister, assessed a family living in constant fear of an abusive stepfather and supported a mother with bipolar disorder to create a safe and happy life for her children.

My personal and professional lives couldn’t have felt more different. By day, I was immersed in helping vulnerable families to make difficult changes. By night, I was a young adult trying to figure out my own path, laughing too loud and making mistakes.

During this time, I suffered from terrible imposter syndrome.  I was certain it wouldn’t be long until someone exposed me as a fraud.

I wish I had realised that somehow it would all balance out over time.

I wish I had known the value I brought

Naturally, one of my biggest fears was that families would see me as too young and inexperienced to help them.

It wasn’t uncommon for parents to question whether I could understand their struggles when I didn’t have children of my own. At the time, these challenges felt deeply personal.

“It isn’t me we are here to talk about,” I often responded, defensively.

Looking back, I cringe at those words because they shut down a real opportunity to connect. Families needed reassurance that they were in capable hands.

Behind my defensive response was my own insecurity – an uncertainty about the value I could bring so early in my career.

I wish I had known that my perspective, authenticity and willingness to learn were powerful tools.

Instead of rushing to prove myself, I should have leaned into the parents’ questions with empathy and curiosity.

I should have said, “Can you tell me what you’re worried about?”, or, “It’s clear how much you care about getting this right for your children.” Such responses acknowledge their concern and invite conversation.

I would tell my younger self, and newly qualified practitioners today, that families don’t need perfection or years of experience. They need someone who shows up, listens and works with them to find the best way forward.

I wish I hadn’t obsessed over theory

In my early days of practice, I often found myself overthinking every conversation and intervention, second-guessing whether I was applying the “right” theory or tool.

This focus on “getting it right” was in danger of distracting me from what mattered most.

My understanding of theories, models and tools developed as I grew, but now I recognise that it’s okay not to have all the answers.

Families don’t care what theory you’re drawing from or which framework guides your practice. They care about whether you treat them with honesty, respect and genuine care.

They value your ability to listen and follow through on your promises far more than the technicalities of your approach.

So, I wish I had let go of the pressure to name every model or approach.

What matters in the beginning is your willingness to learn and focus on what the family needs.

Celebrate those who’ve inspired you

Photo by Daniel Laflor/peopleimages.com/ AdobeStock

For our My Brilliant Colleague series you can write about anyone who has inspired you in your career – whether current or former colleagues, managers, students, lecturers, mentors or prominent past or present sector figures whom you have admired from afar.

Nominate your colleague or social work inspiration by filling in our nominations form with a letter or a few paragraphs (100-250 words) explaining how and why the person has inspired you.

If you have any questions, email our community journalist, Anastasia Koutsounia, at anastasia.koutsounia@markallengroup.com

I wish I had known supervision is a lifeline, not a test

I wish I had considered supervision an opportunity to grow professionally, rather than a test of my calibre.

I remember working hard to build what I thought was a trusting relationship with a mother until she requested a new social worker during a period of deteriorating mental health.

I felt hurt because we had always worked so well together, and I spent a long time worrying that I had done something wrong.

Sadly, I didn’t feel confident enough to explore my feelings, or how my experiences were affecting my practice, with my manager. I didn’t want to seem incompetent, overly anxious or incapable.

I wish I had opened myself up more meaningfully to emotional support and trusted myself to have those critical conversations that I came to rely upon as a more experienced practitioner.

I wish I had trusted that parents are the experts of their children

My lack of confidence led me to focus too much on risk and harm, rather than taking time to explore the strengths and aspirations of families.

I struggled to trust that parents were the experts in their own children and, although it is hard to confess, I wanted to be the author of their plans to gain control over the uncertainty.

An example was when I worked with a family where the father was arrested for viewing indecent images of children.

Despite the mother making excellent safeguarding decisions, including separating from him and supervising contact, I struggled to trust she would maintain this. This likely prolonged my involvement with the family, unnecessarily.

Managing risk is one of the most difficult aspects of social work. It is not an exact science and can feel like a heavy burden of responsibility.

However, I wish someone had reassured me that, while I shouldn’t be blindly optimistic, the best outcomes would happen when I worked with families, not against them.

I wish I had known that the time when I would be most successful in practice would be when I realised that social work wasn’t about eliminating risk. It’s about empowering people to manage and navigate risks independently, to become their own agents of change.

Share your story

Picture: daliu/fotolia

Would you like to write about a day in your life as a social worker? Do you have any stories, reflections or experiences from working in social work that you’d like to share or write about?

If so, email our community journalist, Anastasia Koutsounia, at anastasia.koutsounia@markallengroup.com

by Ruth E Hare

Ruth E Hare is a senior practitioner in Birmingham City Council’s quality and practice learning and hoarding teams and was named adult social worker of the year at the 2023 Social Worker of the Year Awards.

08:30 – I log on with a cup of tea and read through my emails and notifications.

09:00 – We have our weekly team brief over Microsoft Teams. I manage the hoarding team – a sub-team of the adults’ service student unit – so we share updates and discuss key issues affecting the students.

One that comes up is the number of safeguarding referrals coming through. Our team manager leads a discussion on how the unit can best aid our hoarding team and we agree on increasing support around processing referrals. The student unit’s team manager will also be helping me manage and close safeguarding referrals down when appropriate.

The team briefing ends with a welfare check, where the chair enquires about everyone’s wellbeing. I find it is a good opportunity for members to offload and say how they are feeling with work or any pressing personal issues.

10:00 – As the onsite supervisor, I have midpoint reviews for two of the students on my team after the team meeting.

It is lovely to learn how well the students are doing. They have positively developed their relationship-building and person-centred skills, which are essential for working with citizens who hoard.

A specific case is mentioned where the student, through persistence and person-centred work, successfully engaged a citizen to agree to a clean-up of his home. We also touch on the skills that need further developing, with a focus on complex Care Act assessments.

12:00 – I take an hour-long lunchbreak today.

Pictured: Ruth E. Hare

13:00 – I go through referrals and make a decision about which I can accept. I then make some phone calls to citizens we work with to arrange interviews for the research I am conducting about outcomes of interventions for citizens who hoard. It is a short piece of qualitive research with seven contributors.

14:00 – I have some time set aside for admin tasks, but I receive a phone call from a student who is at the hospital.

She is concerned that an unsafe discharge is about to take place, so we talk through the options available to her. The student then explains her concerns to the ambulance staff, who return the citizen back to the hospital.

We also discuss whom else she could alert about her concerns at the hospital. The discharge has been avoided for now but the hospital can still decide to discharge the citizen at any point. The student informs the citizen’s son about the situation before she leaves.

15:00 – I have a meeting with the commissioning team and our third-party organisation that specialises in hoarding. Their director acts as a mentor for the students.

We discuss various concerns, including waiting lists for both the third-party organisation and the hoarding team, and how we will manage them.

There is a discussion about whether consistency in staffing is important in relation to waiting lists, and how funding and budgets affect our ability to retain and hire staff.

16:00 – The day ends with a catch-up with my team manager, who supported me while I was on annual leave the previous week.

We go through some of the issues that were raised in the meeting today and come up with a clear set of actions for the hoarding team.

We agree that I will prioritise the safeguarding forms that have been sent through and discuss how I can best manage my time so that I can effectively balance out my work and home life.

17:30 – I finish off with a phone call to the student to discuss her learning from the incident earlier in the day and to get an update on the citizen. I am told she has been taken home with the support of her son.

I reassure her that she is doing well and state how impressed I was with her actions.

Celebrate those who’ve inspired you

Photo by Daniel Laflor/peopleimages.com/ AdobeStock

For our 50th anniversary, we’re expanding our My Brilliant Colleague series to include anyone who has inspired you in your career – whether current or former colleagues, managers, students, lecturers, mentors or prominent past or present sector figures whom you have admired from afar.

Nominate your colleague or social work inspiration by either:

• Filling in our nominations form with a letter or a few paragraphs (100-250 words) explaining how and why the person has inspired you.
• Or sending a voice note of up to 90 seconds to +447887865218, including your and the nominee’s names and roles.

If you have any questions, email our community journalist, Anastasia Koutsounia, at anastasia.koutsounia@markallengroup.com

Over the past year, we have focused on amplifying social workers’ voices, stories and perspectives on the site.

Our Readers’ Take series has shared practitioners’ views on the key issues affecting the profession, while My Brilliant Colleague has allowed social workers to pay tribute to their co-workers.

We’ve also published a number of first-person experiences from social workers about the issues, challenges and dilemmas incidents they’ve encountered while working in the profession, some of which have been expressed through poetry.

To expand on that, we’re now asking you to tell us what experiences and topics you’d like to hear about from your fellow social workers.

You can let us know your suggestions by filling out this short anonymous form.

Tell your story

Alternatively, if you’d like to write, or take part in, an interview about your story, you can send us an email at anastasia.koutsounia@markallengroup.com.

Find out more about writing for Community Care on our guidelines page.

As Community Care marks its 50th anniversary this year, we wanted to find out how social work has evolved through those years and how that has shaped practitioners’ careers.

For the Social Work Community Podcast, senior careers editor Kirsty Ayakwah spoke to independent social worker Gretchen Precey, who celebrates 47 years in children’s services this year, to learn about her experience of the past decades.

Gretchen qualified in 1977 and spent over 20 years working directly for local authorities before establishing herself as an independent social worker.

In her role, she combines direct assessment work with children and families with consultancy to practitioners.

In this episode of the podcast, Gretchen tells us what keeps her in the sector after so many years and what advice she would offer to the next generation of social workers.

Listen to “Celebrating a longstanding career in social work” on Spreaker.

Read the transcript here

About the podcast

The Social Work Community Podcast explores the issues that matter to social work practitioners in their working lives.

Kirsty and fellow host, careers editor Sharmeen Ziauddin, interview experienced and inspiring guests, including frontline social workers who speak from the heart about their jobs, the sector and society.

Our first season went down a storm and was nominated in this year’s British Association of Social Workers (BASW) Social Work Journalism Awards. We recently launched season two with an episode on whether we need more men in social work.

Although the podcast is available on major podcast platforms, Social Work Community members will get special early access to each episode.

So sign up to the Social Work Community to be among the first to catch each episode and to connect with fellow practitioners in a safe space.

Otherwise, check out the Social Work Community Podcast on the following :

• Spotify
• Apple Podcasts
• Spreaker
• Audible (Amazon)

Click ‘follow’ or ‘subscribe’ on your podcast app so you know when a new episode is published.

And don’t forget to follow us on Instagram.

by Janet Ayoola

Having worked part-time (2.5 days a week) for most of my 14-year career in child protection, I have experienced the numerous benefits this work pattern can offer.

My choice was driven by a desire for a better work-life balance and the need to care for my young family.

A Community Care poll in June 2024 with 588 votes revealed that the majority of practitioners (76%) said part-time work was their ideal working pattern.

However, there is a prevailing perception that part-time working is not conducive to social work. Despite this, I believe that adapting our work patterns to suit our own needs not only benefits us but also the families we support.

I have also found that, with good communication, families’ experiences of working with a part-time practitioner can be quite favourable.

Managing a part-time schedule with families

Being open about my working pattern has made me more relatable, with many families appreciating that I, too, juggle responsibilities outside of work. My transparency has generally been met with positive feedback.

By informing families about my availability, I have been able to prioritise my tasks more effectively, ensuring that I plan ahead and make the most of my working days.

On my days off, cases have been managed through a duty system and clear case recording, which fosters smoother transitions and consistent support for the families. However, I find that, through planning ahead and clear communication, very little work is required in these times.

And while I acknowledge that working part-time may not be financially feasible for many practitioners, I wanted to highlight some unexpected benefits I have discovered.

Protection against burnout

Pictured: Janet Ayoola

Social work is a demanding profession, often leading to high levels of stress and burnout.

Working part-time has afforded me regular respite, which has been crucial in maintaining my mental health and overall wellbeing. On my days off from work, I try to attend the gym and catch up with friends over coffee.

As social workers, we often think about the families we work with, even on days off. That is accentuated by the long hours we work. My reduced hours mean that I regularly practise being fully disconnected from work, from when I log off on Thursday to my return on Tuesday. This allows me to return with renewed energy and focus.

In hindsight, this has not only benefited me personally, but has also ensured I am more present when supporting the families I work with.

The balance of rest and work keeps me motivated, preventing the emotional exhaustion that is all too common in full-time social work. It has kept me in the profession.

Opportunities to volunteer

Having time during the week has allowed me to volunteer in various roles, enabling me to use my social work skills and knowledge in different contexts outside of paid employment.

Volunteering has not only broadened my experience, but also allowed me to contribute to causes that I care about.

During the Covid-19 pandemic, I became a safeguarding trustee for a children’s charity that provides mentors to primary school-aged children in London. As a professional, I have seen young people benefit from similar mentoring schemes.

The experience gave me insight into how valuable my safeguarding expertise is outside of statutory social work.

Knowing I am making a difference both within and outside my formal employment has enhanced my sense of purpose and satisfaction.

Currently, I volunteer as an independent member for safeguarding in the audit and risk committee for a national sight loss charity. Both these roles have exposed me to a variety of people and considerably increased my professional network.

Time to invest in professional development

Part-time work has provided me with the invaluable opportunity to invest in my professional development.

While there should be sufficient time in the working week to access learning for CPD, we know that this is not always possible. With the extra time available, I invest in my professional development by attending a webinar or training that I might otherwise have missed out on.

This continuous learning has kept me abreast with the latest developments in social work practice and policy, making me more efficient in my role.

Last year, I completed a training course to become an independent lead reviewer. While this was funded by my employer, there was no extra time offered to attend the training sessions. I would never have completed the course if I did not have the flexibility of part-time work to catch up on the sessions.

Engaging in professional development activities has kept my enthusiasm for the profession alive, preventing the stagnation that can sometimes accompany long-term employment in a demanding field.

Expanding your career

Another unexpected benefit of part-time work is the time it affords to explore new opportunities.

Over the years, I have used my additional time to network, attend career events, and even take on independent social work in different sectors. My volunteering experience has also led to new work opportunities.

As part of my independent work, I now deliver safeguarding training and consultancy services to charities and voluntary organisations.

Whether you are considering a move into a different area of social work, exploring roles in related fields, or even contemplating a complete career change, part-time work provides the space to explore these options before fully committing to a career change.

A holistic approach to work-life balance

While the traditional view within social work may favour full-time roles, it’s essential to recognise that part-time work can offer a viable and beneficial alternative.

By taking a holistic approach to work-life balance, we can ensure that our personal and professional lives complement rather than compete with each other.

In conclusion, part-time social work should not be viewed as a compromise but rather as a strategic choice that can enhance our professional effectiveness and personal satisfaction.

By embracing flexible working patterns, we can create a more supportive and effective profession that ultimately benefits the families and communities we serve.

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.
Three years ago, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

It led to an abrupt end to my social work career with some comebacks during fleeting moments of recovery. But, ultimately, my psychiatrist determined that I was unlikely to reach full recovery if I continued to work as a social worker.

Having bipolar has lots of scary connotations and is often viewed very negatively by society.

I have bipolar II disorder which means that, while I suffer from hypomania – short periods that may include high energy levels, abnormally elevated mood, insomnia and/or irritability – it never develops into full mania, which lasts longer and has more severe symptoms.

This often means that we, and those close to us, can miss signs of hypomania as you may simply appear jovial and highly productive.

During Covid, pandemic-induced stress and my age led to my hypomania developing into much more destructive ‘mixed episodes’, during which depression and hypomania co-occur, making life hell at times and my symptoms more difficult to hide and manage.

Opening up about bipolar

When I was diagnosed I made the decision to be open about my diagnosis through blog posts I wrote to raise awareness and show there was no shame in having an illness.

I felt it was important for others who had similar symptoms to be alert to them and seek treatment.

However, some in the social work community actively stigmatised me for it.

I can understand why people are cautious about sharing aspects of their private life. But, for me, everyone should have autonomy about what they share – as long as it is not in the active context of working with people who they deliver services to.

Since my diagnosis I have managed long periods of recovery and it was during one of these that I returned to work as a social worker for a new organisation.

I had not divulged that I was bipolar during my interview, because the law does not require me to do so. But I had always planned to outline it in supervision after settling into the job and discuss my needs.

Being ‘outed’ in the workplace

To reiterate, I was in active recovery and there were no present signs of illness.

However, a person who happened to have read some of my blogs about being took it upon themselves to ‘whistleblow’ to my boss about my illness.

My manager saw the move as one of a bystander wishing to help. I recognised the action for what it was: an attempt to alert the organisation that my bipolar diagnosis meant I should not be working there.

The manager was kind, but our relationship changed. For the next couple of years, I was constantly hyper-vigilant and, because of this person’s actions, felt shame for my condition.

What happened temporarily blotted my passion for showing the realities of living with a serious mental illness and that you can thrive, with the right treatment.

But a chance encounter with the owner of a yoga studio changed this perception.

She was a kind, confident, ethereal woman who, through one conversation, was able to bring me back from internal shame to being proud of my tenacity and survival.

It is ironic that a private business owner showed more acceptance and compassion than some people within social work I have encountered.

Receiving care as a social worker

Receiving services from care professionals is inherently complicated when you have worked as a social worker.

As a trauma-informed practitioner, it is very onerous when you receive care from someone whose values do not reflect social work ones, and who, at times, can be callous and dismissive.

I have received the best of care and the worst of care during my time as a mental health patient.”

I find it very difficult to keep quiet about any sense of injustice that comes my way (and there have been many), and with my innate need to challenge, I can be perceived as difficult and demanding.

Adapting to a new identity

In reality, I just want to get well and I understand my right to good and adequate care.

Having to adapt to my new identity as ‘someone who receives services’ has been a journey.  It has made me realise how having your life exposed to services can be traumatic all on its own.

With my illness, I have gained wisdom about the plight of those who access services and, should I return to social work, I am sure my practice would be much improved for that experience.

But I am unlikely to return.

‘You never know when you may become ill’

At the age of 41, I am in the enviable position, with full recovery at my fingertips, to lead an exciting and fulfilling life, with endless possibilities.

Despite the last three years having been hellish, I would not trade my experiences because of the wisdom and mental clarity about life I have gained in return.

So, to the social work community I say that you never know when you may become ill with serious mental illness.

People who access services are not ‘others’, they are us, they are you, so treat every service user with compassion and give them the care you would wish to receive.”

Remember, it is their real lives that you are touching. It is a normal reaction for them to become annoyed or distressed at times. This is their everyday reality – they are not ‘cases’, they are people.

As for me, I am no longer hiding my illness – it is not my shame.