When I first became a social worker, I decided to seek experience working with as many different populations as possible. Since then, I had worked as a case manager and clinician with individuals who were homeless, disabled, dealing with chronic and acute mental illness, or had substance-abuse issues. Clients had included families, children, men, women, people of different faiths, individuals identifying as LGBTQ, and those of different races and ethnicities. I was pleased to have a new opportunity to continue my work in an agency focused on serving various populations.
A few months after I took the position, there was a change in leadership.
Here we go again, I thought. Why do I always seem to land in agencies in the middle of mergers, re-organizations, policy changes, or new program developments?
“Do we know anything about the new supervisor?” I asked one of my coworkers.
“Not really. Upper management will be interviewing the candidates and making the final decision. I haven’t heard any details.”
I told myself not to worry too much. Maybe it’ll be a good thing. I’ll get to observe the transition and learn early on whether this agency is going to be a good fit for me. I get along well with the rest of the staff, why wouldn’t it be the same with the new boss? But maybe I’ll plan an exit strategy, just in case.
When the announcement was made, an individual I will call Kim was selected. Since she had extensive experience working in similar agencies, I was eager to hear about her background and how she could help us. When Kim met with our staff the first time, she introduced herself and outlined her education and work experience.
“I’ve performed all of your roles, except that of nurse,” she said, then proceeded to list the various titles she’d held over the years.
As soon as she mentioned the role of social worker, I was curious to inquire about her credentials, and hopeful that there would now be another social worker on the team. At the first opportunity, I asked her, “Can you tell me your qualifications to be a social worker?”
She replied, “My education. As I said, I have a PhD.”
With effort, I hid my distaste. Kim’s tone sounded more than a little arrogant. I won’t ask any more questions right now. But I do wonder if she’s another one of those people who call themselves a social worker because she’s “helping” someone. I find that so annoying.
In Texas, professional social workers must have a degree in social work and be licensed by the state. They practice in a variety of settings and are professionals who pursue the betterment of the lives of individuals, families, groups, communities, and societies. Social workers receive specialized training in health, mental health, diversity, and social issues so they can practice effectively with vulnerable individuals. The licensing process is extensive and requires demonstrated competence in the field.
I often found myself advocating for my profession. This had been a “cause” for me for some time, one I felt passionately about. I had worked long and hard to become a social worker—it takes almost as long to become a clinical social worker as it does to become a medical doctor.
Normally, I would debate with anyone who called themselves a social worker without the proper credentials, explaining what social workers do, their educational requirements, and what it takes to become one. I often succeeded in enlightening individuals about the profession. But in this case, I decided it was too early to have a disagreement with my new supervisor.
A few weeks after that initial meeting, the issue of who was or was not a social worker came up again.
During a staff meeting, Kim said, “If anyone needs to take time off, I can help out,” adding, “I can fill in for anyone except the nurse.”
My annoyance and frustration began to surface again: She thinks she can do everyone else’s job but needs to do her own. I could feel myself getting hot and emotionally distancing myself from the group. I don’t want to play these games anymore.
I decided to consult my former clinical social work supervisor, Sue (a pseudonym). As an outsider, I figured she might help me get level-headed.
“Kim told me she can fill in if we need to take time off. She said she can do everyone’s role except the nurse. Why can everyone be a social worker, but no one can be the nurse?”
Sue asked, “Does she have a social work degree or license?”
“I know she has a PhD.” I made a face, recalling the snooty way Kim informed us of that. “But I don’t know what it’s in. And I don’t think she has a license.”
Sue checked the online verification site of social work license holders in Texas: “She doesn’t have a license. It’s illegal for her to perform any social work duties or call herself a social worker without a license. I’ll have to report her if you tell me she’s doing a social worker’s job.”
I didn’t want Kim to be reported, nor did I want to compromise my responsibility to the National Association of Social Workers Code of Ethics and Texas Social Work Board of Examiners Code of Conduct. This dilemma added to my emotional turmoil.
The only way I could think to get some perspective on all this was to take some time off from work to separate myself from it. I prayed, cried, and slept. And I spent some time doing uncensored journaling, writing:
I wrote along those lines until I felt calm enough to conclude: No one can be a social worker unless they meet the requirements. The social work role is not only valuable, but legally necessary to organizations with some types of government funding.
I then switched gears and instead of complaining, began journaling things I was grateful for.
I also reflected on the initial interaction between Kim and me. Had she been offended by my asking about her credentials to do social work?
Just as I heard arrogance in the tone of her response, could she have heard the same in my tone?
I knew Kim had extensive experience and had supervised a team before. Could the issue of her facing legal consequences be avoided by talking to her about the legal boundaries of social work? Or maybe I could give a presentation to the staff about the role of social workers, as well as their qualifications?
When the opportunity arose for me to communicate with Kim one-on-one via email about the legal requirements to be a social worker, I felt calmer. But in the interim, I’d learned our agency was taking on clients related to staff members.
Concerned, I emailed Kim:
She replied, Where does it say that about dual relationships of a social worker? Can you send me that document?
Social workers must be licensed by the state and adhere to a set of professional standards, I wrote. I attached a copy of the section of the Administrative Code covering dual relationships before I hit Send.
It still seems unclear to me, Kim responded.
I suggested, Why don’t we meet to talk about it?
She did not respond about meeting but acknowledged during a staff meeting later the same week that social workers were licensed by the state, and no one could be a social worker unless they had a license.
I asked for a brief, impromptu timeslot during the same staff meeting to discuss my job description with the rest of the staff, thinking I could help them better understand the value the social work role brought to the team. I read them my job description and discussed some of its elements in detail.
I also introduced the problem of dual relationships. To provide effective counseling to clients, it is often necessary to involve their family members. And since these family members were also colleagues of mine, it presented boundary issues or conflicts of interest violating the codes of my profession. It made me sad that I could not be of support to them in my role as social worker if their family members needed agency services, but I was bound to the codes through my licensure.
Several colleagues said they would let me know when our clients could benefit from meeting with me. That made me feel good.
After the meeting, I sought out a coworker and asked her for feedback. She said she was not aware that staff family members as agency clients represented a dual relationship for me. So it was not just Kim who was unaware of my concerns.
I felt vindicated for speaking up.
Alicia Beatrice received a Master of Social Work from the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. After an adventurous career track through several different helping professions, she continues to find purpose in her work as a therapist and entrepreneurial pursuits supporting Black and Brown women entrepreneurs. In her spare time, she enjoys movies, music, and spending time with her two sons.
She first learned the Conscious Change skills in a course taught by Dr. Latting in the Graduate College of Social Work at the University of Houston, then worked with her while completing her graduate internship.
