Critical Anaylsis 700-1000 Words

Please read carefully and follow pacific instructions…Cite the actual article and use scholarly article/information for other citations 1 or 2 to support relavent information! The article is in the manual send and pacific instruction memo sent also. Article title ” Gay-for-pay” ( Case #8)

PROFESSORS BOYKIN, BUDLONG, DE ZEEUW WRIGHT,
FLAHERTY, GOWDY, KILGO, LEITH, MORGAN, PARLIER, SIMONS, WOLFER
SOWK 718
Systems Analysis of Social Work Practice

UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH CAROLINA
SOWK 718: SYSTEMS ANALYSIS OF SOCIAL WORK PRACTICE

COURSE CALENDAR AND REQUIRED READINGS

All required readings are included in a course reader available for sale from University Readers,
if not readily available via the Internet. Required readings not included in the course reader are
available on Blackboard (and hyperlinked below).

January 17-20
Introduction to course, objectives, assignments, and decision case method
Golembiewski, R. T., & White, M. (1983). Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team.
In Cases in public management (4th ed.; pp. 273-279). Boston: Houghton Mifflin. (Case
#0)
January 24-27
Wolfer, T. A. (2006). An introduction to decision cases and case method learning. In T. A.
Wolfer & T. L. Scales (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice:
Thinking like a social worker (pp. 3-16). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole Thomson
Learning.
Wolfer, T. A., & Scales, T. L. (2006). Tips for discussing decision cases. In T. A. Wolfer & T. L.
Scales (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Thinking like a social
worker (pp. 17-25). Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole Thomson Learning.
Rhodes, D., & Wolfer, T. A. (2017). Inside or out [Unpublished decision case]. Austin, TX:
University of Texas—Austin, Steve Hicks School of Social Work. (Case #1)
January 31-February 3
Conklin, J. (2005). Wicked problems and social complexity. In Dialogue mapping: Building
shared understanding of wicked problems. CogNexus Institute. Available at:
http://www.ideapartnership.org/documents/wickedproblems
Parker, R. C., & Wolfer, T. A. (2008). Unusual appeal. In T. A. Wolfer & V. M. Runnion,
Death, dying and bereavement in social work practice: Decision cases for advanced
practice (pp. 88-97). New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #2)
Recommended:
Gambrill, E. (1997). A problem-focused model based on critical inquiry. In Social work practice:
A critical thinker’s guide (pp. 96-124). New York: Oxford University Press.
February 7-10
Wirth, K. R., & Perkins, D. (2008). Learning to learn. Available at:
http://www.macalester.edu/academics/geology/wirth/learning
Lamb, B. (2011). The board chair’s dilemma (A). Seattle, WA: Electronic Hallway. (Case #3)

February 14-17
McMillen, J. C., Morris, L., & Sherraden, M. (2004). Ending social work’s grudge match:
Problems versus strengths. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Social
Work, 85(3), 317-325.
Hogan, M., & Wolfer, T. A. (2017). He won’t go there. [Unpublished decision case]. Columbia,
SC: University of South Carolina, College of Social Work. (Case #4)
February 21-24
Congress, E. P. (2000). What social workers should know about ethics: Understanding and
resolving practice dilemmas. Advances in Social Work, 1, 1-22. Available at:
http://journals.iupui.edu/index.php/advancesinsocialwork/article/view/124/107
Wolfer, T. A. (2014). Driven to drink. In T. A. Wolfer, L. D. Franklin & K. A. Gray (Eds.),
Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Confronting complexity (pp. 166-171).
New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #5)
Recommended:
Levy, C. S. (1976). Personal versus professional values: The practitioner’s dilemmas. Clinical
Social Work Journal, 4(2), 110-120.
February 28-March 3
Hardcastle, D. A., with Powers, P. R., & Wenocur, S. (2011). Using self in community practice:
Assertiveness. In Community practice: Theories and skills for social workers (3rd ed.; pp.
182-214). New York: Oxford University Press.
Golensky, M. (1995). Conflicting agendas for the future of a youth agency (CNG No. 14).
Hartford, CT: Yale University, Program on Non-profit Governance. (Case #6)
March 7-10
Dweck, C. S. (2009). Mindsets: Developing talent through a growth mindset. Olympic Coach,
21(1), 4–7. Available at:
http://www.teamusa.org/~/media/USA_Volleyball/Documents/Resources/OlympCoachM
ag_Win%2009_Vol%2021_Mindset_Carol%20Dweck
Dweck, C. (2006-2010). What is mindset. Available at: http://mindsetonline.com/whatisit/about/
Flaherty, A., Reitmeier, M. C., Browne, T., Dehart, D., Iachini, A., & Christopher, R. Second
time around [Unpublished decision case]. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina,
College of Social Work. (Case #7)
March 14-17
NO CLASS—SPRING BREAK

105

March 21-24
SAGE 2YC. (2016). What is self-regulated learning? Available at: http://serc.carleton.edu/
sage2yc/studentsuccess/self_regulated/what.html
Franklin, L. D. (2014). Gay-for-pay. In T. A. Wolfer, L. D. Franklin & K. A. Gray (Eds.),
Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Confronting complexity (pp. 15-29).
New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #8)
March 28-31
Sloan, R. (2014, September 5). The steel man of #GamerGate. Retrieved November 24, 2017,
from https://medium.com/message/the-steel-man-of-gamergate-7019d86dd5f5
Hoffman, E., & Myers, D. R. (2002). Why can’t they make this place more Jewish? In T. L.
Scales, T. A. Wolfer, D. A. Sherwood, D. R. Garland, B. Hugen & S W. Pittman (Eds.),
Spirituality and religion in social work practice (pp 117-121). Alexandria, VA: Council
on Social Work Education. (Case #9)
April 4-7
Dvorsky, G. (n.d.). The 12 cognitive biases that prevent you from being rational. Retrieved May
9, 2016, from http://io9.com/5974468/the-most-common-cognitive-biases-that-prevent-
you-from-being-rational
Forlani, V. M., & Stone, M. M. (1996). Neighborhood agencies, businesses, and the city: Boston
Against Drugs (CNG No. 17). Hartford, CT: Yale University, Program on Non-profit
Governance. (Case #10)
April 11-14
Garber, M. (2017, December 15). The weaponization of awkwardness. The Atlantic. Retrieved
from https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/12/the-weaponization-of-
awkwardness/548291/
Busch-Armendariz, N. B., Nsonwu, M., & Heffron, L. C. (2017). Family business. In Human
trafficking: Applying research, theory, and case studies (pp. 145-156). Los Angeles: Safe
Publications. (Case #11)
April 18-21
Hovis, M., & Franklin, L. D. (2014). Private, dismissed. In T. A. Wolfer, L. D. Franklin & K. A.
Gray (Eds.), Decision cases for advanced social work practice: Confronting complexity
(pp. 108-122). New York: Columbia University Press. (Case #12)

113

121

127

149

161

April 25-28
Cherniss, C. (1995). The first year: “I thought I’d died and gone to hell.” In Beyond burnout:
Helping teachers, nurses, therapists, and lawyers recover from stress and disillusionment
(pp. 17-36). New York: Routledge.
Lee, J., & Miller, S. (2013). A self-care framework for social workers: Building a strong
foundation for practice. Families in Society: The Journal of Contemporary Social
Services, 94(2), 96–103. doi:10.1606/1044-3894.4289

*Permission to reprint all selections granted to University Readers by the publishers for
this individual course reader. Please don’t photocopy – to do so would be a
violation of copyright law.

169

179

40
Conflict on the Human
Services
Coordination Team
The meeting he dreads will begin in less than an hour, so Jerry Feldman
reluctantly takes out the files on Arthur Harris and Frances Carpenter
for one last review.
As Director of Field Services for the Human Services Coordination
Team of the State Services Department (SSD), Jerry supervises both
people. Arthur is Northeast Regional Director, and Frances is Arthur’s
specialist in inner-city problems. The team’s mission is to work with
citizens’ groups, private agencies, other public agencies, and SSD’s own
program divisions; to coordinate the targeting of social services; and to
increase citizen involvement in their delivery. A major part of that
mission involves identifying individuals and groups that need specific
services and assisting them in making claims on those best able to meet
their needs. The team’s activities are conducted in five regions, and the
field staffs in each region average a half-dozen professionals and two
clericals. Headquarters for the team is the SSD office in the capital,
but Jerry spends a lot of time on the road visiting the regional offices,
which are the central units of the team.
The regional directors like Arthur Harris have multiple responsibili-
ties. They develop work assignments for their subordinates, maintain
communication among them so they do not work at cross-purposes,
elaborate headquarters strategy and priorities as well as implement
them in the field, evaluate their staff and make recommendations for
promotion, termination, or reassignment, and supervise the administra-
tive details that arise from the constant travel of each of the field work-
ers. The nature of the team’s mission is such that the regional directors
have to supervise their subordinates closely and give them more cor-
rective feedback than is common in most social-service work. After all,
the team’s mission is coordination, and that means that its own staff
should be the best coordinated of all.
Arthur Harris ‘s file reveals that he has been a member of the team
since it was authorized a year and a half earlier, all that time in the
273
1

northe’1st region. The details reveal that Arthur is a real comer. He has
a college degree, with a double major in sociology and political science,
gained about five years earlier after three years in the Army. He did one
year of graduate work in sociology before taking a planning position
elsewhere in the department. Selected for the team because of interest
and performance, Arthur receives generally good evaluations and re-
flects increasing interest in “street-level” administration. Arthur is
among the younger employees expected to rise to positions of consider-
able responsibility in the department. He is white.
Frances Carpenter is quite different from Arthur. She is seven years
older, has two children, has completed about two years’ college credit,
and is black. Her interest in street-level administration is not new. Be-
fore joining the Human Services Coordination Team at the same time
Arthur did, she was a community-relations specialist with the Com-
munity Action Program in Benton, which with its sister city of Fillmore
constitutes the major urban center of the northeast region. Almost
everyone in Benton at least knows Frances’s name, and in the black
community of about 15,000 there are few people who do not know her
personally. She led a well-publicized rent strike, worked for community
control of the police, and helped initiate compensatory programs for
the disadvantaged in Benton County Community College. Her specialty
in the northeast region is working with the black communities of
Benton and Fillmore.
Jerry found her to be capable at the start. She is the best person in
the region for handling service delivery foul-ups, both because she
knows the right people and because she is inventive at creating con-
structive responses. Evaluations of her performance during the first
year are positive. Arthur Harris ‘s predecessor as regional director was
an older black man who left the job for a top position in post-release
correctional services. He knew Frances for many years, and they
worked well together.
Jerry feared that some trouble might develop when he promoted
Arthur Harris, even though Arthur seemed to have support from each
of his co-workers. But, initially, Arthur worked out well. After a
couple of months, friction developed between Frances and Arthur,
who began to write that Frances was resisting direction. He even
entered notes in her file that she failed to carry out an assignment
that he requested her to undertake. Other notes-none part of the
permanent record-indicate that Frances frequently gets into arguments
with other staff members, all of whom are white. And most recently,
she missed two weekly meetings of the field staff without notice or
explanation.
When Arthur told her that if she missed a third consecutive staff
meeting he would consider giving her a written reprimand, Frances
274 Supervisory Problems
blew up, called him a racist and sexist incompetent in tones that could
be heard by anyone nearby, stormed out of the office, and disappeared
for a day and a half. She returned to the office in a subdued manner
with a signed agreement by a voluntary agency to open a day-care cen-
ter in the inner city of Benton. That was a good piece of work.
But Arthur still feels he needs Jerry’s intervention, and hence the
scheduled meeting to which Jerry is not looking forward.
Frances arrives first in the regional office’s conference room. Jerry
asks her to have a seat. “Good to see you,” he says. “I heard about
your blowup with Arthur the other day and thought the three of us
ought to get together. You’ve worked together for long enough that an
incident like this is cause for concern. Do you want to talk for a few
minutes before Arthur comes in, or would you rather wait?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies. “I’m sorry I yelled and got him
upset, but he’s really been after me. I used to think he was under-
standing, but now I’m not sure. He tries hard, but he’s not as grown-up
as he thinks, and he’s been putting on a lot of airs.”
“What do you mean?” Jerry asks.
“You know, playing like he’s the big boss with all these evaluations.
I’ve worked here as long as he has, and I know my job. He should be
helpful, but instead he’s always trying to act superior.”
“What kind of things does he do to act superior?” Jerry inquires.
“Well, you know, Mr. Feldman, like always trying to pretend he
knows better than I do what’s happening in Benton, like he knows the
needs there. He gives me a lot of things from books and then tries to
make me feel like it’s my fault, not his, when they don’t work.”
“Like what?”
“Like the time he wanted me to get young mothers organized for
prenatal care,” Frances explains. “You can’t change kids’ habits like
that. Some are 14-year-olds hardly aware of what’s happening to them.
I tried a little, but there are so many other things to do, it wasn’t worth
the effort right then. A time will come for that. If Arthur really knew
the black community here in Benton, he’d understand that.”
They are interrupted by a knock on the door. “Is that you, Arthur?
Come on in,” Jerry calls.
Arthur is a little nervous and awkward as he sits down. He smiles at
Frances and then asks Jerry how things are at headquarters. After a
brief reply, Jerry suggests that they get down to business. “Why don’t
each of you tell what you think is going on? Arthur, do you want to
go first?”
“Well, if that’s the way you would like to proceed,” Arthur offers.
“I think this is a very complicated situation with a lot of elements
in it.”
40 I Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team 275
2

Arthur pauses and thinks for a minute. “I respect Frances a lot, and
I’m a little uneasy saying some of this because we have worked together
as equals before I became her supervisor.”
“I have an idea,” Jerry interrupts. “Why don’t you talk to Frances as
well as to me? After all, whatever is going on, and whatever we manage
to do here today, you two are still going to have to work things out
between you.”
“All right,” Arthur responds. “Before I became your supervisor,
when the office first opened, Frances, we worked mostly on helping
people caught between the cracks in social services or people getting a
bureaucratic pass-me-around-you know, case kinds of things. I don’t
know if you have an equal around here in handling that kind of matter.
“Well,” Frances says with feigned surprise, “that’s the first time you
have ever admitted that!”
“Hmmm,” Jerry murmurs. “Continue?”
“All right,” Arthur says. “You know, casework isn’t all that we
should be doing. Our real goal is human-services integration. I’ve felt
that one of the reasons I was promoted, Jerry, was because you felt
that I could help this region get more into programmatic activities, you
know, the kinds of things where instead of helping a few people, we
implement a change that will help lots of people now and into the
future.
“It’s been my goal to try to do that,” Arthur continues. “Things
like helping service-delivery agencies establish good coordinative mech-
anisms between city agencies or between the county and the depart-
ment, for example. We shouldn’t do all the coordinating, we should be
setting it up so other people do that. Isn’t that right, Jerry?”
“That’s one of the objectives. Yes, certainly,” Jerry replies.
“Well, I’ve tried to do that since becoming regional director,” Arthur
says as he looks back at Frances. “For some reason-I don’t know
why–you ‘ve always seemed to resist that idea.”
“That’s not true,” Frances says.
“You ’11 get your tum,” Jerry cautions. “Go on, Arthur, and remem-
ber to tell Frances your thoughts.”
“My feeling is that both your experience and your talents lead you
to prefer casework,” Arthur continues.
Frances looks upset.
“Wait a minute,” Jerry says. “Let’s try and avoid motivations and
interpretations. Just describe what happened. We’ll look for causes in
due time.”
Arthur agrees and goes on. “The first few suggestions I gave you just
seemed to bounce right off and disappear, Frances. I suggested that
you try to improve coordination between County Probation and the
276 Supervisory Problems
summer softball programs in Benton County. You said you didn’t
know anyone in the athletic programs and that they didn’t work in the
city. Then there was the business with developing support in the Fill-
more City Council for community-based mental-health halfway houses,
which nothing ever came of. I tried to talk to you about that and tried
to get you to set down on paper your goals for the next six months.
But you never did. Instead, you gave me a lot of excuses about how
busy you were. Then you began getting into arguments a lot during
the last two or three months and … ”
“What do you mean, a lot?” Frances retorts. “And besides, I didn’t
have many arguments, just a few disagreements.”
“Man, if those weren’t arguments, I don’t know!” Arthur notes with
an exaggerated shrug.
Jerry laughs. “What’s an argument to you, Arthur?”
“That’s kind of hard to define,” he says. “I guess when people start
getting heated over their disagreements.”
“What about you?” Jerry asks Frances.
“Well, both people at least have to start yelling. If my ears don’t hurt
it’s not much of an argument,” she responds.
“OK,” Jerry says. “What happened next?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur says. “Things just started to go downhill. I
feel that Frances just hasn’t kept up with the others in terms of pro-
gram improvements. I tried to get her to see this at the weekly staff
meetings by having other people talk about what they were doing.”
“That was an attempt to put me down,” Frances asserts.
“Hold on,” Jerry says. “Let’s keep motives out of it. How did you
feel; that’s the question.”
“Well,” she says, “I felt angry. He never wanted to … ”
“Tell it to Arthur,” Jerry reminds her.
“Man, you are something,” Frances says. “All right, you never
wanted to hear about what I was doing. I was doing a lot of things. I
got the locations changed on the health clinics, and I found a way to
get hot meals for the old folks, and I steered a group of kids into a
teen center they never knew existed, and a whole lot of other things.
But all those meetings just were a lot of talk about bureaucratic I-don’t-
kno.w-what. I thought I was supposed to work against that, not make
more of it!”
“That’s just the point,” Arthur says. “If we don’t make these agen-
cies work right, then no one will get the services they need. I know you
mean well, but in the long run this way is better for the black commun-
ity and all people.”
“What do you know about the black community?” Frances shoots
back. “Have you ever lived there? That’s what I’m supposed to know.
40 I Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Team 277
3

If you knew anything about the blaL:k community you’d know better
what is an argument and what isn’t.”
“Well when someone stomps around an office picking fights and
contradicting everyone, that’s an argument,” Arthur says.
“Oh, you and your bourgeois standards,” Frances replies. “What do
you know? I have a right to get upset once in a while,” she says assert-
ively. “Besides, what am I supposed to do? There’s no one in that
office I can talk to. Everyone’s so concerned with doing good they
never bother to find out what the people are like.”
“You don’t have any monopoly on the people,” Arthur responds.
“We work with lots of different kinds of people. It’s not just the black
community, and you have to understand that.”
“I think we are getting diverted from the main issue,” Jerry pro-
poses. “Why don’t you tell Arthur more about his idea of programs?”
“Well, he’s got some problems about black folks that need some
work, but all right.” She turns back to Arthur. “I never did understand
all that program stuff. I remember about the softball leagues, but I
don’t know any of those people. When I came to you about that you
just gave me some names to call. Well I already had got the names!
And I tried to talk to people in Fillmore, and they gave me the run-
around. They’re a lot of racists over there, and you never should have
asked me to deal with them. Charlie Welsh knows all those people. Why
don’t you ask him?”
“That’s just the point. You have to expand your base of operations if
you are going to become programmatic,” Arthur says. “You should be
able to deal with all kinds of situations. If you are going to get good
evaluation reports, you have to do the same as all the other field
officers.”
“Who’s doing the evaluations? You?” Frances asks. “How are you
going to evaluate me? You don’t understand the black community, and
you don’t know our needs. I was hired to work on the things I know
best,” Frances states. “And that’s what I do. You got all these fancy
ideas about programs and all that bureaucratic stuff, but you don’t
understand blacks or how to evaluate us. You don’t understand me
enough to help me when I ask for it, so how can you evaluate me?
All you do is put me down at staff meetings, then you wonder why I
don’t come and threaten me with reprimands and all that.”
“I certainly can evaluate you and your work,” Arthur maintains.
“I use the same standards that I use to evaluate anyone’s work. There’s
no difference between black or white. This isn’t a race issue, and I
resent your trying to make it one,” Arthur snaps.
“Well, that’s where you ‘re wrong,” Frances responds. “If you think
you just go out and hang the same standards on all people, you are
a racist and you don’t even know it!” Frances yells. “You call yourself
278 Supervisory Problems
a supervisor and think you can evaluate me? You don’t even know whi:lt
I do, and you don’t even care. All you care about is your so-called pro-
gram plans, and I don’t need any of that white middle-class stuff that’s
been keeping black people down for years!”
Directions:
You are Jerry. A welcome emergency long-distance call gets you off the spot for a
few moments. You steal a few more minutes to reflect on the meeting.
So far, the discussion has ventilated some issues, and things are beginning to get
hot. As Jerry. where would you like to see the discussion go from here? How do
you think you have handled the conflict so far, and what would you have done
differently? What do you think you have done well about directing the discussion?
You tick off some of the issues. Is Arthur racist? Do you think he understands
the “black community?” Do you think there is such a thing? Should Frances be
evaluated or otherwise treated differently from the other members of the field
staff?
You also are aware of the differences of opinion and values between Arthur and
Frances. Which are proper subjects for management concern? Should you try to
help find a way toward a resolution of their conflict that helps each better under-
stand the other’s goals and needs and still is consistent with the agency’s mission
and the community’s needs?
With this kind of thought in mind, what is your opening intervention to be when
you reenter the conference room? How do you expect Frances will respond?
Arthur?
40 I Conflict on the Human Services Coordination Tearn 279
4

Decision Cases for
Advanced
Social Work Practice
Thinking Like a Social Worker
Edited by
TERRY A. WOLFER
University of South Carolina
T. LAINE SCALES
Baylor University
THC>IVISC>N
• BROOKS/COLE
Australia • Canada • Mexico • Singapore • Spain
United Kingdom • United States
5

Chapter 1
An Introduction to
Decision Cases and Case
Method Learning
TERRY A. WOLFER
“Good judgment comes from· experience.
Experience comes from bad judgment.”
WALTER WRISTON
(CITED IN BRUNER, 1999, p. xxi.ii)
T
he case method of learning typically involves in-depth class discussions
based on detailed, open-ended accounts of actual practice situations.
These accounts, referred to as decision cases, require students to formu-
late the problems and decide on potential courses of action. The case analyses
and class discussions help students learn to apply theory to practice and to
develop important problem-solving and critical-thinking skills. Because this
particular form of cases may be unfamiliar to you, we intend this introductory
chapter to provide background information on cases and the case method.
This chapter will do the following:
1. Consider the ubiquitous nature of cases and decision making in professional
social work education and practice.
2. Differentiate cases for decision making from the more common cases for
examples or illustration.
3. Help students understand how case discussions differ, both philosophically
and practically, from traditional approaches to social work education.
4. Identify general learning outcomes associated with analyzing and
discussing decision cases, and the importance of these outcomes for social
work practice.
5. Explain where these cases came from, and how they were written.
3
6

4 PART I TO THE STUDENT
In the next chapter, we provide concrete tips for analyzing and preparing
to discuss cases.
WHAT IS YOUR EXPERIENCE WITH CASES?
No doubt, you are well acquainted with the use of cases in your social work
program. Many social work instructors and textbook authors provide cases to
aid your understanding of social work practice. In field supervision, you likely
discuss individual cases and the problems or challenges these pose for you. In
your field practicum or social work employment, you may measure your
workload in terms of the number of cases you carry at any point in time.
This collection of cases is similar in some ways to these various types of
cases but different in other important ways. Like cases in your classrooms or
textbooks, these cases were developed for teaching purposes. However, these
cases have a more specific teaching purpose that probably differs from pub-
lished cases with which you may be familiar. In social work education, most
published cases have an illustrative purpose. They provide examples of good
practice, or even exemplars for you to emulate. Such cases depict difficult prac-
tice situations and show how social workers dealt with these situations. They
typically show how a social work theory was applied in the particular situa-
tion, providing insight or understanding, or how a social work intervention
was carried out, providing guidance in use of the intervention. In short, such
cases show you how some theory or intervention applies to practice or, more
simply, how the theory or intervention works.
Discussing cases with your social work field instructor or supervisor also
has a teaching purpose, though it might be more accurate to refer to this as a
learning purpose. In supervision, your field instructor “looks over your shoul-
der” to ensure that things are going well and to provide direction as necessary.
When you discuss difficult cases with your field instructor, you may review
what has happened, what you have tried to do, and so on. Initially, your super-
visor carries important responsibility for guiding your efforts. But as you gain
practice experience, you will increasingly use supervision to make collabora-
tive decisions about what to do next. In these situations, your field instructor
or supervisor is not directing your work so much as helping you decide how
to proceed, what to try, what the likely consequences will be, and so on.This
type of supervision shifts the focus from the past to the present and future,
from what happened to what to do next. And it shifts the emphasis from your
instructor “teaching you what to do” to the two of you (or the supervision
group) collaboratively figuring out what to do. This approach to supervision is
common in professional social work practice, and this set of decision cases is
intended to resemble and promote it.
In direct practice settings especially, the set of cases (caseload) for which
you have responsibility also provides a shorthand way of referring to your
7

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING
workload. In this usage, a case refers to the client system for which you have
some professional responsibility. The client may be understood to be an indi-
vidual, a couple, or a family unit.
In this casebook, however, the word case does not refer to cases of this type.
Instead, we use case for referring to specific situations in professional practice
that pose problems and dilemmas, and these situations are more like those
described in the previous paragraph. Furthermore, these cases may come from
any level of social work practice. As a result, the client system may include a
supervisee, program, organization, community, or state in addition to individ-
uals, families, or groups in direct practice. This brief reflection reveals how
ubiquitous cases are in professional social work practice, and also alerts us to
some important distinctions in use of the term.
CASES IN SOCIAL WORK EDUCATION
The use of cases is nothing new. For more than 100 years, social work instruc-
tors have used cases in the classroom to educate students (Fisher, 1978;
Reitmeier, 2002; e.g., Reynolds, 1942; Towle, 1954). Over time, these cases
have taken many forms, ranging from brief vignettes only a few sentences or
paragraphs long to complex book-length accounts.
Merseth (1996) identified three basic educational purposes for using cases:
cases as examples or exemplars to illustrate practice, cases as foci for reflecting
on practice, or cases as opportunities to practice decision making. For the first
purpose, mentioned above, cases provide concrete and specific examples of
how professional theories or interventions apply in practice situations. As illus-
trations, cases can help students understand theoretical content and practice
skills. During the past few decades, most of the available social work casebooks
provide cases for this purpose (e.g., Amodeo, Schofield, Duffy, Jones,
Zimmerman, & Delgado, 1997; Haulotte & Kretzschmar, 2001; LeCroy, 1999;
McClelland,Austin, & Este, 1998; Rivas & Hull, 2000).
Although most cases in social work education have an illustrative purpose,
the cases here have primarily a decision-making purpose. They resemble the
type of cases that social workers take to their supervisors when they are un-
certain how to understand a situation or how to respond. In fact, the cases in
this collection troubled the practitioners who experienced and reported them.
For some, the situations remain perplexing months (and even years) after they
occurred.
Rather than provide good examples of how practice theories or interven-
tions might work, these cases present challenging problem-solving opportuni-
ties. As a result, they provide opportunities for you to practice · decision
making, to refine the skills you need in social work practice. Like social work
practice dilemmas you might take to a supervisor, these cases present messy,
ambiguous, problematic situations that invite and merit professional thinking
5
8

6 PART I TO THE STUDENT
and intervention. Discussing these challenging cases will clarify the funda-
mental importance of problem framing or formulation; they require you to
bring structure to complex, ill-structured situations. Having formulated the
problems, you must decide what to do about the various situations.As you will
see, many social work interventions may be possible or even relevant in partic-
ular cases but these interventions will vary by the extent to which they actu-
ally help resolve the basic dilemmas. Class discussions will clarify the probable
consequences of various formulations and strategies, and help you refine your
decision-making processes.
DISTINGUISHING DECISION CASES
FROM OTHER TYPES
In defining decision cases, scholars note several characteristics that distinguish
them from other types of cases. For example, Mauffette-Leenders, Erskine, and
Leenders (1997) define a decision c~se as “a description of an actual situation,
commonly involving a decision, a challenge, an opportunity, a problem or
issue faced by a person (or persons) in an organization. The case allows [the
reader] to step figuratively into the position of the particular decision maker”
(p. 2). Similarly, Christensen and Hansen (1987) define a decision case as:
a partial, historical, clinical study of a situation which has confronted a …
[practitioner]. Presented in narrative form to encourage student
involvement, it provides data-substantive and process-essential to an
analysis of a specific situation, for the framing of alternative action
programs, and for their implementation recognizing the complexity and
ambiguity of the practical world. (p. 27)
These definitions highlight several key characteristics of decision cases.
Like case examples or exemplars, decision cases provide accounts of social
work practice situations but they differ in several important ways (Wolfer,
2003). Perhaps most distinctively, decision cases involve a dilemma of some
sort for the practitioner and the written cases end with the situation unre-
solved (Leenders, Mauffette-Leenders, & Erskine, 2001; Lynn, 1999; Weaver,
Kowalski, & Pfaller, 1994). As a result, students must “untangle situations that
are complex and undefined and impose a coherence of their own making”
(Barnes, 1989, p. 17; cited in Merseth, 1996, p. 729). By presenting incomplete
and ill-structured or “messy” situations (Boehrer & Linsky, 1990), decision
cases especially stimulate readers to analyze the information they contain and
formulate problems, and then to decide how to intervene in the situations. In
short, open-ended cases spur readers to seek resolution.
Furthermore, decision cases generally depict actual situations encountered
by social work practitioners rather than generic or composite situations.While
9

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING
some identifying information may be disguised to protect individuals and
organizations, case writers try to avoid making any changes to cases that alter
case dynamics (Cossom, 1991). Indeed, ~case writers construct decision cases
based on multiple interviews with key participants, usually the protagonist and
sometimes other people (Leenders et al., 2001; Lynn, 1999; Naumes &
Na um es, 1999; Welsh, 1999). Case writers gather detailed information, includ-
ing conversational dialogue as case reporters remember it (Weaver et al.,
1994). As a result, cases reflect the perspectives of case reporters, with both the
strengths and limitations of their subjectivity. Well-written cases “put the stu-
dent reader squarely in the shoes of the social worker” (Cossom, 1991,p. 141).
They allow readers to “inhabit” or empathize with the world of the case
reporter, to both know and “feel” the information that constitutes the prob-
lematic situation.
Decision cases typically differ from example cases in several additional
ways. They often include more background information than example cases,
including details about the time period, the social service agency and other
organizations involved, organizational and social policies, and the community
setting. In this way, cases better reflect the “complex, messy, context-specific
activity” of professional practice (Merseth, 1996, p. 728). As experienced prac-
titioners recognize, such information often plays an essential role in situations
and their possible resolution (Doyle, 1990; Shulman, 1992). However, some of .
the included case details may be extraneous and potentially distracting, requir-
ing readers to sort through the data, just as they must do in actual practice
(Weaver et al., 1994).
Typically, decision cases also include more information about the protago-
nists than example cases, because this information also plays an essential part in
the situations (Weaver et al., 1994; Wolfer, 2003). Where example cases often
invite readers to identify with a generic social worker (i.e., “Ms. Green”), deci-
sion cases provide details about the social worker that may be relevant for case
dynamics. Putting this information on the page helps readers to recognize and
consider how the self of the social worker may interact with problems and
· their resolution. Further, it encourages readers to reflect on how their own
selves may also have consequences in professional practice.
Usually, decision cases do not include much theoretical content, except
when case reporters explicitly mention it themselves. In professional practice,
most situations do not present with explicit theoretical frameworks (Lynn,
1999; Sykes & Bird, 1992). Decision cases simply reflect that lack of explicit
theory. As a result, the raw case data requires that readers supply theory for
understanding the situations and helps them come to understand the critical
need to do so (i.e., theory provides a “handle” on case situations). It also allows
instructors considerable latitude in discussing cases from different theoretical
perspectives.
These cases may provide little new information about topics you have
been learning in other courses (though you may learn about particular social
7
10

8 PART I TO THE STUDENT
work settings, interventions, or problems with which you are unfamiliar).
Instead, they emphasize the use of previous learning, especially in novel situa-
tions. In that way, these cases resemble social work practice, and discussing
these cases resembles peer supervision. The cases themselves seldom make
clear what theory or interventions might be suitable. You must decide about
that, drawing from what you have learned up to this point. Hopefully, by pro-
viding opportunities for you to practice decision making in complex and
challenging situations, analyzing and discussing the cases will also help you to
refine your decision-making skills and to become a more self-reflective deci-
sion maker. Some of the things you will learn from discussing these cases
would likely have occurred during your initial years of social work employ-
ment. But by discussing these cases, you can accelerate your learning and aid
your successful transition to professional social work practice.
For these reasons, this collection of decision cases is especially well suited
for use in capstone courses or integrative field seminars. For all students, these
cases help provide a bridge between theory and practice, between the class-
room and their agency settings. For students nearing completion of their edu-
cational programs, these cases may assist their transition from student to
practitioner as they assume greater decision-making responsibility.
OUTCOMES OF DECISION CASE LEARNING
In part, the differences between novices and experienced practitioners may
have less to do with what they know than with how they use their knowledge
(Livingston & Borko, 1989). Business educators Barnes, Christensen, and
Hansen (1994) argue that case method instruction helps to develop in students
an applied “administrative point of view” (p. 50). In other words, case method
instruction helps business students to develop the perspective of experienced
business administrators or practitioners. In social work, we could refer to this
as “thinking like a social worker” (hence the title of this book).
Barnes, Christensen, and Hansen suggest that an administrative point of
view includes several components. These are (1) a focus on understanding the
specific context; (2) a sense for appropriate boundaries; (3) sensitivity to inter-
relationships; (4) examining and understanding any situation from a multidi-
mensional point of view; (5) accepting personal responsibility for the solution
of organizational problem; and (6) an action orientation (pp. 50-51). These
components reflect a thoroughly systemic approach to understanding practice.
Furthermore, the latter component (6) above, an action orientation,
includes several dimensions acquired through practice experience. These
dimensions are (a) a sense of the possible; (b) willingness to make decisions
on the basis of imperfect and limited data; (c) a sense of the critical aspects of
a situation; (d) the ability to combine discipline and creativity; (e) skill in
11

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING
converting targets into accomplishments; and (f) an appreciation of the major
limitations of professional action (Barnes et al., p. 51). Together, they distin-
guish expert practitioners from novices. In short, the concept of an adminis-
trative or practitioner point of view redirects our attention from what
students know to their ability to use their knowledge judiciously. From this
perspective, theoretical knowledge and technical skill are essential but insuffi-
cient for competent practice. Not only must competent professionals have
knowledge and skills, they must know how to use them, and exercise good
judgment in doing so.
Although the knowledge, skill, and value bases differ significantly between
business and social work, we think there are some important parallels between
how business and social work professionals need to think and act in profes-
sional practice.As Barnes and his colleagues argue, competent practice requires
profoundly systemic ways of thinking and deciding. Hopefully, analyzing and
discussing these cases will help you to acquire some of the attitudes, knowl-
edge, and skills that experienced social workers identify as critical to their pro-
fessional success.
Several teacher educators identify other outcomes of case method learn-
ing. At the most basic level, cases convey information or declarative knowl-
edge, that is, what to know. For example, education researchers have explored
the effectiveness of cases for introducing multicultural perspectives, pedagogi-
cal theory, and mathematics content (e.g., Merseth, 1996). At a deeper level,
cases can promote different ways of thinking or procedural knowledge, that is,
how to know and do. For example, education researchers have begun to explore
the effectiveness of cases for developing problem-solving and decision-making
skills, beliefs about professional authority and personal efficacy, more realistic
perspectives on the complexities of practice (and new ways oflooking at prac-
tice), and habits of reflection (Merseth, 1996).
Lundeberg (1999), another teacher educator, provides an alternative con-
ceptual framework for understanding case method learning outcomes. Based
on empirical research, she reports benefits in five categories, most of which
relate to different ways of thinking. The first category, theoretical and practi-
cal understandings, combines two kinds of knowledge that researchers have
often separated. She combines them because of the ways instructors can use
cases for generating theory from practice, encouraging students to apply the-
ory in practical situations, and for helping students discover when and how
theories may be useful (p. 4). The second category, improved reasoning and
reflective decision making, reflects a basic purpose of case method instruc-
tion. Decision cases are specifically designed for helping students develop
their abilities: “to identify, frame, or find a problem; consider problems from
multiple perspectives; provide solutions for problems identified; and consider
the consequences and ethical ramifications of these solutions” (p. 8). As
another teacher educator notes, “Many students see problems as no more
9
12

10 PART I TO THE STUDENT
than common-sense, obvious difficulties. They have not developed the idea
that problems are constructed and can be constructed in more and less fruit-
ful ways” (Kleinfield, 1991, p. 7; cited in Lundeberg, 1999, p. 9). Case discus-,
sions provide significant opportunities for developing more sophisticated
decision-making abilities. The growth of reasoning relates to a third category,
metacognition, the process of reflecting on one’s own thinking processes
(Lundeberg, 1999, p. 12). While awareness of thinking and learning processes
is obviously important for classroom teachers, it has an important parallel for
social workers. Thinking and learning processes are part of a broader category
of change processes. Case discussions may help students better understand the
nature and difficulty of change processes, especially as they become more
self-reflective regarding their own learning. For education students, metacog-
nitions are closely related to a fourth category, beliefs about learning (p. 14).
Early literature on cognitive change suggested that awareness of one’s own
beliefs and how they conflict with empirically based ideas about learning
would lead to change in beliefs. More recent literature reveals that cognitive
change is less rational and more dependent on social interaction. Applying
this insight to change processes more generally, case method may provide
experience and insight regarding the importance of relationship dynamics in
social work interventions, whether at the micro or macro level. Lundeberg
refers to a final category of benefits as social, ethical, and epistemological
growth (p. 15). Her colleague, Harrington (1994), wrote:
The knowledge of most worth is brought into being dialogically. It is said
and heard in multiple ways-transformed in the sharing-enriched
through multiplicity. Dialogue allows students to become aware of what
they share in common, as well as the uniqueness of each of them as
individuals. (p. 192; cited in Lundeberg, 1999, p. 16)
Deep appreciation for dialogue, as a means of comprehending similarity and
difference, represents a profound type of growth fostered by case method.
Dialogue is relevant for social work practice with clients but also for interac-
tion with colleagues, agencies, and communities. And it leads to greater appre-
ciation for the ethical context of practice. In their book, Lundeberg and her
colleagues review the empirical evidence for these benefits of case method
learning (Lunde berg, Levin, & Harrington, 1999).
Although originally identified in the context of teacher education, these
benefits of case method learning seem highly relevant for social work practice
as well. Competent practice requires both theoretical and practical knowledge,
reasoning and reflective decision-making skills, metacognitive awareness
(especially regarding change processes), appropriate beliefs about change, and
social, ethical, and epistemological growth. Unfortunately, these significant
benefits of case method learning are sometimes overlooked in social work
education, or at least not addressed in formal ways. In that respect, case
method may prove to be a valuable supplement to the traditional classroom.
13

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING
CASE METHOD TEACHING
To most fully exploit the teaching potential of decision cases, instructors must
use a “case method teaching” approach (Barnes et al., 1994; Cossom, 1991;
Erskine, Leenders, & Mauffette-Leenders, 1998; Lundeberg et al., 1999; Lynn,
1999;Welty, 1989). Because this approach may differ from what your instruc-
tors normally do, it may be helpful for you to have some advance warning
about what they may do differently and to be aware of their reasons for it.
Case method teaching relies heavily on discussion, and case method instruc-
tors essentially lead discussions by asking questions (Boehrer & Linsky, 1990).
The overarching questions are twofold: What is the problem? And what would
you do about it? In classroom discussions, however, instructors may not actu-
ally ask these two basic questions. Instead, they ask many more specific ques-
tions designed to explore these two questions. Instructors formulate and select
questions based partly on their instructional goals, what background knowl-
edge students bring to the discussion, and the direction and flow of the imme-
diate discussion. As discussions develop, instructors may encourage individual
students to elaborate on their perspectives, seek divergent viewpoints from
other students, and ask about connections or dis’crepancies between new com-
ments and previous comments. Although it sometimes frustrates students, case
method instructors consistently refrain from providing their own perspectives
or opinions about the cases. Rather than identify possible errors of fact or
judgment themselves, instructors promote critical thinking by asking good
questions. Indeed, case method instructors consider students’ increasing ability
to pose good questions, as importance evidence of their learning (Boehrer &
Linsky, 1990).
Much like group therapists, case method instructors must also attend to the
level of discussion process (Lundeberg et al., 1999; Welty, 1989). For example,
instructors seek to distribute speaking turns, steering the discussion away from
overly talkative students toward quieter students. They monitor perceptions of
classroom safety, and consider the effects of their own and students’ contribu-
tions. In their questioning, they sometimes push students to express disagree-
ments and at other times allow students to go more slowly. More than some
other teaching approaches, case method teaching requires that instructors lis-
ten well (Christensen, 1991; Leonard, 1991), to maintain simultaneous aware-
ness of both discussion content and discussion process.
THE CASES
This book includes a diverse mix of cases, some involving predominantly
micro settings and issues and others involving predominantly macro settings
and issues. In ways that may surprise you, however, you will come to see
how micro and macro issues are frequently intertwined, how the traditional
11
14

12 PART I TO THE STUDENT
distinction between micro and macro practice does not work well at times in
actual practice. These cases make clear the systemic nature of reality and pro-
vide support for the widespread emphasis on systems thinking in social work
education. We created the mix of cases to reinforce this point.
Occasionally, some students object to the mix of cases. Students who may
be focusing on micro practice, for example, may not understand why they
should know or care about political intrigue in policy making at the state
level. Or students who may be focusing on macro practice may not under-
stand why they should be familiar with controversial practice interventions for .··
individual clients. Hopefully, this collection will help you to see common
threads across these situations, to develop your skills of assessment and decision
making, and to better understand the interactive nature of systems. Discussing
these cases will also help you to return to your own area of specialization with
increased insight, :flexibility, and creativity. These assertions may prompt you to
wonder about the intended benefits oflearning with decision cases.
WHERE THESE CASES CAME FROM,
AND HOW THEY WERE WRITTEN
Most of the cases in this collection were originally developed for a case-
based capstone course at the University of South Carolina’s College of
Social Work (Wolfer, Freeman, & Rhodes, 2001). Because we intended the
cases for students in the final semester of the MSW program, the cases all
involve MSW-level practitioners. Most of the cases were reported by doc-
toral students, faculty members, field instructors, or recent graduates of the
college. As a result, the cases come disproportionately from the southeastern
United States. But because many people at the college, in each of those
categories, have moved to South Carolina from other areas of the United
States, the cases come from other parts of the country as well. To qualify for
use in the course and inclusion in this case collection, cases must have met
several criteria:
1. The situation may be drawn from any field of social work practice.
2. The situation may be drawn from direct practice with individuals, families
or groups, or indirect practice with organizations or communities.
3. The situation must include a social worker with some critical decision-
. making responsibility (the social worker serves as the protagonist).
4. The situation must involve some type of dilemma for the social worker.
The dilemma may include, for example, conflicting values or ethical
principles held by individual clients, their families, the social worker, the
social work organization, or social policies. In the best cases, competent
social workers may disagree about appropriate responses to the dilemma.
15

CHAPTER 1 AN INTRODUCTION TO DECISION CASES AND CASE METHOD LEARNING
5. The social worker must have ‘(or be working toward) an MSW degree, so
that MSW students can reasonably identify with and learn from his or her
dilemma.
6. Finally, the social worker must be interested and willing to report the
situation in confidential interviews with a case writer.
As implied by these criteria, the cases were all field researched. That is, they
were all based on in-depth interviews with individual social workers who
agreed to report their experiences. More specifically, the cases were researched
and written using a conjoint, repeated interview process developed by Welsh
(1999). It typically consisted of several steps.
First, before the case reporting sessions, case reporters prepared brief writ-
ten accounts of a problem or decision they actually faced in social work prac-
tice. These accounts helped case writers determine the likely appropriateness
of a case dilemma before they began in-depth research.
Second, during the reporting sessions, case reporters told case writing
teams the story behind their accounts. In addition to the cas~ reporter and case
writer, each team typically included one or two additional social workers from
the case reporter’s field of practice to assist with questioning. Following Welsh
(1999), we have found that conjoint interviews broaden and deepen the case
writer’s understanding of the case situation. We audio taped these interviews to
collect detailed descriptions and numerous direct quotes from case reporters.
Third, after the reporting session, the case.writer(s) prepared a working draft
of the case that included a title, an opening paragraph or introductory “hook,”
necessary background sections, and the story line with descriptions and quotes.
Fourth, case writers sought additional information from case reporters as
needed, exchanged working drafts with the case reporter, co-interviewers, and
editors for editorial feedback, and returned a final draft to the case reporter for
confirmation. Case writers did not release cases for publication until case
reporters signed release forms indicating they felt satisfied that the written cases
accurately reflected their experiences and adequately disguised the situation.
In consultation with the case reporters, we disguised the cases to protect
them, their clients, and their social service organizations. In most cases, the dis-
guise involved changing names of people, organizations, and places, and selected
details. As much as possible, however, we avoided changing case data that would
alter essential case dynamics. For example, we did not change the gender of case
reporters or clients, or the geographic regions in which cases occurred. In subtle
ways, these and similar factors influence how the case situations developed and
how they may be interpreted, and we did not want to undermine the reality of
what the case reporters experienced. As suggested above, learning to take
account of such details distinguishes expert practitioners from novices.
Whatever you think of particular decision cases in the collection, avoid
jumping to conclusions. The case reporters have been generous and coura-
geous in telling about particularly challenging, even troubling situations they
have faced in professional practice. For that, we are most grateful. For some
13
16

14 PART I TO THE STUDENT
case reporters, the situations continue to frustrate, perplex and concern them,
and that was part of the reason they agreed to report their cases.
READING THE CASES
The decision cases in this collection can be read on several levels. On one level,
they simply depict a variety of settings that employ social workers and the types
of situations that occasionally crop up in those settings. Obviously, the cases rep-
resent only a small sample of practice fields (e.g., homelessness, mental health;
wife abuse, public education, and international community development).
On a second level, the cases depict specific challenges that individual social
workers encountered in certain settings and at certain points in time. From a
systems perspective, the multiple and overlapping factors will be quite evident,
though the specifics vary from case to case. In various combinations, these fac-
tors include client needs and values; social worker needs, values and skills; needs
and values of other individuals related to the client(s); organizational philoso-
phies, policies and procedures; professional social work values and ethics; and
government policies and laws. These multiple factors create the complex and
particular environments in which social workers must function, and which they
must carefully consider when attempting to resolve the dilemmas.
But on a third, more abstract level, the cases also reflect common chal-
lenges of social work practice across settings (and, we might add, of human
experience). These include, for example, balancing client and organizational
needs, resolving contradictory policy requirements, making decisions with
incomplete information, identifying the appropriate limits of professional
intervention, anticipating unintended consequences of decisions, and resolv-
ing value or ethical dilemmas.
As you read, try to consider the cases on each of these levels. You may
begin by asking yourself, “What is this case about?” Repeatedly asking and
answering this question can help you reach for deeper levels of understanding.
The next chapter goes further in suggesting ways to read and analyze the cases
and to prepare for discussing them.
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in teacher education (pp. 1-30). New York:
Teachers College Press.
Sykes, G., & Bird, T. (1992). Teacher educa-
tion and the case idea. In G. Grant (Ed.),
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16 PART I TO THE STUDENT
Review of Research in Education (Vol. 18,
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(1994). Case-method teaching. In K.W
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Handbook of college teaching: Theory and
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Greenwood.
Welsh, M. F. (1999).A technique for cross-
cultural case research and writing. In
H. E. Klein (Ed.), Interactive teaching and
the multimedia revolution: Case method and
other techniques (pp. 3-9). Madison, WI:
Omni.
Welty,W M. (1989). Discussion method
teaching: A practical guide. To Improve
the Academy, 8, 197-216. [For a briefer
version, see Welty, WM. (1989).
Discussion method teaching: How
to make it work, Change, 21(4),
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Wolfer,T.A. (2003). Decision cases for
Christians in social work: Introduction
to the special issue. Social JiVUt ~he argued that their ·lient might have a right to lf-
determination.
Their lient, a death row inmate named Jose Aranda, wanted to waive hi
right to appeal his death sentence. He preforred to die. Hut Diane didn ‘t want
to allow it; ~he planned to do everything In her power to keep Jose alive. Di-
ane not only vehemently opp< ed the death penalty but also believed that ] se wa innocent. Dewlupmeni nf 1hl decision lase wu 'upporttd In p.trt by the rro1c t \ln Dealh In ml'rka and the University ol outh rollna C:ollc!(c of Soclnl Work. 11 wa prepared solely 10 provufr material for class discussion a nd not to ~uggcst either dtective or mefft>ctlve hamllinll of 1he
•i tuat ion depiocd . Although the Cl! e ts based on fiekl re,ea1 h wgardtng an actual •l tuntion,
names and rertairi f,1ct . may hove been 1ll~gui ed IO protect confidemiality. The authors wl\h
to thank the cu\· rer>ort.cr lor cooperat ion In making thi s account avall~hl~ Jor th e benefit nf
\Oda I work ~1 ud.,ms dnd practitioner~.
88
UNUSUAL APPEAL I 89
Florida Project for Human justice
Cynthia worked at the Florida Pr ject for Human Justice, a nonprofit agen y
in downtown Tallahassee that provided le•al s rvices to inmates pro bono.
The agency’s primary mission was to rcpre ·ent death-sentenced Inmates
across the late who were appealing their sentences. It also advocated for life
~enten e for clients and for a change In state law to end th death penalty.
Th ultimate mi sion wa.s to protect and ustain the lives of those on death
row. l”he agency received funding through the f deral Indigent Defense Fund,
ourt allocations, a nd donations from a tar e private law firm.
eve n e mplo ee · taffed th agenc , in ludlng Diane Epp , e, ecutive di-
rector; J e Moran, the other lead attorney (and the only African American on
staff); a legal fell wand two other lawyers; ynthia, the mitigation investiga-
to r; and n ac ountant. However, the employees were constantly hanging.
l’be work was stressful, staff turnover was high, and the agency operated on
a hoe Iring budg t.
The agency was prlmarll devoted to appellate work . As Diane e plained
during the hiring interview, “Ap pellate work involv appealing death en-
te nces. When a person is sentenced to death, he has three appeals . The first is
a tlir c l appeal, which Is filed immediately after the ·entencing. Thi cur
automatically, and the inmate do n’ t need a privat lawyer becau e the state
app Hate defense division automatically pur ·ue it. The second appeal is post-
con iction r v iew, which i where we come in . We loo k at three thing : first,
did the client ‘s attorneys neglect omething or do something th ey houldn’t
have that ca used their c lient to lose the ase? econd, wa there juro r mis-
conduct, such as watchin new about the case on TV, drinking, or fee.ling
pre ured to make a erta in de I ion? Third, are there psychosocial mitigat-
ing factors that pre ipitated the crime, omething In the person’s background
that helps to ex plain why they did what they did? The third app aJ, which
o ur a •en al ·o work on, go s to the upreme court.”
iane Epps
Diane Epps, a fifty-five-year- o ld Cauca ian woman, had dedicated twenty-five
years o f her career to the agency. Diane was no-nonsense and sh t traight
41

90 I UNUSUAL APPEAL
from the hip. She was fair, intelligent, and had a grea t wit. She was Immac-
ulately d ressed and always appeared professional, whether meeting a death
row inmate or a supreme court judge. Raised in the hills of centra l Alabama,
she was a true Southerner. She was sharp as a tack and smarter than many of
her coUeagues, but would defer to them and let them take credit. When !>he
did take a stand, it was for either her beliefs or her clients’ weU-being; then
she could be hard-no~ed and inflexible. Years ago, she had believed in execu-
tions, but during law school, her sense of justice broadened and deepened.
She changed her mind and had not looked back. At the time of Jose Arant.la’s
case, she was known nationally for her work; the media often called her re-
garding death row stories.
Cynthia Sanders
Cynthia Sanders was a petite twenty-eight-year- old Caucasian woman. She
had an intense presence about her; ~he talked with great energy dnd confi-
dence. With a sharp, active mind, she was always questioning and, seemingly
at the same time, answering herself. Feisty and self-assured, she cou ld hold
her own with lawyers, even the long-timers.
Cynthia knew th.e fob was made for her the moment she interviewed for
it. Although fresh out of an M.S.W. program in 1998. she had significant
life and work experience. She had worked as a waitress and a menta l health
aide, and met count less charac ters in the process. As a result, ~he was some-
what fearless. She had also worked in a mental health hospital, where she
gaint!d important knowledge about mental illness, and a rnrrectionaJ imtitu-
tion, where she learned to work with disenfranchJsed and stigmatized males.
These experiences had 11elped to clarify her va lues and e thics regarding se lf-
deterrnination, mental competence, and execut ion. She had also developed
e mpathy for lnmates. As Cy nthia liked to say, “Many death row inmates have
a lot stacked against tht>m. You have to consider their experiences with pov-
ert y, education, abuse, and mental health issues when making judgments
about their character.” Diane saw that Cy nthia was perfect for the position;
she hired her on the spot.
UNUSUAL APPtAL I 91
A Troubling Case
One Monday ewning after a long work day, Diane. Joe, and Cynthia sat
discussing cases over dinner. Diane began telling Cynthia about an espe-
cially troubling case, that of Jose Aranda, a thirty-four-year-old Mexican
American man.
“l:ive years ago,” Diane recounted, “Jose walked Into a pawn shop. His tim-
ing couldn’t have been worse. jewelry was stolen, a gun tired , and the clerk
killed. Everyone inside ran . Because of his mental health history, the police
were familiar with Jos~. They had picked him up often. So he made an easy
target for them. He was arrested, eventually convicted for the murder, and
~entenced to death. The thing Is, I don ‘t think he really committed the mur-
elieved
Jose was not competent to make the decision to waive his appeal. 8111, she
wondered, Jww rnmpete11L is w111pete11t e11cmglr! Sllo11/d11’t he hallf! a rigl11 lo l1t1ve
llis wislu·s \erim1sly co11sitlered? Wlrat i( it’ss 1101 j11s1 c1 dedsio11 11lx.111t life but a
decision c1bo11t quality of life? Wlmt is my re~pcm~ibility as 11 social worker lo lllis
dimt?
45

This case was prepared by Bruce Lamb, while a candidate for a Masters in Public Administration, at the Evans School of
Public Affairs, University of Washington, under the general supervision of Associate Professor Jonathan Brock. This is a
fictitious case based on real situations in several non-profit organizations concerning interactions on boards of directors.
It is not intended to show effective or ineffective handling of the situation described. All rights reserved to the contributors.

The Electronic Hallway is administered by the University of Washington’s Daniel J. Evans School of Public Affairs. This
material may not be altered or copied without written permission from The Electronic Hallway. For permission, email
hallhelp@u.washington.edu, or phone (206) 221-3676. Electronic Hallway members are granted copy permission for
educational purposes per Member’s Agreement (hallway.evans.washington.edu).

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)

The meeting started as usual, with the board members arriving one by one in the small
upstairs room of the Lutheran Church in downtown Pacific City. The first to arrive was
Nancy, the executive director and founder of the organization, which was now in its sixth
year. She was accompanied by a staff member. Next to arrive was Peter, the longest
continuously serving board member, in the middle of his fifth year on the board. He had
stepped down as board president four months earlier, after serving for two years.

A large, worn wooden table with 14 chairs barely fit in the small room, and each board
member had to side-step around it to the nearest empty chair. The spring sunshine still
shone through the only window, painted shut, as the 6:30 p.m. meeting time approached.
It was uncomfortably warm in the room, though no one complained. Of the 12 members
of the board, eight made it to the meeting. They came from diverse backgrounds: activists
and middle-class professionals. About half were from the Latino community that the
organization served. Board composition was a nearly equal number of men and women.

The mission of the nonprofit they served, El Dormitorio, was to empower homeless
Latinos. The board members shared a deep personal commitment to the mission of the
organization, and they were all tired from long days at their regular jobs.

Peter had agreed to chair the meeting that night as a favor to Ted, the new president who
said he would not make it because of a “conflict of interest” involving an issue on the
agenda. Peter felt like he had grown into his leadership role in the organization. He was
comfortable, even confident, as he called the meeting to order, 10 minutes after it was
scheduled to start. The last arriving board members had just walked in, bringing the
group to 10 in all.

A few minutes into the meeting, anxiety and confusion replaced Peter’s confidence as
Carrie, the organization’s volunteer coordinator, led a handful of people that Peter didn’t
recognize into the room. Squeezing between the wall and the seated board members, the
unexpected entourage made their way to the last empty chairs scattered around the table.
One had to remain standing.

Peter knew Carrie from numerous organizational functions over the years. She had
always been pleasant to him and had a good sense of humor. Peter did not recognize any
of the other new arrivals, though. “Who are these people and what are they doing here?”
47

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)
2
asked Juanita Moreno, one of the newer and more outspoken board members. Carrie, in a
challenging tone that Peter had never heard from her before, responded that they were
there to oppose Nancy’s decision to eliminate the volunteer coordinator staff position and
“testify” about why the position should be retained.

Carrie happened to be the live-in girlfriend of Ted, the new board president, who had
purposely, (and wisely, Peter now thought) missed the meeting. He must have known
about this walk-in “protest.” Peter wondered why Ted had not given him a heads up.

Serving as a Nonprofit Board Member

One year after its start-up, El Dormitorio’s executive director Nancy asked Peter to serve
on its board of directors. Peter was a litigation lawyer in his mid-thirties working in a
private practice who had done pro bono work representing refugees from El Salvador and
Guatemala in political asylum cases for another nonprofit. As Nancy told him about El
Dormitorio’s mission and programs, Peter was moved and wanted to help. He had never
served on a nonprofit board, but he believed in the mission of the organization and said
yes—not knowing how he was going to be able to help.

At the time, El Dormitorio had a budget of about $48,000, with a paid staff comprised of
one full-time director and a part-time outreach worker. A VISTA volunteer and an
Americorps volunteer coordinated its classes and programs. All of its teachers were
volunteers. Its programs served over 100 clients.

As a new member of a small board of about seven members, Peter first served as
secretary, which helped him to learn names and organizational issues. Realizing he had a
valuable role to play, he researched nonprofit law and the duties of board members. He
chaired a committee that authored the organization’s first personnel manual, and he
contributed 1 percent of his own income and did some fundraising. He learned about
strategic planning, and helped the director coax the organization to be more intentional
about its planning. He helped draft job descriptions for each of the officers on the board,
and recruited and helped train new board members.

The Making of a Board President

After two years, Peter was asked to serve as board president. He was primarily concerned
with mitigating organizational growing pains by formalizing procedures and policies: He
set higher expectations of board members to make the board function more efficiently
and effectively. During his five years on the board, the organization grew to have 14 full-
and part-time paid staff positions. It had added programs and now served over 1,000
clients per year with a budget of close to half a million dollars.

Peter felt that the organization’s success was due in very large part to Nancy. He thought
she was an exceptional executive director who had learned, grown, and evolved along
48

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)
3
with the organization. He admired her leadership and tireless dedication to the
organization. He was amazed at how many responsibilities she had and how she seemed
to perform at such a high level in all of them: program development, personnel
management, grant writing, fundraising, event planning, public relations, external
advocacy, and board development and training, to name a few.

Peter had visited all of El Dormitorio’s programs at one time or another, but relied on the
executive director to keep him informed of the issues and needs of the clients, the
organization, and its staff. He occasionally met some of El Dormitorio’s volunteers at
fundraising events, but knew only one or two on a first name basis. Not being responsible
for the day-to-day operations of the organization, Peter had time to think and reflect
between meetings. The organization needed someone who would study, learn, and then
act with the confidence that the board’s actions were consistent with “best practices” and
their legal obligations. Though he wished he could spend more time visiting the programs
and getting to know the staff, there was only so much time he could devote to his
volunteer role on the board, and he didn’t want to interfere with the executive director’s
responsibilities.

At times the importance of the decisions regarding the direction of the rapidly growing
organization would cause emotions to run high. Under pressure, Peter was tactful and
diplomatic and could act as a detached facilitator. This approach had served him well in
the past.

Now Peter was faced with something he had never expected. A staff member who had
left on her own to take another job, and who was involved with the present chair of the
board, was there to challenge the director’s decision not to replace the volunteer
coordinator position. She had also brought a group of volunteers and staff to support her
in this.

As he listened to Carrie announce the purpose of her appearance at the meeting, Peter
began to feel the heat in the room. He was confused. He had noticed the more frequent
written reports from Nancy, but thought they were signs of progress toward better
communication and documentation in an organization that was outgrowing some of its
informal ways of doing things.

In anticipation of chairing this meeting for Ted, whose style he knew was different than
his own, Peter had met the week before with Nancy with whom he had developed a close
working relationship over the years, but no longer had frequent contact. They had talked
about the volunteer coordinator issue over coffee. Nancy had told him that she had
decided to eliminate the position to make room in the budget for another paid position.

Carrie, who done her job well, had already accepted a new job in another organization,
and this was a good time to make the move. Peter agreed. It involved some re-structuring,
and they both agreed that the decision should be run by the full board. There, decisions
were normally made by consensus, and Peter anticipated no objection to this decision.

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)
4
Several emails went back and forth in the weeks preceding the meeting between Nancy
and Carrie debating Nancy’s decision. One or both of them had copied the board
members on their debate. Carrie and the volunteers were not on the agenda, and no one
expected them to show up. Peter had read the emails and remembered Nancy telling him
that Carrie disagreed with her decision to eliminate the position. Peter remembered
thinking that Carrie’s disagreement mattered little, because she was leaving, and he had
seen no reason to inquire further.

Although not on the agenda, Carrie was loudly demanding an opportunity to address the
board and to allow other volunteers who were with her to do the same. Peter looked at the
faces of his fellow board members and realized that most knew even less about what was
going on and were looking to him to restore order to the situation.

He wondered if he should let Carrie and the volunteers speak their minds, which would
be consistent with what Peter thought was the traditional open nature of the
organization’s board meetings. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Juanita declared
that the staff member and volunteers had no right to be at the meeting at all, let alone
interrupt it. They should leave, and would be informed of the board’s decision later.
Peter’s blood pressure rose along with his sense of indecision. Noting how uncomfortable
the newest board member, attending his first meeting, looked staring head down at the far
end of the table Peter tried to clear his head and decide in the next few seconds, what he
would do.

The Board Chair’s Dilemma (A)
5
Attachment 1: The El Dormitorio Board of Directors

Board Members Present

 Peter Marks—attorney, longest serving board member, former board president
 Sebastian Ramirez—first generation Mexican immigrant, founder of another
Latino nonprofit service organization; currently doing sales work for high-
tech communications company
 Juanita Moreno—middle-class professional and activist
 Sebastian Hernandez—first generation Mexican immigrant, team leader at
software company
 Elsa Peterson—teacher
 Miguel Sanchez—Costa Rican immigrant, hospital administrator
 John Trabolsi—small business owner
 Jose Dominguez—Carpenters’ Union representative, activist

Also Present

 Nancy Burns—co-founder and executive director of El Dormitorio
 Conchita Ramirez—development assistant for El Dormitorio, staff
representative at the meeting; also a former client of El Dormitorio; wife of
board member Sebastian Moreno

Board Members Absent

 Jose Orosco—co-founder of El Dormitorio
 Marta Hughes—daughter of migrant farmworker parents, second generation
Mexican immigrant, manager at high-tech firm
 David Hughes—husband of Marta Hughes, also manager at the same high
tech firm
 Ted Guillen—current board president, high tech entrepreneur

He Won’t Go There! 1
Maria Hogan and Terry A. Wolfer
In April 2012, field instructor Ellen James and field liaison Julia Cathcart visited
Calvin Ellis at his field placement with Champion Academy, an alternative school in
Jackson County, Georgia. Before bringing the end-of-year field visit to a close, Julia
asked Calvin, “What was your greatest challenge?”
“One night after field,” Calvin answered, “I had to drop by a student’s house to
make a home visit. I wanted to check on a student because he didn’t show up to
school that day. It was dark when I pulled up and got out of the car. When I got to
the door, there was someone standing there with a gun.”
“What?! Did you call the police?” Ellen asked, incredulous. “What did you do?”
And why, Ellen wondered, are you mentioning this now?! I gave you every opportunity to
tell me that this horrible thing happened. Glancing sideways at Julia, Ellen’s mind was
racing, What do we do with this information now?
Jackson County, Georgia and Champion Academy
With just over 60,000 residents, Jackson County’s population consisted of over
80% Caucasians, 12% African Americans, and 7% Hispanics. About 13% of its
residents were below the poverty line, and the county continued to struggle with the
effects of the 2008 recession that occurred four years before. Pockets of impoverished
areas scattered the county, and crime was rampant. Because of budget cuts, Jackson
County schools had eliminated social work positions, leaving fewer resources to
address student problems.
Located in the town of Jefferson, Champion Academy served as Jackson
County’s alternative school for students expelled from the three other high schools.
The school was going through a transition to make it more therapeutic, including
hiring an on-site psychologist. The school had also recently changed its branding by
using vibrant colors and renaming the school to instill more positivity. This new
branding included the principal broadcasting positive affirmations across the PA
system throughout the day.
Despite the recent changes, the school building itself remained dark, dirty, and
run-down. It was old and very small, and the narrow halls lacked the typical team
spirit that tended to fill the hallways in a high school. Security guards stood at the
doors, and students were often accompanied by staff as they walked the halls. The
school’s census ranged from a few dozen students to more than 100 students at any
given time.
Dr. Christopher Haines was one of the key people behind the rebranding. As
Champion Academy’s principal, Dr. Haines was kind, generous, and welcoming.

1 This decision case was prepared solely to provide material for class discussion and not to suggest
either effective or ineffective handling of the situation depicted. While based on field research regarding
an actual situation, names and certain facts may have been disguised to protect confidentiality. The
authors wish to thank the case reporter for cooperation in making this account available for the benefit
of social work students and practitioners.
© 2017 Maria Hogan and Terry A. Wolfer
53

Standing 6’4” tall, he was a 55-year-old Caucasian man with blonde hair. He always
wore khakis, a belt, and a white dress shirt. A long-time educator, he had a passion
for working in difficult educational settings, and people perceived him as an
innovator.
The academic support staff at the school included guidance counselor Trina
Brown. Trina was a quiet, reserved, modestly-dressed African American woman in
her early 60s. Small in stature, she always appeared proper and hospitable. Trina
had a Master’s in Guidance Counseling, and had worked in the Jackson County
School District for 22 years. As a guidance counselor, she worked closely with
Champion’s students to help them plan their futures and overcome obstacles. She
missed collaborating with school social workers.
Social Work Placement
To replace the missing school social workers, Jack Thomas strategized with
Kristen Dane. Jack was the dynamic and gregarious fundraiser, grant-writer, and
developer for Jackson County schools. Kristen was Dean of the School of Social
Work. Together, they wrote a successful grant to create three new social work field
placements for the 2011-2012 school year. Because there were no on-site social
workers at Champion, Dean Dane arranged for the School of Social Work’s Field
Office to provide an off-site field instructor for the social work students placed there.
After the grant was awarded, Dr. Haines and a team of staff members
interviewed several social work students for the three new field placement positions.
Dr. Haines was looking for students who were independent and knowledgeable. He
eventually selected Calvin Ellis, an older African American man, and two women in
their early 20s, one an African American and the other a Caucasian.
School of Social Work Team
The Field Office selected Ellen James, a social worker with extensive practice
experience, to provide off-site supervision for the social work students at Champion.
Ellen was a 48-year-old Caucasian woman, about 5’2” tall with short brown hair.
Originally from Georgia, Ellen moved to Chicago to get her Master’s in Social Work
from Loyola University. She stayed there for 12 years doing federal grant-funded
street outreach with individuals experiencing homelessness and who appeared to
have mental illnesses, developing a strong commitment to social justice and people
on the street. In 2008, Ellen returned to Georgia to begin her doctoral program at the
University of Georgia’s School of Social Work. While taking classes, Ellen also
worked for the Department of Mental Health funded by the same grant as her
Chicago position.
In 2011, Ellen left her job at the Department of Mental Health to focus her time in
the academic setting. She earned income and reduced tuition by teaching two classes
per semester and providing field instruction while she worked on her dissertation.
Though Ellen had been the field instructor for one student at the Department of
Mental Health, she became an off-site field instructor for the first time when she took
on the three students placed with Jackson County schools.
54

Ellen worked closely with Julia Cathcart, the field liaison for the Champion
Academy students. A 41-year-old Caucasian woman, Julia had worked with more
than 25 students as a field instructor. However, this was her first time serving in the
role of field liaison. Julia held a Master’s and PhD in Social Work, and began
teaching at the University of Georgia as an adjunct instructor in 2004. Julia and Ellen
knew each other from teaching some of the same courses and were both supervised
by Dean Dane. Because the Jackson County schools were a new field placement,
Ellen and Julia put extra effort into ensuring that they succeeded.
Calvin Ellis
At age 60, Calvin Ellis was a tall, thin, and light-skinned. He had green eyes, long
manicured finger nails, and a gold tooth. Calvin was always meticulously dressed,
wearing ironed suits, big rings, and gemstone jewelry. He always carried a leather
folio from his time as a military chaplain. With his Master’s in Divinity, Calvin had
served as a military chaplain for 25 years, and he attended a local church where
Trina was a member. Calvin returned to school in 2011 to obtain his Master’s in
Social Work from the University of Georgia. As a foundation-year student in the
two-year MSW program, Calvin demonstrated great interest in leadership and
maintaining a presence in the College of Social Work, including taking part in the
Dean’s advisory council. It was very typical for Calvin to drop by a professor’s office
to just say hello.
Despite his military experience and interest in leadership, Calvin remained
without a placement as the Fall semester approached. Several agencies interviewed
him for a possible placement, but each chose another student. Finally, Calvin
interviewed with Champion in July 2011, and Dr. Haines thought his confident,
outgoing manner made him the perfect student for the new social work placement. It
was a match!
Getting Underway
Calvin began his placement, with Dr. Haines assigned as his task supervisor.
Calvin also started meeting with Ellen, the off-site field instructor for all three
students.
A few weeks after the placement began, Ellen stopped by Julia’s office to give her
an update. “The other day, I told Calvin that I was working on my dissertation, and
he responded, ‘Oh so you’re not a professor?’”
“How rude!” Julia responded. “Did he say anything else that seemed odd?”
“Well,” Ellen replied, “I’ve asked him several times why he chose social work,
only to get incomplete answers that never quite made sense.”
Additionally, in her role as liaison, Julia checked in with Calvin to see if he
needed any help advocating for anything as it related to developing his learning
contract and preparing for his first liaison visit. Julia found that her offer of
assistance seemed to open the door for Calvin to stop by and see her spontaneously
from time to time throughout the year. Their conversations often followed the same
pattern.
55

“Hi, Dr. Cathcart,” Calvin would begin, “I was in the area and thought I would
stop by and say hello.”
“Hi Calvin. How is the field placement going?”
“It’s going well. I love working with these kids. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing well, Calvin. Thanks for asking.”
Typically, this exchange was followed by a pause, and a big smile from Calvin.
Julia would usually conclude with, “Well, I appreciate you stopping by to check in,
Calvin.”

A couple months later, Ellen returned to talk with Julia. “He just seems like a
loose cannon to me,” Ellen stated.
“Why’s that?” Julia probed.
“Every time I meet with him in supervision,” Ellen explained, “he hardly
participates. It seems like he’s keeping information from me, and I never know what
to expect with him. He never tells me his feelings or insights. I can’t figure out how
to rein him in or get him more involved in supervision. It’s like he thinks he has
everything figured out whenever he comes for supervision and he does not need me
to help him along.”
“Do you need me to intervene?” Julia asked. “Or meet with the both of you?”
“No,” Ellen replied, “I think I’m okay. I just wanted to keep you updated.”
As the semester wore on, Ellen tried everything she could think of to get Calvin
to engage.
“This is not going to go well,” she said to him directly during one meeting, “if
you don’t respond when I ask you questions.”
In response, Calvin shook his head affirmatively but pushed back from the table
without comment.
No matter how hard she tried, it seemed Ellen could not get him to participate in
supervision.
On several occasions, without advance notice, Calvin did not show up for
supervision meetings. How can I do better, Ellen wondered, get him better engaged, and
get him working harder? Calvin did not fit her expectations of a social work intern.
While foundation-year social work students often do not know what they are
supposed to do in their field settings, Calvin never appeared to hesitate and never
expressed uncertainty. In fact, Ellen had to admit, as best she could tell he performed
competently, meeting expectations for foundation-level performance. He carried out
his social work role with confidence, immediately meeting with high school students
and building relationships. However, he often called Ellen about technical matters:
to ask how he should keep his files, what to do with his time sheets, and the rules
about taking client information home. When Calvin raved about his positive
feedback from students and staff at Champion, Ellen wondered, I would love to hear
what the students have to say about Calvin. He seems severe and conservative.
As the Fall semester progressed, Ellen noticed that Calvin occasionally
referenced his military chaplaincy. One day, Ellen told the three students she
supervised, “All of you are learning to practice social work, and whatever you were
before, you have to let that go.” Knowing that this directly impacted Calvin, Ellen
was surprised that he did not say anything in return. Most people love that
56

conversation, Ellen thought. They want to become social workers. I’m not sure he wants to
be a social worker.
Ellen expressed her concerns to Julia about Calvin’s chaplaincy, unsure about his
ability to keep an open mind.
Later, when she again raised the issue with Calvin, he responded, “In chaplaincy,
you are trained not to be any one religion, but you are well-versed in them all and
you take a neutral approach.”
Having an ex-husband who was a chaplain, Ellen was not convinced. She felt
uneasy with the golden cross around Calvin’s neck and the way he talked about his
wife staying home to cook and clean all day.
Calvin’s polite disagreement with Ellen’s feedback bothered Ellen well into
Spring semester. She strongly desired the placement to succeed, so this new
initiative could continue. She felt honored to be chosen as the field instructor in this
new setting, and she wanted to make Dean Dane proud. However, with little
response from Calvin, working with him reminded her of working with reluctant
clients.
Taking another approach, Ellen tried to involve Calvin with the other two social
work students working in Jackson County schools, but Calvin never interacted much
with them either. Ellen occasionally encouraged, “I really want you guys to bounce
ideas off each other.” But as far as she knew, it never occurred.
Feeling stymied by Calvin, Ellen stopped by Julia’s office and knocked lightly.
“How’s it going?” Julia asked
“Good, good,” Ellen replied. “It seems like my field students are mostly doing
okay. But I have some concerns about Calvin. When we’re in supervision, the other
two students engage with me and, when I ask, tell me more about what’s going on.”
“But not Calvin?” Julia guessed.
“Right. When I say something like, ‘Let’s talk a little bit more about that,’ they
open up. But Calvin typically says, ‘That’s really all I need.’ I might respond, ‘But I
want to hear some more. I am concerned about what you said.’ But Calvin always
shuffles me along, ‘No, that’s okay. Let’s move on.’”
“Do you think it’s something that I could help facilitate between you two?” Julia
asked.
“No,” Ellen replied, “I think it’s okay at this point, but thank you for offering.
Maybe Calvin just feels difficult by comparison to the other two.”
An Email from Dr. Haines
Ellen and Julia made a joint field visit in late January 2012 to check up on Calvin
and the two women at Jackson County schools. While students tend to have one
field visit per semester, Ellen and Julia liked to make more visits to new placements
to make sure the placements were going well, and especially for placements where
social workers were not on-site. During this first spring visit, Calvin mentioned that
he was not getting a lot of referrals. Ellen thought that was odd but didn’t say
anything in the moment.
On the car ride home, Ellen and Julia talked about their concern for Calvin. “Is
there something that he’s not telling us?” Julia asked.
“I get that feeling, too,” Ellen replied. “Calvin used to rave about how many
57

referrals he was getting in the Fall, so why is he suddenly not getting quite so
many?”
“You’re right,” Julia responded. “I got a weird feeling that Calvin was not telling
us everything, could be about the referral situation. Has he said anything to you
about it or anything else in supervision?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything about a lack of referrals,” Ellen said, “or much of
anything else for that matter. Should I ask him about it?”
“We should probably look into it,” Julia stated, “but I don’t want Calvin to think
that we’re questioning him, so let’s ask Dr. Haines first to see what he knows about
that.”
“Maybe it’s just a January slump,” Ellen offered, “you know, getting back to
school after Christmas break.”
“Maybe,” Julia agreed, “but it seemed like something was off.”
When they returned to campus, Ellen emailed Dr. Haines. The next day, she
received a response:

Calvin is doing a terrific job. As for the low number of
referrals, our census is down from over 100 to just over 30.
Maybe a lower number of students is resulting in less
referrals to Calvin.

“Interestingly,” Ellen reported to Julia a month later, “Calvin has called me
several times a week to check in and asked a few small questions. I am glad he’s
doing that, at least, and want to encourage him to use me more often.”
Field Visit
Having made three prior visits together, Julia and Ellen knew right where to
meet for Calvin’s final field visit in early April 2012.
“I have just felt so discouraged about my supervisory relationship with Calvin,”
Ellen confided during the ride there, “and I know you may not want to hear this, but
I am just glad that this placement is almost over.”
“I know this has been a challenging situation for you this year,” Julia responded.
As they drove together, their conversation moved on to another student on the
schedule that day, and whether they would have enough travel time between the 45-
minute sessions they had planned with each student.
Calvin was their first visit of the day, and they arrived on time, eager to begin.
They both knew what to expect from the visit because, the week before, Ellen had
seen Calvin in supervision and Calvin had stopped by Julia’s office as usual to say
hello and report that all was going well. Ellen had also been in contact with Dr.
Haines, who always reported Calvin was doing a great job.
Calvin had his own office, and students came to him on a regular basis. Calvin
had even made himself a name plate and business cards. When Ellen and Julia
reached Calvin’s office, they found him waiting for them at his desk. Wearing his
usual suit, Calvin stood up and shook hands. Then, he went to get Trina and Dr.
Haines from nearby offices. They entered the conference room and sat around the
table, with Julia and Ellen on one side, Calvin and Trina on another, and Dr. Haines
58

at the head of the table. After some initial pleasantries, they discussed some
therapeutic changes at the school.
“The reason I’m here today,” Julia said, turning her attention to Calvin, “is to
review your learning contract and progress towards your year-end goals.” Julia went
through a list of questions that she asked at every field visit, including questions
about competency attainment and how classroom learning fit with what Calvin was
learning in his placement. She also asked questions about supervision and how it
had gone throughout the year. “Are you getting everything that you need from
Ellen?”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Calvin responded. “We’ve been meeting regularly.
Everything’s been going okay.”
“What about the supervision you’re getting here?” Julia probed.
“Oh yes, ma’am, Trina is always here and we have been working together.”
“He’s been great with the students,” Trina responded. “We’re really going to
miss him. The students are really going to miss having him here.”
Dr. Haines remained quiet through the discussion.
“Ellen,” Julia turned to her colleague, “what can you say about Calvin’s
progress?”
“I’ve been impressed with what I’ve heard about Calvin’s ability to engage with
students,” Ellen responded. “I’ve also been impressed with his professionalism.”
Because it was the final field liaison visit, Ellen did not want to bring up any
negative aspects of supervision. Instead, she tried to think of positive things she
could say about Calvin.
Julia continued asking about competencies, and termination with clients.
Beginning to wrap up, she asked Calvin, “Looking back, what do you think was
your greatest success?”
“My greatest success has been engaging with the students,” Calvin replied. “One
student in particular comes to mind. He came to my office often to talk about his
awful home life, and I tried to give him hope for his future. A few months ago, he
went back to the regular high school. I was so excited and encouraged to see him
develop his full potential through my work with him. Over the course of the past
year, I like to think I helped empower students so they can break the typical cycle of
going directly to Department of Juvenile Justice after leaving Champion.”
“That’s great!” Julia replied. Before focusing on the transition to next year, she
asked, “And what was your greatest challenge?”
“One night after field,” Calvin answered, after a brief pause, “I had to drop by a
student’s house to make a home visit. I wanted to check on a him because he didn’t
show up to school that day. It was dark when I pulled up and got out of the car.
When I got to the door, there was someone standing there with a gun. I left and did
not get to see the student. It turns out that the student was fine and returned to
school the next day. I must have had the wrong address.”
“What?! Did you call the police?” Ellen asked, incredulous. “What did you do?”
And why, Ellen wondered, are you mentioning this now?! I gave you every opportunity to
tell me that this horrible thing happened. Glancing sideways at Julia, Ellen’s mind was
racing, What do we do with this information now?
“No,” Calvin replied. “I just made sure that I parked in backwards so I would
have an easy out. It wasn’t a very big deal.”
59

This is not in your learning contract! Ellen blushed. You know you’re not supposed to
do home visits! Ellen noticed Julia scan the room and saw Dr. Haines was bug-eyed, in
apparent surprise. In contrast, Trina appeared unsurprised.
You misled me! Ellen felt anger rising. But almost immediately she wondered,
What do I say in front of all of these people?! What are they thinking about me?
60

DRIVEN TO DRINK
Terry A . Wolfer
As a social worker at Jackson County Hospital (Missouri), Lisa Silver
had grown accustomed to a certain amount of commotion at work.
But this was annoying. Lisa thought she recognized the voice of Carol
Davis, a social worker from jackson County Division of Family Ser-
vices (DFS), in the registration area. For some reason, she had been
talking and laughing, loud enough to be heard above the usual din for
at least ten minutes.
As a service to busy DFS workers and police officers, Lisa allowed
them to bypass registration and come directly to her office for as-
sistance with abused and neglected children. Finally, Lisa went out
This decision case was prepared solely to provide material for class discussion and
not to suggest either effective or ineffective handling of the situation depicted. AI·
though the case is based on field research regarding an actual situation, names and
certain facts may have been disguised to protect confidentiality. The author thanks
the case reporter for cooperation in making this account available for the benefit of
social work students and practitioners.
and reminded Carol that she didn’t have to stand in line with the
other patients.
Carol laughed, “Oh, yeah! I got mixed up!”
That was when Lisa first suspected Carol had been drinking.
JACKSON COUNTY HOSPITAL
Located in downtown Kansas City, jackson County Hospital was a
huge facility sprawling across two city blocks. As a major teaching fa-
cility for the University of Missouri at Kansas City and a Doctor of Os-
teopathy Medical School in Kansas City, the hospital offered numerous
stand-alone residency and fellows programs in addition to rotations
for medical students. For example, after four years of medical school
and earning an MD, a physician might do a three-year residency to
develop a specialization in pediatrics. Aher completing the residency,
the physician might specialize even further by completing a fellowship
to become a pediatric cardiologist. Both residents and fellows earned
salaries for this additional on-the-job training. As a teaching facility,
the hospital also provided many services through specialty clinics, in-
cluding pediatrics. Over the years, several Jackson County Hospital
physicians had gained national recognition for their published research
on physicians’ roles in child abuse investigations. As a public-health
facility, the hospital served many indigent clients, who increasingly, be-
cause of changing local demographics, were Mexican American.
Lisa’s office was located near the main registration desk at Jackson
County Hospital, where some four hundred patients checked in each
day for their clinic appointments. Children often arrived crying and
upset; sometimes staff hollered patients’ names. The registration area
was always very busy and often noisy, especially in the morning. People
waited in line for as long as thirty minutes. It was very often smelly
with unwashed patients. Because the registration desk was right inside
the main hospital entrance, there was additional traffic unrelated to
outpatient registration. Although the walls were painted with colorful
murals, they couldn’t hide how worn the linoleum was or how old the
desks and computers were. The computers inevitably went down once
a day.
167 DRIVEN TO DRINK
61

LISA SILVER
Since earning an MSW at the University of Missouri at Columbia, Lisa
Silver had worked for seven years in the Pediatric Clinic at Jackson
County Hospital. As the pediatric social worker, she was also assigned
to the Pediatric Emergency Room, a specialized unit designed to pro-
vide: emergency services for children. About 2.5 percent of Lisa’s social
work cases required making routine referrals for resources (e.g., food,
diapers) or helping undocumented people deal with the Immigration
and Naturalization Service or seek US residency. But 75 percent of her
cases involved allegations of child abuse and neglect. For these cases,
Lisa was part of a team that evaluated children for abuse. Her role in-
cluded coordinating hospital services. Lisa typically collaborated with
a medical resident: she interviewed the child regarding his or her abuse
while the resident completed a medical assessment. Many abused or
neglected children were brought to County Hospital by DFS workers
for expert assessment, usually by appointment, but sometimes as watk-
ins. Other cases of abuse or neglect were found during routine medical
care. When DFS or the police were not already involved, Lisa had to
ensure that both were appropriately informed of these cases. She some-
times had to advocate on behalf of child patients with either DFS or
the police and often made outpatient referrals for follow-up services.
As the social worker in the Pediatric Clinic, Lisa reported to Diane
Hughes, supervisor of the hospital’s Social Work Department. Lisa in
turn supervised Denise Ulmer, the BSW assistant in the clinic.
Some of Lisa’s relationships with DFS workers and police were more
than professional. They occasionally socialized outside of the hospital
after hours. For example, Lisa’s best friend for several years was a sex
crimes detective who also coached her soccer team. As a result, she saw
him several times per week outside of the hospital.
A DISRUPTIVE SOCIAL WORKER
One day in mid-November 1998, soon after 9:00 AM, a commotion in
the registration area caught Lisa’s attention. Carol Davis, a DFS work-
er about the same age as Lisa, had transported a three-year-old foster
DRIVEN TO DRINK 168
child to the hospital for a walk-in assessment. That in itself was not un-
usual. But something about Carol’s manner was. She was talking very
loudly and with more animation than usual; she slurred her speech and
laughed a bit too hard at her own jokes. In fact, Lisa thought, she’s act-
ing drunk. And when she called Carol into her office, a more confined
space than the registration area, she smelled alcohol on Carol’s breath.
Lisa had never before had reason to suspect problems with Carol.
Although never close, they had known each other for several years and
always got along well. In fact, Lisa believed that Carol did her job ad-
equately, unlike some DFS workers. An African American, she kept her
long hair straightened and was consistently well dressed.
While Carol waited for a physician to see the child she had deliv-
ered to the hospital, Lisa asked Denise whether she smelled alcohol on
Carol’s breath. She did. But several nurses said later that they had not
noticed alcohol on Carol’s breath.
At any rate, Lisa did not confront Carol with her suspicions. Fol-
lowing completion of the medical assessment, Carol drove the child
back to the emergency shelter. Almost immediately, Lisa regretted let-
ting her do this. As she remarked to Denise, “It was bad enough that
she was driving at all, let alone having a foster kid with her!”
CONFRONTING THE PROBLEM
Unlike the supervisor she had been hired by, Lisa believed that her cur·
rent supervisor, Diane Hughes, was “not so good.” Now with seven
years of practice experience, Lisa didn’t want help from her very often.
In this situation, though, she was not sure what to do. So that after-
noon, Lisa went to talk with her supervisor.
Lisa started by saying, “I think I screwed up.” Then she described
the morning incident and her concerns.
After some discussion, the two women agreed that Lisa should call
Carol’s supervisor to report her concerns. Lisa promptly tried to reach
Carol’s supervisor, Randy Burgess, but could only leave a telephone mes-
sage with his secretary, saying it was urgent that she speak with him today.
When Randy returned Lisa’s call the following day, she described
the incident in detail. Uncertain about what to do, Randy said that he
169 DRIVEN TO DRINK
62

would consult with his own supervisor, Dale Bailey. Because Randy did
not seem surprised by Lisa’s report, Lisa wondered whether Carol had
done something like this before.
Later that day, after talking with Dale, Randy called Lisa back to
suggest that she talk with Carol herself. As Randy explained, “You’re
the one who observed the problematic behavior, so you really ought to
confront Carol about it.”
“She’s your employee!” Lisa disagreed.
Randy suggested that Lisa, Diane, Randy, and Dale meet to dis-
cuss it.
” I’ll think about it and get back with you,” Lisa said. Now the ball
was back in her court. Lisa knew she probably should have said some-
thing to Carol the day before, when she first became concerned. But
Lisa realized that she hadn’t confronted Carol because she didn’t know
how.
After hanging up the phone, Lisa felt stuck. The more she thought
about it, the less she liked how this was going. On the one hand, she
was deeply concerned about a DFS worker (or any social worker, for
that matter) drinking on the job. In this case, it only further jeop-
ardized the health and well-being of an abused child. On the other
hand, talking with the person herself didn’t seem to be the appropri-
ate response. Despite what Randy said , this issue still seemed to her to
be something the social worker’s own agency needed to address -a
supervisor’s problem. Besides, she wondered, what difference would
talking with Carol make, anyway? If she was drunk, she isn’t likely
to admit it. So then what? At the same time, Lisa knew that other
things smelled like alcohol (e.g., certain medications, mouthwash).
Lisa thought, I’m pretty sure that Carol was drunk, but what if I’m
wrong? Lisa was used to making tough decisions-daily-but this one
stumped her. And she really did not want to deal with it.
As the day wore on, Lisa grew angrier about the whole situation.
While driving home that afternoon, she fumed aloud, “I’m pissed that
I’ve been put in this position-pissed at Carol, Randy, Dale! It’s not
my job to be supervising DFS workers! This job is stressful and crazy
enough as it is. How could a social worker screw up like this?” Finally,
she felt angry with herself for endangering a child’s life . ” I messed up.
Screw Carol.”
DRIVEN TO ORIN K 170
Although Lisa felt angry with Carol, she also knew about second-
ary trauma and understood how it could undermine a professional’s
performance. She had experienced it herself. Especially during the first
few years at Jackson County Hospital, it seemed that she had cried over
a case either at work or at home at least once a week. She dealt with
the horrors she saw at work-babies starving to death, children beaten
so badly they had one big bruise from the back of their knees to their
waist, babies with third degree burns from being dunked in a hot bath-
tub as potty training, children tortured by automobile cigarette lighters,
a five-year-old doubled over in pain saying, “I’m such a bad boy” (he
was in the hospital six months for internal injuries), a fourteen-year-
old girl sexually abused by every male in her extended family-more
and more by forgetting about the child. She obviously couldn’t forget
them all. But sometimes only a week after interviewing a child with a
resident, the resident would ask if she’d heard anything more about
the child, and Lisa would respond, “I don’t know who you’re talking
about.” She had neither the time nor the energy to follow up on patients
they saw, anywhere from six to twelve children per day.
The next day Lisa went to talk with Diane again. As Lisa suspected,
Diane confirmed that it was not Lisa’s job to confront Carol now. It
was now an issue for Carol’s superiors. Having worked at DFS for sev-
eral years herself, Diane knew Randy Burgess and Dale Bailey person-
ally, so she called them . The supervisors, both of whom were white
males, reportedly told Diane they were afraid Carol might “pull the
race card” if they confronted her about drinking on the job. When Dale
asked whether he and Randy could meet with Diane and Lisa at the
hospital, Diane agreed.
At this meeting the following day, Diane and Lisa basically reiterat-
ed that it was Randy and Dale’s responsibility to deal with Carol. They
encouraged the two men to consult their policy people. But it seemed
apparent that Randy and Dale had no_ intentions of following through.
What should I do? Lisa felt responsible but wasn’t sure that she was.
She had tried to bring the problem to DFS’s attention. But they aren’t
going to do anything about it!
171 DRIVEN TO DRINK
63

Conflicting Agendas for the
Future of a Youth Agency
by
Martha Golensky
Cases in Nonprofit Governance
CNG No. 14
September 1995
***********
Martha Golensky, Assistant Professor, School of Public Administration,
Grand Valley State University, Grand Rapids, MI 49503. Phone: 616-771-6569.
This case was prepared as a basis for discussion rather than to illustrate either
effective or ineffective handling of governance issues. It is one of a
collection of cases edited by Miriam M. Wood. For teaching purposes, the case
may be reproduced in full in multiple copies. However, an extract of more than
100 words requires the author’s permission.
***********
In the interest of fullest possible circulation of information and ideas, the
Program on Non-Profit Organizations and the Institution for Social and Policy
Studies reproduce and distribute each Governance Case or Working Paper at the
request of the author(s) affiliated with PONPO or ISPS. Papers are not formally
reviewed, and the views are those of the author(s).
A list of Case Studies and PONPO Working Papers
Box 208253 (88 Trumbull Street), New Haven, CT
publications is available on request from ISPS,
(77 Prospect Street), New Haven, CT 06520-8209.
can be obtained from PONPO, P.O.
06520-8253. A list of ISPS
P.O. Box 208209
Program on Non-Profit organizations
Institution for Social and Policy studies
Yale university
83

Conflicting Agendas for the Future of a Youth Agency
by
Martha Golensky
Summary
Having avoided self-scrutiny for most of its sixty year
history, a youth agency is forced to take a hard look at its
future when finances begin to decline. The executive
director and the board president hold differing views on
the appropriate course of action, and the reader is asked to
decide which position is in the best interests of the
organization.
It was the night before the September meeting of the board of
directors of the Youth Service Network (YSN), a mid-sized social agency
providing educational and recreational programs to youth in a major
metropolitan area. Margaret Stover, YSN’s executive director, was trying
to fall asleep but with little success. Thoughts of the next day’s meeting
kept intruding: How would the board react to the Strategic Planning
Committee’s report? How would the latest financial report, which
projected a substantial deficit for the fiscal year unless the reserves were
tapped, affect the discussion? While she was already on record as being in
favor of the committee’s recommendations, should she adopt an active or
a passive role in the debate?
The situation had become more complicated after the phone call she
had received earlier in the day from Sal de Marco, the board president.
During the last several months as the strategic planning committee was
meeting, de Marco had been noncommittal about YSN’s future, which
was surprising in view of his long association with the organization.
Whenever Stover had pressed him for some kind of reaction to the
minutes of the committee meetings or to the preliminary findings that
had been distributed prior to the June board meeting, his only response
was: “Let’s let the process proceed.” Today, however, de ~v.larco had
informed her that he did not feel he could support the committee’s
84

recommendations and was preparing a statement to present to the board.
Judging by the cool tone of his voice, Stover deduced that de Marco’s
statement would not only find fault with the report but would also be less
than complimentary of her.
How had their relationship, which had seemed so strong when she
was hired, deteriorated to the point that they were this far apart on such a
critical issue?
History ofYSN
The Youth Service Network is a nonsectarian, not–for-profit
organization providing camping, educational, social, recreational, and
cultural programs and services to young people ages 6 to 24 in a major
northeastern metropolitan area. As articulated in its mission statement,
“the purpose of the organization is to improve and further the well-being
and happiness of the boys and girls who participate in its activities by
helping them develop needed skills, a system of personal values, and a
sense of self-worth in order to meet the challenges of the present and
future, and to become productive, constructive members of society.”
YSN was founded in 1935 by Trevor Clinton, who envisioned an
organization that would use recreation as an incentive for engaging boys
in positive activities to help prevent juvenile delinquency. At first,
programs were provided at several storefront recreation centers: scattered
around the city. A few years later, an overnight camping program was
started at a nearby state park. In the early 1960s, YSN entered into an
agreement with the local housing authority to operate community centers
in housing projects. Early on, the organization began to organize citywide
tournaments for various sports, notably track and field and boxing, which
generated considerable publicity and attracted the attention and support of
major sports figures. Although girls participated in certain activities
almost from the beginning, they were not fully incorporated into YSN’s
programs until the mid-1980s.
2
85

YSN’s founder was somewhat of a visionary in securing financial
support for the organization. Drawing on his connections in the sports
world, Clinton organized one of the first direct mail campaigns on behalf
of a nonprofit, and interestingly enough, sent solicitations playing on the
theme of preventing juvenile delinquency to a national mailing list rather
than confining the effort to the immediate area. This approach proved to
be very successful; it generated virtually all of the orga:nization 1s
operating money for most of its history and also yielded numerous
bequests over the years, allowing YSN to develop a modest portfolio of
investments.
For close to fifty years–first as executive director and then as a
member of the board–Clinton dominated the organization. For the initial
board of directors he selected friends and acquaintances who were
expected to rubber-stamp his decisions and maintained further control by
not having rotational terms. The rare vacancies were filled by personal
friends and/or business acquaintances of the current members, with all
selections subject to Clinton’s final approval. In recent years the board
has included second-generation family members of the original trustees
and a few former program participants. Election of the first woman board
member occurred in the early 1980s.
When Clinton retired as executive, he named his associate director
as the second CEO. No other candidates were considered. The new
executive’s main attributes were his loyalty to the founder and the
personal relationships he had developed with certain board members.
Clinton also installed his son as YSN’s director of development and
director of camping and arranged that his son would report directly to the
board, of which the founder was now a member. This unusual
supervisory arrangement continued even after Clinton’s death in 1982.
In 1988, the second executive director was forced to resign due to
illness. As the third executive director, the board selected an individual
whose athleticism seemed to embody the very essenc:e of the
organization’s mission. Although the new executive had limited senior
3
86

management experience, the search committee believed his knowledge of
fiscal monitoring gained during his previous work at United V.lay would
be a major advantage.
The new CEO soon noticed senous irregularities in thB way the
direct mail campaign was being managed. In fact, the evidenee showed
that the founder’s son had been defrauding YSN for several years for his
personal gain. Faced with this information, the board had no ehoice but
to ask the founder’s son to resign and, on the advice of legal counsel,
initiated a lawsuit against him. As a group, board members felt a certain
amount of discomfort in having to assume a more traditional governing
role. But for a number of longtime members whose fondness for the late
founder still ran deep, the legal action was very painful indeed. Although
these members understood the necessity for the lawsuit, both to restore
YSN’s good name and to demonstrate their own fiduciary responsibility
as trustees, they were unable to separate the “message” from the
“messenger” and consequently never quite forgave the executive director
for forcing them into such a difficult position.
In the second year of his tenure the executive director inadvertently
offended a powerful trustee, a former board president who had had a
particularly close relationship with the previous CEO and was now
serving as chair of the Finance Committee. When the finance chair
returned to active service following major surgery, he aceused the
executive of withholding important negative financial information from
other members of the finance committee in his absence. After two more
years, the third executive resigned, worn down by the finance chair’s
constant sniping, continuing fallout from the direct mail scandal, and
YSN’s deteriorating fiscal position.
Toward the end of 1992 a search committee was formed, chaired by
Sal de Marco. A relatively new board member, he was the nElphew of a
former YSN senior staff member and had himself been a program
participant. Initially, a male candidate proposed by the second CEO
through his remaining friends on the board seemed to be the front-
4
87

runner. However, the final choice was Margaret Stover, who had
extensive prior experience as a nonprofit executive. In announcing the
board’s decision, de Marco said, “We selected the best person for the job,
one whose proven skills in organizational development, long-range
planning, and fiscal management, along with a background 1n
community center work and camping, offer the right combination to
provide the kind of leadership YSN needs to move steadily forward.”
Leadership was exactly what YSN needed, especially since the
third executive director, drawn into crisis management, had had little
opportunity to address long-term issues. The new competitive
environment for nonprofits demanded careful planning and informed
decisions by both the CEO and the board. Stover faced the challenge of
dealing with an organization that had been rudderless for some time.
The Executive Director’s Perspective
The new executive director focused on YSN’s fiscal problems and
soon realized that the decline in the organization’s financial position was
a symptom of broader issues related to mission and governanee. These
matters were brought into clear relief through a confidential letter Stover
received from a consultant who had been engaged to help YSN promote its
sixtieth birthday celebration:
The basic problem with YSN is the fact that it has at its
core a faulty premise. What we basically are is a
neighborhood group … with rather large pretensions of
being more. This is not to say we don’t do a good job—we
do in that area. But it’s small potatoes, and there must be
dozens–maybe hundreds–around the city doing exactly
the same thing.
Times have changed, and the fact that we’ve reached sixty
years is more a testament to the good services and the
good luck of our predecessors than anything existing
today. I’ve told you–perhaps too often–that you have to get
rid of the majority of your board. They simply are
unimportant people and, mostly, uninspired. The
elements of success are simply not there.
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I do think you should address these problems as quickly
as possible for the continuance of the organization. The
competition is just too fierce and severe out there to
warrant doing anything else.
While these were harsh words, they had the nng of truth.
Beginning with the death of the founder, the organization had. begun to
slide. During those ten years, no new programs had been developed, and
somE~ of the older programs, such as the tournaments, had been
discontinued for lack of support. In addition, no new funding sources had
been cultivated. Even though the third CEO had been able to revive the
tournaments and had attempted to inject some enthusiasm into the
organization, his general lack of administrative experience and plain bad
luck in being caught in the scandal over the direct mail program were his
downfall. Furthermore, the board was top-heavy with white males over
the age of fifty clustered in a few industries. (Exhibit 1)
The YSN bookkeeper quickly befriended Stover and became a
primary source of information. One of the more disturbing revelations
concerned the search process. Stover learned that her job had been all but
promised to another candidate recommended by YSN’s second executive
director and that de Marco had tipped the balance in her favor, possibly in
order to embarrass the second executive, against whom de Marco
harbored a personal grudge.
Stover also received a full report from the agency’s bookkeeper about
the direct mail situation and the scandal involving the founder’s son. In
light of the board members’ reactions when the former CEO had brought
bad tidings about the direct mail scandal, the bookkeeper advised Stover to
avoid this issue as much as possible–a difficult task since the lawsuit
against the former staff member was still pending–or risk encountering
the same fate as her predecessor. Additionally, the bookkeeper was able to
provide some insights into the difficulties the outgoing executive had with
the then-chair of the finance committee, and this information proved
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valuable when Stover subsequently was invited to lunch by this board
member and was treated to his version of the conflict.
In the course of this lunch meeting, the board member suggested
that Stover reach out to YSN’s second executive as someone who could
provide her with a sense of the organization’s history. The feeling Stover
got was that this trustee wanted to wipe out the last few years–his
disagreements with her predecessor, the scandal over the direct mail
program–and renew the ties with the past when YSN was so prominent
in the youth services field. Since Stover wanted to establish a positive
relationship with the board member, she followed his advice and was
pleasantly surprised to discover she rather liked the former CEO, despite
his gratuitous criticism of her predecessor’s attempts to “modernize”
YSN.
All in all, Stover’s tenure had an ausp1c10us start. The staff
seemed reenergized, and the board appeared to be happy in thE~ choice of
their new CEO. Most important, it was possible to put aside monetary
concerns for a while when YSN received an unexpected bequest of over
$800,000 from a direct mail donor whose average gift never exceeded $100
during her lifetime. In Stover’s second year, however, declining revenue
again became a central issue. Since she believed the organi2:ation had
erred historically in putting so much reliance on a single source of
income, she began to explore other avenues for generating income.
Stover viewed the one remaining community center–down from the
three sites YSN had managed some years back–as the organization’s
biggest resource. Looking for opportunities to expand the center’s
program, she was successful in obtaining three large grants from three
new donors interested in school dropout prevention, which she saw as a
link to YSN’s original focus on juvenile delinquency prevention.
She was more than a little dismayed, therefore, when the board
greeted these funding coups with minimal enthusiasm. For the majority
of the trustees, summer camp was still YSN’s centerpiece, even though
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the organization had steadily been losing campers to other, more modern
facilities. Since only a small number of the youngsters attending camp
participated in activities at YSN’s center, they did not have the loyalty to
the YSN organization of campers in the past, when it was common to see
the same faces involved in the program year-round. Moreover, many of
the current campers came from unstable home environments and thus
brought emotional and psychological problems that were bE~yond the
therapeutic skills of the counselors YSN was able to recruit. The board
did not seem to grasp these major changes. While they wanted to see
camp flourish, they were unwilling to invest the dollars Stover requested
to upgrade the camping program.
Stover was also dismayed by the board’s continuing belief that the
direct mail program could be revived. She did not share their optimism,
but at the urging of the finance committee, she switched consultants in
hopes of achieving better results. When there was no appreciable
improvement, she made yet another change, which did bring a slight
upswing.
Increasingly Stover believed a complete overhaul of YSN was
necessary, and she decided it was time to get at the root causes of YSN’s
problems and to develop a strategy to secure the organization’s future.
With the support ofthe board president, she was able to convince the board
to enter into a strategic planning process. While the ostensiblE~ goal was
the need to strengthen the funding base and to determine which of the
current programs were most viable, Stover’s long-term hope was to
include a serious examination of the governance structure. The strategic
planning committee was formed toward the end of 1994. It wa:s expected
to meet through the first half of the new year and then submit its
recommendations to the full board prior to the September 1’995 board
meeting.
Earlier 1n 1994 Stover’s concern about governance had been
heightened when Sal de Marco, who had headed the search committee
that selected her, became the new board president. Initially Stover had
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been very pleased when the Nominating Committee suggested de Marco.
With YSN’s sixtieth anniversary coming up, naming a former program
participant to the top board spot had great public relations potential;
moreover, Stover knew de Marco had been very influential in her
appointment as executive director and felt they had maintained a cordial
relationship ever since. Unfortunately, de Marco’s style was much
different from that of his predecessor. He did not see the value of frequent
meetings with the executive director but finally agreed to a once-a-month
session if Stover would travel to his place of business, which was over an
hour’s drive from the YSN office.
However, even with monthly meetings, Stover did not feBl she and
de Marco acted as a team. Often, when she would bring an issue to his
attention and ask for his input, he would respond: “Do what you think is
best. After all, you’re the girl I brought to the dance.” Even worse, when
de Marco did consider a matter to be important, he was apt to phone a few
of the other board members for their opinions before discussing the matter
with Stover. Yet, in his own indirect way, de Marco was supportive of
her, if a bit patronizing. Stover made the best of the situation, although
she felt nothing much would change until rotating board te:rms were
adopted and people were selected for the board on the basis of merit rather
than personal or business ties.
Much would depend on the outcome of the strategic planning work.
Stover had influenced the selection of an excellent committee that
included the best thinkers on the board. The group’s growing enthusiasm
about the process gave Stover confidence that they would be able to “sell”
the plan to the other trustees. To Stover’s delight, the committee even
proved receptive to discussing possible changes in governance. When the
committee’s interim reports were well received at the February, April and
June board meetings, she felt much better about the chances of helping
YSN overcome its problems and move forward. The full committee
report, with recommendations on changes in programs and services,
finances, staffing, and plant and equipment, was sent to the board :for
review prior to the September board meeting. (Exhibit 2) The cornerstone
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of the plan, and probably its most controversial aspect, was a proposition
to use YSN’s reserves to cover deficits until new sources of income could
be cultivated. The crucial vote would take place at the meeting.
The Board President’s Perspective
Sal de Marco could not remember a time in his life that he was not
connected with YSN. He was only five when his father died and Uncle
Lou had stepped in as the man of the family. Since Uncle Lou was
director of programs for YSN, young Sal found himself enrolled at camp
during the summer and active in sports at the community center the rest
of the year. He was still close with several boys–men–who had
participated with him in these activities.
There were many good times in those early years. De Marco
remembered the excitement of taking part in the citywide track meets
sponsored by YSN and then seeing his picture in the paper the next day
for anchoring the winning team in the relay race, his specialty. And he
loved camp. Getting out of the hot city for the summer, swimming in the
lake, watching the Indian ceremony where Uncle Lou played the chief
were wonderful memories.
Yet de Marco also associated one of his worst experiences with
YSN. When YSN’s founder, Trevor Clinton, announced his plans to
retire, Uncle Lou confided to the then-teenaged de Marco that he wanted
the job and had submitted his letter of interest. Shortly afterwards, de
Marco came home from school to find his uncle in the living room,
crymg. Clinton had sent a memo to the YSN staff stating that the
associate director of the agency would succeed him; Uncle Lou was never
even interviewed for the position. De Marco considered this a great
injustice, for the associate director, in his opinion, did not match his
uncle’s skills.
While Uncle Lou remained with YSN until he retired some years
later, de Marco resented what had happened. He turned his attention
more and more to his studies, and ultimately became a banker, an
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accomplishment that sadly his uncle did not live long enough to see. It
was thus somewhat of a surprise when the third executive director, who
had followed Clinton’s hand-picked successor, reached out to de Marco
and invited him to join the YSN board. With mixed feelings, de Marco
agreed.
Old habits die hard. De Marco discovered his belief in the
importance of the agency’s work was still strong. Furthermore, he felt he
had something to prove to the other trustees, although he was never quite
sure what that was. As YSN neared the milestone of its sixtieth birthday,
the nominating committee decided it would be fitting to name a former
program participant to be board president, and de Marco was selected. He
wished that Uncle Lou could have been there to see his nephew receive
this honor.
In the time since Stover had been hired, de Marco had not had
much contact with her outside of board meetings. Overall he was pleased
by her performance although he had hoped she would have achieved more
success in reviving the direct mail program by now. One quirk of hers did
bother him a bit, though: Stover always seemed to be waiting for the board
to show overt approval of her actions and had difficulty hiding her
disappointment when the trustees failed to acknowledge her efforts to her
satisfaction. For example, when Stover announced to the board that she
had obtained a government grant of $75,000 a year for the next two years,
she obviously felt that securing the grant was a major accomplishment.
True, it was the first Federal grant YSN had ever received, but the
amount was chicken feed compared to what the direct mail campaign
generated. In the best years, direct mail had raised close to $800,000
annually, and even now it brought in over $400,000. When there was little
reaction from the board, Stover looked truly crestfallen. De Marco saw
her reaction as a sign of weakness; he’d never let his board at the bank
know his feelings so openly.
After becoming board president, de Marco discovered that Stover
expected to have frequent meetings with him to discuss agency business,
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as she had done with his predecessor, Ben Shank. She didn’t seem to
realize that he couldn’t be as free with his time as Shank, who owned his
own company and could come and go as he pleased. As a compromise, de
Marco agreed to monthly meetings if Stover would drive to the bank early
in the day so that his schedule was not disrupted. But these needs of
Stover’s were minor irritants. She had been his choice for executive, and
he still felt she brought many strengths to the organization. Thus, when
she suggested the idea of strategic planning, he saw no reason not to go
along with her or to question the process once begun.
Upon receiving the strategic planning committee’s report, however,
he wondered whether he should have been more directly involved in the
effort. Some of the recommendations were fine, such as the idea of trying
to integrate the programs and involve the kids on a year-round basis.
That arrangement had worked well for him, certainly. But he had trouble
with the heavier emphasis on the community-based programs at the
center. Even though camping was discussed, it seemed to him that the
camping program was of secondary concern. Moreover, the plan’s
suggestion of combining school work with camp activities had no appeal
to him at all–camping was about having fun!
Being a fiscal conservative, de Marco also had trouble with the
concept of dipping into the reserves in the hope of realizing future gains.
This seemed to him a dangerous step to take since the implication was
that if YSN could not identify and secure new monies, the organization
might not survive. Perhaps to Stover, whose history with the agency
amounted to only a couple of years, it was sensible to consider such a
possibility. However, de Marco knew that for himself and the majority of
the board members with long-standing ties to YSN, no plan that even
suggested the end of the organization could be taken seriously.
Finally, the recommendation that the board become more actively
involved in fund raising was almost insulting. De Marco wondered how
Stover had managed to convince the committee to go along with her on
that one. It was that same business of expecting more of the trustees than
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was warranted. This was a hard-working board, in de Marco”s opinion,
and Stover would just have to accept the fact it was her responsibility to
raise more money. If she was not up to the challenge, perhaps she wasn’t
the right person for the job after all.
Knowing he would not be able to support the committee’s report, de
Marco dialed the YSN number to inform Stover he would be making: a
statement at the board meeting advising that no sweeping changes be
introduced at this time. Really, he didn’t think the organization’s
problems were so great; more direct mail revenue would resolve a lot of
the present concerns. Maybe they could develop the center programs
along the lines suggested in the report, but camp should keep :its
traditions. As he well knew, a two-week stay was long enough to provide
memories for a small child that would last forever. His message to the
board would be that the winning formula of the past was just as viable
today. Tampering with the basic programs was not a course of action he
could endorse.
Questions for Discussion
1. Based on YSN’s history, which perspective–Stover’s or de Marco’s–
do you find more viable? Support your position.
2. Evaluate the merits of the strategic plan. If you were on the YSN
board, how would you vote on the plan and why?
3. How would you assess Stover’s management style and her
relationship with de Marco? What steps might Stover have taken to
involve de Marco more fully in the planning process?
4. Besides the partnership model, what other kinds of relationships
between the CEO and board president are equally valid? What
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circumstances would dictate the choice of one kind of relationship
over another?
14
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Exhibit 1
Board Profile (N = 18)
By gender: Male
Female
=
=
14
4
By ethnicity:
By age:
Caucasian =
African-American =
Under 21 = 0
21-30 = 0
31-40 = 0
41-50 = 4
51-60 = 9
Over60 = 5
By occupation: Accounting =
Banking =
Corporate exec. =
Financial cons. =
Govt. employee =
Insurance exec. =
Nonprofit mgr. =
Sm. bus. owner =
Travel writer =
By years of service: 1-5 years = 4
6-10 years = 3
11-19 years= 5
20+ years = 6
15
15
3
2
2
2
4
2
2
1
2
1
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Exhibit2
Recommendations of the Strategic Planning Committee
(Excerpts)
To the Board of Directors of the Youth Service Network:
The members of the Strategic Planning Committee are pleased to present
for your consideration a series of recommendations that offers a vision of
the organization that we believe the Youth Service Network can become
over the next five years.
YSN must step boldly into the future, using all available resources, both
human and financial, to make this vision a reality. One of the premises of
the five-year plan is that the organization’s reserves will be applied to
support its operational needs as long as it proves necessary, that is, until
the current income streams can be strengthened and new funding
sources developed to make YSN deficit free.
Further, the committee feels board and staff alike must have eonfidence
that what we are doing is good and important, that we know our business
and have a firm base on which to build. It must be recognized that an
organization cannot stand in place, for surely that leads to mediocrity and
then decline. If we are unable to realize our goals by the end of the five-
year period, it may be necessary to close our doors, but we will be secure in
the knowledge that we have spent our money wisely, and the thousands of
young people helped through the years will remain an achievement of the
highest merit.
An Overview
To achieve its mission, the Youth Service Network will over the next five
years implement a sequential, developmental program that emphasizes
education and employment services.
a. While YSN will continue to serve children, youth and young
adults, ages 6 to 24, the primary target group will be 10- to
18-year-olds.
b. To emphasize the developmental nature of the program,
there will be an integration of services between the year-
round effort and summer camping.
c. There will be a variety of programs to meet the educational,
employment, social, recreational and cultural needs of the
service population.
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Exhibit 2 (continued)
d. YSN will build on its history of successful community··based
services by seeking opportunities for establishing additional
community centers, using its current site as the model, and
for the replication of individual programs, such as the
dropout prevention program, in other areas of the city.
e. Because of the emphasis on the integration of services,
tournaments will be eliminated as a separate program
component. Recreation will continue to be an important
part of the community-based and camping programs.
Specific Recommendations
Programs and services: The areas of concentration will be community-
based services and camping. The initial focus will be on new and/or
expanded efforts at the present center. At the same time, there will be an
exploration of communities both in the same area of the city and in other
sections where a similar type of center might be established. Educational
programs and job-readiness training will become part of the camp
offerings, along with the traditional activities. The expectation is that
YSN will continue to rent campsites at the state park; however, a
feasibility study will be conducted within the next twelve to twenty-four
months to determine whether to purchase our own site.
In the early days of the camping program, YSN for the most part served
its own youngsters from the various storefront centers we operated
around the city. Over the years, this pattern changed as the number of
year-round facilities dwindled. Although it could be said that the
significant returning-camper population from previous years is 11 0urs, 11
the organization really has minimal impact on these young people even
though the program is of very high quality. Given the range of problems
experienced by many of the campers, a two-week exposure (the typieal
camp stay) is too short a period to make much of a differenee.
Furthermore, while computers have been introduced at camp, outside of
sports and recreation, the activities offered have little connection to the
year-round battery of services.
Therefore, the committee recommends that the camping program and
year-round effort become more integrated, both in terms of the children
served and the types of programs provided. To accomplish this, there will
be a move back to the past toward an increase in serving youngsters who
also participate in center activities. More educational and employment-
oriented activities will be introduced at camp, even to the extent of
obtaining Board of Education approval to run a sanctioned summer
school, to be combined with traditional camping. The five-year goal is to
have almost the entire camp population composed of young people from
17
100

Exhibit 2 (continued)
our year-round effort, perhaps attending in longer time segments, such
as a four-week session.
Finances: A broadened base of support is a major goal for this five-year
period. Our recent experience with direct mail has taught us that it is
unwise to depend too heavily on any one funding source. Therefore,
efforts will be made to increase the support derived from foundations, a
likely avenue for program start-up assistance, and from all levels of
government, where continuation funding might be secured. For center
programs, the kinds of support currently in place will be maintained and
expanded where possible. For the camping program, fees will be raised
judiciously over the next several years, and additional income sources
will be explored. Finally, board members will be called on to increase
their personal efforts to secure financial support, such as sponsoring a
special fund-raising event.
Projected Revenues ($000)
Base Year Year Year Year Year
Year 1 2 3 4 5
Government 276 283 295 300 312 320
Foundations/U.W. 135 150 175 195 200 200
Dues and Fees 244 265 275 300 327 340
Direct Mail/Bequests 400 410 446 501 528 539
Reserves 134 127 111 49 21 9
Total 1189 1235 1302 1345 1388 1408
Revenues (Percent)
Government Z3 Z3 Z3 Z2 Z2 Z3
Foundations/U. W. 11 12 13 14 14 14
Dues and Fees 21 22 21 22 24 24
Direct Mail/Bequests 34 33 34 37 38 38
Reserves 11 10 9 4 2 1
Total 100 100 100 99 100 100
Note: The percentages for Year 3 do not equal100 due to rounding.
In the direct mail area, the hope is that the new consultant’s approach
will result in at least the stabilization of the campaign and even modest
growth.
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Exhibit 2 (continued)
Adding a special fund-raising event to the overall package should be
explored, recognizing that such an approach normally requires three to
five years to begin generating a profit.
Corporate support will be explored for the educational and employment
services, taking into account that success in this area would necessitate a
change in our relationship with United Way since its policies preclude
direct solicitation to corporations.
The key to the success of this strategic plan is the degree to which
everyone can, and does, embrace the underlying growth strategy of using
present assets as an investment in the organization’s future. Clearly the
implementation of such a far-reaching plan will require a board of
directors that is fully committed to putting forth the time, effort and
financial support necessary to assist the staff in this undertaking. As its
final recommendation, the Planning Committee charges the Executive
Committee with the responsibility for developing guidelines on the
expectations for a prospective board member and for those individuals
already serving as trustees.
19
102

Bibliography
Hall, P. D. “Conflicting managerial cultures in nonprofit organizations.”
Nonprofit Management & Leadership. 1 (2), 153-165, 1990.
Provides insights on conflicts between board members and
executive directors due to different interpretations of organizational
mission as well as differences in values, background and training.
Herman, R. D. & Heimovics, R. D. Executive Leadership in Nonprofit
Organizations: New Strategies for Shaping Executive-Board
Dynamics. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1991.
Chapters 3 and 5 are especially helpful–the first dealing with
models of governance, contrasting the hierarchical model with an
alternative approach in which the executive is the organizational
leader, and the second providing specific strategies for board
development.
Mathiasen, K. III. Board Passages: Three Key Stages in a Nonprofit
Board’s Life Cycle. (Available from National Center for Nonprofit
Boards, 2000 L Street, Suite 411, Washington, D.C. 20036), 1990.
Presents concept of following and leading boards as the key element
of the organizing stage. Delineates dangers when a founding
executive fails to share power with the board.
Middleton, M. “Non profit Boards of Directors: Beyond the Governance
Function.” In W. W. Powell (ed.), The Nonprofit Sector: A
Research Handbook (pp. 141-153). New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 1989.
Discusses board composition, structure and behavior and the board-
executive relationship.
Schein, E. H. “Organizational culture.” American Psychologist, 45 (2),
109-119, 1990.
Defines the term organizational culture and then suggests
techniques for understanding and analyzing the culture of a given
organization.
20
103

Second Time Around1
Andrew Flaherty, Melissa C. Reitmeier, Teri Browne, Dana Dehart,
Aidyn Iachini, Rebecca Christopher & Terry A. Wolfer

Social worker Jadah Johnson’s heart started to accelerate as Felicia Cooke kept
talking, “I know I keep asking you, Jadah, but if you could enroll them, my parents, I
mean, you’d really help us out! We sisters need to stick together . . . It’s how we get by
in this community, we’ve got to help each other.” Felicia paused to take a bite from her
cream cheese bagel.
Jadah’s head spun, as she unpacked the coded message, a veiled signal for
community fidelity. I know what she’s asking me to do . . . and I really feel for her situation. . .
. I don’t know.
As Jadah raised her eyes to meet Felicia’s, Felicia shrugged in expectation, “Well?”
Jasper, South Carolina and the town of Ridgeland
Jasper County was the southernmost county in the state of South Carolina. Located
in the low country portion of the state, an area of distinct geography and cultural
heritage running through several of South Carolina’s coastal counties. Jasper was a rural
county, with stagnant economic growth and a median household income of just $30,777,
well below the national average. Jasper was predominantly African American, with
African Americans comprising 53% of the population.
The county seat of Jasper was Ridgeland, a charming yet older town marketed as the
High Point of the Low Country. Not because it had an extensive range of entertainment
and eating options, but rather Ridgeland was literally the highest point between
Charleston and Savannah. The town was founded in 1894 as a railroad stop between
these two cities. The original name of the town had been Gopher Hill, after the gopher
tortoise, a type of tortoise distinct to the low country region and unique in the way it
burrowed to avoid predators and spent most of its life underground. However, the town
moniker was changed to Ridgeland when the original name was not considered suitably
dignified. The train between Charleston and Savannah still passed through Ridgeland
but no longer stopped there. In 2017, the town had about 4100 residents, was
economically ailing, had a slightly higher than average crime rate and limited social
service infrastructure. Extensive local government effort was focused on developing the
town’s economy.

1 This decision case was prepared solely to provide material for class discussion and not to suggest either
effective or ineffective handling of the situation depicted. While based on field research regarding an actual
situation, names and certain facts may have been disguised to protect confidentiality. The authors wish to
thank the case reporter for cooperation in making this account available for the benefit of social work
students and practitioners. The case was completed under the ICARED grant XXXX
© 2017
105

Aging Matters and Meals on Wheels
Located in the town of Ridgeland SC, Aging Matters was a nonprofit organization
that coordinated services, provided interventions and facilitated individual support so
that Jasper County’s senior citizens could remain independent. Aging Matters programs
included its flagship Meals on Wheels, home visitation, active seniors, and health
education. Aging Matters was intended as the safety net for seniors living in Jasper
County and offered all services for free or at a greatly reduced rate.
The Meals on Wheels program delivered hot and nutritious meals to eligible elderly
residents across the county. A team of caring volunteers with oversight from staff social
workers delivered meals to seniors five days a week. Typically, those seniors receiving
Meals on Wheels were at or below 200% of the national poverty level. Without support
from Meals on Wheels, most of these seniors would be forced to choose between paying
for food and paying for other essential expenses such as medication. Meals on Wheels
was subsidized on a generous sliding scale. While some recipients paid a nominal
amount, no senior was ever denied a meal on the basis of income.
It was a struggle for Aging Matters to keep Meals on Wheels and other programs at
full funding capacity. The funding for their programs came from a variety of sources,
with almost 85% of the funding from grants and donations from foundations and
corporations, with only a paltry 3% of funding in the form of federal block grants.
Jadah Johnson, Director of Services and Programs
Jadah Johnson was the director of social work for Aging Matters. She was a 54-year-
old African American woman who had spent most of her life in Ridgeland. Jadah was
5’7” tall, with medium build, and short natural hair. She described herself as graceful
and poised, a carry-over from her time in the U.S. Army. Others described her as
generous and an open and honest leader.
In her mind, Jadah had always been a social worker. Jadah’s father died when she
was twelve, and because of her mother’s work commitments, her grandparents became
a vital part of her upbringing. As a result, she became comfortable around seniors,
having spent long hours as a girl in the social world of her elderly grandparents.
Jadah’s route to the social work profession was nontraditional. After graduation
from high school she decided to join the Army. Jadah had served in the Army for several
years, where she met her husband, an infantry sergeant also from South Carolina. Jadah
was as an accounting specialist, a role in which she excelled. However, with Jadah
settled into her career and her husband preparing to leave for Germany, disaster struck.
An automobile crash took the life of her husband while she was pregnant with their first
child.
Jadah felt she had no choice but to wrap up her military career and head back to
rural South Carolina for support from her family and community. Soon after her return,
Jadah completed her undergraduate degree in Sociology with a minor in Social Work.
Jadah’s undergraduate experience sparked a deeper passion for social work. She felt a
definite connection with social work, and the idea of working with older adults really
106

appealed to her, which led her to complete a MSW degree at the University of South
Carolina. In her first year, Jadah completed a field placement with Aging Matters, and
she really enjoyed the experience. During her second field placement, she went to the
Veterans Administration, where she showed an aptitude for working with veterans.
Jadah excelled in the MSW program, and at the end of her second-year field placement,
she had a difficult decision to make. Jadah received offers from both the VA and Aging
Matters. She was deeply committed to working where she would be most effective and
would make the biggest impact, so she chose the lower-paying Aging Matters over the
VA position.
After 15 years at Aging Matters, Jadah was the director of social work. Accountable
directly to the agency CEO, she supervised a team of seven social workers in various
programs, as well as line staff and the volunteers who contributed to the success of
Aging Matters.
Meeting Felicia Cooke
Every fall, various local or regional agencies provided a series of trainings to expose
local human service professionals to the most current social work services and
innovations, as well as to provide CEUs for licensure. Every social worker in Jasper
attended; the trainings were like social gatherings. Jadah relished these trainings as an
opportune time to catch up with social workers and other human service professionals.
The first training Jadah attended was for gerontological social workers at the senior
living facility in Ridgeland. The facility was a relatively new building with a great
conference room; it was light and airy with a high ceiling and large windows flooded
the room with light. Jadah felt a sense of expectation, scanning the room for familiar
faces.
Jadah noticed a gaggle of old social work friends milling around a refreshment table
in the back of the conference room, and she bounded over with quick hellos and hugs
amidst pleasantries such as, “How are you doing? How are things at the Council? How
is your Mabry—he must be two now?” Given the smallness of the town, understanding
and knowing everyone’s births, divorces, and other matters was always a part of
catching up!
As she made her way to the rear of the conference room, a petite and stylishly
dressed African American woman in her early 30’s suddenly approached Jadah and
assertively stuck out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Felicia, Felicia Cooke,” said the woman. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Felicia. My name is Jadah Johnson. What do you do?”
“I’m a health social worker at Jasper County Primary Health Care clinic,” Felicia
explained, “and I just returned to Hardeeville a few weeks ago. I’ve been working in
Savannah, GA, after getting my MSW degree from the Savannah State University, but
am returning to help care for my family here. You know the Jenkins, right? That’s my
family.”
Felicia explained that she was at the training because the primary care center where
she worked was treating seniors with extensive needs, and she had secured federal
107

funding to support the clinic’s senior health outreach program.
That sounds impressive, Jadah thought. That’s just the type of innovative thinking the
aging population in Jasper County needs. The conversation between the two of them was
pleasant and flowed back and forth. Jadah enjoyed listening to Felicia’s description of
the many and varied ideas that she had for writing grants to expand work with seniors
in the county. Felicia seemed particularly interested in hearing all about the resources
that were offered by Aging Matters.
Jadah was eager to encourage a new social worker and was impressed by Felicia’s
ambition to obtain resources that would help people in their small town. Felicia seems
very motivated. She’s a real go getter. She reminds me of myself when I was first in the field. It’s
going to be great having a new and dynamic addition to the work force in Jasper County. Jadah
beamed with excitement imagining the possibility of collaborations with Felicia. Felicia
would be a great community partner to the Aging Matters team, especially with her skills in
grant writing.
As the excitement of their initial meeting was winding down, the tone suddenly
became serious, as Felicia looked down sadly and, with a strained longing in her voice
said, “My parents still live in the house that I grew up in. . . . They could really benefit
from some services.” Felicia paused, then continued, “Umm, my mom is pretty
incapacitated right now, and my Dad tries to take care of them. It’s a real struggle for
them most days if I can’t stop in and see them, and they are on the other side of the
county. And you know how busy we are in this line of community work.”
Jadah just listened, wondering where this was going.
Felicia hesitated, with wet eyes and a tear escaping as she continued, “I’m trying to
make a difference in the world, but it’s so difficult having to take care of my parents. But
I feel so responsible for them. They are older, and yet they supported me through
college and grad school, looking after me. It’s hard to be a single mom and to go back to
College. They’d let me drop Jarel off for weeks at a time.”
A swell of empathy rose up in Jadah’s chest. She genuinely felt for Felicia and was
transported back to her own experience as a single mother while attending college and
needing the support of her parents. “Felicia this seems like a tough situation,” Jadah
replied compassionately, “I know what it’s like to need support from your parents, and
then need to care for them as well. You feel an intense sense of responsibility to pay
them back for supporting you.”
“When I went back to grad school,” Jadah continued, “I was a single mom just like
you, and my parents-in-law were a source of great support. They really shouldered a big
burden, and I continued to take care of them for the rest of their lives. I had such an
intense sense of gratitude to them, so I understand, Felicia.” Jadah felt a surge of
affection for the young woman. She was usually reserved when it came to verbal
affirmations, but she felt such a strong connection to Felicia that she felt obligated to
verbally support her.
“Jadah,” Felicia responded, “you know what it’s like. There’s no small-town
markets anymore. They’ve got to drive all the way to the Walmart in Hardeeville, and
then it takes a lot for them to manage all the food for a week. I try and bring them meals
108

when I can.” Felicia became emotional as she continued, and her voice cracked with
emotion.
She probably doesn’t get to talk about this very much, Jadah thought, it’ll really help to
affirm her and encourage her through this. “Maybe there is something Aging Matters could
do to help?”
As Jadah said those words, Felicia’s face lit up.
“We have a Meals on Wheels program and home visiting,” Jadah continued.
“That would be wonderful!” Felicia replied, eagerly.
Jadah took a moment to educate Felicia about the Meals on Wheels and the sliding
scale so that seniors were never turned away because of income.
“It’s great that you don’t ever turn anybody away!” Felicia responded, relief evident
in her voice. Then, more hesitantly, “I’m not sure about the other eligibility
requirements, though.”
“Oh, okay,” Jadah felt a sense of uncertainty about the direction of the conversation.
“Well, what concerns do you have?” Noticing Felicia’s apparent disappointment, Jadah
continued, “Well it’s not that we won’t turn anybody away, but eligibility depends on
the fact that the seniors must not be able to make nutritious meals for themselves, and
there can be no other person living with them who could make them a nutritious meal.”
With this information, Felicia grew quiet, her countenance sullen.
Oh no, what did I say? Jadah’s mind began to race. There’s probably an issue with
eligibility, but I don’t want to dash her hopes when that may not be the case. And besides, it
would be best if she at least applied and somebody else could convey the bad news—if there is bad
news. She’s clearly emotional, so might not have heard me correctly. Best let someone in
eligibility handle this.
In an attempt at reassurance, Jadah added meekly, “Hey, just give us a call, and
somebody can talk you through the application for your mom and dad.”
Felicia nodded awkwardly. Then, as the trainer called for everyone to take their
seats, she asked with a tinge of desperation, “Is there anything you can do to make sure
this application process runs smoothly? You know, to speed it up? Can’t you just add
their names to the list if I give you their details? We are literally all family, here.”
“Felicia, why don’t you call the office and complete the application next week, and
we can see if you qualify,” Jadah’s words tailed off to a noncommittal ending, as the two
women made their way back to their seats for the training.
Bye, Felicia
Jadah felt a nagging sense of guilt for the rest of the training. She avoided Felicia
during the break in the session, but caught herself taking furtive glances towards Felicia
just to see how she was doing. Jadah recalled and replayed their conversation while
driving back to the office later that afternoon. I probably shouldn’t have just come out and
said, Jadah reflected, ‘I’m sure there is something Aging Matters can do to help.’ I’ve been
practicing in this town for a long time, and I’ve worked really hard to make sure everything we
do here at Aging Matters is above board given all of the dual relationships. But Felicia is so
vulnerable. I know what she’s going through in a way that other people probably don’t. It’s
109

natural of me to want to help, right? Jadah tried to reassure herself. She’s a good social
worker, and she’s just trying to help her family like we all do.
A Second Opinion
As Jadah pulled into her parking spot, she pondered, What if I run this situation by
Latoya to see if she knows Felicia? If she does, maybe there’s another way we can help. Latoya
was the assistant director of social services and had been at Aging Matters for six years.
She was a MSW graduate of the University of South Carolina like Jadah. Latoya was an
African American woman with long dreadlocks and a pleasant disposition. Jadah
pensively poked her head into Latoya’s office.
Latoya looked up and asked, “So how was the training?”
“Good . . .” Jadah replied.
“Good . . . but?” Latoya recognized this was not Jadah’s usual demeanor.
Jadah sighed. She really didn’t like talking about people, but she felt the need to
confess this messy situation that she seemed to have stumbled into. I trust Latoya, Jadah
reassured herself. She’s not going to judge me. Then, realizing a moment of silence had
passed, she proceeded, “Do you know Felicia Cooke? She’s a new social worker over at
the Jasper County Primary Health Care.”
“Yes, she came home after being in Savannah for a few years” Latoya replied. “I’ve
known her family for years. She just wrote a grant for them to start a senior health
outreach program. Sounds like a great idea. Why?”
Before Jadah could respond, Latoya probed, “Did something happen?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Jadah said, trying to reassure herself again. “Felicia seems
really nice. We met for the first time today. We really hit it off, in fact. She’s very
knowledgeable—seems like she’ll be a great colleague. But she’s going through a really
hard time caring for her parents.” Jadah relayed the gist of their conversation, and then
concluded, “I may have given her the impression that we’d help her, when I’m not sure
if we can. But then I didn’t want to disappoint her when it seemed like her folks weren’t
eligible. But I felt like she was trying to persuade me into just signing her parents up for
the Meals on Wheels program.”
“Are you sure?” Latoya asked. “This sounds like a complicated situation. You’re
usually really clear in situations like this.”
“I know!” Jadah exclaimed.
“Hopefully, she will call,” Latoya responded, “and we can determine her eligibility.
You never know. They might qualify if the father isn’t home all day.”
Jadah never called.
A Second Encounter
A couple of months had passed since the first training, when Jadah—along with
several staff members—was planning on attending another training. Jadah and her co-
workers happily signed in, looking forward to being in a different environment for the
morning, and then headed to a table with coffee, bagels, and juice. Just as Jadah was
110

pouring herself a cup of coffee, she realized a person was approaching on her left side
from the blind spot in her vision. Anticipating this, she turned to say hello.
“Jadah, it’s me, Felicia,” Felicia said before Jadah could speak. “How are you?”
After exchanging pleasantries, Felicia shifted the conversation topic. “Well, there
may be some eligibility issues with my folks and your Meals on Wheels program. But
you said you’d help us, and it’s much more complicated than I first thought.” Felicia
was speaking quickly, as if to keep Jadah from talking. “During the day my dad works,
but my sister and her teenage daughter are living with them, too, but they are hardly
there.”
Jadah remembered how it was when she first returned to Ridgeland with her boy
and how strained everything was with her parents-in-law. It really tugged at her,
because the strength of Jasper was community and family across generations. That was
the beauty of rural Jasper, even though outsiders might not see it.
“I’m the only one providing for the entire family. My sister’s been trying to move out
for years, and it’s almost as if they aren’t there.”
Jadah’s heart started to accelerate as Felicia kept talking.
“I know I keep asking you, Jadah, but if you could enroll them—my parents, I
mean—you’d really help us out! We sisters need to stick together,” she winked at Jadah.
“It’s how we get by in this community. We’ve got to help each other,” Felicia paused to
take a bite from her cream cheese bagel.
Jadah had grown silent.
“It’s how we get ahead as a people,” Felicia continued, “especially out here in the
country. You know this! We’ve got to help each other along. We’ve got to look out for
each other,” Felicia’s voice rose in desperation, “Don’t you care about your
community?”
This is such a confusing situation, thoughts tumbled through Jadah’s mind like clothes
in a washing machine. She’s so desperate, and I know what that’s like. It’s so uncomfortable to
see her struggling like this. She’s right—I did say we would help. She’d really appreciate the help.
I could have used the help, but not like that, surely? I know what she is asking me to do . . . and I
really feel for her situation. . . . I don’t know.
As Jadah raised her eyes to meet Felicia’s, Felicia shrugged in expectation, “Well?”

111

2
GAY-FOR-PAY
Lori D. Franklin
The Proud Youttt teen group was scheduled to meet in a few minutes in
a discreet group room at the far end of the second Boor of the building.
Max, Marcus, Stacy, Nikki, and Dalton were gathered in the lobby of
Wichita Center for Families, waiting to be led back. But their group
leader, MSW student Alicia Hall, was still in her office, waiting until
the last minute.
As she looked back through her group notes from the previous
week, Alicia thought, The kids deserve a response from me, but I
still don’t know what to do about what they’re saying in group!
How am I supposed to react professionally to these stories of wild
Development of this decision case was supported in part by the University of Okla-
homa School of Social Work. It was prepared solely to provide material for class
discussion and not to suggest either effective or ineffective handling of the situation
depicted. Although the case is based on field research regarding an actual situation,
names and certain facts may have been disguised to protect confidentiality. The
author thanks the anonymous case reporter for cooperation in making this account
available for the benefit of social work students and instructors.
113

drag shows, kids cutting themselves, and all the other stuff they’re
telling me happens at another agency? Should 1 be doing something
about it?
GAY IN WICHITA
Wichita, Kansas, was a midsize city with beautiful parks and museums,
running rrails, a farmer’s market, and Wichita State University. But it
struggled in its acceptance of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender
(LGBT) people. Living in Kansas, as in much of the Midwest, brought
with it a strong assumption of heterosexuality from the general public
and an often vicious opposition to same-sex relationships. Almost 70
percent of Kansas voters had voted for the constitutional amendment
to ban same-sex .marriage in 2.005.
The community had very few services for the LGBT population.
There was an agency that provided HIV/ AIDS advocacy and case man·
agement, and Kansas Pride operated a small office, staffed mostly with
volunteers. Kansas Pride provided some social events, classes, and sup-
port groups that were usually poorly attended and usually for adults.
Wichita’s Annual Pride Festival often had more than one thousand at-
tendees, proving there were LGBT people in the area, but it inevitably
drew protestors. Wichita was a short drive from Topeka, home of the
most famous of gay bashers, Fred Phelps, whose followers always at-
tended the Pride festivities with protest signs with messages such as
“Fag sin = 9-n” and “You’re going to hell.”
There were also very few services for LGBT youth. Two agencies
identified themselves as serving this vulnerable population. Wichita
Center for Families was a large agency that had a reputation for being
“‘LGBT affirmative.” Rainbow Alliance for Youth was the only agency
designed specifically to serve LGBT youth.
WICHITA CENTER FOR FAMILIES
Wichita Center for Families (WCF) provided a large variety of ser-
vices for at-risk families and youth. Philosophically, the agency
GAY- FOR-PAY 16
promoted family collaboration, was strength-based, and provided
an environment that acknowledged and appreciated diversity. The
agency provided on-site emergency services at the Kansas State De-
partment of Human Services {KSDHS) youth shelter and a twenty-
four-hour hodine for youth in crisis. Family counselors saw clients
in the office but also provided services on-sire in the schools. WCF
also worked in collaboration with the Office of Probation and Parole
to provide case management and counseling to youth involved with
the justice system.
Among its services for youth, WCF had several initiatives specifi-
cally for LGBT youth as well as those questioning their sexual orien-
tation. It worked in collaboration with the KSDHS to identify youth
who were in need of LGBT-affirmative services. One program focused
especially on homeless youth, and for several years WCF had provided
a “coming out” support group.
WCF had also recently implemented an employment nondiscrimi-
nation policy to protect LGBT employees. That was unusual in the
area, but the agency director felt strongly that it was an important way
to show the agency was committed to doing what was right for the
LGBT community.
RAINBOW ALLIANCE FOR YOUTH
The Rainbow Alliance for Youth (RAY) was a grassroots organiza-
tion created by a male couple who shared great concern for LGBT
youth. Their stated mission was to “promote the physical, mental,
emotional, spiritual, and social well-being of sexual minority youth
so that they can openly and safely explore and affirm their identi-
ties.” But RAY was not just for LGBT youth. It welcomed youth
who were questioning their sexual identities as well as friends of
LGBT youth. It provided social opportunities on Saturday nights,
which were often dances and drag shows featuring the youth. These
events sometimes required a small cover charge, but the money was
used to operate the agency. RAY also offered social opportunities
on Wednesday nights, usually a dinner followed by discussions and
supportive small-group activities.
17 G AY· F O R· PA Y
114

ALICIA HALL
Alicia Hall was a petite white woman and had just turned twenty-five,
although people often assumed her to be younger than that. She loved
long-distance running and cooking healthy foods and was an avid fic-
tion reader. She usually experienced surprise from others when they
found out that she had a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend.
When Alicia,entered the Wichita State University MSW program,
she had two years of bachelor’s level case management experience with
adults with mental illnesses. Because her memories of growing up as
a gay youth in Wichita were recent, she also had a passion for work-
ing with the LGBT community. Although Alicia had lived in the re-
gion most of her life and thought of it as her home, she had often felt
confused and unwelcome in the difficult climate there. She didn’t hide
being a lesbian, but she didn’t speak openly without first having a feel
for the social context. She knew she had good boundaries about when
and how to discuss her own sexual identity with clients and coworkers.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Alicia had heard about RAY while growing up in the area but had never
been there. But early in the MSW program, a fellow student, Melanie
Shelton, offered to give her a tour. Melanie had been volunteering at
RAY and wondered if Alicia might like to do so as well.
“Hey,” Melanie said, “I’d like to show you around this place where
I was volunteering. I’m too busy with school these days, so I quit, but
I really think they could use someone like you with a bit more of a
background in social services and all. They have good intentions, but
there’s a lot of kind of strange stuff that goes on there-you know, like
smoking and all.”
As the two women entered the unmarked building, Alicia first no-
ticed the black walls and the large open room with a stage at the front.
This looks like a club, she thought. Noticing some office space with a
couch that had a pillow and a blanket on it, she wondered, Do people
sleep here? As she continued to look around, she saw that was about
the extent of the sp~ce. There was a unisex bathroom with several
GAV- FOR · PAV 18
stalls and another room wi’h a closed door. Out the back door, Mela-
nie pointed to a dumpster in the alley behind the building where the
kids went to smoke. Alicia remembered that Melanie had mentioned
previously that youth as young as twelve participated at RAY. Unsure
of Melanie’s impressions of the agency, Alicia kept her reservations
to herself.
“What do they do here?” she asked.
“Well,” Melanie explained, “the kids watch movies, hang out, and
there are lots of drag shows. It’s really a lot of fun for them, you know,
to dress up and play around. Look at this!” Melanie opened the door
to the last room and led Alicia inside. “It’s the dressing room.” There
were wigs and dresses hanging on the walls, high-heeled shoes on the
floor, and a countertop cluttered with makeup and cosmetic mirrors.
There were full-length mirrors along the walls and a chair surrounded
by hair-styling products. Drag shows seem to be what this place is
about, Alicia thought. I’m not srtre if I like that or not.
PRACTICUM PLACEMENT AT WCF
After completing her foundation practicum at her place of employ-
ment, Alicia wanted to work with LGBT youth during her concen-
tration placement and knew that WCF had a good reputation. WCF
was quite familiar with student social work placements from Wichita
State. Several departments at the agency utilized bachelor’s as well as
master’s level students. But Alicia’s placement involved a new set of
tasks for a student. She was supervised weekly by the clinical director
of the agency, Pete Anderson, but she was housed within the “youth at
risk outreach unit” and had a preceptor, Nancy Gerard, to supervise
her day-to-day practice. With a master’s in counseling, Nancy was a
licensed professional counselor.
Alicia not only provided family counseling with LGBT youth and
their families bur also assumed leadership of a “coming out” support
group for youth. She served as a liaison between the agency and the
Gay-Straight Alliances (GSA) clubs in all of the Wichita public schools.
She was especially excited about this parr of the job, where she felt she
could provide support and cultivate leadership among youth all over
19 G AY· FO R- PAY
115

the ciry and help Wichita’s fragmented and uncoordinated services for
the LGBT communiry unite and work together for some of the ciry’s
most vulnerable youth.
The placement was very independent, but the supervision structure
was designed to support Alicia’s learning. When she saw families or
youth in the office, she would have easy access to Nancy and the other
therapists on site. But the group met in the evenings after Nancy had
left for the day. And, of course, the outreach at the schools involved
travel away from the faciliry without a supervisor nearby. But Pete
made it clear that he would always be available by telephone if Alicia
needed him.
FIRST DAYS IN THE PLACEMENT
On Alicia’s first day at WCF, Nancy showed her around the office and
introduced her to some of her new coworkers.
“Jack!” Nancy called loudly, trying to get the attention of the mid-
dle-aged white man at the end of the hall. He turned and walked to-
ward Nancy and Alicia.
“I’d like you to meet our new MSW student,” Nancy said. Alicia
shook Jack’s hand.
“Alicia will be working with the coming out group and the GSA
project while she’s here this semester,” Nancy explained. “This is Jack
McCormick, the Outreach Program director.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Alicia responded.
“I’m glad we’ll have some fresh ideas in that group,” Jack said. “It’s
been run by lots of folks. Most recently it was run by a fella who just
shared too much of his personal stuff. He was talking about his dates
and all, and it just turned into a chat instead of a group, you know?
And then we had Kelly do it for a while, but she has other things to do.”
“Thanks,” Alicia said, “I’m looking forward to it.”
“And who knows,” Jack continued, “it might turn into a job for
you when you’re done. We’ve been looking to hire us a gay-for-pay for
quite a while. n
What? Alicia thought, alarmed. Does he not know the origin of that
term? Where on earth did that come from?
GAY-FOR-PAY 20
“What do you mean?” she finally asked.
“Well, you know,” Jack said, “a full-time gay person to really focus
on the gay issues here in this agency.”
“Oh,” Alicia responded, “well, I look forward to working with you.”
THE RAY OF HOPE
A few days into her placement, Alicia shadowed a family counselor
as part of her orientation to the practices at WCF. Victor Clark had
worked in the family-counseling program for more than a year and
invited Alicia to watch him interview a new client. Alicia pulled a
chair in from another room and sat facing the young woman, Sasha,
and her mother.
Alicia followed along on her own copy of the intake paperwork
while Victor interviewed Sasha and her mother. The paperwork asked
for the client’s sex (male or female ) and orientation (heterosexual, les·
bian, gay, or bisexual ), and then there was a checkbox if the client was
transgender. Alicia looked ahead and saw that later in the form the
client was asked, “Is there anything related to your sexuality that you
wish to discuss in counseling?” Wow, Alicia thought to herself. I am
not sure how I would ask those questions, especially since the kids will
often have their parents in the room. If I were doing this, I might save
some of those to the end and ask to speak to the child alone. I wonder
what Victor will do with those.
“Sasha,” Victor asked hesitantly, “you are female, right?”
“Well, yeah,” she answered. Her eyebrows lowered.
“And do you like boys or girls or both?” Victor continued.
“Girls,” Sash a said slowly. She seemed uncomfortable to Alicia.
Sasha, Alicia, and Victor glanced at Sasha’s mom. Her facial expres-
sion seemed tense but didn’t change as Sasha spoke.
Alicia noticed that Victor skipped the transgender question.
“Do you have a religious affiliation?” he asked.
“They are Southern Baptist,” Sasha stated flatly, looking toward
her mother.
Victor continued with questions, and Alicia listened intently. I
probably would have asked her to say more about her struggles with
21 GAY· FOR – PAY
116

coming out as a lesbian in such a conservative religious family, Alicia
thought. That seems important.
Victor moved on to the mental health history portion of the assess-
ment form.
“Have you ever had thoughts of suicide?” he asked.
“I guess sometimes I just thought things would be easier if I were
dead. But I never really was going to do it.” Sasha spoke more easily
and shrugged her shoulders. “·But whenever I’ve felt like that, the only
people that really understood me were the guys at RAY. They really are
the only people who seem to get what it’s like to be a gay kid.”
“I do not want her going to that place full of sinners anymore,”
Sasha’s mother quickly interjected. “That is not what Jesus wamed for
her life, and, plus, they are smoking and doing all sorts of stuff over
there that is just not right.”
“No one is ever going to understand someone like me,” Sasha con-
tinued, “especially not my family.” Looking at her mother, she added,
“It’s a place where they accept you like no one else in society ever will.”
Alicia felt a strong empathy for Sasha and anxiety about the extent
of the mother’s resistance about her daughter’s sexual orientation. She
knew too well that there were parents in Kansas who could become
violent with their children or kick them our of the house when they
found out their children were gay.
PROUD YOUTH
A week into her p lacement Alicia met with Kelly Lander to discuss
the group that Alicia would soon be leading herself. As Jack had men-
tioned, Kelly had been facilitating the group but did not want to con-
tinue. As the agency’s health educator, she had focused more on health
education and in the group had mostly discussed psychoeducational
material on safe sex and HIV prevention. Alicia asked Kelly for a little
background on the group members.
“Sure,” Kelly said, opening the first chart on the stack. “Max is six-
teen, biracial, white and African American and has been at the shelter
about six months. He’s in the job skills program here and does some
janitorial stuff in the building for that.” Alicia immediately wondered
GAY · FOR·PAY 22
whether he was the friendly kid she had seen talking to the receptionist
earlier that morning.
“Marcus is seventeen,” Kelly continued, “African American, and
came to the shelter after a string of failed foster placements. He’s been
with lots of foster families that have kicked him out for being gay. It’s
really sad. He just got out of the hospital after his most recent foster
mother found him hanging in the garage. He was okay, but they said
they couldn’t keep him anymore, so now he’s here at the shelter. I know
he had one foster family who was Southern Baptist, and they tried to
take him to one of those religious programs to try to ‘cure’ him before
they gave up on the placement.”
“That sounds awful,” Alicia said. “Poor kid.”
“Yeah,” Kelly went on, “then there’s Dalton, who is sixteen and white,
kind of upper middle class and at some private school. His folks are going
to family counseling with him, and that all seems to be going along okay.”
“Then there’s Stacy, who is seventeen, lives with her mom. Her folks
got divorced when her dad came out. She gets into fights at school a lot
and identifies as a lesbian, bur I’m not really sure where she’s at with
her identity.”
Alicia nodded and kept on listening.
“And finally, Nikki,” Kelly said as she pur the last chart on the stack.
Alicia noticed the chart said “Nicholas.” “Fifteen, white and Creek,
transgender, run away from at least four different foster placements,
and now refuses further placement. His mom drank and abused the
kids, so Nikki was removed at age ten, and there are some older sib-
lings who are now on their own. It never has really worked out, I guess,
to place Nikki with one of them.”
“So there you have it, Alicia,” Kelly said. “There’s your group! I am
really glad you are here. I think it will really help these kids to have a
leader with a social work background.”
THE GROUP MEETS
In t heir fi rst few sessions, Alicia quickly tried to revita lize t he group
and get it back on track as a support group with a psychoeduca-
tion component. She was bothered by the name of the group-LGBT
23 GAY·FOR·PAY
117

Support Group–and encouraged the kids to select a new name. They
came up with “Proud Youth.”
She soon implemented some activities in the group. For example,
she asked the kids to draw questions out of a hat about their experi-
ences of coming out; they played a trivia game about famous LGBT
people; and they watched Brokeback Mountain and discussed it as a
group. She divided the group meetings into a discussion activity sec-
tion and a psychoeducation section with presentations about safe sex,
relationship skills, self-esteem, and other issues that seemed relevant
for group members.
The group members were actively engaged, seemed interested in the
topics, and participated readily. They seemed to trust Alicia and talked
freely about their lives. Sometimes before sessions, for example, they
chattered about attending “parties” at RAY.
“They were so hot at that drag show the other night,” she overheard
Max saying.
“Yeah,” Marcus answered, “did you see that dude taking those pills
in the bathroom? Don’t know what that shit was he was raking.”
“I didn’t see that,” Max said, “but I saw that one emo girl with the
red streaks in her hair in there cutting her arms up. Seems like the emos
are multiplying over there. Then later she was out in the smoke hole
making out with that new girl like nothing ever happened.”
“I don’t think they should play all that emo music,” Stacy chimed
in. “It just attracts them, and they show up there to do all that cutting
and stuff. It’s gross.”
“Well, they aren’t going to fir in anywhere else but RAY,” Marcus
responded. “Most of them are bi anyway, so RAY understands them.”
Is RAY allowing this kind of stuff to happen? Alicia worried. Are
they encouraging it? She knew a little about the “emo” culture and how
difficult it was to treat someone who thought cutting themselves was
not only cool, but an important way to express emotion. But surely
RAY is not allowing these kids to take pills and cut themselves without
doing anything about it!
She wasn’t sure what. to say to the kids because they were just talk-
ing among themselves outside of the group. It wasn’t group time yet,
so she wasn’t sure how to intervene. Bur she could see that Max looked
over at her and seemed to be waiting for her to say something.
GAY – FOR – PAY 24
COLLABORATION ATTEMPTS
As Alicia got used to her direct practice work with the youth at WCF,
she began to move more into the GSA liaison part of her placement.
She had an idea to create a conference for the leaders and members of
local GSA dubs in the high schools. She started working with leaders
of Kansas Pride, the agency that organized the events for the annual
Pride Festival. Kansas Pride had undergone community criticism for
its lack of attention to youth issues, so its organizers welcomed the
opportunity to collaborate with Alicia. They were adamant, though,
about not even attempting to collaborate with RAY.
“We have asked them before about their board of directors, and
they won’t even tell us the names of the members,” Assistant Director
Kiara Junger cold Alicia. “We have asked about their policies, if there
is anyone with any kind of credentials on their staff, and all of that.
They will not even answer our questions. The last thing that Kansas
Pride needs is any more conflict with RAY.”
“Why doesn’t anyone do something about them?” Alicia asked.
“Isn’t there somewhere to report them?”
“Well~” Kiara said hesitantly. “I don’t know what it would do to
the gay community to have the stuff that goes on there exposed. It
might just confirm so many stereotypes that we are always trying to
overcome, you know?”
Alicia agreed not to attempt to collaborate with RAY on the confer-
ence. I’m not sure what I can do as a student, anyway, she thought.
This sounds like a rift that’s been there for quite a while.
Alicia began canvassing local high schools to hang posters about
the conference and asking to talk co principals about encouraging
their LGBT students to attend. She was quickly discouraged by the
response. She felt unprepared for the looks from staff when she showed
them her poster and asked if she could hang it up. She was told several
times that she could not hang her poster and was asked to leave. She
had principals tell her they were unavailable to meet with her or that
there was no reason to meet because there were no gay children in their
schools. Maybe this wasn’t the right placement for me, Alicia thought.
I’m taking this rejection way too personally. I’m still too sensitive right
now to serve gay clients in such a conservative community. Bttt I have
25 GAV – F O R -P AV
118

to see this practicum through at least. I just don’t want to ruin my
professional reputation before my career even starts!
When the day of the conference rolled around, mostly adults
showed up. The conference went well, with great speakers, a live band,
and great food, but a very disappointing attendance. Even some youth
that Alicia herself had talked to didn’t show up.
The following Monday morning Alicia saw Max in the hallway out-
side her office space. He was mopping the floor, so she stepped out to
talk to him.
“Max,” she asked, “do you know why the kids from group didn’t
show up for the conference on Saturday?”
“RAY scheduled a party for that night. It was a special event, a drag
show contest, and they elected Miss RAY that night.” Max looked at
the floor.
“Right, I thought RAY just did stuff on Saturday nights?” Alicia
responded. “This was all on Saturday morning and afternoon, so
couldn’t they have gone to both things?”
“They pushed the start time to noon, just to make sure there was
time for everyone to do their number.” Max looked up at Alicia.
Great, she thought. Music, food, and education will never be able
to compete with wild parties.
IS THIS GAY·FOR-PAY7
One afternoon for group Alicia began with an exercise, hoping to cre-
ate more feelings of commonaliry among members. She had left the
previous session feeling concerned that Stacy didn•t fit in well with the
other kids.
”If you could be a superhero, who would it be?” Alicia began.
“I don’t know, I guess I’d just want to have the power to be liked
by people for who I am and not have to hide myself,” Marcus said. “I
think I might be trans, but how do you know if you want to have a sex
change? My DHS caseworker is really cool, and she was telling me she
could help me start doing hormones and stuff if I wanted to. Since I
had that bad suicide attempt and all last year, I probably could never
even get anyone to do hormones for me.”
GAY·FOR·PAY 26
“I don’t know how you know, you just know,” said Nikki. “It’s good
you go to RAY because they really understand all that. They can help
you, you know, they really get it there. They have really been cool with
helping me and showing me how to do my hair and makeup.”
“Do you think we ‘get it’ here at WCF?” Alicia asked.
“Well,” Nikki began. “When I first met my counselor here, he was
like, ‘Do you like boys, or do you like girls?’ I mean, I’m a girl, so if I
like boys, was he going to write down I was straight or what?”
“I didn’t know what to say,” Nikki continued. “Then he was like, ‘Do
you like chickens? I mean, boy, those feathers!’ I didn’t even know what he
was talking about. I don’t think I ever even answered his question because
I really don’t know if I like boys or girls. Was that like a joke, or what?”
“] would have just told him to shut up,” Stacy responded. “What a
moron.” She slugged Nikki on the arm, friendly but too hard. Nikki
shot her a dirty look.
“I mean, people have always said I seem like a girl, the way I act,
and I’m just glad that RAY was there to help me figure out that stuff,”
Nikki said.
“Yeah,” said Marcus, ”they’ve helped me learn a lot about how ro
do my makeup and dress up and stuff. It’s fun there. The other night,
though, I tried to walk over there with my boobs on and my dress and
high heels. It was several miles, and I got pretty lost. It’s hard to find
them in the dark.”
“Wait a minute, Marcus,” Alicia interrupted. “I didn’t know that
you were wanting to start dressing like a woman. You’ve never men-
tioned that before.”
“Well, sure. You know, it’s fun,” Marcus responded. “The drag
shows are fun, and we get tips. It’s kind of a way to make a little money.
And I mean they are so cool and all. I know there was that one guy
whose parents kicked him out when they found out he was queer, and
the guys at RAY just let him stay there so he’d be safe. That was great,
you know, I mean it sure beats coming to a shelter.”
“Was this late at night when you were out walking?” Alicia asked.
“Were you supposed to be back at the shelter? Did you feel safe?”
“Yeah, it was all fine,” Marcus answered.
“So it’s pretty fun there at RAY?” Dalton asked. “Do you think I
should go sometime? I mean, what do you think, Alicia?”
27 GAY-FOR-PAY
119

“It is cool there, but I don’t go anymore,” said Max. “I mean it’s
cool to go there to party and all, but I don’t know. lt just seems like •..
I don’t know … ”
“Well, I don’t know either. What do you guys think?” It was the best
response Alicia could think of at the moment. But she wondered, What
is going on over there at RAY?
SEEKING SUPERVISION
The next morning Alicia went to see Pete. In luck, she found him in
his office, and he had time to talk. As soon as she mentioned issues
with the group, Pete recommended asking Kelly to come join them.
He thought that as a former group facilitator who knew the kids she
could offer some insight. Alicia summarized her concerns about activi-
ties going on at RAY.
“How am I supposed to react when they say this stuff in group?” she
asked. “I mean, I don’t want to tell them I think they shouldn’t go there
because they like it so much; I’m afraid they’ll just go there and never
come back here again for legitimate services. And we could just forget
about ever collaborating with RAY or really getting referrals from any
kids in need that show up there.”
“Well,” Pete said, “you’re right that we don’t want to burn bridges
and tell the kids not to go there. Maybe you could just talk about safety
more generally and try to get them to talk about safety issues with each
other. See what they think of RAY, like you started doing. As the group
leader, you don’t want to come in and say that RAY is bad, but maybe
you can help them figure out for themselves what they think.”
“That’s what I want to do,” Alicia said. “I want to figure out how
to use the group process to help them evaluate it for themselves. I just
don’t know how to respond in a way that’s professional.”
“No way,” Kelly said. “Don’t talk about RAY in your group at all.
Just change the subject if they bring it up. We already have a turf war
here. Just stay away from that subject.”
“Well,” Pete responded. “I get what you’re saying, Kelly, and I think
Alicia needs to think about that.” Then, turning back to Alicia, “I still
think there’s therapeutic value to this, and you can use it to _facilitate
GAY· FOR · PAY 28
some important d iscussions with the kids. Just try it in your group next
time. You can do this!”
“Thanks, Pete,” Alicia responded hesitantly.
ONE WEEK LATER
As Alicia prepared for group, she looked back through her notes from
the previous week and remembered Pete’s encouragement. The kids de-
serve a response from me, but I still don’t know what to do about what
they’re saying in group! How am I supposed to react professionally to
these stories of wild drag shows, kids cutting themselves, and all the
other stuff these kids are telling me happens at RAY?
Great, Alicia fretted, I’ve thought about this a lot but still don’t
know exactly what to say! How am I going to use our time in group
today? Do I have an obligation to do anything about what they say?
If so, what?
29 GAY- FOR·PAY
120

Spirituality and Religion
in Social Work Practice
Decision Cases With Teaching Notes
T. Laine Scales
Terry A. Wolfer
David A. Sherwood
Diana R. Garland
Beryl Hugen
Sharon Weaver Pittman
Council on Social Work Education
Alexandria, Virginia
121

13
Why Can’t They Make This Place More Jewish?
Evelyn Hoffman and Dennis R. Myers
“Mother is feeling so alone here. She’s begging me
to let her go back to New York. I don’t know how to
help mv mother laugh again and meet new frieuds
and stop missing home so much.” It was the under-
current of desperation in Jean Rubin’s expression
of concern for her mother, Mvra Golden, that mo-
mentarilv called Tom Harris’s attention awav from
his routine case planning as a county geriatric social
work<'!" at the Central Arkansas Mental Health and Mental Retardation Center. Since his first encoun- ter withjean over 6 months ago, "I om was not an·us- tmncd to hearing this level of frustration in hCI voice. He thought he had helped in resolving at least some of these kclings around the unrelenting phvsical decline experienced bv her RH-year-old mother. but never had her words contained such sheer hopelessness. "J(mJ knew that a seamless transition h·om a cosmopolitan setting like New York to a southern area like central Arkansas, where there was a very small Jewish communitv. would be difficult for a Jewish older person who was also f~lCing frightening phvsical challenges. 'lom recognized that. in spite of Mua 's depression and resistance to the idea. it was time to facilitate her involvement in a setting that would provide peer contact and the possibilit) of supportive h·iendships. A~ he thought about this proposition, Tom had an uneasv feeling that Mvra's culture and religion. so different from most of those who lived in central Arkansas. would present a sig- nificant barrier for her. Part of him wanted Mvra to minimize these differences for her own good. But Mvra would soon show Tom how her religious be- lids and practices would become a catalvst for en· riching comrntmit\ social services and. at the same time. present Tom with a ditlicult dilemma regard· ing the rok of religious diversitv in public life. Myra Golden's Relocation Jean was awan· that the local countv Mental Health and Mental Retardation Center had a Geri· atric Care Unit and she decided to seek assistance there. Torn, the unit's only geriatric social worker, recalled his first encounter with Jean. when she told him, 'Tm moving mv mother here to Plainview from New York City. and I need vour help to know what's available to make hn happv. She absolutely does not want to come. This is a verv diflicult move for all of us. Ijust know it has to be, because so much will be different for her." As a loving Jewish daughter, Jean's passion was to live out the teachings of Torah: "Do not forsake me in mv old age." For her. that meant placing herself, her husband David, and their home in the center of anv plans for her mother's care. The htct that Jean herself was recovering fr·om cardiac bv-pass surgery and was battling diabetes did not detract from her resolve. However, she was facing one of the most difficult challenges of her life. "I thought I would be a shtarkn (strong, tireless person), but this situation with Mother overwhelms me. .. 117 122 knew rl!at the act of home in the New York Citv bor~ o! lluccns would the support of pt ok,~i!mal. Jean needed sonwone who could her rnother~s relocation and who W<~>
about resources in Plainview.
where Jean herself had moved so long ago. ‘l(Hn wa-.
quite comf(>rtable with such requests. just as he wa’
also to work with adult children regarding
the guilt and the unfinished business that often
attaches itself to the role of
Presenting Issues and Gerontological Assessment
Tom’s initial impression ol Jean and David
Rubin was that they were a mutually supportive
couple who had n’cently celebrated their !”lOth
wedding anniversary. Thev w<·n· both motivated to provide within their home the care that Mvra would need. Even though Tom had only recentlv completed his MS\A,', his two years of gerontological work with families and carcgiving issues had taught him that such relocations were complex. This one seemed no diflerent in that respect. For most of her HH vcars, Myra Golden reveled in the web of relationships in her congregation and neighborhood in Queens. "At home in Queens her davs were so full," Jean explained. "Always on the phone with her friends or involved in nonstop bridge games at the Jewish senior center. Seems like if she wasn't at the cemcr she was off with her friends to a Broadwav show. She could always be found at weeki\· Sabbath obsn~ vances and, of course, there were celebrations of the High Holv Davs and Passover.'' Mvra had been outspoken in her disapproval ol Jean's decision to leave the advantages of life in the Big Apple to mm·e to Plainview upon her marriage to DaYid, her ~World War IJ sweetheart. Now .Jean was insisting that Mvra make the same move she had made over 50 years earlier. How ironic it was that Mvra herself would be traveling the pathwm· that created so much friction between her and Jean so long ago. The decision to move Mvra into the Rubin's home was triggered bv a stroke that brought with it a severe decrease in Mvra's abilitv to manage inde~ pendcntlv in her apartment. According to the gen~ atric assessment that 1(nn received from her intemist in :'\Jew York. her Cnchral Vascular Acci~ 118 Spirituality and Religion in Social Work Practtce dent (C\'.'\). or stroke, aflected her ability to pre~ pare her own meals and indepcndcntlv handk hvgiene. Her comprehensive assessment noted that hct "instrumental activities of dailv living (IADL) scores rel1ected moderate impairment and that she had defkits in short~tcrm memorY and in the use of her right hand.'. Tcm1 also uoticed in the assessment that she "was a confident woman who f1ourishcd when slk had rich human interaction available to her and who highlv valued her religious lili.·.'· Given that she could no longer care lor herself and that carcginT support f!·om a Eunilv member was unavailable in New York, 'l(nn concurred with Jean's plans to rclo~ cate her mother and agreed to facilitate a healtln transition f(n- all concerned. lt did not take very long fi.lr 'J(Hn to understand ckarlv that the answer to the caregiver question could never be a nursing home. He knew Jean would say to that possibility, "Not on your lif(·: It will be a nn:htag (dark night) bef(m' I would allow such a thing to happen." Jean\ desire to assume the primary caregiver role for her mother was based on more than an adult child's love and gratitude to~ ward her parent. At the hnmdation of her feelings lav the rich traditions of "caring fr a
change of heart about the move. Eve n more th an
food , Myra n eeded daily doses of social nou ris hm ent.
Tom recomme nded th at Myra tt-y th e Wa rren
Sen ior Ce nte r an d schedul ed an initial vis it wi th
Saman tha Ross, the director, who ve rified man ~ ·
reaso n s whv the senio r center e nvironment would
be a good fit for Myra. Its m e mbe rship , in large pa n ,
included very ac tive adult~ who te n ded to be highl y
educated. Th e program was en ri ched by a nmrition
program th at inclu ded a noon m e al Mond ay
th roug h Friday, ed u cation al offe r ings in p a rtn er-
sh ip with th e loca l com munity co ll ege, d ay tri ps to
scenic and interesting areas of cen tral Arkansas ,
interge nerati o n al experiences with smdents from a
n earby e le m entary sch ool , and ga mes and crafts. At
th e Wan-en Sen ior Ce nter, th e domi n o gam e “42”
was th e main ta bl e game, and Torn th ought th at it
had many of th e feat ures of bridge. The Wan -e ll
Ce nter received its primary publi c su pport through
the O ld e r Am e ri can s Ac t. with fund s ch a nn e led
th rough th e local Area Agency on Agin g o n a co n-
tra c t. basis to th e Ce ntral Arkansas Sen ior Ministry,
wh ic h operated th e se nior cente r as a private , not-
for-profit age n c:y of the First Me thodist Churc h in
Plain view.
Religious Insensitivity
Ini tially, Myra’s decision to give the Warren
Center a try seem ed to be affirm ed by h e r recep tio n
th ere. At first , she e njoyed h e r n e w friends and th e
varie ty of ofl erin gs a t the center, bu t it was not long
bef (Jn~ unanti cipated features of the program began
ch anging th e sen ior cen ter in to an uncomf(H·tabk
an d ali e n se tting . In th e beginn in g, th e unsettlin g
feature s were on ly mino r irri ta tion s, for in stance .
th e ce nter staff’s co mplete di sregard h>r Jewish
holid ays, such as Passover. It seem e d to Myra th a t
sh e was the only J ewish pe rson coming to th e ce tt –
ter. One day site ca m e home, a nd when _l ean asked
her about her d ay, she replied. “Very stran ge! Arc
peop le of their fa ith given in struction on who th eY
can dan ce with or sit next to ? lt seems to m e th at
cvt>ryo ne in th e cen ter has a bovfricnd o r girlfri e n d
and I feel li ke l shou ld go elst:whcn ··-
With tim e, oth er reli giouslv in sensitt \T hK top;
becam e in creasi n g ly obvious , in clu d ing d ilfc re n ces
in d ietary requirement~ for obse rvant J ews and the
meals served a t th e cen ter. Christian pra vcrs an d
hymns were dom in ant durin g m ealtimes am i sin g-
a lo n gs. To Myra, th ese e lements appeared 1.0 pi a\’ a
major role in th e li fe of th e center. Fina ll y, there was
th e issue of scheduli n g th e center dances-on e o f
Myra’s favorite ac tivities-on Friday evenin g, th <' very time of worship ser\'ices at the syn agogue . Making It Better for Myra Myra wondered alo ud to Tom , "Couldn ' t there be something done to make th e p lace more Jew- ish? " It was o bvious to Torn th a t so m e thin g n eed ed to h a pp en . AJthou gh he had some co n cem a bout th e cu ltural and r e ligious ditfe rences Myra migh t experience wh(~ ll h e made th e referral, h e neve r im agin e d th at th is publicl y-fund e d se nior centn wou ld be so difli cult for non-Christian parti cipa n L~. "We reall y want to be as res ponsive as we can to our participan ts' individual tastes , but you h ave to remem ber th at we have our limits ," Samantha Ross said in respo nse to Tom·s attemp t to start a co n versa- ti o n about his conce rn s. Neverth e less , she agreed to a m eeting with Tom, .Jean , and Mvra ''to see wh at cou ld be don e to make thin gs berte r." She li stened inte ntl v to Myr a's complainL~ : 'Th e Friday ni g ht d a n ces are a t the same tim e as synagogu e services and th at kee ps m e from go ing and I don't thin k that 's righ t~·· "Cou ld th e bridge players h ave the use of at least on e of th e tab les?" "Please provid e some lun ch es for peop le li ke m e who have re li g ious restri cti ons on what th ey can eat. Maybe havin g somethin g .J ewis h around here wouldn 't be so bad '" Samanth a told Myra th a t sh e n ee ded to allo\\· m o re time for "eve1-yone to ge t to know her better'· a n d to ·'realize th a t central Arkansas can n ever be like New York City. " She ex p lained further th at arw c h a nges in th e p r ogram would need the appm\'a l o f th e ce nter 's coun cil , an electe d body composed ol five ce nter participants , two m e mbe rs from tlte i\rc~t Agency on Ag in g Advisory Committee, and Ms. Ross h e rs elf. Sh e agreed to discuss th ese conccms wit l1 Why Can't Th ey Mak e This Pl ace More Jewi sh? 11 9 124 the council as part of the f(>r the upcoming
week’s
Mvra seemed relieved bv the opportunity to
express some of her concerns, but Tom had an
tmeasy that the road to making the center
more accommodating to ethnic and religious dillcr-
ences would be long and hanL
“How can a senior· citizen program that is receiv-
ing Older Americans Act monies be so supportive
of one religious viewpoint and so unresponsive to
those who hold other be lids)” was Tom·, rhetorical
question to his supervisor as thev reviewed what had
become known as “The Mvra Case.”
Tom’s supervisor reminded him that the
center’s program mirrored the values and prefer-
ences of most older people from cemral Arkansa-,,
and, in that sense, the center was being responsivt’
to the needs of the majoritr.
“But to what extent must Mvra be denied the
richness of her personal and religious tradition?’
T

PACIFIC INSTRUCTIONS

All case analyses must include the
six
sections in the table below, although some instructors may require additional elements. Use headings to identify these sections in the case analyses.

Conflicting Agendas for the Future of a Youth Agency by Martha Golensky pg. 83 in Manual

Required Components of Case Analyses

Introduction

Briefly identify the major elements (i.e., who, where, what) of the case.

Contextual Analysis

Summarize internal and external issues that created or sustain the problem (i.e., why). Depending on the system level, these may include: cultural, economic/resource, political/legal, organizational, social, and ethical issues, interpersonal relationships, and intrapsychic and biological conditions. Use and cite professional sources (and include APA-style references).

Problem Statement

Give a specific and concisely written formulation of the problem to guide analysis and problem-solving. Not a question but a statement of the problem. Usually no more than two sentences.

Alternative Strategies

Identify three or more possible solutions to the problem. These solutions should be plausible, distinct and non-contingent (i.e., not interdependent). Briefly note advantages and disadvantages of each possible solution for addressing the problem.

Recommendation

Justify your preferred strategy, explaining why you selected that particular one, how it best resolves the problem, and how you will determine its effectiveness. Be sure your recommended strategy can be plausibly supported by resources available in the case context.

Ways of Knowing

Self-reflectively identify the source for your thinking about this case. For example, did you base it on previous experience, intuition, specific theories, personal values, authority, empirical research, previous discussion of similar problems, or something else?

Case Evaluation Matrix

Problem Statement

Contextual Analysis

Alternative Strategies

Recommend-ation

“Thinking like a SWer”

Writing

Quality

Accurate, clear, specific, concise, and useful

Adequately addresses all important issues

Several distinct and appropriate strategies, with well-developed pros/cons for each

Explicitly resolves the entire problem

Reflects thorough problem-solving

Compelling, clear and interesting, with no errors

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