Next we have a fascinating child care history paper by Dr Craig Fees, analysing the professional formation of psychiatrist Donald Winnicott, and a crucial lost episode in the history of therapeutic residential child care

Steve Walker then writes about important current developments in residential child care, focusing on restorative approaches and how building sound relationships helps to resolve issues and repair harm.

Keith White is writing this month about preparations - for holidays, for life, for the future of mankind.

Valerie Jackson  looks at the important topic of bullying, and the need to tackle bullying as a social, educational and health issue

Beyond Caring by A.J. Stone is now on to Chapter 14. Is there a future for a boy with a past? The previous chapters are all there if you would like to read the whole book to date.

Next a news item from Scotland about a the use of IT games to help people appreciate the complexities of social work decision-making.

There are, as usual, two Key Texts prepared by Robert Shaw - The Adolescent Girl in Conflict by Gisela Konopka, a study which highlighted the lack of research about girl offenders, and Mother and Baby Homes by Jill Nicholson, the first comprehensive study of the subject.

There are also two Book Reviews, both being Kirwin Maclean publications which follow their predecessors in offering sound well-informed practical advice. They are Leadership and Management of Services for Children and Young People by Pete Connors, Rob Harrison and Siobhan Maclean, and Protecting Children and Young People from Harm and Abuse - Recognition and Response by Rita Hannah Langton and Siobhan Maclean, respectively reviewed by Wanda Gibson and Valerie Jackson.

Barnardo’s have produced a diatribe (based on a parliamentary answer) which castigates the length of time taken by care proceedings. In the London area it takes 65 weeks on average for the whole process to creak and groan its way from beginning to end. Nationally the average is 57 weeks - more than a year, to spell it out. That means that for some children it is less but for others it is more.

If a baby is being fostered by its prospective adopters, s/he will be quite unaware of the length of the legal process and the most s/he will suffer is picking up some second-hand anxiety on the part of the carers - and, of course, disruption when the permanent placement is made, which no doubt risks increasing the longer that the child settles with the temporary foster carers.

For an older child or young person who is aware that s/he is the subject of care proceedings it is another matter. If you are three when the process starts, you will have spent nearly a third of your life subject to Court directions by the time it is over. If you are older, the uncertainty will probably make it feel like a lifetime.

Remember that the children who are being strung out in this way will probably have suffered plenty of disturbance (and maybe abuse) in their home lives already, such that what they need stability and security.

Clearly the decision whether a Care Order should be made is an important one, but in many cases the outcome is clear from the start and the whole process is more a matter of being seen to have done the whole thing properly than of decision-making. The due processes do need to be followed, but why cannot clear-cut cases be fast-tracked to leave more time for those where further information is needed or developments are awaited?

The Care Context

What the Barnardo’s press release did not focus on is that the care proceedings take place in a longer context. Prior to the case social workers will probably have agonised at length about ways of supporting the child’s family without resorting to the law. They will have had professional planning meetings and, if the child has been abused, case conferences involving other agencies. There may have been special legal meetings to determine whether the threshold criteria for care proceedings have been met. There may have been gate-keeping meetings to ensure that any costs entailed for fostering or residential care can be met within the budget. For children where adoption is planned there will have been meetings which decide on seeking a Placement Order, on approving prospective adopters and on matching children to adopters. (Do not become a social worker if you don’t like meetings.)

When the Care Order is made, a good authority will have undertaken preparatory action and it may be possible to move the child to his/her permanent placement without too much delay. In some cases, though, care proceedings seem to cast a sort of planning blight over the next stage, especially if the family are fighting the authority, and it is only when the Care Order is made and the authority has the power to act that serious planning begins. It may then take months, if not years, to find suitable adopters or long-term foster carers. In the course of the process a child who was originally adoptable may become unsuited to adoption through age or because of changes in the child’s behaviour or attitude to carers.

The situation can be complicated by changes of social worker. With the speed of staff turnover at present what percentage of such processes are seen through from beginning to end by one social worker? We came across a case not long ago when the whole process from the first decision that a Care Order should be sought to permanent placement took seven years.

The Price

The price for this dilatoriness is paid mainly by the children and young people whom the process is meant to be helping and protecting. Barnardo’s make that point well. We endorse what they say and will not dwell on it.

There are two other ways in which a heavy price is paid. The first is the sheer financial cost of the whole process. We do not know of anyone who has costed all of this, but behind the legal proceedings there are all the formal local authority and inter-agency meetings, and behind them there is the time spent on the informal discussions, the phone calls, the visits, the interviews, the correspondence, the reading of files, the drafting, typing, checking and retyping of reports and minutes.

The cost of making the decision that a child should be subject to a Care Order must be massive. It is an important decision, but would the quality deteriorate if the process were speedier and cheaper? Go back thirty years and local authority committees were able to receive reports from the officers and decide to take parental rights through Section 2 Resolutions under the 1948 Children Act. The process was much speedier and entailed a lot less bureaucracy. It was felt that this simple process was deficient in that it gave too much power to local authorities, who needed an independent check on their decision-making. Without necessarily returning to Section 2 Resolutions there may still be ways of saving money by simplifying and speeding up the decision-making process.

The second price we pay is reflected in the costs but is not monetary. The enormous financial outlay represents staff time, and much of that at present is the time of social workers and their managers and specialist advisers in the Children’s Services Departments. All the people involved in care cases are likely to be qualified and many - especially those in senior roles - will be among the more experienced workers. By allocating their time and talents to the completion of over-lengthy legal processes we are diverting them from other children and young people whose cases are receiving insufficient attention. Work such as preventative advice, case work and time spent with children, for example on therapeutic or relationship-building activities, goes out of the window when court work takes priority.

With the Best of Intentions

When the Children Act 1989 was brought in it was hoped that it would speed up  processes such as care proceedings. It was also intended to ensure that children and their parents all had a chance to have their say and be represented. All these intentions were good, but the outcome is that the processes have become more complex, adversarial and legalistic. As a result lawyers play a much fuller role, all of which takes more time and costs more money.

When there is a national shortage of social workers this diversion of the time of the most experienced and best trained professionals into unnecessary processes squanders a valuable resource. So, if the Government is looking for ways to do things more efficiently and cheaply, simplifying the legal and bureaucratic processes of the care system is a clear target. If simplified, it should also make the job a lot more satisfying for social workers, and maybe they would stay longer in post.

And, going back to the point made by Barnardo’s, the legal process is meant to be protecting children and young people, who are often the innocent victims of the circumstances in which they have been brought up. But it is the victims who are suffering. Delaying the resolution of their problems amounts to a form of systemic abuse, and minimising it is within the powers of politicians.

For the Barnardo’s Press Release, click here.

For the Parliamentary answer, click here.

Thanks are due to Barnardo’s for highlighting the issue and making the information available.

It’s the conference season, and here are three or four promising events which we recommend to you.

From Coalface to Facebook

An intriguing title for the Child Care History Network’s Conference on the use of new social media and technology to remember child care experiences.

• How will the history of child care be recorded as the new online social networks gather momentum?
• Can we embrace these new forms of communication which are considered by some to be truly democratic and by others as an avenue for the exploitation and abuse of children and young people?
• Is there a resistance among child care professionals to embrace these new forms of communication?
• Can this new media technology be helpful for children, child care professionals, historians and archivists  in remembering, recording, gathering and archiving child care experience and history?
• What online communication networks and facilities are available now for children and child care professionals alike to record their experiences and make them known?
• How far are experienced child care professionals resistant to these new forms of communication ?  And if this is so what experiences and insights may be lost?
• What is being achieved already by projects such as Therapeutic Living With Other People’s Children, which have an array of new media built into them?

These are among  the questions delegates and speakers alike will be addressing at the conference. The conference speakers and fees will be announced very shortly. It will take place at the Planned Environment Therapy Trust, Toddington, Gloucester on 11 November 2010. To express an early interest to book a place at the conference email Trust@pettrust.org.uk.

Putting Theory into Practice

This is the title for a pair of conferences, one in Leeds on Monday 4 October 2010 and the other in London on Friday 8 October, using more or less the same programme. The focus is the use of high quality residential care to meet the real needs of children and there is an excellent programme, with the top speakers on the subject. For details of the programme and booking details at Leeds click here, and at London click here.

Youth Care Congress in South Africa

The first ever FICE child and youth care congress in Africa will be held in Cape Town from 7-9  December 2010. This should be a fascinating occasion. If you can attend we can promise that you will never have been to a conference like it. In the face of massive needs, South African child care workers have devised systems and ideas from which the rest of the world can learn.

Parallel to the main congress a youth conference will be held from 3-9 December 2010. If you think you could take a party of young people to participate, get in touch with the organisers quickly, as time is getting short. More information on the youth conference is on the website:  http://www.fice2010.org.za/youth/index.html .

ASASWEI

Finally there is a conference for social work educators and practitioners, to be held under the title Partners in Teaching and Learning. Time is now short, as it is to be held on 26-28 September 2010 at Southern Sun Garden Court Eastern Boulevard, Cape Town.

We have not been able to find out from their website what ASASWEI stands for but presumably the middle bit is to do with social work educators. On the other hand we may have disgraced ourselves for failing to recognise one of South Africa’s many ethnic groups.

Cuts

It was predictable. The Government has started to make cuts and some of them are unwelcome. No doubt there are going to be a lot more cuts, and the people affected will argue their corners. Of course everyone will have to bear some pain, so how do we determine what should be protected and what may regretfully have to be sacrificed?

In this case it is plans for playgrounds that are being axed. One hundred and thirty-two local authorities have been told that their schemes for one thousand three hundred play areas have been scrapped. The Labour Government had an ambitious plan to improve play facilities across the country.

This might sound to some people like a bit of icing on the cake, with play being seen as a peripheral extra pleasure for children, and suitable as a sacrifice for children to make. But when we face the danger of an ever-increasing percentage of obese children who spend their time in solitary screen-based pursuits, it is a vital investment both for children as individuals and for the health of the country as a whole if the provision of play facilities helps them to be active. Without active play children’s health - perhaps as adults - and their ability to contribute economically will both be affected, entailing loss of productivity and extra expenditure on health care and benefits.

Michael Gove has spoken of the previous Government’s “unrealistic spending commitments”. We cannot comment on either the past or the present Government’s overall spending plans, but we fear that the ultimate price to pay for failing to provide good play areas will be much greater than the savings made.

Of course, children don’t have the vote. They won’t demonstrate against the Government. So it’s an easy cut - but a mean one - “like taking toffees off kids”.

Research

We get quite a lot of press releases announcing the findings of ‘research’. We have no idea whether the research has been properly conducted or whether the findings should have any weight attached to them. The surveys are mostly carried out to provide an opportunity for companies to get a bit of publicity and push their wares. Nonetheless the outcomes are at times interesting, so here is a bit of free publicity for Savlon, Bounty Parenting Club, Drayton Manor Theme Park, Travelodge, Nintendo and the British Science Festival.

Research: Playing Outside

• 92% of kids would be ‘very upset’ or ‘upset’ if they weren’t allowed to play outside.
• 62% of youngsters would rather play outside with friends than stay indoors watching TV or playing computer games.
• 52% of kids think playing outdoors is more exciting than playing indoors.

Savlon says, “You might think that play habits have changed over the years with the advent of TV and computer games dominating today’s society.  But the research … just goes to show how much good old fashioned fun the great outdoors can actually be for our youngsters, as over half of the kids surveyed revealed that playing outside was ‘more exciting than playing indoors’ and a third saw it as a ‘a big adventure’.

“It seems the findings turn the idea of Britain’s ‘couch-potato kids’ on its head as the virtual world does not cut it for youngsters today who would much prefer to be outdoors at play.   There is a whole world outside that can provide much needed learning and developmental opportunities as well as bundles of fun and excitement.”

And when they fall over, and their grazed knees need attention, you know what will help.

Research: Names

Bounty, who describe themselves as the UK’s favourite parenting club, have been surveying children’s names, and they have found that a growing number of babies  are named after places. Florence comes top (2,207 in the last ten years), followed by Rio, Paris, India, Sydney, Lucia, Brooklyn, Savannah, Devon, Phoenix and so on. They appear to attribute this to increased travel or to people wanting to copy the Beckhams.

We were always told that the practice was based on naming children after where they had been conceived, but maybe that was a myth. Certainly we never came across anyone called Behind-the-Roxy, and we’d like to think that Florence’s popularity is connected with Miss Nightingale or the Magic Roundabout as well as a surge of interest in the gem of Italy. Maybe the Camerons will set a new trend with naming children after the place where they were born, but would millions of people really want their children called London?

We have some questions to ask about the quality of this research. None of the top ten listed above are in the top hundred most popular names which Bounty give on their website, but their list does include Kyle (63rd) as in Lochalsh, Ashton (66th) as in under Lyne, Brandon (75th) as in Suffolk, Bradley (85th) as in Wolverhampton and Cody (95th) as in Wyoming.

Bounty’s website, incidentally, gives some parenting information as well as lists of names, but maybe they would like to let us know who voted them the favourite parenting club. We couldn’t access the page on the Bounty Trust.

Research: Arguments

The average family will endure 84 arguments over the summer holidays, a study commissioned by Drayton Manor Theme Park, near Tamworth, Staffordshire, has revealed. Bust-ups over money, what to do with the kids and bored youngsters mean the average family bickers twice every day. That works out as 14 each week or 84 over the six-week holiday. But while the majority of arguments are between the children in the family, more than one in five rows are involving mum and dad.

Colin Bryan, Managing Director of Drayton Manor Theme Park, said, “The summer holidays are traditionally a fraught time for parents but it’s staggering to see exactly how many arguments will happen over the six weeks. And the traditional British weather often doesn’t help with rain keeping children trapped indoors and getting in each other’s way, instead of playing outside”.

Families in Northern Ireland were found to be well in the lead as the most fractious, while Yorkshire, Humberside, East Anglia and the South East of England were the least liable to row. Interestingly the most popular times to argue were about 5 p.m. to 7 p.m., varying slightly in different regions. Altogether families were asked nineteen questions, but the list of possible causes of disputes did not include children being compelled to join in supermarket shopping, an important omission to judge by the number of howling children we encounter. The size of the sample was not given.

Research: Bears

Next a really important piece of research commissioned by Travelodge. A total of 75,000 bears have been left at Travelodges in the last twelve months. There may be 452 Travelodges, but we still find the statistic hard to believe. It means that on average every Travelodge has a bear left behind on (approximately) every second day. Are Brits that heartless or forgetful?

Anyway, Travelodge decided to conduct a poll about the most popular bears, and here is the outcome:

1. The classic Teddy bear such as Little and Big Ted from Playschool
2. Winnie the Pooh
3. Paddington Bear
4. Tatty Bear
5. Sooty
6. Care Bears
7. Yogi Bear
8. Fozzie Bear
9. Rupert the Bear
10. Super Ted / Baloo

Next, the sort of information you need for pub quizzes:

• 25 % of men take teddy bears with them on business trips.
• 51% of adults still possess their childhood bear.
• The average age of teddy bears is 27 years.

Corrine Sweet, Psychologist, commented on the research findings, “Cuddling a teddy bear is an important part of our national psyche; it evokes a sense of peace, security and comfort. It’s human nature to crave these feelings from childhood to adult life. … A bedtime bear evokes feelings of home, warmth, and can help you nod off, just like in babyhood.”

Research: Art

According to a survey commissioned by Nintendo to mark the launch of their new skills game Art Academy, art-based activities such as painting, drawing and visiting galleries are losing popularity with young families, meaning that a generation is growing up lacking basic art knowledge and skills,

Over a third of children (39%) aged 11 and under said they had never been to an art gallery or exhibition, either with their parents or their school. This lack of exposure to art history explains how over a quarter of children (27%) had no idea who Vincent Van Gogh is, with 10% believing he is a footballer. Almost 1 in 5 (16%) children thought an easel was a kind of animal and a further 12% thought it was something you could eat. Parents admitted their child’s poor awareness of art was largely due to their own lack of knowledge, with 15% saying they wouldn’t even know where to start in showing them the basics about art at home.

According to the research findings, the simple enjoyment gained from painting a picture is being lost by today’s children with a quarter (28%) stating that they only paint or draw with their parents a few times a year or less. A lack of communication between parents and their children can be blamed for this, as 44% of children cited painting and drawing as one of their favourite things to do with their parents, while 46% of parents admitted they don’t bother painting or drawing with their child because they think they prefer more modern pursuits like watching TV.

Nintendo say that Art Academy is a simple way for parents and children to get involved in art. Featuring step by step lessons that take learners of all competencies through the basics of art it offers a modern twist on an age-old pastime. Nintendo’s Head of Communications, Rob Saunders, said, “Art is a great activity for parents and kids to perform together but it can be intimidating as so many of us feel we don’t have the necessary skills or knowledge to give it a try. We really hope Art Academy will open up a whole new generation to the joys of art and give them the confidence they need to kick start a new hobby.”

Research: Babies

Finally, there is advance news of research which should be unimpeachable. The British Science Festival is meeting in mid-September and its message is that babies are more aware than we might have thought. New techniques have uncovered evidence that babies recognise faces and objects, count small numbers, learn words long before they can say them and even perform remarkable feats of imagination, causing us to re-consider what thoughts babies can and cannot think.

For information about the Festival, book in at www.britishsciencefestival.org or call 0207 019 4947.

From the Case Files

Mother was admitted to a Women’s Refuge after martial violence.

The kick-boxing went too far.

It might not outsell Grand Theft Auto or Super Mario this Christmas, but being a social worker in Scotland is the latest on-line challenge.

In the ‘social work challenge’, launched on 24 August 2010, people are being asked to take on the role of a social worker faced with a series of decisions in a child protection scenario, based on real life incidents.  They have to use their judgement to make a series of decisions about the case that will lead to a positive outcome for the child.

The exercise, which forms part of the Social Work Changes Lives campaign, is designed to help people understand the difficult decisions that social workers must make when assessing individual circumstances.  The campaign is supported by the Association of Directors of Social Work and the Scottish Social Services Council.

It opens with a call from a local primary school head teacher who is concerned about a pupil, Johnny. Johnny is weepy, tired and has a bruise on his arm.  He says his dad did it. The head teacher says he has been playing up at school and has been unsettled for several weeks. You don’t have any other information on this child or family. What do you do next?

You are then taken through a series of difficult choices, where some outcomes are better than others.

“In social work, every case is different”, explains Michelle Miller, President of the Association of Directors of Social Work. “While a particular decision may lead to a positive outcome in one case, a quite different approach may be needed for another, even if is the circumstances appear similar.  No two cases are ever the same and they must always be judged independently.”

Anna Fowlie, Chief Executive of the Scottish Social Services Council, said, “We know that many Scots have little awareness of what people working in social work services do, and the challenges they face.  It is important that we increase understanding to maintain confidence in services and encourage more people to consider it as a career”.

“In the Social Work Challenge we are using an on-line format so that people can imagine themselves as the social worker, something which would be more difficult to achieve through conventional media”, added Anna Fowlie.

The social work challenge is being publicised through a social media campaign.  People can find it on Facebook, Twitter and the ADSW website at http://www.adsw.org.uk/ADSW-Game

Hugh O’Donnell, MSP and Social Work Changes Lives Campaign champion said,

“This is a really innovative approach to giving the wider public, and those aspiring to work in the profession, an understanding of the very real challenges faced by social workers on a day-to-day basis. Sometimes we are too quick to criticise or comment on social work decisions without a real understanding. This new resource may mitigate some of the more ill informed comments.”

The campaign will look to introduce more scenarios using the same format, focusing on other areas of social work services, such as care of older people, criminal justice and support for people with disabilities.

RAiL has been led Dr Helen Flanagan an experienced educator, trainer and inspirational leader in the field of Restorative Justice and RA.  Dozens of Facilitators have been trained firstly in schools and later, in children’s homes.

Restorative Approaches, as an extension of Restorative Justice, are based on the premise that we humans need for our existence to make relationships with others.  We rely upon relating to other people for our fulfilment. We are programmed to seek out connections with others. In simple terms RA is all about relationships. It helps to understand how we make, maintain and when things go wrong - repair those relationships.

Conflict between people is inevitable, but when it occurs, restorative approaches can help to restore the balance in a just and acceptable way. In resolving the harm done it works to prevent it happening again.

It encourages those who have caused harm to acknowledge the impact of what they have done and gives them an opportunity to make reparation. It offers those who have suffered harm the opportunity to have their harm or loss acknowledged and amends made.

This approach is very appropriate to use in a children’s home, so we shared some initial information in preparation for a day of ‘whole house’ training. The staff team and young people were all invited to participate, and of course the young people in some cases chose not to join in. The day started with an informal gathering of the young people, staff and trainers to share breakfast and break the ice before the whole group got down to start work!

After introductions and an explanation of the programme, we established some ground rules. This led to an invitation to the young people to consider ways of making the room and the people in it more amenable to communication, sharing and equality. The young people quickly determined that a circle was the most effective way of sitting together. Circles are used extensively in RA to afford eye contact, provide equality, using the symmetry of the circle to bind the individuals together as one.

We mixed some presentation material with a number of activities and role play and concluded the day by inviting everyone to say some closing remarks whilst sitting in the circle.

The feedback has been very positive and adults and young people are resolved to make efforts to use their learning to act and live restoratively. These are the first steps on a journey which will improve relationships by using empathy and a shared understanding of each other’s needs, which in turn will create a more harmonious atmosphere and a means of resolving conflict without the reliance on traditional models of punishment.

The workshop in Warwick, entitled Therapeutic Community, the Archive and Historical Research aimed “to open up a discussion on the relationship of the historian, the therapeutic community and the archive.  How can exploration of the archive enrich our historical knowledge about key figures associated with therapeutic community theorising?  In what ways might therapeutic community theorising be brought into engagement with theories employed by historians?  How might the management of historical practice relate to the management of therapy in therapeutic communities?”

Unless otherwise noted, all quotations come from archive material held in the Planned Environment Therapy Trust Archive and Study Centre. Their citations have been removed to help with the flow of the paper.

Theatre, Research and Archives

First, I would like to thank Jonathan for framing this as a workshop instead of a conference.

When the Planned Environment Therapy Trust asked me to begin work on creating an Archive and Study Centre twenty years ago, devoted broadly to therapeutic community, I had just completed my seven years of PhD research and still thought and saw the world through the eyes of an academic researcher. That in turn was on the heels of five years of research for a master’s degree in theatre history, on Medieval Theatre in Indo-European Context, which grew out of my undergraduate degree in theatre. The relevance of this is that it was in theatre - primarily but not exclusively spent back stage -  that I acquired my approach to research. This was the time of Grotowski and the Poor Theatre, so a time of intense commitment and belief in the possibility of personal and social change; and I fell in love with Stanislavski and the full immersion approach to understanding a character and a play. Put them together and when I came to England I was an intense fully-committed Method Historian, which translates into a radical ethnology rooted in deep participant observation and a belief in possibility, in which you build up theory and understanding through living the subject and commanding, insofar as you can, its every intimate detail. This involved an immersion through which the character, the time, the place, the field, the authentic ontological structure of the subject, instead of in some way being imposed - and how difficult is it not to do that, reveals itself, to give a nod to my Heideggerian influence.

It’s a tough ask, and very different in many respects from the mindset of the archivist. When that inner translation from researcher to archivist reached tipping point, I don’t know; for several years on the Archive’s letterhead I styled myself “Research Archivist”. But in recent years I have been almost entirely an archivist, where my knowledge of things has come mostly through handling information, much of which no one else has seen, and, of course, servicing queries and talking to people. But over the past two years I have been increasingly drawn away even from that beautifully pristine role, and been immersed instead in the very different mindset required in chasing after grants, and fitting my camel-like mind through the needle eye of forms.

All of which is by way of apologetic explanation. I shall be talking about Donald Winnicott today, but I do not have the command of his life and career that I would expect if I were a researcher, in the terms that I understand research. Similarly I shall be talking about residential therapeutic child care pioneer David Wills today, and I don’t have what I feel is the requisite command of his life and career; I haven’t chased Winnicott’s involvement in the Oxfordshire Evacuation Scheme into the Oxfordshire Record Office or into the National Archives; I haven’t immersed myself in the early 1940s or the local newspaper archives from the period when Wills and then Winnicott were at work in the Oxford area; and I can’t pretend to have command of the literature.

Indeed, I have the temerity to present this paper at all only

1. because I feel that the subject, despite being virtually unknown to historians and practitioners, is immensely important, with the potential to enrich and change our idea of the history of residential therapeutic child care, and ought to be brought to the attention of historians and practitioners;
2. because Jonathan has asked me; and
3. because I can be relatively certain that no one here today will be able to embarrass me entirely. The archives I am drawing on today have been in my care for the past twenty years, and despite face to face and published hints and indications over that time, no one - historian, student or practitioner - has looked at the particular episode I am addressing, or published from the archives. Of course Jonathan Toms, or Elaine Boyling, or Sarah Hayes of Exeter have been into the David Wills Collection, which includes the Q Camps archives, and may be able to contradict me.

The paper itself started life a little over three years ago with a query from Takae Itakura, then a Japanese PhD student at Kyoto Prefectural University in Japan, who wrote:

“I would like to know who was organizing Oxfordshire Hostel Scheme, who were hired in the scheme, what kind of information exchanges they had between the officer at the county council and Dr. Winnicott or Clare Britton etc. and what curriculum they adopted for those children in difficulties.”

These are wonderful questions, and absolutely right. What does lie beyond the very limited information which is available in Winnicott’s biographies? What was the context for his professional formation? How did he become the remarkable practitioner and theorist he became? Who else was involved? How? And what can the rest of us learn from that period, which was part of Takae’s motivation - “How can I put the early experience of Donald Winnicott to practical use in the situation in Japan today?”

Assumptions

In presenting this paper, I am making several assumptions.

One is that you share some knowledge about paediatrician turned psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott, and either know that he has had an immense influence on the theory and practice of residential therapeutic child care in Britain and around the world since World War II; or that you will at least take my word for it. Not entirely uncorrelated, of course. His biographer Brett Kahr, for example, has written,

“With the obvious exception of Sigmund Freud, perhaps no other figure in the history of psychoanalysis has contributed as much to our understanding of the origins and treatment of mental distress” (Kahr , “D.W. Winnicott: A Biographical Portrait” (1996), xxvii).

And Judith Issroff, in her Foreword to Harry Karnac’s After Winnicott: Compilation of Works Based on the Life, Writings and Ideas of D.W. Winnicott (2007) - a book which itself testifies to Winnicott’s influence, as it lists over 1200 articles, books and reviews which are significantly concerned with and/or draw on Winnicott and his work - writes,

“Here is evidence that Winnicott is as important in applied psychoanalysis and the humanities as is Freud…a man who is undoubtedly amongst the most significant heirs to the mantle of Freud…” (p.2)

With which you don’t have to agree. Indeed, you don’t have to know or like Winnicott or Freud to see that there is an important and influential person there.

The second major assumption I am making is that you know, or will take it on faith from me (as well as Winnicott himself, quoted later), that the Second World War experience, a part of which we are addressing today, was decisive in the professional and personal formation of this profoundly important and influential man. Again, I can offer correlation, from the editors of Deprivation and Delinquency (1984), the posthumous collection of Winnicott papers, co-edited by his wife Clare Winnicott who, as psychiatric social worker Clare Barron, decisively met him during his war-time period,

“The Second World War was a watershed for Winnicott in many ways, but perhaps in none was it more apparent than in the broadening and flowering of his theory of development into something truly original and truly his own. There can be little doubt that his war-time encounter with deprived children contributed to this.” [p. 9; and see also Clare Britton’s “Introduction.”)

I won’t necessarily make the assumption that you know anything about David Wills, like Clare Barron a qualified psychiatric social worker, albeit from an earlier generation; and important enough to the nation to have been awarded an OBE for his pioneering work in residential therapeutic child care; nor will I assume you know anything about the remarkable psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Marjorie Franklin. As things currently stand, you are yourself in remarkable company if her name means anything to you. But I am hoping again that you will accept my assertions about them; as someone who has handled their archives and seen remarkable unknown detail after unknown detail pass through my hands.

Aims

What am I hoping to accomplish today?

• to draw attention to an experiment in residential child care which could be said to have gone wrong; but which has had an immense and largely hidden/unstated influence on the history and development of residential therapeutic child care in Britain;
• to draw attention to an underused set of archives, which include correspondence from Donald Winnicott;
• to ask, if it is so important, what has happened to this story?
• and to ask what, if anything, does all this have to say to us as historians, students, archivists, practitioners?

At this point, before I start the paper proper, I will cut straight to the punchline. This is a scan of the final report that Donald Winnicott made to the Q Camps Committee as a member of their team, on April 4th, 1941. I will come back to pick specific quotes out of it later; but given its significance, I thought you might like to have a copy of the original in your hands [the text is presented in full below].

Original Thinking

In a talk he gave to fellow professionals in January 1967, almost exactly four years before his death in January 1971, the eminent paediatrician turned psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott said,

“I’ve realised more and more as time went on what a tremendous lot I’ve lost from not properly correlating my work with the work of others. It’s not only annoying to other people but it’s also rude and it has meant that what I’ve said has been isolated and people have to do a lot of work to get at it. It happens to be my temperament, and it’s a big fault.”

- D.W. Winnicott, Psycho-Analytic Explorations (1967/1989), p. 573

Dr. George Makari seconds this in his preface to Brett Kahr’s Biographical Portrait of Winnicott,

“Winnicott’s theories announce their own originality: they seem to demand that the reader look for the origins of these thoughts not in a tradition but, rather, inside a creator - D.W. Winnicott. A friend once wryly commented that there are two kinds of ‘original geniuses’: those who cite their sources and those who do not. Winnicott was - to the chagrin of some of his colleagues, like Balint - of the latter breed.”

-  Makari, Introduction in Kahr (1996), p. xxiv

By self-admitted temperament Winnicott did not properly correlate his work with the work of others, and did not cite his sources. And yet a little over two months before he died he did precisely that, in a remarkable talk, the significance of which appears to have been overlooked not just by Winnicott’s biographers, but by almost everyone else, including one of the main protagonists in the story, who was present at the lecture.

The talk was the David Wills Lecture of October 1970, and the protagonist who was present was David Wills himself. The Lecture had been instituted by the Association of Workers for Maladjusted Children in January 1970 to honour David Wills on the occasion of his retirement from active residential work, but because too few people had attended the Lecture in January, a second was organised for October. It was at this second Lecture that Winnicott said,

“I do not need to go far to find an inflated psychotherapist. There’s me. In the decade called the thirties I was learning to be a psychoanalyst, and I could feel that, with a little more training, a little more skill, and a little more luck, I could move mountains by making the right interpretations at the right moment… At one time I could have been heard saying that there is no therapy except on the basis of fifty minutes five times a week, going on for as many years as necessary, done by a trained psychoanalyst… But sooner or later the process of growing smaller starts, and it’s painful at first, till you get used to it. For me I think I started to grow smaller at the time of my first contact with David Wills. [emphasis added]. David will not let himself be proud of his work in an old Poor Law Institution in Bicester. It was notable work, and I am proud for him.”

D.W. Winnicott, Residential Care as Therapy
(in Deprivation and Delinquency (1984), p. 220)

Winnicott and his future wife Clare Barron refer to this old Poor Law Institution and the notable work that went on there in their 1947 paper Residential Management as a Treatment for Difficult Children: The Evolution of a Wartime Hostels Scheme (reprinted in Deprivation and Delinquency (1984),

“In our county a big disused institution was first used; but from the difficulties of this initial experience the local authority developed the idea of setting up several small hostels, to be run on personal lines…” (p. 57)

After that the place and the work that went on there more or less disappear until Winnicott himself calls them back for the 1970 Lecture. In Winnicott’s Children’s Hostels in War and Peace published in 1948 (republished in Deprivation and Delinquency in 1984), the “big disused institution” and the work it contained (or didn’t) have been subsumed entirely in their aftermath. “I was fortunate”, writes Winnicott, “in being employed by a county council (from 1939 to 1946) in connection with a group of five hostels for children who were difficult to billet.” (p. 73). That’s it. The Bicester episode is gone. We’ll come back to that.

“It is a dreadful building and everything is at present in a state of chaos”: Market End House, Bicester

When Donald Winnicott met David Wills at Bicester at the beginning of February 1940 for the first time, David Wills was already one of the most experienced therapeutic workers with children and young people in Britain.

He was seven years Winnicott’s junior - Winnicott (1896-1971) was 44; Wills (1903-1980) was 37 - but leaving aside things like boy scouts and so on, Wills had already:

• been a youth worker at Norwich YMCA;
• a brother and housefather at Wallingford Farm Training Colony in Oxfordshire;
• had worked at the Lingfield Epileptic Colony;
• won the Willard Straight Fellowship to the New York School of Social Work where he formally trained as a psychiatric social worker;
• worked in The Children’s Village in New York State;
• been warden of the Oxford Settlement in Risca in Wales;
• served briefly as a Borstal Officer specifically to gain the experience before going to Hawkspur;
• and from 1936 to the beginning of 1940 was Camp Chief at Hawkspur Camp, the pioneering therapeutic community in rural Essex for youths and young men aged 16 ½  to 25, which was set up by the Q Camps Committee to demonstrate and develop the principles of ‘planned environment therapy’, a term coined by Marjorie Franklin and largely cognate with the later term ‘therapeutic community’, at least in the early years of that term.

The Q Camps Committee moved its work from Hawkpsur Camp in Essex to the “old Poor Law” institution of Winnicott’s lecture at the beginning of 1940.

This “big disused institution” was Market End House in Bicester, Oxfordshire, about 15 miles north-east of Oxford and a good 80 miles west of Hawkspur. It was the Bicester Workhouse, built in 1836 to cater for 350 people, and it appears to have been used as such until the end of March 1939, after which it was used (in part at least) as a short-lived and apparently ill-fated Home for Boys, before the Q Camps Committee took responsibility in February 1940. Indeed, the Oxfordshire County Council Public Assistance Office remained involved in the clothing and provisioning of the boys sent to Market End House, certainly during the time that David Wills was there.

By the standards of the day (and in many ways still today) the Q Camps Committee and its Hawkspur Camp took an unorthodox approach to difficult and delinquent people. In part because of this it never gained formal government recognition, and in part because of this the Camp was perpetually starved of funds from its beginning in 1936 on. Along with the young men for whom it was originally designed, to survive financially Hawkspur therefore had to take on a range of “grossly” unsuitable but fee-bringing members. In his unpublished autobiography David Wills said, “We accepted an ex-prisoner (a previously banned category) who was a compulsive thief, an ex-convict who had been flogged, and was so obsessed by his flogging two years after the event that he told the whole neighbourhood about it, a parson’s alcoholic son, a homosexual con-man above our age-range” and, as World War II approached, the Camp took on an increasing number of disturbed German refugees.

With the beginning of war in 1939, the Q Camps Committee faced the prospect of a reduction in the charitable giving which had enabled the camp to more or less survive, as well as the loss of the least difficult camp members - and the funds and therapeutic depth and stability they brought - to National Service. The looming loss of funds and stability threw the entire future of the Camp, the staff, the camp members and the Q-Camps enterprise itself into doubt.

As early as the Munich Crisis in 1938 the Q Camps’ Honorary Secretary Marjorie Franklin had approached the London County Council suggesting with some prescience “that in the event of war it might be found that a number of evacuated children were unable to settle in their new environment and that the persons in whose charge they were might in these cases feel that they were unable to deal with the children…”. She offered the experienced services of the Camp. The suggestion was made again at the onset of war in 1939, and Hawkspur geared up for the possibility of starting a school and taking in up to twenty difficult children aged 11 to 17. Marjorie Franklin wrote to the founder of Finchden Manor George Lyward about possible head teachers,  and Wills canvassed paediatrician and child psychologist and psychotherapist Margaret Lowenfeld for possible referrals. In the event, the authorities decided to house problematic evacuees in hostels rather than camps, and the Q Camps Committee had to think again, and very quickly.

David Wills wrote in his unpublished autobiography that “A possible solution presently emerged, as a result of Marjorie Franklin’s usual unflagging pertinacity”.

“The Oxfordshire County Council was responsible for a hostel for “unbilletable evacuees”, which was housed in one wing of an old condemned workhouse at Bicester. The plan was that we all - men, animals, furniture and equipment - should transfer ourselves to another wing of the same building, and I should be responsible for both the evacuated children and the Hawkspur men, running them however as two separate units. I cannot say that I was ever enthusiastic about the project, but I reminded myself that beggars cannot be choosers. On the one hand it enabled us to continue to provide for our remaining members (most of them by now German refugees) until the chances of war should determine their next move; and it provided us all with salaries again!”

Franklin herself wrote at the beginning of January 1940,

“We are being invited, on the initiative of the Oxfordshire County Council and with the approval of the Ministry of Health, to remove our organisation for the period of the war to Bicester in order to take charge of a hostel for schoolboys over the age of 11 who have proved unadaptable to the billets to which they have been sent, and in this way to serve the whole region, which includes the Counties of Oxfordshire, Berks, Bucks and Surrey”.

To Wills at the time it looked as if “Q is saved at any rate for the duration of the war”, but caveats quickly emerged. The building, for example, was against them. Maurice Bridgeland writes in 1971 that Wills “found that the accommodation offered for both members and children was a disused workhouse with ninety-five rooms, barely equipped and with most of the windows painted out.” (Bridgeland, Pioneer Work With Maladjusted Children (1971), p. 217). Wills himself wrote at the time: “It is a dreadful building and everything is at present in a state of chaos.”

 ”We are considerably hampered in our efforts to establish the social adjustment of our children by having very little outlet to offer them for their high spirits and energy. We have few games, less resources and almost no room for the children to play in except a small quadrangle in which they cannot make all the mischief natural to children between the ages of eleven and fourteen, some of whom, because of a lack of affection and harmony, show delinquent tendencies.”

And again,

“We have taken on a very difficult task in that we are not only dealing with difficult children but we are also dealing with a very difficult and indeed quite unsuitable building.”  

Furthermore, between a community led and staffed by a core of pacifists on the one hand, and a group of difficult and acting-out children who were being approached with affection and understanding rather than punishment and discipline on the other, relations with the local police and community teetered from the uncomfortable to the hostile and unpleasant.

Nor was the experiment of combining “eleven boys (six of them refugees)”  from Hawkspur and the “difficult evacuees” a success. It was part of the original agreement with Oxfordshire County Council that Q Camps could bring with it up to 10 of the Hawkspurians. In his autobiography Wills wrote,

“The two groups had (although they met for certain meals) separate identities each with its own ethos and its own separate needs. It was very difficult to switch over from one to the other, with the result that I was able to give neither group what it needed.”

As a consequence, in March 1940, for example, “even while the [Q Camps] committee was in session an enormous amount of damage was done to the property as a result of clashes between juniors and seniors…” David Wills recorded that on one occasion a senior boy went to the police “to lodge a formal complaint about the behaviour of the boys and the incapacity of the staff at Market End House which was duly passed on to the County Council. He afterwards expressed regret for this and sent to the Police a complete withdrawal which was as untrue as his original allegations had been.”

Given the difficulties and given their new primary responsibility to the young evacuees, it was ultimately decided to send the older Hawkspurians away. Not surprisingly, this itself did not go entirely smoothly. David Wills wrote to Audrey Turner of the Germany Emergency Committee that as he left, one of the seniors “went to the police and made spiteful allegations against people here which are having rather serious repercussions as the police are not too friendly.”

And yet in 1970, thirty years later, Winnicott said in his David Wills Lecture, “It was exciting to be involved with the life of this wartime hostel for evacuation failures.” (Residential Care as Therapy in Deprivation and Delinquency (1984), p. 221)

Four Critical Months in the History of Residential Therapeutic Child Care: Wills and Winnicott at Market End House

Franklin recruited both David Wills and Winnicott to the Q Camps project. She knew Winnicott professionally. “I had been fortunate in obtaining his collaboration in a children’s home managed by a friend of mine some years before”, she wrote. Winnicott later reminded her “that I [Franklin] had at various times tried unsuccessfully to enlist his interest in Q. I did not try very hard because I felt there was no definite job for him then and knew he was a very busy man… .”

Once the focus of Q shifted to younger evacuees, however, she did have a definite job for him and we can date his engagement in the project with some precision based on correspondence in the Q Camps archives. Franklin wrote to Winnicott on January 9, 1940, asking if she could meet with him on the morning of Thursday, 11January . She told him, “Q Camp is accepting a proposal to take charge of a Hostel for evacuated boys over 11 who have proved difficult in billets… . It is in connection with that that I am very anxious to see you.” They met on 17 January, 1940, and a week later he wrote back, “I feel I should like to be of use in the way you suggest.”  Interpreting the correspondence, he probably paid his first visit to  Market End House a month later, during the weekend of Friday, 16 February. By 1 March he may have seen his first Junior Camp Council meeting - the “weekly session in which all the boys met and were free to talk” as Winnicott described it in his David Wills Lecture (p. 222), and part of the core of Wills’s approach. He certainly had already paid several visits by the beginning of March and “is now giving psychotherapy to one boy…. and hopes very shortly to be able to take on another”, according to Wills at the time.

The Bicester project developed at a gallop. Marjorie Franklin wrote that Major Scott, the County Clerk acting on behalf of Oxfordshire County Council, “seems to hold the opinion, rare in officials, that if a thing ought to be done the best thing is to do it and get it legalised afterwards”; and not surprisingly if, as she also says, the former superintendent was “running the place in such a way that our coming was just in time to avoid a public scandal!”

On the other hand, the Ministry of Health “intimated verbally their disapproval of the County Council handing the work over to a voluntary society”, and questions were asked locally on what authority Q Camps had taken over management of the hostel, but no formal objection was received, and by moving quickly, the Ministry of Health was presented by Oxfordshire County Council and the Q Camps Committee with a fait accompli. The Ministry didn’t bless the arrangement, but caught on the back foot, it allowed the enterprise to proceed on the basis that the Ministry would recognise and deal with the County Hall, to which Q Camps was then responsible; and on the condition that the hostel would take fifty boys and serve the entire Southern Region -  Buckinghamshire, Berkshire and Surrey - as well as Oxfordshire.

In this galloping, Winnicott was appointed Medical Psychologist and became part of the Q Camps staff before that agreement with the Ministry was concluded. Indeed, insofar as Winnicott is concerned, it was another seven months before the next official step was taken, and the County finally took responsibility for his expenses from the Q Camps Committee.

So, Winnicott joined the Q Camps staff in February 1940 as Medical Psychologist. He was involved in this role over the next sixteen months, until the partnership between Q Camps and Oxfordshire County Council - which did not take very long to become shaky -  broke down entirely, Market End House closed as an evacuation hostel for difficult to billet boys, and the Council opened a series of smaller hostels under Winnicott’s psychiatric oversight instead.  By inference it was at this point, in the Spring of 1941, that he met Clare Barron and their partnership began.

For the first four months of Winnicott’s involvement with Q he worked closely with David and Ruth Wills. During this period, Juniors and Seniors were both on site, and it is in this period that Winnicott’s  ‘growing smaller’ begins. As he said in his 1970 lecture, he could feel his brilliantly offered psychoanalytic interpretations of individual boys “fall on stony ground” with the staff, and, in a classic statement, “Rather quickly …learned that the therapy was being done in the institution, by the walls and the roof, by the glass conservatory which provided a target for bricks…”  The therapy “was being done by the cook, by the regularity of the arrival of food on the table, by the warm enough and perhaps warmly coloured bedspreads, by the efforts of David to maintain order in spite of shortage of staff and a constant sense of the futility of it all…” (Residential Care as Therapy in Deprivation and Delinquency (1984), p. 221).

The conflict and sense of futility led Wills to submit his resignation in a letter to the Clerk of the County Council on 15 April 1940, saying, “It occurs to me that in view of the numerous complaints you have received it may be quite other than an embarrassment to you to have my resignation in your hands.”  He left at the end of May when a successor had been appointed.

That those four months in which Wills and Winnicott worked together had not been futile is stressed time and time again in subsequent correspondence, reports and Q Camps Committee minutes. Marjorie Franklin wrote to Wills in June 1940 just after he’d left that Winnicott “somewhat comforted me by saying that the firm work you and he had done together in these 4 months was not merely introductory but that that type of child could be cured by the methods you and he used and it may have permanent fruits as well as research value.” To a Q Camps Committee meeting later in the month Winnicott “paid tribute to the very high value of Mr. Wills’ work at Bicester and expressed the opinion that the four months had not been merely a period of preparation but that definite cures had been effected and that more than half the cases had, in his opinion, probably benefited permanently.”  In September 1940 “Dr. Winnicott spoke at the committee of the value of David Wills’ pioneer work at Bicester.”

Winnicott at Market End House: After Wills

When David and Ruth Wills left Bicester at the end of May 1940, Winnicott’s role at Bicester and within Q changed markedly, going well beyond working with and supporting the new superintendent and his wife (who did not themselves have experience of the kinds of children and methods Q Camps employed).

There were malicious and unfounded rumours circulating, for example, that Wills had taken kickbacks from local tradesmen and had left behind unpaid bills. It was Winnicott who challenged and dealt with these.

He and Denis Carroll - a leading member of the Q Camps Committee who later commanded Northfield Military Psychiatric Hospital at a critical juncture in the famous “experiments” there  - were responsible for interviewing the shortlist of candidates to replace the Wills, and when the experienced candidates preferred by the Q Camps Committee were rejected by the County’s Management Committee, Winnicott and Carroll convinced the Q Camps Committee to nevertheless stay in the project, at least on a trial basis.

Marjorie Franklin wrote, “In an exceedingly difficult and precarious period it would be difficult to exaggerate our indebtedness to Dr. Carroll and Dr. Winnicott.”  It also became Winnicott’s job to work closely with the couple who were appointed, the Cheales, offering his support and explaining, in Winnicott’s words, “the reasons for the bewildering things that happen in the management of anti-social types.”  Franklin wrote to Wills that in order to gain this experience, Winnicott had turned down paid employment elsewhere for the Ministry of Health, with Franklin describing the working relationship between Mr. Cheale and Winnicott as a “close and happy friendship… .”

Such freedom and conditions as the Q Camps Committee had had to develop at the hostel were compromised not simply by the appointment of Mr. and Mrs. Cheale over the experienced candidates preferred by the Q Camps Committee; the Cheales proved far better than Q had expected. Marjorie Franklin wrote to the Clerk of the County Council as late as December 1940 reminding him that in deciding “to co-operate with the work we made drastic criticisms on the buildings and on the scanty grounds and too great proximity to town.” More staff were needed for this kind of children, and Q had consistently pressed the need for a school of their own, “run on lines suited to the emotional difficulties of the boys” - even “before we knew how unsuitable was the particular local school to which the majority of the boys go”.  The complexity of the situation at the end of 1940 is indicated by her further suggestion,

“… immediate removal of adult refugees and infants, or at least to the extent of another dormitory and two class rooms. If some must remain they should be as separate as the A.R.P. wing, and have their own catering arrangements. At present Mr. Cheale has to give a quite unreasonable amount of time (over an hour a day) and much worry and anxiety to the business of catering for these people… .”

Perhaps not surprisingly, the relationship between Q and the County Council, and between Q and the local community, deteriorated over the opening months of 1941, a time when travel difficulties were making it difficult for Winnicott to visit as frequently as he had. At the meeting of the Q Camps Committee on 4 April 1941 it was noted that the County Council had served formal notice of the closure of the hostel, and for their part the Q Camps Committee said they were willing to waive the three months’ notice and to go straight away. The experiment in Oxford came quickly to an end.

It was noted at that meeting that

“The County Council are hoping later on to open two new hostels in another part of the County…under a fresh Committee, and the County Council are proposing to ask Dr. Winnicott to act as psychiatric Adviser to the new hostels.” 

The rest, to a certain extent, is history. Winnicott was taken on by the Ministry of Health and Oxfordshire County Council; he met psychiatric social worker Clare Barron; and their immensely important and influential collaboration began. Marjorie Franklin reported to the Q Camps Committee a month later that Winnicott, Harold Carter and T.C. Bodsworth of the Q Camps staff had all been employed in the new County Council undertaking, “We thus have the position that, while Q Camps is to be regarded as failing and the cause of the failure of M.E.H., all 3 of the Q personnel remaining at Bicester are to be retained. This seems to me anomalous… .”

Winnicott’s last formal act as a member of the Q staff was to report to the Committee on Friday, April 4, 1941. This is the document I circulated at the beginning. It is extremely interesting all the way through, but for today’s purposes I would like to emphasise just a few quotations.

Q Camps Committee

Meeting held at 50 Porchester Terrace, London, W.2. on Friday, April 4^th, 1941

Report by Dr. Winnicott.

Dr Winnicott read a report on his work at Bicester. It was as follows: “1. Although not a member of Q Camps I have been glad to be given a chance to gain first hand experience of anti-social boys, and I am grateful to the committee, and especially to the Secretary, for the year’s work at M.E.H., made possible by Q enthusiasm. (2) At the start I was without work on Saturdays, which gave me a chance to make a weekly visit, staying Friday night. In the summer, however, my hospital reopened and I no longer had a free Saturday. I had become interested in the work, however, and so decided to remain and do what I could in the limited time at my disposal. The distance of Bicester now became a serious obstacle, and this has recently beaten me so that I have not attended much during this year. (3) The contact I made with David and Ruth Wills was of inestimable value to me, and because of their fearless frankness I was able to learn of the practical problems that beset the head of such a place as M.E.H. What I learned from the Wills` I was able to use in giving support and understanding to Mr. and Mrs. Cheale who had no knowledge whatever of the work when they arrived on the scenes. (4) In the course of the year I have taken interest in 45 boys and have given about 50 personal interviews (apart from informal walks and talks). In other ways I have tried to get familiar with the workings of the institute. (5) My chief work, as it has turned out, has not been the treatment of individual boys, although this is the work I like best and for which I am fitted by my training. My main use has been to give moral support to the superintendent, and in the case of the Cheales, to explain to them the reasons for the bewildering things that happen in the management of anti-social types. (6)   I wish to emphasise that there is, in my opinion, a difficulty inherent in this work, and in that which Q attempted by participation in the M.E.H management. I mean that if anti-social boys are to be treated other than morally or legally, the general public will treat those who are protecting the boys from moral condemnation and the arm of the law as if they, themselves, were the criminals. I can see no way out of this dilemma, and I think the feeling against M.E.H in Bicester is the crude aspect of this while the feeling of the County Council against Q is the more refined aspect of the same. In other words, Q is getting blamed for the boys` misdemeanours, and so, in a way, Q is enabling the County Council to proceed with the scheme for the medical treatment of these boys (as opposed to moral and legal) without losing the support of the electors. The same problem will arise later, though perhaps in a different form. (7) The success of M.E.H has to be gauged by the character development of the nucleus of boys who have stayed over for a period of 6 months or more. More or less this is the group of boys now left at Bicester. It is difficult to assess the advance, but in my opinion it is real and makes the M.E.H work worth while. I am leaving out consideration of the alternative bad treatment from which our M.E.H work may have saved the boys. (8) While I do not think the opposition to Q which I find in official circles is objective and fair, I do [think] that we can look at ourselves critically. I, myself, have, failed at M.E.H through being too far away, and failure to bring about staff meetings, since the Cheale’s came, and in failure to bring about proper organisation of the boys’ spare time, admittedly a difficult thing with this kind of boy. Q, I think, fails to pay sufficient lip service to the real nuisance value of anti-social acts, such lip service would do no harm, if at the same time the idea of the illness of the children and their need for psychotherapy were maintained. (9) I have tried to learn from all the mistakes and failures as well as from the undoubted successes of the M.E.H venture, and I hope that as I seem likely to be used in the new venture of the Ministry of Health and of the Oxford County Council at Shiplake I shall try to build on the M.E.H experience. If I do, Q will be participating in this indirectly through having given me the chance to get a training. [additional emphasis added] The fact of Shiplake’s comparative accessibility form London should make a great deal of difference, so that my difficulties will be more those inherent in the job than was the case at Bicester. Obviously everything in the new experiment depends on the superintendent and staff elected, and without the right superintendent and staff no amount of help from me, either general or personal and physiotherapeutic, can bring about success. (10) I may add that the local Ministry of Health and the Oxfordshire County Council seem to have faith in me at present. I am too experienced to imagine that this is due to a true appreciation of my good qualities. This belief in me is as subjective as the eclipse of Q, and is, indeed, the other side of the same coin. I can think of the eclipse of Q as the unconscious antagonism to me, and Q, if you like, can see in the support I am obtaining, unconscious belief is the Q Principle (whatever it is) and gratitude for services at M.E.H. As far as I can understand it the Q principle is a general belief that individuals should be recognised as such, even when anti-social. I think you could state your principles better than you do, as for instance by referring to the mental distress that you know exists in the background of the anti-social character, and which becomes transformed so easily into joy and pride in the techniques of stealing and lock picking and banditry in general. It is the suffering of the children which gives hope to those who treat the delinquent, for if the child is caught before the suffering is transformed he has something to gain from getting well. It is also the suffering of the child which the public (if they understand it) would wish to see treated medically instead of morally and legally.     (Signed) D.W. Winnicott. 1/4/41

Concluding Remarks: Why has the Story Disappeared?

If this was such a significant episode in the professional formation of Donald Winnicott and the history of residential therapeutic child care, what has happened to it? - why has the story disappeared?

The short answer is that, by and large, it is because the archives have been left out of the history; and where history has been written, it has drawn, uncritically, on the equivalent of the protagonists’ own oral history.

The Winnicotts and a Myth of Creation

We have seen what happened to the Bicester episode in the writing of the Winnicotts, who both occluded and then, in the 1970 David Wills Lecture, brought the episode to our historical attention again - but with the significance of what Winnicott said effectively hidden from historians because of the filter of those earlier Winnicott/Britton articles.

The Winnicotts were not historians, and were not writing history in the 1940s when they subsumed the Bicester period into the work they undertook together afterwards. When Winnicott writes, “I was fortunate in being employed by a county council (from 1939 to 1946) in connection with a group of five hostels for children who were difficult to billet”, the fact that virtually none of that statement is archivally/historically true doesn’t matter in the context of the article. Of course he wasn’t employed in 1939, but in 1940; it wasn’t by the County Council but by the Q Camps Committee, certainly in the first instance; it wasn’t in connection with a group of five hostels for children - they came a full year after Winnicott began the work at Bicester. But that is only an issue to the extent that what Winnicott and Britton wrote in the 1940s is taken later, by others, as historically accurate primary source material.

It should be noted that in their first article - The Problem of Homeless Children published in the New Education Fellowship monograph Children’s communities (experiments in democratic living) in 1944, Bicester doesn’t appear even by implication. They write accurately, “In Oxfordshire there has developed a scheme in which several hostels form a group under the direct administration of the County Council.” (p. 2)

As a sidelight, in that same monograph there is an article by David Wills entitled Shared Responsibility, written from Barns in Scotland. This includes a description of the “meeting”, a development of the “weekly session in which all the boys met and were free to talk” described by Winnicott in his 1970 David Wills Lecture. Interestingly, in their 1947 Residential Management as Treatment for Difficult Children Winnicott and Barron write,

“Surely, experiments in getting children to create their own central government should be made first, if they have to be made, with those who have had a good early home experience? With these deprived children it seems to be cruel to make them do the very thing they feel hopeless about.” (fn, p.67)

It is relatively easy to see Winnicott’s and Britton’s narrative of their early work together as establishing a kind of foundation mythology, with a new therapeutic world rising de novo and ex nihilo from their meeting. But can it be argued that at that point in time, writing Bicester and David Wills out of the picture was, on some conscious or unconscious level, a consequence of differences of ideology and approach?

David Wills: Self-Occluding?

The reason that the episode is largely lost in David Wills’s writing is, in a sense, fairly straightforward, at least until further research is carried out. He simply moved on from a difficult and unpleasant episode, effectively writing the Bicester period out of his personal and professional history.

In his letter of resignation in April 1940 he says, “I have received an attractive offer to do congenial work elsewhere”, which was at Barns House in Scotland, where the Edinburgh Society of Friends had put together a hostel and school for difficult/unbilletable boys near Peebles, and where Wills spent the next four years as warden. It does indeed seem to have been congenial.

At Barns he wrote his account of his Q Camps experience, published in 1941 as The Hawkspur Experiment. He refers to the work in Bicester in this way in the Preface,

“We remained chronically short of funds and by January 1940 the war had made it impossible to continue the work we had so far been doing, though the Q Camps Committee is still in existence and is working with evacuated children”.

As simple as that.

In writing his classic 1971 book Pioneer Work with Maladjusted Children, Maurice Bridgeland interviewed the pioneers still living, and as part of his method sent drafts of the chapters referring to them to the pioneers themselves, for their thoughts and corrections or, in the case of George Lyward, re-writing. The account which Bridgeland gives of Winnicott’s Oxfordshire work is drawn from the Winnicott/Barron articles (Pioneer Work With Maladjusted Children (1971), p. 208). Wills may have seen this part of the chapter, but will almost certainly have had a chance to correct Bridgeland’s treatment of the Bicester period. Bridgeland notes in a later section of the chapter, on Arthur Barron,

“In 1940 Wills was asked to transfer the members and staff of the Hawkspur Camp to Bicester in connection with a scheme to house unbilletable evacuees. He found that the accommodation offered for both members and children was a disused workhouse with ninety-five rooms, barely equipped and with most of the windows painted out. Faced with these conditions and official lack of acceptance of Q Camp principles Wills and his staff, including Barron, resigned.” (p. 217)

In this account there is no time, no experience, no engagement, and little opportunity for learning. Just a bad experience, quickly left behind.

Wills is very clear. In his unpublished autobiography he says,

“On the whole we were not happy at Bicester… . Putting aside temporary depressions and upsets, I believe that on the whole one knows whether one can really do a thing or not, and if one is sure of that, it is a mistake to go on doing the thing one feels one cannot do. It was being borne in upon me that the work at Bicester was something I could not do.”

The real mystery to me in so far as David Wills goes seems to be his occluding of the role of the Q Camps Committee in bringing Donald Winnicott into the work, and his role personally in the education and training of Donald Winnicott, thereby occluding his own and others’ recognition of an element of his influence on subsequent residential therapeutic practice.

He writes in his autobiography that he had “two happy memories of Bicester.” One was the artist Arthur Segal, and painting.

“The other pleasant memory is Donald Winnicott, who had been appointed by the Oxfordshire County Council as psychiatrist to their evacuation hostels, so he was quite a frequent visitor at the hostel.”

Has he himself forgotten the history?

After Winnicott’s death in 1971 Wills went through his typescript autobiography and changed references to Winnicott into the past tense. This tells us that he had the opportunity not only to hear Winnicott’s lecture, but to change the story in his autobiography. He didn’t change the story. Wills does not seem to have taken on board the influence he had been for Winnicott; or even the importance of that four months at Bicester for the history of therapeutic environments. He left his draft relating to Bicester as it was, with its inaccuracies, and the historian has yet to come along to correct them.

Marjorie Franklin: Lost Essential Catalyst

Another mystery in the occlusion of the episode is psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Marjorie Franklin. She brought David Wills into the Q Camps organisation in 1935-1936, and therefore brought him into the career for which we know him. She drew Winnicott into the work which changed his life and career, and that of many others since. She is the essential catalyst in a key area of the history of residential therapeutic child care: but her life and influence virtually disappear from all of the accounts of the Bicester period, including her own, as well as from the history of residential therapeutic child care generally.

Final Note

When David Wills retired in 1970, the year of Donald Winnicott’s lecture, Marjorie Franklin wrote, “At Hawkspur David Wills achieved the impossible, so some who read his account of it must think that it did not really happen and the description was largely coloured by phantasy. If that were so, they might think, they could chop off bits of ideas and fit them into quite incongruous patterns and claim, and believe, they were using ‘Willsian methods’. I can assure you, Hawkspur did happen, every bit of it. What he did was ‘impossible’ ‑ and I [Franklin] hesitated to put the word in inverted commas, so extravagant it all seems now to an octogenarian!”

Preparing for Holidays

It was a week or two ago when it began to dawn on me that I could not recall a Webmag column on the subject of preparation.  So here, hours before we set off, trailing our Mirror dinghy behind a heavily laden and meticulously packed vehicle, is that piece.  We have been getting ready for weeks, if not months.  Much of this has been in the mind as we have chatted at meal times or on other journeys together about what we are going to do: which mountains we will climb, which boats we will use for sailing, whether we will have an overnight expedition in the hills, the area in which we will hold our ‘treasure hunt’ and a host of other related questions.

But there has also been a good deal of practical preparation too: a dinghy needed to be repaired to make it seaworthy, a crucial part for the Wayfarer had to be secured, food was set aside, equipment checked and tested, new clothes purchased, numbers sorted out, bedrooms earmarked, the theme of our family prayer times identified, a policy on mobile phones agreed upon, and so on.

Earlier today we filled up the cars with fuel, and checked oil and tyre pressures before the real packing began.

None of this will come as much surprise to any readers who have enjoyed such a family summer holiday.  So why might our preparations be significant enough to merit a column?

The Five Points of Preparation

My musing has led me to consider the following lines of thought.  First, preparation is an integral part of the experience of anything valuable in life.  It entails not only active work, but expectation, planning and imagination.  This is helped immeasurably when those involved know something of what to expect.  One of the huge benefits of having a holiday home in Snowdonia is that two generations of the family of Mill Grove know pretty much what to prepare for.  If everything were to arrive unexpectedly, unbidden and without effort, then the experiences associated with the anticipation of an event would evaporate.

Second, preparation draws people together: we need to think not only about what each of us is taking as an individual, but what we will need as a family.  We set goals and dream dreams.  It is inherently a team effort, and in time creates a momentum that encourages us all forward.  We deliberately prolong some meal-times in order to allow more time to chew over ideas and possibilities.

Third, preparation involves reflection on past experiences, often recounted in loving detail. Inexorably we are drawn to what happened last year, and the year before that.  We decide to continue treasured traditions, or to break new ground,  to recall those who were with us years ago. Past adventures and humorous incidents are recounted in exotic tones. We build on the experience of the thirty-five years holidaying in the very same place.

Fourth, preparation for particular events helps develop a skill vital for every area of life.  It is not inaccurate to describe much of what we call education as preparation, whether for life, or for a profession, or even the next stage of the learning process.  It has been observed that humans are most fulfilled when working together in what might be called a joint project.  So we deliberately try to involve everyone in the preparation at however rudimentary a level it may be for some.  In time each will develop a greater sense of confidence and then seek greater responsibilities.

Fifth, preparation is a part of life that is vital if humans are to be both realistic and responsible about preparing for death.  After all we know it’s coming, and it would be strange if the one species that has intimations of its own mortality (and immortality) simply ignored them and continued living as if life were endless.  To suggest that this is a morbid subject best left for another day would be to abdicate responsibility for the one part of life that is completely predictable.

This line of thinking helps to set a particular period of focused preparation, in our case a holiday in North Wales, in a much wider context that recognises the considerable value of the whole experience.

Preparing for Children in Care

So what has this got to do with children and young people who spend some or most of their childhoods in extra-familial care?  It is a reminder of what little, patchy experience many of them have of such purposeful preparation and pleasurable anticipation.  So much of life is uncertain, unplanned and unpredictable that preparation spanning several months, full of reasonable expectation is rare, if not absent.  They, and significant others in their lives, may not know what the next step or stage is, and so there is inevitably no chance to prepare for it, or anything else.

But then we need to realistic and acknowledge the fact that often it is others who do the planning and preparation for them.  The most they are involved in may be a bit of packing and shopping: preparation as a rounded, exciting process, tingling with possibilities and even dreams, is unlikely to be an option commonly available to them.

And as for the wider issues and horizons I have mentioned (education as preparation for life, and for death): those engaged with the children and young people will be constrained in any number of ways to tick boxes (whether actual or imagined) that are far more specific and short-term.

Are there any practical implications of all this?  If so, what?  Part of me wonders whether the “care system” ought to build in some way of asking what project children and young people are actively participating in month by month and year by year. This might help to counter a culture of passivity and fatalism.  On the other hand I suppose one risk is that this might appear on a list of well-meaning tick-box options!

Preparing for the Wider Community

Recently I was reading a book by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (an author for whom I have much respect).  As the realisation that “multi-culturalism” is not a viable way of life in the long term for any community or society dawns on all but the most starry-eyed dreamers, he ponders at length what options are open to us.  We cannot go back to the “good old days”, but how can we conceive of an alternative?

He suggests that we see the society in which we live (let’s leave the idea of a “big society” for another day) as “the home we build together”.[1]  In essence he describes social life as a project: and the key to life together is planning, working together, not always looking over our shoulder to keep an idea or tradition going, but to build something new.  It is a dynamic idea that sees what we do as preparation for and expectation of a new era, unlike any that there has been before in its details, if not unparalleled in human history in its nature and patterns.

What if children and young people (in care, looked after) were to be encouraged to see their lives as something that they were building along with others?  They would be active agents drawing from past wisdom and experience, alert to contemporary insights and resources, and learning by their mistakes.

I have mentioned before how challenged I was by the pioneering work of Anton Makarenko described in his book The Road to Life: an Epic of Education (two volumes, 1955). Charged to care for ‘delinquents’ in the Soviet Union in very harsh physical circumstances, he engaged with them literally in building a home together.  He never managed to recreate later in his career the constructive relationships and sense of community and purpose that this period of their lives required.

If we want a working model today, Habitat for Humanity offers one: the key lesson is not to offer people a finished product (however pleasing or attractive) but to engage them in building their own future.

Our trip to North Wales (now very imminent!) is a very modest two-week experience of life together, but I still see in the preparation the basic elements of home-building.  Perhaps before we try anything on a grander scale in social policy we might have a bash at this sort of thing: life together for two weeks in which everyone is an active planner, as well as participant in the event itself.

Last Minute Preparations

I’ll try to remember to let you know how it went.  For now there are still one or two last minute things to do, despite the very best planning and preparation!

References

[1] Jonathan Sacks, The Home We Build Together: Recreating Society  (London: Continuum, 2007)

Even as we attain adulthood, some of us will encounter bullying at work or home or in our neighbourhood.

So what is bullying? I offer several descriptions which may support your own understanding of this:

• the act of intimidating a weaker person to make them do something;
• blustering and noisy domineering, tending to browbeat others;
• a form of abuse, comprising repeated acts over time that involve a real or perceived imbalance of power (whether social power and/or physical power), with the more powerful individual or group abusing those who are less powerful;
• deliberate action or behaviour directed towards another person which may take many forms and can often occur over a long period of time.

The list can be infinite. The real key to this form of abuse is that it usually continues for a lengthy period of time.

If we have older siblings, we may have been subjected to some form of power oppression which could be considered as bullying. Each family manages this in their own way. Some parents have a zero tolerance of any form of victimisation whilst others may see this as a rite of passage which each successive child in the family experiences as they develop. Most of us have a line where regular sibling rough-house play or falling out are acceptable, but threats and constant terrorising are not.

It is very easy to make someone feel unworthy and inadequate just by looking in a certain way, or always ignoring them. Children learn this behaviour from the adults they have available to them during their formative years - parents, teachers, family friends, club organisers and so on. We must all check our own behaviours so that we cannot claim to be unaware of the effect we have on others.

Bullying has numerous forms: intimidation with no verbal threats, merely a ‘presence’; physical violence or persistent torture; withholding goodwill or recognition of the person; making derogatory remarks within the victim’s hearing; emotional abuse; sexual abuse; the list is endless. Sometimes it takes the form of a friendship group where one individual is the scapegoat for the others. They are hit harder, teased more often, left out of significant events. We now have cyber bullying where victims must feel they cannot escape.

The frightening aspect of bullying is where the victim feels that life is not worth living despite having a loving family or interests outside of school or work. For some, suicide seems to be the only answer. At least for some period of time, the victim assumes they will be at peace.

Bullying is an act of repeated aggressive behaviour in order to intentionally hurt another person, physically or mentally. Bullying is characterised by an individual behaving in a certain way to gain power over another person.

Norwegian researcher Dan Olweus defines bullying as when a person is “exposed, repeatedly and over time, to negative actions on the part of one or more other persons.” He defines negative action as “when a person intentionally inflicts injury or discomfort upon another person, through physical contact, through words or in other ways”.

Bullying behaviour may include name-calling, verbal or written abuse, exclusion from activities, exclusion from social situations, physical abuse, or coercion. Bullies may behave this way so that they will be be perceived as popular or tough or to get attention. They may bully out of jealousy or be acting out because they themselves are bullied.

The USA National Center for Education Statistics suggests that bullying can be broken into two categories: direct bullying, and indirect bullying, which is also known as social aggression.

Ross (Ross, P. N. (1998) Arresting violence: A resource guide for schools and their communities Toronto: Ontario Public School Teachers’ Federation.) states that direct bullying involves a great deal of physical aggression such as shoving and poking, throwing things, slapping, choking, punching and kicking, beating, stabbing, pulling hair, scratching, biting, scraping and pinching.

He also suggests that social aggression or indirect bullying is characterised by threatening the victim into social isolation. This isolation is achieved through a wide variety of techniques, including spreading gossip, refusing to socialise with the victim, bullying other people who wish to socialise with the victim, and criticising the victim’s manner of dress and other socially-significant markers (including the victim’s race, religion, disability, etc).

Ross outlines other forms of indirect bullying which are more subtle and more likely to be verbal, such as name-calling, the silent treatment, arguing others into submission, manipulation, gossip/false gossip, lies, rumours/false rumours, staring, giggling, laughing at the victim, saying certain words that trigger a reaction from a past event, and mocking.

There is a strong link between bullying and suicide. Bullying leads to several suicides every year. It is estimated that between 15 and 25 children commit suicide every year in the UK alone because they are being bullied.

31% of children experienced bullying by their peers during childhood, a further 7% were discriminated against and 14% were made to feel different or ‘like an outsider’. 43% experienced at least one of these things during childhood.

Cawson, P. et al. (2000)  Child maltreatment in the United Kingdom: a study of the prevalence of child abuse and neglect. London: NSPCC. p.26.

Children who were abused or neglected by their parents were consistently more likely than others to experience bullying, discrimination, or being made to feel different by their peers. For example, 70% of those who were sexually abused by parents were also bullied by other children. 60% of those who were physically abused by parents, and 58% of those who experienced absence of physical care, also reported being bullied.
Cawson, P. (2002) Child maltreatment in the family: the experience of a national sample of young people. London: NSPCC. pp.61-62.

Information taken from www.nspcc.org.uk

There are many other findings related to this aspect of anti-social behaviour that may have serious and life-threatening consequences. I wonder what other countries do about this. This article from Canada illuminates the problem for some European countries.

Bullying is a Public Health Issue in Canada

(CBC News, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, Canada’s largest TV and radio network.  November 20, 2009)

Bullying should be considered a public health problem and governments should adopt national strategies to deal with it, says a Canadian psychology professor who led a study of bullying in 40 countries.

The study, led by Wendy Craig of Queen’s University, involved more than 202,000 children aged 11 to 15 in North America, Europe and Israel. It was published this month in the International Journal of Public Health.

The study compared recent estimates of the prevalence of bullying among adolescents across countries using standard measures, something that had not been done before.

It found that countries with established anti-bullying campaigns had the lowest bullying rates.

Treating bullying as a public health issue “is the new belief, given the long-term costs personally, including mental health, physical, academic, employment, crime, etc.,” Craig told CBC News in an email interview Friday. “With the current prevalence, it is the approach that is needed. ”

“Also, there is now growing recognition that the problem does not [just] happen at schools. It happens in communities, recreation centres, on sports teams and in cyberspace.”

Many countries in Northern Europe have had anti-bullying programs in place for years, and of eight countries with the lowest bullying rates, four were Scandinavian. Sweden had the best results with 8.6 per cent of boys and 4.8 per cent of girls reporting they’d been bullied in the past two months.

The other seven nations with notably low bullying rates were Hungary, Norway, Ireland, Finland, Iceland, the Czech Republic and Wales.

Lithuania appeared most brutal, with 45.2 per cent of boys and 35.8 per cent of girls saying they’d been bullied.

Canada ranked in the middle, placing 21st for boys and 26th for girls. Researchers interviewed 2,744 Canadian boys and found 23.3 per cent reported being bullied. Of 3,051 girls polled, 17 per cent said they’d been bullied.

The survey is considered to have a 95 per cent likelihood of being accurate within three percentage points.

Variations between countries “may reflect important cultural and social differences or differences in the implementation of national policy and programs,” the researchers said in the study.

“For example, in countries where the prevalence was relatively low (mainly Scandinavian) there are national programs in place to address bullying, whereas in the countries with the highest prevalence (eastern European) there are no countrywide national campaigns.”

Canada does not have a national anti-bullying strategy, Craig said. The problem is tackled in a piecemeal fashion, although a national organization, PREVNet, is trying to deal with the issue. The group’s website features links to stories and programs that deal with bullying.

Taking Action Together

This leads to the announcement that this year’s Anti-Bullying Week will be 15-19 November 2010 . The theme is Taking Action Together. Perhaps we should all make an effort to become involved.

Our Kara’s living with some foster family.  These are the words Derek’s just spoken to me as I sit on the office settee watching the rain pour down outside.  Kara gone, left mum.  Derek tells me it really is true.  Mum without Kara?  Mum loves Kara; Kara’s her baby.  I thought Kara was all smiles and sunshine.

“Has Kara been bad?”

“No, Aaron, your mum has many problems as you know; she has had difficulty managing as a mother.”

“How could mum let Kara go?”

“Kara’s placement with a foster family is for Kara’s own good.”

“They won’t know how to look after Kara.  They won’t know what to feed her or what she likes.”

“Aaron, Kara is with good foster parents who know how to care for a child; her social worker visits her regularly.”

“She’ll be wanting mum.”

“I don’t know how she feels towards your mum.”

“Kara with a foster family, it’s just so odd.  She won’t stay there long; I mean not like Lee has, will she?”

“It is intended as a lasting placement.”

“Fuck, poor Kara.”

And what about mum?  Mum with three children to mum with no children, she always said that she can’t be in three places at once but now she’s in no place with any of us.  I walk from the office, then pause with one foot above the other on the stairs.  A little smile tugs at my mouth and then I carry on upstairs - if mum’s not got Kara, maybe she’s got space for me.  Mum might need me now; she’ll be lonely and I could help her out.

The rain taps down outside as I sit at my bedroom table.  I carefully fold a large piece of paper in half then take a yellow pen and draw a big sun.  I give the sun a smiley face and sunglasses; I draw in its long rays then add a few spikes of hair on top.  This card will cheer mum up.  Or does it look too happy, like I don’t know or care about her upset over Kara?  I rip up the paper and throw it in my bin.  I take another sheet; I chew on a pen and stare into the wall until its yellow colour fuzzes and floats towards me.

A letter.  I’ll write mum a letter.  Shall I say about Kara, how I’m sorry?  No, that’s not right; it’s not my sorry.  I could say how I bet mum’s missing Kara.  But then that might make her feel even sadder.  What to tell mum?  I could say to mum about dad, how she’s got to stop me being ‘daddy’s boy’.  She visited dad, she posted his letter - I could ask her about those things.  Why did she never even ask if I wanted to come with her to see dad?  I sigh; talk about dad will just make her feel sick and cross.

I must write about how living together is going to work out, how it’ll be the best thing for her, how we’ve got to get planning.  I pick up my pen.

Mum, I want to live with you

We need to push for that

‘Push for that’ sounds wrong, I start again.

Mum, I want to live with you

Take me

No.  Another piece of paper screwed up and thrown into the bin.  Perhaps it was best to draw something for her.  I fold a new piece of paper into a card then draw a neat heart in its top left hand corner.  I carefully colour in my heart and when I’m finished, I draw another beside it.  I can fit five hearts along the top.  I fill the card with rows of hearts; these will let mum know how I’m thinking of her.  I open up the card and write inside.

Mum is cute

Mum is smart

I ♥ mum

with all my heart

Aaron xxxxxxxxxx

It’s best to start with our love, to get close again and if Rebecca snoops before posting my letter for me, I’ve given nothing away.

I  must speak to my social worker too.  I’ll beg with her until she sees how being with mum is the only life for me.  They say I can’t be with mum because she can’t look after me but that’s different now; I’m older, I can look out for myself.

For weeks Rebecca’s been on at me about starting an activity outside of Templewood.  Liam used to go to football club; Aaron’s joined a trampoline class.  Rebecca made all sorts of daft suggestions until I finally shut her up by saying I’d give diving club a go.  Diving was Derek’s idea; he knows I’m good at diving.

Rebecca drives me to the leisure centre for my first session.  I get changed and then find myself walking towards a group of children and adults over by the diving pool.  They slowly spread out to line themselves around the edge of the pool.  They look like a right bunch of weirdoes - all the boys are in blue swimming trunks and most are wearing swimming caps.  I’m in black shorts.

“Come for a trial?  You must be Aaron,” this man in shorts with muscular hairy legs calls out at me.  “I’m Mike.”

People stare at me; I clasp my arms around my chest; I want to be anywhere but here.

“Make space for Aaron,” Mike says.

A scream and I just catch seeing this small boy toppling into the water; he must have been pushed because Mike’s starts telling off this other boy.

“Tom, I’m warning you; repeat how you were last week and you’ll be out of my club.”

The small boy comes splashing through the water and pulls himself out of the diving pool.  He’s a mini version of Tom - same haircut, same pale white skin.

“I’ll get you, Tom, I will,” he calls out.

“Settle down,” Mike says.  “Now warm up first.”

“You from around here?” a girl says to me when Mike tells me to stand next to her.

I can’t answer and she doesn’t repeat her question.  I watch how the boy beside me stands with his feet slightly apart and pointed out, I place my feet in the same position.  Mike starts calling out instructions and people stretch from side to side.  I study one boy on the opposite side of the pool and try to keep up with what he’s doing.  I bend down but realise I should have gone up, then as I stretch to the right my arm flicks into a boy.  I snatch my arm back.  The boy does not hit back; he just carries on exercising.  I try again to copy the movements of everyone else.

It comes to the time to start diving.  Mike calls out names and people dive one at a time into the pool.  Some people’s dives are all right.  On Tom’s turn, he throws himself sideways into the pool, a mess of splashing arms and legs.  Someone laughs.

“Best ignored,” Mike says.  “Aaron, your turn.”

My go.  I stretch my arms up, bend my knees, lift up, arch over then plop into the water.  I come back up to the water’s surface and somebody else is already diving in.  Mike says nothing to me; that’s because my dive wasn’t good enough.  As I quickly pull myself out of the water, a girl grins down at me.

“What you staring at?” I demand.

And my words stop her silly smile.

I go and stand alone in a queue of people by the diving boards; the children are talking to each other.  I don’t know what to say; I hope no-one speaks to me.  Two girls near me are laughing.  The instructor says to quieten down and form a neater queue.  Everyone obeys, except Tom who’s fidgeting around like he can’t stand still.  I keep quiet and stay in line.  The girl in front of me pulls off her swimming cap and long blonde hair falls down from her pony-tail.  Does she know the kind of person she’s standing next to?  A boy who no-one wants, a boy with anger, a boy with a dad who is a murderer.

I see Rebecca sat on a spectator’s bench; she doesn’t look up from her book.  On another bench, three woman are sat chatting together.  The girl with the long blonde hair is leaning over stuffing her hair back into her cap.  I watch people diving from the boards and the line in front of me slowly disappearing.  The girl does a perfect dive and then it’s my turn to climb the steps.  I move along the length of the board in three long leaps.  Up I go but then I’m losing balance and tumbling over.  I see the hard barrier of water; my face and belly slap into it; I topple over and water injects up my nose.  I sink down, staying hiding underwater until a rush to breathe has my body exploding upwards towards air.  I’m still gasping as I get out of the pool; cold air stings my red chest.  I head towards the changing rooms.

“Have another go, Aaron,” Mike’s voice calls me back.

I continue away from the group.

“Go on.”

I feel eyes on my back and then Mike’s looped around to stand right in front of me.

“I know you can do better than that,” he says.

I glance back, I see the boards, see how everyone looks at me.  I think of mum, I imagine her watching me.  I march past the queue of children by the diving boards.  I go to the front.  I climb the steps.  I walk along the board then stop high above everyone else.  I run the final paces to the end of the board and throw my arms high.  My body grows as I fill myself with air and space.  I leap up and then arch over, a moment’s flight before I’m cutting through the water.  The water’s softness surrounds me as I slide into its depths.

I rise back up; I find the noise is Mike giving me a clap.  He comes over to me, tells me I could be very good with some training and he’d be happy to have me join his club.

We get some free time to swim in the water and warm up.  I like keeping myself sunk at the bottom of the pool blowing out bubbles but then I start thinking of mum and the time she took me swimming.  I rush to the surface and do ten lengths of front crawl without stopping.

When diving club is over, I follow the others to the changing rooms.

“Lighten up, man,” Tom says leaning towards me.  “Don’t get so serious over diving.”

He strides off; I get dried and dressed quickly.  Rebecca’s waiting for me outside the changing rooms, she’s all smiles.

“You can be proud of yourself,” she tells me handing me some crisps.

“I want some crisps too,” the girl with long blonde hair says to the woman she’s stood with.

“I’ve got a snack for you in the car,” the woman says.  “Now rub your hair dry; it’s cold outside.”

“Fuss, fuss, fuss!  Mums!” the girl tuts raising her eyebrows and smiling at me.

I look from her to Rebecca.

“Aaron, isn’t it?” the girl continues.  “See you next week.”

I rush Rebecca out of the leisure centre before she can tell on me and explain the way I live.

The following Thursday, I’m sat eating my fifth biscuit when Narinder comes charging in and dumps her school bag down on the table.  Emma’s behind her with the ring of the car keys hanging off her finger.

“Letter came for you today,” I hear Derek tell Narinder as she walks over to the kitchen sink.

I watch as Narinder rips the envelope open then holds up a piece of pale blue paper.  Her face slowly opens up into a smile.  I hate the post for not bringing me mum.  Every day it teases me and every day no letter comes for me.  Nothing.   Mum must have got my letter.  Is her reply somewhere in the post between her, my social worker and me?  Or is today the day she’ll write back?

“Oh sweet,” Narinder says to Derek.  “It’s my foster mum telling me what we’ll be doing after I move in with her.  Look.”

Narinder’s had her visits with her foster mum.  We’ve heard all about it; she talks of nothing else.  It makes me wonder what Kara’s foster family might be like.

“She’s going to take me shopping,” Narinder says.

I take another two biscuits.

“I think you’ve had quite a few of those biscuits now,” Rebecca says to me.  “Time to get your swimming stuff.”

I stuff the biscuits into my mouth, crunch on them then spill out the crumbs as I go up to my room.  I find the new blue swimming trunks Rebecca’s bought for me; I sit down with them in my hand.  I suddenly feel tired and can’t be bothered to look for a swimming towel.  As I sit there, it comes to me that I never asked mum to write back.  I go to my table.

mum is cute

mum is smart

I ♥ mum

with all my heart

P.S. Write to me

I can make everything all right now

Aaron xxx

I hide my letter away in an envelope ready for Rebecca to post it.  I close my eyes tight and try to reach out to mum across the space that separates me from her.  Mum, if you haven’t done it already, sit down now, pick up a pen and write to me.  Please.  You will write won’t you?

“Aaron,” Rebecca shouts as she opens my door.  “… What?  What are you doing?  Come on.”

“Post this for me.”

“Aaron, come on or we’ll be late.”

“Post it.”

“A letter, why are you writing a letter now?  Look we’ll be late.  Have you got your swimming stuff together?”

“No.”

“Well come on then.”

“No.”

“Aaron, look your new trunks are out on the bed.”

“I’m not going.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t want to go to some stupid diving group.”

“Look we’ve got to get going; we can chat about things on the way there.”

“I’m telling you I’m not going.”

“You’ve been looking forward to it.  We’ve brought you new trunks.  It was a success last week; build on that.”

“I’ve done it.”

“One session.”

“Yes one session and I won’t go again.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Oh for goodness sake!  Just get going!”

“You can get as cross as you like; you won’t change my mind.  I’m not going.”

I thought I wanted to go again but now I see how that would be a mistake. I’ll always be the odd one out and they’ll soon find me out.

The hall is still full of Narinder’s luggage even though her social worker and Derek have already loaded half of it into the car.  Narinder rushes past, the word ‘babe’ sparkles on her tight T-shirt.  She’s dipping in and out of her bags; she pulls out some books then puts them straight back in the same bag.

“Narinder’s my friend,” Shelby shouts out.  “Who’ll talk to me now?”

“I will miss you,” Narinder says.

“Wait …” I say as Narinder comes past me.

I’ve just given her a stupid present of two chocolate bars; I wish I’d got her something she’d have really wanted.  It turns out that she’d saved up weeks of pocket money to buy us all new computer games.

“… Tell us about your friends, about school.”

“I’m off now Aaron!  Moving up to a new school, going to make new friends.”

I feel the pen in the shape of a lipstick that’s in my trouser pocket.  No, I can’t give it to Narinder; I bought it for mum.  Derek comes back in; he’s off crutches now but he still walks with a bit of a limp.  He bends down to pick up one of Narinder’s boxes.

“This has been the best home I’ve ever had, thank you,” Narinder says to him.

“It’s been our pleasure to have had you here,” Derek says.

“I was such a mess when I came here; this place has given me a chance.”

I’ve never seen Derek’s eyes light up before with a smiling laugh.

“Now I just need it to all come to something for me. I think it’s a good foster family you’ve found me.  It has to be.”

“Your visits have all gone well.”

“It just seems right with them.  And my new mum and I, we get on.”

A new mum?  Kara will be wanting her ‘old’ mum, our mum, always mum.  No need for a ‘new’ mum.  I turn away and then watch from the kitchen as the pile of luggage in the hall gets less and less.  Shelby’s brought back downstairs by Rebecca; he’s holding a bag of Narinder’s.

“What are you doing with my bag?” Narinder asks him.

“Don’t be cross with me.”

“I’m not.”

“I don’t want you to go … come back, don’t go Narinder.”

“Oh Shelby, I’ve got to go.”

“Come back … Come back if you don’t like your new place.”

“There’s no coming back; my time here is up.”

“Take me with you.  You always said I was like a little brother to you.”

Shelby rushes to Narinder and throws his arms towards her then I think he’s about to punch her but Rebecca pulls him off and holds him tight.

Narinder just leaves - the door shuts behind her and that’s it.  We’ve lost her.  I know she can’t wait to get on to her new life and forget all of us here.  I wander towards the office and come across Derek.

“Everyone’s pissing off to a foster family,” I tell him.

“Is a foster family what you’d like?”

“What!”

“Would you consider going to a foster family when it comes to your time to leave here?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, Aaron, your leaving from here is not for many months.  No one wants to see you go, least of all Rebecca, but we’re a group set up for a particular age range; we won’t be the best place for you as you get older.  That’s why I ask you if you’d like a foster family.”

“No way, I’ve got mum.  Poor Kara, they parcelled her off to some foster family and now you’re trying to send me off.”

“I gather via your social worker that Kara is doing well.”

“Doing well?  No way.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“She can’t be all right.”

“She’s relaxing into living in her new home.”

“How could she be okay?”

“I can’t speak for Kara’s feelings.”

“Me, I’ll always stick by mum.  I would never leave her for another.”

“Aaron, living with your mum is not reality.  I think you do know that even if you were allowed to live with her, it would not be the best option for you.”

“I don’t know that.”

“I think you do but it hurts to acknowledge it.  You have faced up to a lot this last year or so.”

“Look, just because my social worker and Rebecca blabbed to you about me fighting a little with mum on my visit, it doesn’t mean a thing.  Fuck, all children argue with their mums.  You never watched it on the telly?  It’s what happens.  And with mum and me, we make up, we never stay cross with each other for long.”

“Aaron, what’s happened in your past is very different from day-to-day arguments with a parent which, as you say, can happen in any family house.  There is going to be no return to living with your mum for you.”

“It’s not up to you to decide that.”

“We will need to look at alternative options.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing for free - I hate foster families.  I never fitted in with any of my foster families, I never knew what any of them wanted of me; I’d be stuck in their stupid homes with their stupid rules.”

“Here in group we have rules and boundaries that you live within.”

“It’s not the same here; it’s bigger, more space and there’s no foster mum to bug me.”

“You have formed a good relationship with Rebecca; that is a good pattern for a foster mum.”

“Foster mums aren’t like Rebecca.  Look, get it: foster families don’t work out for me.”

“This time a foster family could be very different for you.  You are older and now you would be part of the process of choosing a foster family.  You’d meet any potential family, help decide whether they were suitable for you.”

I stand up.

“Aaron, I personally think a foster family could really work out for you.”

I walk out on Derek and go to my room.  I’ll do whatever it takes, I’d suffer anything, give up everything, just to be me and mum together.  I find a pen in my drawer and dig its point deep into my arm then start on my letter.

mum is cute

mum is smart

I ♥ mum

with all my heart

P.S. You and me belong together

I’ll be so good for you

WRITE TO ME

Aaron xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I fit this letter and the lipstick pen in an envelope.  I seal it down.  I don’t care what I’ve given away because even if Rebecca opens it, she still has to send it on to mum.

Gisela Konopka (1910-2003) was born in Germany of Polish Jewish parents who had fled the pogroms in Poland; active in German youth movements before the rise of the Nazis, she met her future husband Paul Konopka and they both joined the resistance to Nazism. After she was briefly held in a concentration camp, they both left Germany, she for Austria where she was imprisoned again. They were ultimately reunited in France from where they emigrated to the US in 1941 and were married.

Entering the Pittsburgh School of Social Work, she encountered group work and became a lifelong advocate, introducing it to her native country after the war. She spent most of her working life at the Minnesota School of Social Work, formally retiring in 1978 but continuing to work into her nineties.

Interestingly, at her death, most of the obituaries highlighted her work with adolescent girls and this book in particular rather than her contributions to group work.

Key Points

• Studies of adolescence focus on boys.
• Girls’ needs are more complex than boys’.
• Delinquent girls see themselves as ‘delinquents’ rather than as ‘girls’.
• Delinquent girls lack satisfying relationships with adults and are often prevented from developing satisfying relationships with their peers.
• Girls tend to see rejection as personal rather than as related to social attitudes.
• The only escape for working class girls from a life of drudgery at home and at work is to marry a wealthy man.
• Even with equal opportunities, the opportunities for boys are still wider than for girls.
• Most delinquent girls had never received any praise, something which is more important for girls than for boys because their self-esteem is more reliant on acceptance from others.
• The situations of delinquent girls can be best understood though their experiences of puberty, their relationships with their mothers, their working class status and the absence of satisfying relationships with adults.
• Young people should be seen as full members of society, barriers to communication should be removed so that there can be open discussion, the stigmatisation of unmarried mothers should end, there should be more appropriate youth services and there should be an end to all practices which degrade young women.

Content

In Chapter 1 The study, she begins with examples of the isolation and vulnerability of young girls in three countries and points out that the only studies bridging the gap in understanding between the generations have been about boys. Yet girls can have both negative and positive influences on boys - provoking rivalry and reducing their offending. Meanwhile, those who care for girls in institutions are often bewildered by them and are unimaginative, whereas girls’ needs are often more complex than those of boys. She suggests that the lack of imagination is linked to the sexual potential of girls.

She therefore set out both to understand girls and to demonstrate how social group work could help them. Not being able to undertake a large study, she chose to look at those in homes for delinquent girls and for unmarried mothers.

She then surveys the existing literature on delinquency, pointing out that it focuses on boys and says nothing about girl delinquents. So, starting from the modern scientific viewpoint that objectivity is impossible, she decides to ignore theory and focus on listening to what the girls have to say in order to see the world through their eyes. She wrote individually to each of the girls in the institutions before her arrival, telling them about the purpose of her study, and visited each institution for several days at a time to share in the life of the girls, including queuing with the girls for meals, during the study.

Individual interviews, tape recorded wherever the girl was happy with that, were held in their living quarters and usually began with a question about what the girl thought others did not understand about being a girl. The girls were also asked if they had any diaries or poetry that could be used in the study and whether she could read their files. If they declined this last, their material was left out of the formal study. Very few of the stories they told differed from those in the records.

Group sessions with the girls were recorded and transcribed. In addition two groups were held outside institutions, one of girls released on parole and the other of girls on probation who had not been in an institution. In all, 181 girls from 14-19 years old participated, over a hundred being subject to court orders and 76 unmarried mothers, who were mostly from middle-class families where illegitimate pregnancy was unacceptable.

The girls were also able to telephone her at home and she found the stress of hearing the girls’ stories extremely difficult but she knew it was vital to listen to them whether or not she agreed with what they were saying.

In Chapter 2 They are people, she first describes how the girls had stopped seeing themselves as girls and saw themselves as delinquents and then goes on to say that people view delinquency a bit like illness before we understood how different microbes cause different illnesses in different people and how some have no adverse effect. It involves many different behaviours caused in many different ways in many different people but broadly includes behaviour which would be against the law regardless of the age of the person, infringements of moral codes and age-related behaviour such as truancy. The only common factor is that the girls are in conflict with society in some way.

Then she tells the stories of individual girls: Bertha, who had stolen her teacher’s cheque book in primary school and signed her own name in it, had been in and out of institutions, running away, committing offences, assaulting staff, ending up in prison and then having a child. Doris, whose father and step-father had both died when she was young, matured early, had her first child at twelve, left home at fourteen and had another child before being locked up, allegedly as a result of a false allegation. Mary, who had been maltreated repeatedly by her parents and first placed by them in care at five, had later been in foster care for a while before going into foster and then residential care when her parents went into hospital. However, when she returned home, her parents having divorced and her mother remarried, she had little idea of how to behave and found herself in the middle of her parents’ fights. So she got pregnant to get out of home but the child was stillborn. She was then put on probation for being drunk and in the institution for breach of probation. Bea had come from a good family against whom she had rebelled, first playing truant from school and then ending up in an institution.

In Chapter 3 Loneliness in an anonymous world, she argues that we rely on others throughout our lives but says that the girls experienced early adolescence as an abandonment, no longer children but not yet mature enough to make all their own decisions. Ironically, those who had ended up in care were then told not to rely on their friends in care. Yet they yearned for satisfying relationships.

Before that, many had been unprepared for and unsupported through the onset of periods which left them ill-prepared for the mother-daughter competition which often characterises adolescence; this does not necessarily involve conflict but many girls were unable to communicate with adults, let alone their mothers, about these issues. They often had negative views of adults and would take revenge on them by, for example, stealing - which young people who had not been in trouble also admitted doing. Even where they admitted more positive relationships with some adults, they did not feel the adults understood them.

Of course, some of the parents had been stigmatised or punished for their daughters’ misdeeds which made it more difficult for them to support their daughters, particularly if they were single mothers. This made the girls feel bad, a feeling that was compounded if they never received any praise from their parents. Victims of sexual abuse from their fathers would also be rejected. Some had been rejected or abused in care where they were supposed to be protected.

A common factor was the absence of loving care from any of the adults in their lives - even the detached youth workers who were supposed to be helping them tended to focus on boys rather than on girls. One consequence was that many had no idea of what a loving adult might be like and did not know how to communicate with them. So a probation officer might dismiss them as uncommunicative when the real problem was their lack of trust in any adult. Ironically, finding one they could trust simply highlighted the difficulties they had with all the others. They were particularly critical of double standards among adults.

Girls from minority groups who had been accepted at primary school found themselves rejected at secondary school and made the butt of sexual remarks. American Indians tended to respond to this by not speaking; some of them found it difficult to speak to her or to accept help from others. However, the girls tended to see their rejections as personal rather than as part of wider social attitudes, including when they chose a boyfriend from another ethnic group. They also tended not to review their own prejudices, even when they became aware of the effects prejudices were having on them.

In Chapter 4 The impact of cultural change on women’s position, she looks at the emancipation of women and the changing definitions of what it means to be ‘feminine.’ This had been largely a middle-class fight; working-class women had had manual jobs outside the home for centuries as well as all the housework without the labour-saving devices now available to middle-class women. Even in Nazi Germany the move to get women back to the home had only affected middle-class women.

The traditional way for a working-class woman to escape this drudgery was to marry a man wealthy enough to relieve her of all this labour; so middle-class exhortations to escape the drudgery by working hard and getting themselves educated fell on deaf ears. Yet there was a fairy tale quality to their aspirations, which were out of touch with the reality that none of the institutions in which they were placed prepared them for any jobs which would give them self-esteem. They were discouraged from considering ‘masculine’ careers and the jobs they could take were all poorly paid.

A couple of the girls were highly intelligent, one having become isolated because her mother was not and could not respond to her, and another because her school could not cope with her intelligence and she had ended up in an institution without having committed an offence.

Another consequence of female emancipation had been wider opportunities to travel, previously only available to boys, but these were not open to working-class girls. Though moves towards racial equality were emancipating girls from minority ethnic groups, this did not apply to delinquent girls - they were still trapped.

In Chapter 5 Ways out of loneliness, she writes that delinquent girls are normally excluded from social groups in which they can find a sense of belonging. Yet they live in groups in institutions and are then told they cannot communicate with any member of the group when they leave. Once outside, they end up in groups of girls who are themselves part of no other group, though only two had been in a gang. Youth clubs seemed to be geared to naturally confident children whose parents would support the club.

So the girls would join a crowd, rather than a group, or make a romantic relationship where even an abusive relationship was better than none at all. The delinquent girls were more idealistic than the unmarried mothers about these relationships but the latter had often been caught in an ‘emotional rape’ where having sex was proof that their love was true. Consequently, both groups found it difficult to articulate what a loving relationship might be like.

In practice their values were conservative and the closest they often came to a loving relationship was with another girl in a institution, something they valued intrinsically but in some cases because they thought they were unworthy of a relationship with a boy, because of their bad experiences of men or because of their fear of pregnancy. Occasionally such relationships turned into openly lesbian ones, sometimes as an act of rebellion, sometimes in revenge on a lover, but these often led to more loneliness, both because of the lack of opportunities to talk about such feelings and because some female staff acted repressively to any suggestion of sexual touch between girls.

In Chapter 6 Increasingly low self-image, she notes that self-respect develops first from the approbation of others, something which many of the girls had never experienced. Even though many had average intelligence, their lower attainments at school because of problems at home meant they never got any praise from school either. Or if they did, it would be for accomplishments in less highly regarded creative subjects. One way out is to seek a relationship with a boy but, if that fails, guilt and despair can set in, leading to suicide which is generally an intentional and not an attention-seeking move.

Gisela Konopka argues that adolescent girls are more disadvantaged than adolescent boys because their self-concept is more closely tied to their acceptance as a woman and because they do not have the same outlets for self-expression as adolescent boys. Because aggression is seen as ‘unfeminine,’ they tend to avoid offences which involve any form of assault but, when they are institutionalised, they are subject to frequent assaults on their self-esteem. She illustrates the consequences of all these assaults on a girl’s self-esteem with an extract from a conversation with Dorothy.

In Chapter 7 Emerging theory, she argues the girls’ situations need to be understood in relation to:

• the onset of puberty
• a complex identification process
• changes in the position of women in society
• loneliness brought about by ‘faceless’ adults.

The onset of puberty is more obvious for girls and resembles an injury but it reminds girls that pregnancy involves the whole person, which it doesn’t for boys. Poor relationships with their mothers have a particular impact for girls. Women’s emancipation has had little impact on working-class women and has heightened awareness of racial inequalities. The first three apply to all girls; those who come into conflict with society end up isolated from it and in particular from adult relationships.

In Chapter 8 We are responsible, she argues that everyone, including the girls, are responsible for addressing the situation and that “too much restriction and too much leniency” (p. 125) are both harmful. Young people must be seen as full members of society and the barriers to communication with adults which are at the heart of the distress the girls experience must be removed. Some of these barriers relate to adult ambivalence about their own experiences which often come out in double standards in areas such as gender roles and discrimination against members of minority ethic groups. Schools, youth organisations and churches need to be able to discuss things openly and without the hypocrisy that surrounds many current discussions. Issues like prostitution are not only about delinquency but also about economic deprivation and male attitudes to women.

She calls for an end to the stigmatisation of unmarried mothers and the brutal ways in which they are often treated, for equal status to be given to marriage and to employment alongside equal opportunities in the workplace, for new types of more democratically organised youth services which meet the needs of working-class girls and which have working-class youth leaders and for delinquency services which offer continuing adult, male and female, relationships to girls, encourage girls to take a positive role in a changing world, release their creative abilities, recognise the importance of the girls’ peer groups and do not engage in degrading practices.

An Appendix offers a transcript of one of the group sessions which formed the basis for the research.

Discussion

This is a very literate book written by a highly educated woman who is up-to-date with the latest ideas but has no problem allowing herself to get involved in the daily lives of girls forty years her junior and sharing in their pain. This combination of high academic understanding and the ability to get involved in the nitty-gritty of residential life would probably make it unique. But she also brings out all the issues around gender, race, class and sexual abuse which still animate discussions today, presenting them with a clarity and a sympathy which is rarely present in accounts of these topics today.

She attempts an unusual style of research, engaging as a person with those whose experiences she wishes to study even to the extent of allowing telephone contact with her at home. In so doing, she does not cite “a neutral stance is impossible in a delinquent society” (Polsky, 1962, p. 117) but draws on ideas from natural science research which were later to be articulated by Capra (1982) and Prigogine and Stengers (1984).

She anticipates Gilligan’s argument (1982) that developmental research focuses on boys and fails to take account of the different development of girls and she identifies the significance of many of the issues, such as a secure attachment, positive peer group relationships and a happy family, with not “too much restriction and too much leniency” (p. 125), which were to be confirmed in later research as important in avoiding low attainments and anti-social behaviour (Rutter, 1971; Ladd, 2005). She also recognises the differential development of girls in early adolescence which makes relationships more important for girls at this age than for boys (Archer, 1992).

She offers an explanation for why suicide attempts are higher among adolescent girls than boys whereas male suicides outnumber female suicides overall, but she differs from later authors (Irwin, 1977; Kerfoot, 1984) in arguing that these are real attempts rather than cries for attention, something which may be the case because adolescents tend not to know how to commit suicide successfully and 40% make a second attempt.

In arguing that delinquent girls are the victims of the complex interaction of a number of social processes rather than just the victims of their own development or lack of good parenting, she sets out both an explanation for why there has been so little success in addressing the needs of women offenders (Commission on Women and the Criminal Justice System, 2004) and a challenge to all those working with girls to take a holistic approach to their needs and not to be satisfied with simple solutions to complex needs.

References

Archer, J (1992) Childhood gender roles: social context and organisation In H McGurk (Ed.) Childhood social development: contemporary perspectives, pp. 31-61 Hove: Lawrence Erlbaum

Capra, F (1982) The turning point: science, society and the rising culture London: Wildwood House

Commission on Women and the Criminal Justice System (2004) Women and the Criminal Justice System London: Fawcett Society

Gilligan, C (1982) In a different voice: psychological theory and women’s development London: Harvard University Press

Irwin, E M (1977) Growing pains: a study of teenage distress Plymouth: Macdonald and Evans

Kerfoot, M J (1984) Deliberate self-poisoning in childhood and early adolescence Manchester: Manchester University Press

Ladd, G W (2005) Children’s peer relations and social competence: a century of progress London: Yale University Press

Polsky, H W (1962) Cottage Six: the social system of delinquent boys in residential treatment New York: Wiley See also Children Webmag March 2010

Prigogine, I and Stengers, I (1984) Order out of chaos: man’s new dialogue with nature London: Heinemann

Rutter, M (1971) Parent-child separation: psychological effects on the children Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 12 (4), 233-260

This research, sponsored by the National Council for the Unmarried Mother and her Child, was the first attempt at a comprehensive study of this type of home. Though it covers homes for adults as well as for young people, many of its findings are relevant to caring for children away from home. Carried out not long before the arrival of the contraceptive pill and just before the 1967 Abortion Act came into force in April 1968, it was unusual in including residents’ views - something still all too frequently missing from residential care research.

Key Points

• Mother and baby homes were initially established by concerned lay people but are now largely provided by church bodies.
• They cater for around one in six of extra-marital pregnancies.
• Most residents had family contact and very few had been rejected because of the pregnancy.
• Unmarried mothers in the north received greater sympathy from the community than those in the south.
• The material conditions of most homes were poor though the food was usually adequate.
• Rules tended to be more restrictive in evangelical homes and in those where staff were overworked, but in practice there were fewer problems in homes with fewer rules, where the rules were broken less often.
• The matron was central to the assessment of the home and the quality of the residents’ experience.
• Residents were better off in homes for ten or fewer or for twenty or more; homes with 15-16 residents tended to split into two hostile groups.
• While many homes had difficulty filling posts, homes in the north had more flexible staffing arrangements than those in the south.
• While ante-natal and GP support was good, few homes provided relaxation classes and none preparation classes.
• Mother and baby units with maternity units were considered better for younger mothers because they avoided the stress of being among married women and possibly receiving unsympathetic comments in hospital maternity units.
• Staff generally took too much responsibility for the care of the babies.
• The religious aspects of the homes had relatively little impact beyond occasional irritations for most of the residents.
• Religious groups should not be criticised for providing mother and baby homes when other community groups were not providing any alternatives.
• Most matrons and social workers thought that social workers should hold casework responsibility but few social workers had enough time to carry out their responsibilities and fewer than one in six residents valued what they did.
• The residents were rarely afforded the opportunity to discuss their situations with anyone.

Content

In Chapter 1 Introduction, she notes that mother and baby homes had historically been provided by religious bodies; 138 out of the 172 homes they were able to identify were provided by church bodies. They had initially been for penitent prostitutes, who generally had to part with their babies because their stay in the home had been seen as part of their penitence leading to their reform. This image still hung over mother and baby homes, even though now they normally only care for the mother for the weeks around confinement and the baby is expected to remain with the mother during this period.

They encountered views on illegitimacy from ‘it’s normal’ to individual sin. There was a lot of ambivalence, with mother and baby homes being criticised for doing too little by those who saw the problem as social or emotional and for doing too much by those who saw it as individual sin. Most had been set up by individual groups of lay people even though now 80% were run by church bodies using a wide range of titles.

Their functions can be seen as:

• helping to cope with extra-marital pregnancy
• providing adequate medical and physical care
• helping with ambiguous motherhood.

They cater for around 11-12,000 of the 70,000 extra-marital pregnancies a year, normally only for three months in the mother’s life.

In Chapter 2 Residential accommodation in England and Wales, she describes the three main types of mother and baby unit identified in the study:

1. twelve hostels for pregnant girls which take girls from early pregnancy to near confinement when they are transferred to the second type of home;
2. 154 homes providing accommodation around confinement, of which 32 had their own maternity unit; three were for girls at school and one for girls in care or on probation;
3. four projects offering accommodation for mothers with children either hostel-style or in self-catering flats, usually for up to two years.

Twelve more projects of the third type had opened or were being planned since the study had been completed.

While the average size was thirteen beds, they varied from fewer than five to over thirty, those with their own maternity unit usually being larger. Twenty-four were being run by local authority health and welfare departments; most of the others were run by local bodies or dioceses with only the Salvation Army offering a national service. Two children’s departments had opened homes since the survey. Over half of the homes received local health authority block grants and around a quarter smaller grants as well as per capita fees.

In Chapter 3 The survey, she describes the twenty three homes, 60% in the north and 40% in the south, selected for detailed study during which matrons and residents were interviewed and the building toured. They also interviewed 51 church and local authority social workers.

The residents were interviewed in groups of four to eight and asked to complete a questionnaire at the end; over 80% of the questions were answered and only 10 out of the 250 interviewed were unable or unwilling to complete them. Also the most recent arrival and the next expected departure were interviewed individually using a combination of scheduled questions and informal discussion.

In Chapter 4 The use and scope of mother and baby homes, she discusses the use of mother and baby homes compared with other alternatives; it was generally the social worker who had decided that a mother and baby home was the best; only eight out of the two hundred and forty expectant mothers had made their own arrangements. She notes that unmarried mothers were only a small part of social workers’ caseloads and a high percentage of the mothers were interested in adoption.

Social workers gave lack of alternative services as the most common reason, fear of ostracism leading to family tensions as the second and accommodation difficulties, including homelessness, parental illness or lack of space at home, as the third. The residents gave adoption as the most common reason, getting away from neighbours, in part because of the impact on family or siblings, as the second and accommodation problems as the third; six had been turned out of home. Some residents also said that it would give them space to make decisions about the baby and nine that they had really been given no choice, whether by social workers or family.

The main constraint on the selection of a home was the willingness of the local health authority to fund out of area placements; other constraints could be admission criteria or where first contact had been made in the last three months of pregnancy. Nearly half the residents had had two or fewer interviews with the social worker before the choice of home had been made.

Only two homes in the study had no time limits; most limited the stay to the last six weeks of pregnancy and the first six weeks after the birth though some extended or varied this period. Only six homes allowed married women and only seven homes expectant mothers where it was not the first pregnancy; the others only admitted those in their first pregnancy or who had not been to a mother and baby home before. The Roman Catholic homes stipulated that either the mother or the putative father had to be Roman Catholic. There were two homes for girls under 17 and two that excluded girls under 17 but otherwise there were no age limits. Girls with disabilities, except epilepsy, were accepted as long as they could cope with hostel life. Four homes banned girls on probation or from approved school and one local health authority home only took local residents while two others gave priority to them.

Social workers tended to select homes according to the matrons’ views about which ‘backgrounds’ were suitable and local authority and Salvation Army homes were seen as the most open. Very few homes used admission criteria for positive reasons, mostly for negative reasons, sometimes linked to the earlier purpose of distinguishing the deserving and the undeserving poor.

In Chapter 5 The residents in the homes, she describes the very wide range of residents. Only six in the study had been married; two were widowed and four separated or divorced. For 92% it was their first pregnancy, though, because some were known to have concealed earlier pregnancies to satisfy admissions criteria, this was probably an overestimate. Most were British and they were younger overall than the population of unmarried mothers as a whole, though teenage mothers were not over-represented, refuting the belief that social workers encouraged teenage mothers to go into mother and baby homes.

Most were in employment and there was little evidence to support the idea that unmarried mothers took lower status jobs. 76% of putative fathers knew about the baby but only 26% had been in recent contact, more often with the younger girls. One in eight had been illegitimate themselves, twice the proportion in the population, and 68% were from intact homes. Only nine had concealed the pregnancy and nineteen had only told their mother. Two-thirds had seen their mothers since admission and half their fathers; only thirteen had had no contact. Most had been living with their parents when the child was conceived and, though a third had left home since, a sixth who had conceived away from home had moved back home.

Though matrons often cast doubt on residents’ favourable accounts of family life, three-quarters were planning to go home afterwards. One third were assured of a job, all but six with their previous employer. Interestingly, in the north disapproval was mixed with sympathy: neighbours and workmates would collect for the girl or knit for the baby but not in south.

In Chapter 6 The material standards, she describes the material state of the homes; most were adapted homes, often in need of substantial repair. Only three had satisfactory buildings. The halls were normally dismal; most had separate living rooms and dining rooms but the furniture was often drab and uncomfortable and some rooms were too small. Nine homes had modern kitchen equipment; one had a commercial laundry and three excellent laundry facilities but some had no washer or drier.

The nurseries were generally well furnished but one had no windows and only one had day and night nurseries; there was no privacy in the nursery to feed baby. Residents mostly shared bedrooms; only one home had curtains to go round beds. The standard of furniture was low; there was a shortage of cupboard space and only one home provided a lockable locker for residents.

Sanitary provision was inadequate with insufficient baths in five, insufficient lavatories in eleven and only seven homes providing wash hand basins in at least some bedrooms. Sometimes the handbasin, bath and lavatory were in same the room or any alternatives were some distance away; there was little privacy for washing.

Staff accommodation was generally poor, especially for assistant staff. Both staff and residents deplored the poor material conditions; the girls often saw it as punishment while the matrons had difficulty persuading management committees to improve things. Interestingly, the best and worst homes were both run by local health authorities.

Though ten homes were planning improvements, neither matrons nor committees had much experience of planning mother and baby homes.

In Chapter 7 The pattern of daily life, she describes how the pattern was generally set by baby’s feeding times with housework in the morning and the afternoons and evenings free, in some cases broken by a one hour siesta or with options for handicraft or relaxation classes; as the first feed could be at 5.30 and the last 11, it could be a long day. Sunday was the most boring day because ten homes banned Sunday visits, some only allowed residents to go to church, two banned cards, games, the record player and TV and one banned Sunday newspapers.

The food was generally good though in a small number of homes residents complained that the food was insufficient or inappropriate for expectant mothers. The residents usually helped to prepare meals and in half the homes prepared breakfast or the evening meal themselves; two homes allowed self-cooked evening meals. Three homes allowed drinks at any time and one allowed unlimited access to milk, of which residents in other homes were mostly likely to complain that they were not given enough. Only one home provided storage space for residents’ own snacks.

Residents were expected to do a wide variety of housework, mostly to keep them occupied; only one home used it as a tool for reform and three as skills training. In half the homes household tasks started before breakfast though in a third there was only about one hour’s work to do against a third where it was planned to last all morning. Residents mostly accepted the work even if they found it difficult, because they had the rest of the day to recover, but in eight homes there were complaints about it being too hard, long or unsuitable; there was also some frustration about spinning out work to fill the time and resentment at the strictness of some inspections. Housework partly saved on costs and was partly a hangover from the rescue homes days; three matrons disliked it and tried to find other jobs around the house. Interestingly, there were no classes related to motherhood and baby care.

Residents were mostly only allowed out during the day, not the evening; some matrons expected to know when residents were going out and some homes restricted activities but there were fewer complaints and less demand to go out in homes with fewer restrictions.

In Chapter 8 Rules, she summarises the rules. All homes allowed parents to visit except for one where fathers had to ask permission; other relatives, apart from young children because of fear of infection, were also allowed to visit. There was a wide range of rules about boyfriends, whether or not the putative father, with one third of homes banning all visits from boyfriends unless they were contemplating marriage. Though most residents did not want visits from the putative father or boyfriends, they did not see why homes should rule on these, particularly if they wanted to talk over the situation with the putative father. The matrons who allowed putative fathers to visit said it had a salutary effect on them.

Six homes allowed visits at any time but the rest set visiting hours, usually on Saturday and Sunday, while allowing residents to go out in the afternoons if their parents were unable to visit during visiting hours. In practice, those who allowed unlimited visiting did not encounter the problems used to justify limited visiting and residents who did not receive visits were often asked out by other residents’ families in homes that allowed unlimited visiting.

The censorship of letters was rare, mostly restricted to approved school girls. Only two homes had coin phones while four allowed residents to use the staff phone but this gave no privacy.

Smoking was forbidden in nurseries and bedrooms and sometimes in one of the living rooms or for periods around mealtimes; nine homes had restrictions and two banned it completely.

The residents generally accepted the rules but they were most often broken in the most restrictive homes; in the three homes with few rules they were rarely broken. In practice, rules were difficult to enforce, punishments generally being loss of privileges or group punishments which usually led to identification of the culprit. Some matrons tried to avoid confrontation with suggestions boxes or a ‘complaints day’ when issues were discussed. The evangelical homes and those where staff were overworked tended to have more and more restrictive rules.

In Chapter 9 Relationships in the homes, she notes that homes were normally judged by the quality of the matron and that many residents found the matron a mother figure. The matrons saw helping residents with their personal problems as part of the job and in a third of the homes there were real gains from this relationship. However, six matrons were disliked or feared, four were two-faced, two deliberately upset residents, one nagged, one went through residents’ possessions and two were always reminding residents of why they were there. In fact, some girls could not get on with the popular matrons and some found the unpopular ones kind and understanding. Three hard-pressed matrons were very impressed by positive responses from residents to their situations. Relationships with assistant staff were less significant for residents.

Before they came in, many residents feared being among ‘tarts’ or thought that they were the only person with the problem and were relieved to find that they were not alone, but most had difficulty settling in, with residents’ responses varying from ignoring them to interrogating them. Some residents never settled down, in four homes because of poor relationships with the matron. Most received support from the group though there might be difficulties from time to time.

Few matrons or staff had had any training; the residents tended to prefer younger married staff who knew about babies but not all of them were able to communicate. The most important factor was whether staff understood the world from which the residents came.

There were conflicting views on whether small homes promoted harmony or friction but residents were better off in homes for ten or fewer where they lived in a single group and in homes for over twenty where they had more choice of staff and friends. The least satisfactory size was 15-16 beds where there was a tendency to split into two hostile groups.

While the matrons saw having a wide age range as beneficial, the residents were more relaxed with a narrower age range. The main problem was that the residents were generally treated as ‘girls’, that is, as not able to accept responsibility.

While the matrons liked the idea of living as a family, only four homes achieved this according to the residents. In some, staff had different food and crockery.

In Chapter 10 Staffing, Jill Nicholson notes that the matron was the only resident staff member in five homes and the only full-time staff member in three. They generally:

• undertook the administration
• supervised the housekeeping and
• were responsible for the residents’ welfare.

Some matrons undertook external social work.

Only eight had been in post for less than three years and four had been in post for over ten years. They had at least one assistant and the well staffed homes tended to have staff with specific jobs. In the south the non-resident staff were domestics, gardeners or night attendants only; in the north they might also be nursing staff or assistants. Sixteen homes had a nurse and nine a moral welfare worker - three had both.

The local authority homes were the best staffed with the most qualified staff and at least two resident midwives. There were wide variations in staffing in the others. Nine matrons said they were understaffed and in half the homes there was no domestic help and in a third no cook or no gardener; only five had secretarial help. Nearly half had a vacancy at the time of the study visit and some had not been able to fill vacancies for years; many matrons had not had their full leave, one for fourteen years. One home closed for one month each year to allow staff leave.

Generally, management committees failed to:

• understand residential work
• think through the purposes of the homes.

Though some matrons refused to delegate, many simply did not have the time to do their jobs and they appreciated residents’ consideration in this area. She suggests that living-in needs to be re-considered because, with the shortage of single women, new arrangements may need to be considered such as greater use of sleeping-in or employing married couples as in family group homes; the homes in the north had moved in such directions whereas the homes in the south had not.

All except the Salvation Army and Roman Catholic homes had committees; eleven matrons found them good, but others found them out of touch or old-fashioned. Some homes used voluntary workers, for example, for classes; there were mixed views on whether they were a help or too much trouble.

In Chapter 11 Medical care, she notes that residents received routine supervision from a general practitioner but there was little use of dental or psychiatric services. There was routine use of ante-natal care but little use of relaxation classes. Residents tended to ask for them if they were not available but had mixed views where they were available because they sometimes had to attend alongside married women.

Many were ignorant or apprehensive about the process of birth because preparation classes were not readily available. There were no problems getting residents to hospital maternity units but sometimes they did not have enough staff to accompany them. Half the matrons allowed other residents to visit the hospital and six allowed visits if there were no family or friends visiting; one matron forbade visits. Five matrons tried to visit themselves and in two cases where distance was a problem committee members or friends of the matron visited.

There were complaints about hospitals where residents returned without breastfeeding having been established or because the hospital was short-staffed. The residents were generally satisfied with hospital care but their status had often been reinforced when husbands and families of other women visited. Though the mothers did not mention this, the matrons described various thoughtless remarks made to residents in hospital.

The homes with maternity units tended to be larger and less relaxed than the mother and baby homes but they avoided the painful aspects of being in hospital and also offered continuity of care. The matrons thought that these were better for the younger ones because of the stress of being in hospital.

In Chapter 12 The care of babies, she describes how all but two of the homes expected the mother to care for the baby whatever the plan; there was wide variation in the extent to which mothers had responsibility for the baby’s care.

Most homes preferred either breast or bottle-feeding and encouraged it; one third preferred breast, one third bottle and one third said it was the mother’s choice but only one matron was genuinely not bothered either way. The residents saw breast-feeding as encouraging love for the baby and most residents followed the line of the home except for those opposed to that line; most were encouraged to move to the bottle before they left the home. Only one home had an on-demand feeding policy; the others were time-based, some with flexibility, others not.

Mothers gave baby a daily bath in all but two homes where the staff bathed the babies. In nine homes babies slept in their mothers’ rooms, in twelve in the nursery - in six with night attendants, in three with mothers accompanying them, in three with no-one.

In less than half the homes were mothers allowed free access to their babies; mostly it was just at feeding times or sometimes if the baby was crying but others banned such contact. Seven matrons prohibited mothers from taking babies out in their prams, in two cases because they had been receiving gifts from admiring strangers in the park. Only a few allowed babies out with visitors. Two allowed mothers to go out if another resident, often an expectant mother, cared for their baby.

Thirteen homes had trained staff to advise on baby care but residents could be irritated if this came over as criticism; residents were also frustrated at the lack of time to play with their babies. Overall staff took too much responsibility.

In Chapter 13 Religion in the homes, she notes that all, except the local authority, were religious homes and daily prayers were said in all but two, in three twice a day and in one each service lasted over 30 minutes.

Residents were expected to go to church in most homes and an alternative recorded service was made available to those staying at home; in one home residents were free to choose and in one home they were banned from church, a rule that upset the residents. However, only six homes had set out their expectations in the admission forms and there was only one home where matron and residents agreed it was not an obligation.

All the homes had chaplains and six held discussion groups; some chaplains saw the residents individually and the residents generally valued them; however, there was little religious instruction.

Most matrons saw their work as part of a Christian task but thought it was pointless to force it on the residents. About a third thought the residents responded to it while in the home, though the social workers thought the Christian message only affected a tiny fraction. In most homes residents accepted things and only complained of it being pushed in a few homes.

She found no evidence that the religious emphasis materially affected the homes, though the residents valued the motivation it gave to staff and, as other parts of the community were not providing a similar service, it was inappropriate to criticise those that did.

In Chapter 14 Social work in the homes, she notes that the provision of social work had grown from ‘moral welfare work.’ Most social workers and half the matrons agreed that the social worker should hold casework responsibility; most of the matrons were not trained to do it but four matrons and one fifth of social workers thought matrons should have casework responsibility.

The matrons generally thought that social workers did not take enough interest while social workers thought that the matrons were not competent or interfered. Most social workers saw residents once or twice before and once or twice after confinement; there was little variation between the different types of social worker except that two local health authority social workers did not visit at all. Most social workers were dissatisfied with the level of care they could offer.

Only 15% of residents valued their social workers; most saw them as “nice, kind people who would help you if they could” (p. 134); they had little understanding of the social worker’s role and half had not seen their social worker since they were admitted; fewer than one in eight had seen a social worker three or more times.

Few residents understood the impact of giving up their babies and many were confused by the different rules of different adoption societies; they were all desperate to sort things out but had no-one to talk to. Since the number planning to keep the baby normally doubles after birth, they really needed the chance to talk about this during pregnancy and after birth when discussion is least likely to be offered. Though the matrons tended to stress the need for the mothers to make up their own minds, this did not mean that they should not talk it over with someone. Overall, the practical problems were dealt with but not the emotional ones; residents were rarely offered a relationship in which to work things out.

Some of the problems related to shortages of staff, some to lack of agreement on the roles of matrons and social workers and some to the need for social work to be recognised as part of the process being managed by the matrons.

In Chapter 15 Assessment and conclusions, she concludes that there was general agreement that mother and baby homes are necessary but confusion about their functions. They provided:

• accommodation for homeless mothers to be
• an alternative to other services
• the best method of treatment in certain cases.

Considered as accommodation, the best were superb but most were shabby and inadequate with lots of restrictions, intrusions on privacy and an erosion of responsibility. Considered as alternatives to other services, they provided support for residents, acceptance from staff and asylum, but they often lacked social work support, failed to assist in the management of ‘mothering’ and were limited by a fixed length of stay.

Overall, the uncertain purpose of homes dominated all others. They needed to look at the therapeutic aspects, focus on developing group cohesion, improve staffing and financing, be subject to proper registration and inspection - not least because homes found the existing inspection regime condoned poor standards, become integrated with other services and develop their social work input.

Discussion

This study starts with a reminder that the churches were mostly opposed to social welfare provision outside the poor law in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the first home for penitent prostitutes being set up by merchants of the Russian Company following a proposal by the Bow Street magistrate, John Fielding, on ‘fresh start’ principles, with staff and trustees banned from asking about the woman’s past (Taylor, 1985). When the organisations which we now think of as church organisations were set up, they were almost entirely individual initiatives of lay people or, occasionally, clerics which only became formal church organisations at a later date (Heywood, 1978).

Unusually for residential care at the time, family contact was mostly supported, even if there was little direct family involvement, as the focus was on the unmarried mother making the decision, sometimes without the interference of family members. The matrons’ scepticism about family relationships may have reflected the prevailing view at the time that there was an inevitable generation gap, a view which was not to be challenged until the publication of Fogelman (1976) and Rutter et al. (1976) .

The success of the homes with fewer rules may have been related as much as anything else to the cognitive development of the residents who, in Wolins’ terms, were more likely to be at the ‘other-oriented’ than at the ‘nomocratic’ stage (1973). The failure of the staff to recognise that the mothers were more able to accept responsibility than they assumed may explain both the excessive use of rules and the assumption of too much responsibility for babycare, but it may also relate to the assumption that being an unmarried mother was a result of a ‘moral failure.’ The clause allowing unmarried mothers to be detained as ‘moral defectives’ had only recently been repealed by the 1959 Mental Health Act.

The study predates King et al. (1971) and Sinclair (1971) in identifying the centrality of the head of the unit to the quality of the residents’ experience but this conclusion is based on feedback rather than observation, as in King et al., and may have been discounted at the time because it involved women and girls rather than males.

The finding that size of home was significant, in that those for around fifteen or sixteen residents were least satisfactory, is consistent with the evidence that groups need to be more than four but less than fifteen and that girls are happier in smaller, less hierarchical groups than boys (Argyle, 1994). The finding that homes of twenty or more were better than those with around fifteen or sixteen residents may help to explain why the Curtis Report (Care of Children Committee, 1946), for no apparent reason, recognised the value of some homes of thirty residents while specifying a maximum of twelve residents for the majority.

The preference for resident staff in the south rather than the development of more flexible staffing arrangements may be an early sign of the housing problems that continue to plague the public services in London. This may be one area where changes to residential staff conditions were more beneficial to residential care providers and their staff outside London than to those in London, where lack of suitable accommodation for low paid residential staff inhibits recruitment.

Though Jill Nicholson ends with a plea for more therapeutic input, she does not provide any evidence that the residents needed anything more than better information and a friendly ear to listen to their problems and it is interesting to note that the chaplains who provided that appear to have been appreciated. Given the evidence from later studies that social work input, other than to support family input, has little impact on outcomes (Taylor and Alpert, 1973; Fanshel and Shinn, 1978), she may have been influenced by Polsky (1962) or taken this idea from Wills (1960) and the moves to make social work input more relevant to residential care which culminated in the Keyworker concept (Residential Care Association/British Association of Social Workers Study Group, 1976).

References

Argyle, M (1994) The psychology of interpersonal behaviour (Fifth ed.) London Penguin.

Care of Children Committee (1946) Report of the Care of Children Committee Cmd 6922 London: His Majesty’s Stationery Office. Chairman: Myra Curtis

Fanshel, D and Shinn, E B (1978) Children in foster care: a longitudinal investigation Guildford: Columbia University Press See also Children Webmag March 2009.

Fogelman, K (1976) Britain’s sixteen year olds: preliminary findings from the third follow-up study of the National Child Development Study (1958 Cohort) London National Children’s Bureau

Heywood, J S (1978) Children in care: the development of the service for the deprived child (Third ed.) London: Routledge & Kegan Paul

King, R D, Raynes, N V and Tizard, J (1971) Patterns of residential care: sociological studies in institutions for handicapped children London: Routledge & Kegan Paul See also Children Webmag April 2009.

Polsky, H W (1962) Cottage Six: the social system of delinquent boys in residential treatment New York: Wiley See also Children Webmag March 2010.

Residential Care Association/British Association of Social Workers Study Group (1976, 2 September). How can residential and field social workers co-operate? The respective and reciprocal roles of residential and field social workers. Social Work Today 7 (12), 346-348

Rutter, M, Graham, P, Chadwick, O and Yule, W (1976) Adolescent turmoil: fact or fiction? Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 17, 35-56

Sinclair, I (1971) Hostels for probationers: a study of the aims, variations and workings in effectiveness of male probation hostels with special reference to the influence of the environment on delinquency Home Office Research Study 6 London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office

Taylor, D and Alpert, S W (1973) Continuity and support: following residential treatment New York: Child Welfare League of America See also Children Webmag March 2009.

Taylor, J S (1985) Jonas Hanway: founder of the Marine Society: charity and policy in eighteenth-century Britain London: Scolar

Wills, W D (1960) Throw away thy rod: living with difficult children London: Victor Gollancz

Wolins, M (1973) Some theoretical observations on group care In D M Pappenfort, D M Kilpatrick, and R W Roberts (Eds) Child caring: social policy and the institution Chicago: Aldine Reprinted in M Wolins (Ed.) (1974) Successful group care Chapter 1, pp. 7-35 Chicago: Aldine See also Children Webmag June 2009.

The book discusses at length the importance of completing such a qualification and what this might entail.

The chapters are broken up into exploring the basic principles of management and the policies and legislation that may govern professional practice, how to manage oneself and develop the workforce within care services, what leadership and management entails including the rights and responsibilities of individuals.

It also looks at how systems, procedures and practices can be reviewed in order to comply with health and safety requirements including risk assessment and development of a positive culture. The final chapter looks at how to bring about effective communication in order to promote positive outcomes. Finally, it is all brought to a holistic conclusion by identifying with the learner which options best suit their needs. It provides a comprehensive bibliography and contextualises training at a practical level.

This is a comprehensive book designed to promote a qualification or enhance existing qualifications. It provides an overview of what further study and practical demonstration of skills would entail. It promotes the importance of knowledgeable management and leadership and embraces the ‘wraparound’ expectation from today’s professionals, where they can slip seamlessly from one branch of the caring services to another. It takes time to look at the desirable personal and professional traits which make a positive leader and manager.

This is a good book to use as a training manual and also to share in seminars or staff team meetings. It can be used to help teams identify their strengths and weaker aspects of practice.

Connors P., Harrison R. and Maclean S. (2010?)  Leadership and Management of Services for Children and Young People

Kirwin Maclean Associates Ltd

ISBN: 978-1-903575-64-2

The book provides information about recent legislation and children’s rights. It touches on the worst potential outcomes for children and young people - the death of a child through abuse or harm. It relates the concern about institutional care and standards in a number of well-known cases where older children were subjected to neglect, physical harm and systematic abuse.

The third section in the book looks at how we can understand the issues of abuse. It lists symptoms and resultant behaviours which may be associated with victimisation. It refers to the problems within specific cultures or racial groups and how these must also be addressed with the child in mind at all times.

The role of the professional is identified and emphasised as initially a generic responsibility that everyone in the community must accept. It then becomes more specific. It urges students to become familiar with the codes of practice and policies that govern their specific profession and workplace. It identifies the importance of recording and reporting and sharing of information.

The final section mentions the importance of support for the professional and how this support can be obtained.

This is a very practical work book for those learning about the potential of abuse of children and young people. There is nothing new here, but I do not consider this was the authors’ primary concern. What they have produced is a very solid, comprehensive directory for checking out signs and symptoms, how to pass on concerns and the responsibilities of the individual and the professional. It is written in a down-to-earth style with enough referencing and quotations for anyone completing an academic qualification to feel reassured that there will be plenty of further reading material available.

This can be shared with colleagues and would form a very good basis for a training session in a workplace where there are children and young people to be looked after.

I am heartened by reference to my own book although I suspect it is now a bit out of date! I would recommend this book as a good basis to begin learning about this distressing aspect of child care.

Langton, Rita Hannah and Maclean, Siobhan (2010?) Protecting Children and Young People from Harm and Abuse: Recognition and Response

Kirwin Maclean Associates Ltd

ISBN: 9-781-90357-561-1

Vic Citarella calls on residential child care workers to take control of their own profession by becoming members of the Institute of Child Care and Social Education (ICSE), set up to establish high standards of child care, and keen to see new developments such as social pedagogy and restorative practice adopted across the country.

Keith White has been rethinking attachment theory, pointing out how every new child adds to the social dynamics of its family

The gruelling story of Aaron’s life in residential child care continues, in Beyond Caring, written by A.J. Stone.

Stuart Hannah addresses the puzzle of creating a solid future for a young person with problems in residential care.

We have a news item about an event in Blyth that challenges accepted thinking about Approved Schools, looking at signs of success demonstrated in the long-term impact of Wellesley’s nautical training

Under the Child Care History banner there is a brief history of events and trends  in the residential care of young offenders in the UK.

Our Editorial this month is on trust, a vital ingredient in work with children and families.

Robert Shaw’s Key Texts are:

• Bruno Bettelheim’s A Home for the Heart, which summarised what he had learnt from his years in the residential treatment of disturbed behaviour, and
• Frederick George Lennhoff’s Exceptional Children, about the residential treatment of emotionally disturbed boys at Shotton Hall.

There are two Book Reviews:

• Uprooted, about the shipment of poor children to Canada from 1867 to 1917 by Professor Roy Parker, and
• The God Squad by Paddy Doyle, a classic about Industrial Schools in Ireland, written some time ago but still grim reading.

Practitioners working alongside children and young people in (mainly) residential and related settings, plus all the people who manage, train, regulate and support them, now have the opportunity to have their professional views and opinions heard and shared. ICSE advocates the highest quality of care and education for children and young people, and in particular for those who are unable to live at home, based on pedagogic principles which put children and their rights at the heart of practice and emphasise their richness of abilities, knowledge and skills.The ICSE’s main aim is to promote the well-being of children and young people through inclusive forms of social education such as social pedagogy and restorative practice. It does this by providing a form of association for individual professional practitioners to develop international contacts, conferences, undertake workforce development opportunities, to get involved with research and providing practice-related information for members.

ICSE has decided to launch in partnership with the Social Care Association (SCA). In this way members secure all the benefits of being part of a wider and long-standing body with an infrastructure. SCA will provide administration and membership services for ICSE and people interested in membership of the new organisation can contact SCA as a first port of call. After all, SCA’s founding members in 1949 were residential child care workers and the organisation has continued to have a commitment to work with children whilst becoming a professional body for all social care workers in all settings across the UK.

ICSE has a Shadow Board in place and its priorities include:

• Promoting social pedagogy as an overarching coherent framework, enabling practitioners to create a harmonic balance between approaches, promoting holistic education, wellbeing, restorative practice, participation and social inclusion.
• Creating a new focus on work with children and young people in residential care following on the loss of the National Centre of Excellence in Residential Child Care (NCERCC) in England.
• Taking steps to be recognised as the (English) National Section of FICE-International, the largest professional association for people who work with children and young people and promote child and youth care throughout the world, which bases its work on the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child.
• Leading a Thought Day in the Autumn 2010 engaging with residential practitioners and managers

Vic Citarella, Chair for the new organisation, and himself a former residential child care worker, said, “ICSE comes into being to fill a gap for residential child care practitioners - that gap is one where professional practice is to the forefront and the environment is one of mutual learning between practitioners across the UK and indeed the globe.”

Attachment in Action

A few days ago I had the privilege of being with one of my four grandchildren and as well as playing with her in the house and on a beach, I was able to observe her at work with the business of childhood: playing as a means of getting to grips with the stuff of life. My wife and I had not seen her for several weeks, and as far as she was concerned we were strangers.  At first she treated us with predictable caution, watching us minutely, taking in every aspect of our faces and movements from the safety of her mother’s arms. After some time she was happy to be in the same room as us, but she made regular visits into the kitchen, using crawling as the most reliable means of locomotion.

It was understandable behaviour to anyone familiar with attachment theory in general, and with the famous documentaries made by John Bowlby and his son Richard on separation anxiety, observing how children reacted to new situations.  There were variations depending on circumstances and how securely attached a child was to his or her mother (or significant other).

The general pattern, however, was an oscillation between times when the child would venture away from mother to explore new people and situations on the one hand, and the need felt by the child to retreat to the safety of mother’s presence on the other.  The mother provided the safe or secure base (”extra-dependence”) from which the child made forays into the unknown (”intra-dependence”), knowing always that there was always an accessible route back to the haven of mother’s arms.

We have witnessed variations of this behaviour over the past thirty or more years. And so we responded sensitively to what was going on, showing an interest in what my granddaughter was doing and showing us, but doing nothing to surprise her or to undermine the process of exploration unfolding before us.  In time she came to experience us as safe people: she was soon playing with various skeins of wool that my wife was using for knitting.  In this she seemed to resemble a playful kitten.  And when she wanted to find out what I was reading she took it for granted that she could use my leg as an aid to stand up.

By the next day we were the best of friends, playing together, playing hide and seek, conversing at length without more than the occasional real words, splashing in a rock pool on the beach, and doing some elementary scrambling together.  (There were lots of toys around, but she always seemed to find something more interesting to occupy her!)

A Missing Link

On reflection I realised that I had missed a vital element of this whole process.  The oscillation typical of a child encountering new people was not simply a matter of moving between the known and the unknown, between the secure and the risky situations.  Rather there was something more subtle going on.  First, she was keen to look at us from beside her mother: she was taking in the situation from her mother’s vantage point.  So she didn’t turn away from us, but always towards us when she reached her secure base.  She didn’t seek to attract her mother’s attention to the pair of us, but simply to study us from being in her arms, or holding on to her leg.

Second, she seemed to operate as if there was a new social dynamic at work: she was one of a group of four people, and the space she enjoyed occupying most of all was somewhere between us all.  It was not so much about a journey between the known and the unknown, as linking them.

I realise that this may all seem rather unremarkable to some and well tried territory to others, but for me it felt like the discovery of something like a missing link.  I could now see how this aspect of attachment theory fitted with what we know about children’s spiritual nature and development.  We know that they are hard-wired to relate to that which, and those who, are beyond the predictable and the known.  And they relish the process of exploring and reaching out beyond what is secure.  But the way they do it is not simply by oscillating between two modes. Wilfred Bion, Experiences in Groups, London: Tavistock, 1961 and Bruce Reed, The Dynamics of Religion, London: DLT, 1978 have described this as a basis of much of their work. What I realised was that little children seek to link them.  They become go-betweens.

No wonder Jesus described little children as signs of the way of living that he had come to demonstrate and inaugurate (the Kingdom of Heaven), and how to “enter” it: for little children as part of their very nature will let their curiosity, tempered by natural caution, lead them into what is new.  And in doing this they create new relationships and bonds: in many social groups it is children who take the lead.  Of course they do not do it consciously: the newly-constituted relationships are a by-product of the process of discovery.

A New Social Dynamic

Froebel (and Montessori) noticed the importance of movement in the development of a child’s learning, hence the attention given to dance and music.  But movement is also vital in the maturing of a securely attached child.  Parents and teachers are neither bystanders, nor the safe figures: they are invited to see and relate to the world in new ways. A new creation is underway when a child is born: not just a new individual human being, but a new social dynamic.

Somehow I had missed this connection until a few days ago.  And now I see it everywhere around me (currently in a harbour village in Cornwall), and notably in an incident in the life of Jesus which I have been studying for several years.  In this story Jesus was trying to find a way of unblocking a fixed and erroneous view of his disciples.  They couldn’t conceive of any other way of organising human groups than by power and hierarchies (”greatness”).  To show them an alternative Jesus chose to place a little child beside him and among them.  I see now that the child was a go-between with the potential (if the disciples were willing to change) to introduce a qualitatively different way of living and relating to each other.

The mothers that Froebel watched so carefully not only noticed what their little children were doing, but reacted to their promptings.  Those who were the best teachers did so in ways which encouraged the continuing exploration of their offspring, and in the process they themselves came to see things in a new way.

So it is that when we are in the presence of little children we are privileged to be invited to learn with them and through their experimentation.

Rebecca holds the pink envelope out at me; my eyes stare at mum’s round writing.  I don’t take the envelope from her.  I want to lie back down on my bed, to close my eyes again.

“Aaron, take the letter.”

I shake my head.

“Shall I keep it for later?”

I wish she hadn’t even told me about this letter; now I can’t just forget it and drift back into sleep.

“You open it,” a small voice finally speaks out of me.

Rebecca’s finger slips under the fold of the envelope, one neat tear and then she pulls out a sheet of paper.  A large piece of dull, lined paper.  Where is mum’s pink to match her envelope?

“Oh,” Rebecca exclaims.

“What’s mum saying?”

I look at Rebecca and then down at the tiny square black handwriting that fills the paper.  I stare at its strangeness.

“That’s not mum’s writing.”

“Aaron, I don’t know who this letter is from. I think I need to get Derek.”

Rebecca rushes to the door holding the letter; I wish she’d calm down.  After she’s gone, I realise I should have grabbed that letter from her; now I don’t have the energy to chase after her.  I see the envelope on the floor; slowly I uncurl and move forwards towards it; my hand closes around its edge.  I run my hand over mum’s writing; it’s definitely her writing on the envelope.  I put the envelope to my nose but there’s no trace of mum left on it.

Is mum ill?  Is she so angry with me?  Our visit, our phone call … fuck, I went on and on at her with questions.  Is this letter to tell me she doesn’t want to hear from me again?

I should never have let Rebecca interfere; I need to see the letter.  I leap out of bed and go downstairs.  Derek stares at me as I go into the office; Rebecca continues holding the phone to her ear but she goes silent on seeing me.

“Give me my letter!”

“Aaron, follow me,” Derek says.

“You can’t keep it from me.”

Derek’s arm is around me and moving me out of the office; we go to the empty dining room.

“Sit down,” he commands.  “Aaron, show me the envelope in your hand.”

I put it down on the table; its edge is crumpled where my hand has clung on to it.

“Do you recognise the writing?”

“Of course, it’s mum’s.  She’s addressed it to me at my social worker’s, then my social worker sends it on.”

“That is what Rebecca thinks and it’s postmarked from her home area.  But Aaron, the letter inside claims not to be from her.”

“What?”

“It is simply signed ‘from Dad’.”

“Whose dad?”

“Rebecca is speaking to Jean right now trying to find out who sent you this letter and why.”

“What does it say?”

“It starts ‘dear Aaron’ and ends ‘all my love goes to you, your dad’.”

“And what’s in between?”

“It talks of a father’s love for his son.”

“Well someone’s obviously got the wrong Aaron.”

I look at Derek but he’s staring beyond me.

“What is it?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, Aaron; we’ll obviously get back to you on this one.”

“It’s just some stupid muddle; I don’t have a dad.”

But I don’t miss seeing the crinkles in Derek’s forehead that show he’s puzzled by something.

“Give me the letter.”

“Aaron, it may not be a letter for you.  We cannot give it to you … Come on, let’s get ourselves a nice cold drink.”

Imagine.  For a moment it could feel so real.  It was a dad, a dad and me.  My dad.  A dad walking next to me.  A dad in the park watching me make the swing go higher and higher.  A dad buying me sweets.  Imagine.  I want to be the Aaron who has a dad, the Aaron who gets a letter from a dad, a boy who lives in a different world called ‘having a dad’.

The writing on the envelope was definitely mum’s.  Why is she doing this to me?  Derek and Rebecca should have got on and told me the truth of her playing some joke on me.  I should have snatched the letter from them and put an end to it then.

Derek tells me I don’t need to do my reading after school and he takes me into the office.  I don’t want him to talk about mum and make a fool out of me.  He says nothing at first, just sets up a game of chess.  I want to do my school reading; I need everything to be normal; Rebecca should be here, not on a day off.  The noise of a door opening breaks into my thoughts then Derek suddenly says that Ben and Kate want to talk to me.  He tells me they’re waiting for me in the lounge.

“What have I got to do with Ben and Kate.  I haven’t done anything wrong … Or have I?”

“Aaron, just go in.”

“You’re keeping something from me.”

Ben’s sat on the settee; Kate’s in the armchair.  Why would Ben and Kate be the ones to talk to me about my mum and that letter?

“Sit down,” Kate says.

I don’t want to settle in this room.

“Sit before we speak.”

I sit on the edge of a hard wooden chair.

“Well straight to the point, Aaron … We’re here to tell you that we are leaving.  Ben and I will be leaving Sunbeam in a few weeks.”

“Leaving?  Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.  Ben is going on to do some studying; I’m going to a young offenders unit.”

I thought this was going to be about mum.  I want to know what’s going on, what the letter says, or who it’s for if it’s not for me.

“Any thoughts on us leaving, Aaron?”

“No … Listen, if you’re not going to talk about mum, I don’t want to hang around in here.”

“Wait a minute, Aaron, have you heard what we’ve said about our leavings? Do you have any questions?”

I shake my head.

“You may come to wonder why we’re leaving at the same time,” Ben says.  “A coincidence; we both made our leaving plans and had separately decided to leave around the same time.  We all think it’d be better if Kate and I went on the same day rather than having two leavings close together.”

“Leaving is not an easy decision,” Kate says.  “We’re really glad we had the chance of meeting you and getting to know you.  I think you’ve been amazing; I’ll think about you even when I’m gone.”

“Whatever.”

“We’ll be around when you want to chat and you can talk with Rebecca about our leaving.”

“Why?  I’m not going to go stupid about you going.”

I walk out of the lounge; loud music booms through the ceiling from a bedroom upstairs; I see Emma with her arm around Shelby.

“Have you heard?  Have you heard?” Shelby calls out.  “They’re leaving!”

“So?” But then I look at him and his eyes are full of tears, so I speak more softly.  “Don’t worry; it’s just another good-bye.”

When Rebecca gets back from her days off, she already knows that Ben and Kate are leaving.  I ask her what other things she’s been keeping from me and instead of saying ‘nothing’, she just goes quiet on me.  Is her silence some secret to do with the letter?

“Just read it to me.”

“Sorry, what?”

“My letter from mum, you have to read it to me.  You’ve obviously read it.”

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Aaron, trust me; I just can’t let you know.”

“You’re totally unfair.  I won’t just forget about it you know; you’ll have to tell me one day.”

“Yes, I know.”

I hear Rebecca sigh as I march off to the lounge.  The room’s full of people talking about Ben and Kate.

“I don’t care about them going,” Narinder says.  “I’ll be away from here soon; I’ve got my foster family waiting for me.”

“I’m the one who’s left with the shit; they haven’t sorted out anything for me,” Liam says.

“I don’t want Ben and Kate to leave,” Shelby says.

“What’s it to you?  Ben’s my fucking keyworker,” Liam says.

“But I don’t want them to go!”

“You don’t even have the right to be upset.”

“Group won’t be the same without them.”

“Shut up.”

Just then Derek and Emma come into the lounge; someone asks Derek how long he’s worked here and he says fifteen years.  Liam tells him he’s a sad bastard.

“I don’t know what presents to get for Ben and Kate,” Shelby says.  “Shall I give Kate my toy puppy?”

Liam laughs but Shelby carries on.

“Kate carried my Lego upstairs when I first got here, it was my best day ever.”

“You are so sad!”

“Enough, Liam,” Emma says.

“It is enough and I’m not hanging around in this dump.”

Liam heads out of the room and Derek follows him.  I wish Ben and Kate would just get on with going.

After all Shelby’s talk of what presents to get, he just gives Ben and Kate some stickers and sweets.

“Don’t forget me,” he says.

Ben opens a framed picture drawn by Liam; there are words in the middle surrounded by a drawing of trees and parrots.

To a star keyworker

You put up with me

You’ve been the best

            To Ben from Liam

Ben leans over and gives Liam a quick hug.  I give my present to Ben; I’ve bought him a chain from the market.  His fingers pick at the Sellotape but he’s still looking at Liam’s present.

“Who’s this from?” he suddenly says realising he’s opening a present.

“From Aaron,” Rebecca says.

The chain falls out onto the ground; he picks it up.

“Thanks, Aaron.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t; I should have got a different one.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” he says putting it on.

It’s tight round his neck, Narinder laughs, then Ben’s already moving on to the next present.  Group’s bought him a rucksack; I could have got him that.  Kate opens the perfume I’ve bought her; she smiles at me but doesn’t spray it, just puts it down in a pile with all her other presents.

“I could get you a different chain,” I say to Ben.

“What’s that, Aaron?”

“I could get you a different chain.”

“Why?  The one you got is great; I like it.”

He’s already looking at an ugly ship someone’s made for him; he goes on and on about it.

“I’ll always remember you, Ben,” Shelby says.  “Remember when you took me skateboarding.  And we were at the fair together.  We played football and I scored a goal.  We went to the park …”

Kate’s got a big bag full of presents for us; she’s made us each a cushion.  She gives me one with a whale sewed on it - a big blob of purple stitches.  I want the one she gives Liam because he gets a leopard.

We stand on the steps of Templewood; Ben moves from one person to another giving everyone a hug.  He’s getting closer to me.  I look down onto the drive below and see Ben’s car waiting to take them away and then Ben’s arms are suddenly around me.

“Take care, Aaron.”

He moves on to Narinder so quickly and now she’s asking him to write to us; I should have thought of saying that.  Now I’m surrounded by Kate; I lean a little into her softness.  She holds me on either side, stands me back upright then lets go.  She goes to Shelby but he won’t hug her.  Her eyes are red and she’s biting down on her lower lip as she goes slowly away from us down the steps towards Ben’s car.

“Will you miss me, even just a little bit?” I hear Liam ask Ben.

“I’ll think of you so often.”

Ben too then walks down the steps and gets into his car. The engine starts.

“Bye,” Narinder calls out.

Just one hoot and the car moves off.

“Don’t go!  Stay!” Shelby screams out then leaps towards the stairs.

Derek catches him and holds him back.

“No!” he yells.

The car carries on steadily along the drive.

“I’ll be the next to leave,” Narinder says.

“Shut it, Narinder,” someone calls out.

“I’m going to play on the computer,” Liam states clutching his leopard cushion as he walks inside.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca says to me.

“Course.”

Suddenly I realise that I haven’t been afraid of Ben for a long time.  I want him back.  He was no beast to Liam.  Or to me.  Or to anyone here.  And now we’ve lost him.

It was a cold, cold day.  I had a coat on that was too big and shoes that squeezed my toes.  They had to pull me off mum and then, mum, your hands just stayed stretched out, emptied of me.  And then you just stood there.  The feeling like elastic between us was pulled.  I waited for you to run after me.  The elastic was stretched too far.  I knew you’d come and get me; you wouldn’t let me go for long.  I was waiting for you; I couldn’t live without you.  You had to come.  I lived by looking for you in every face on the street; you had to be there somewhere, waiting for your moment to grab me back.

I hear Rebecca fighting with Liam, and then when she does finally come into my room, there’s a cut above her eye.

“Did Liam do that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Liam’s a bastard.”

“Liam is struggling at the moment; he has just lost his keyworker.”

I look at Rebecca, I see the dried blood of her cut and I’m suddenly shivering.  Why does she stay on here?  She’ll leave me.  She’s planned her departure already.  I think of her driving off like Ben and Kate have, their car disappearing further and further away from me.

“Tell it to me straight,” I say to her.  “When are you leaving me?”

“What?  Oh Aaron, I’m not leaving.”

“But Liam’s hurt you.”

“You must know by now that one little cut isn’t going to put me off.”

“And Ben and Kate have left.”

“I’m not Ben or Kate.”

“Well so what, we’ll have to say good-bye sometime and I’ll never see you again.  It would just be easier if you got on with it and left me now.”

“No way, Aaron!  I’m … I’m committed to staying here until after you leave.  Yes … believe me, I will be here for you.  I won’t leave before you do.”

And I find myself holding onto Rebecca as she gives me a hug.

Derek’s made me sit down and stop fiddling through my drawer of toys.  He’s leaning against my window, Rebecca sits on my bed; my social worker’s beside her.  My social worker just turned up today.

“Aaron, this concerns the letter that came for you a few weeks ago; there have been some … developments,” my social worker says.

I want to know - I don’t want to know.  It’s too tight all squeezed in here.  We never have meetings in a bedroom; we should be in the office.

“There is no easy way to say this; what I’m going to say will be hard to take on so I will get to the point - we have all been mistaken. Your father is dead but he has only just died.”

“Pardon?”

“Your mother, many people, were told he had died nine years ago but he had not.”

“Sorry?”

“He has been alive and mostly living in London these past years.”

“No, he was dead and buried years ago.  He’s dead.”

“He only died a few weeks ago.”

I shake my head.

“Yes, Aaron, you can speak to your mum about this.”

“… A dad?  Alive?  You’re not making any sense.”

“Your dad has been very ill. I know that your mother has told you how he took drugs; your father’s life was overtaken by his drug addiction.”

“What’s the use in what you’re telling me?”

“Your father died about a month ago,” my social worker states.  “Very sadly, he took his life.”

“Took his life?”

“Yes, suicide.”

I need to be far away from my social worker and her words; she’s making me dizzy.  Derek’s arm pushes gently down on my shoulder to re-seat me.  My social worker coughs, then blows her nose.  How can I have had a dad who has been alive all these years?  I’m his son and it’s never felt like he was out there.

“Aaron, your mother saw your dad before he died,” Derek says.

Blink and none of this will be true.  The world’s gone upside-down - mum saw a dad?  My dad?

“It was the first time she’d seen him in many years.”

“Mum hates dad.”  And I was born from that hate.

“She went to see him.”

“I want to see him … I mean, if this rubbish is true, then I should have gone.  I should have been the one to see him.  Why didn’t you take me to him?”

“We knew none of this,” my social worker states.  “The letter for you, it was signed from your dad.  I thought it was something strange your mother had done. I tackled her on it; I found out the truth.  Aaron, before your dad died, he wrote you a letter.  Your mum re-wrote the envelope for him so I would automatically send it on to you.”

My social worker scrambles around in her briefcase.  She pulls out some paper; I recognise it as the sheet of file paper with the strange small writing; the pink envelope is clipped onto it.

“Aaron, we have decided for you to have this. It is genuine; it is from your dad.”

A dad alive, a letter from dad?  I can’t catch up to here.

“Take it …”

“Why did everyone always tell me dad was dead?”

“Aaron, your father had disappeared; your step-mother had presumed him dead given his addiction and state of ill health.  It’s what everyone then believed.”

“Was he really alive?  All these years I could have had a dad?”

Did everyone really know for certain that dad was dead or had they just given up on him?  I stare at the paper but it’s no good; I can’t read it.  I know everyone in this room has got to it before me so there’s nothing to hide.

“Read it to me,” I say as I hand it to Rebecca.

“For Aaron,” she starts.  “Hands off if you are not my Aaron, you have got to give this to my Aaron.”

I stare at the wall and try to hear if this letter really is anything to do with me.

            “Aaron, I think to you all the time.  I love you.  Always.  You are my son.  My special boy.  Believe me when I say I love you, I never forgot you.  I looked for you, I wasn’t going to bother you.  I saw kids playing, one time everyone was in fancy dress - were you Zorro or Batman or maybe the knight?  Did you spot me?  How close did I get to you?  I don’t even know how you look now.  I keep that photo of baby you and me, our faces close together, all this time.

I have been a bad dad.  You just a child, you cannot get it.  Aaron I could not look after you.  I was living in a terrible place.  Do not do drugs.  Never, ever.  I never had a dad, not one what was there for me.  I did not know how to be a dad.  I could not do it.  You were beautiful - perfect.  I was scared to hold you.  You crying was my pain.  I was just a kid myself back then.  You were best without me, I would have ruined you.

            You will hear bad things about me.  This last thing, seeing the man called my dad was too much pain.  I wanted to start again.  He brought me a drink, I cannot drink and he never even knew that.  It was the drink that did it.  I am an ill man.  Sick.  I used to have dreams for my life - I never got any of them.  I have done nothing good with my life.  Only you.  I believe in you, in that photo the light behind your eyes always gives me hope for you.  God keep you safe and well.  Good-bye.  It is best for all I go.  I have nothing to leave you but my love.  Look after it.

            Dad.”

Rebecca stops; I grab the paper from her hands.

“He tried to find me?”

“Yes Aaron.”

“… Is he …?  I mean, he can’t be.  No way.”

“… Yes.”

“The dosser?”

Shit, oh shit.  That horrible wasted man.  He has something to do with me.  My flesh and blood.  I need air; I feel squashed by so many people in my room.

“Please can I be alone.”

The adults whisper their way out of my room.  Fuck, fuck.  That dosser was dad?  Jesus, mum said dad was bad but he’s even worse than I ever imagined.  Mum says I look like him - I don’t, I don’t!  Why the fuck does she say that?  He wasn’t even clean.  Don’t let that be my dad.  A tramp for a dad.  A loser.  Ugly, ugly.  Fucking drug-head.

He’s a creep.  He came sneaking around looking for me.  He frightened me.  How many times has he been following me?  How did he find me here?

That dosser, dad, he’s dead now?

I sit on my bed and stare at the letter.  This dad can’t even write properly.  The whole letter is a mess - covered in scribbled bits where words are crossed out and re-written.  The letters are so tightly scrawled together that it’s really hard to read.  My door opens and Rebecca returns to my room.

“Don’t tell anyone that dosser was my dad.  Please!”

“It’s okay, Aaron; the other children will not know.”

“I need to go out, just a short walk?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, I want to be just me.  I’ll stay out front, you’ll see me out of the window.  There’s no danger from some weirdo out there anymore; he’s turned into my dad and he’s dead.”

He was alive but now he’s truly dead.  In one letter, dad comes to me and then goes.  Hello and good-bye.  Rebecca’s hand takes the letter from me and as I walk downstairs, I hear Liam’s fighting shouts coming up from the office.  Emma’s bent down in the hall picking up a torn collage of photos.  I see the lounge picture of planets screwed up, a smashed frame, a broken lampshade, pencils, books.  I guess it’s all Liam’s doing, he wants Ben back.  I kick the wall as I head out of the door.

Later on I ask Rebecca to tell me about the letter again.

“I’ll fetch it and read it out shall I?”

“Whatever.”

“For Aaron, hands off if you are not my Aaron, you have got to give this to my Aaron.  Aaron, I think to you all the time.  I love you.  Always.  You are my son.  My special boy.”

Love!  It’s too late for that.  What’s the point of his letter?  He can’t pretend to care about me now, he can’t.

“Believe me when I say I love you, I never forgot you.”

He never did a thing for me.  He couldn’t even recognise me when he came here; he asks if I was Zorro or Superman or a Knight.  He wasn’t even looking at me when I thought he was.  He must have been looking past me at Zorro, I remember I was playing football with Zorro.

“Shall I read more?”

“What’s this bit down here?” I say pointing down the page.

“You will hear bad things about me,” Rebecca reads.  “This last thing, seeing my old man was too much pain.  I wanted to start again.  He brought me a drink, I cannot drink and he never even knew that.  It was the drink that did it.”

“I don’t even know what he’s saying.  What’s his meaning?”

“… Aaron, are you ready to hear more difficult things?”

“It can’t get worse.”

“Aaron, your dad was in a community residential programme to beat his addiction; for the first time he was really determined to come off drugs.”

“Drugs are evil; didn’t he even know that?”

“Around this time in re-hab, your dad decided to trace and contact his own father; he wanted his father to visit him; he was even encouraged to do this as part of his recovery programme.  Aaron, nobody knows exactly what happened, I don’t think your dad planned this but … but your dad killed his father under the influence of alcohol.”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

“My dad killed his father!  His own dad!”

“Yes.  Your dad was in prison when he committed suicide.”

“The bastard.  A murderer.  The dosser man who came here? … Fuck, what would he have done to me if he’d found me?”

“Aaron, we are sure that your father did not come looking for you to do harm to you.  The murder happened very recently and after the time he came here.  It was no doubt sparked by your father’s emotion at finally seeing his own father after he had not seen him for many years.  Also alcohol can make some people violent and that may have been particularly true for your father at a very fragile time when he was trying so hard to beat his drug addiction and to rebuild his life.”

I grab the letter from Rebecca, punch my hand into it, screw it up and throw it against the door.

“Dad should have died years ago when he was meant to.”

“It’s a lot to take on, Aaron.”

“I don’t want this dad; I don’t want any dad!”

Rebecca picks up the letter.

“Stop!  Don’t read more; I can’t hear more!”

“I will keep your dad’s letter, store it safely in your private file.”

“Do what the hell you like!”

A shout jolts through into my room waking me.  Liam.  A crash then a banging.  Noise invades through me, I get out of bed and open my door to see Liam thrusting a kick into Emma.  He’s got his dressing gown cord around his forehead like he thinks he’s some fucking Kung Fu warrior.

“Stop it, Liam,” Emma shouts.

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” Liam teases.

“Stop it!”

Liam rushes into her; she shrieks then staggers back.  A drop of blood falls through her fingers.  Liam stomps off.

“Why don’t you get some adults who can manage?” Narinder’s voice calls down to the boy’s corridor.  “We need Ben back.”

I step back into my room and slam my door shut against them all.

A fly buzzes across my room; its noise brings back the memory of chain saws from the dream I was having before Liam woke me.  A chain saw had been humming, its teeth sharp and ready.  An old man was screaming and hiding behind the cupboard.  The saw had rushed through air then made easy work of carving through the cupboard.  The saw was getting closer to the man.

I shudder.  I hear people rushing around outside my room; Shelby’s screaming; there’s a scuffle.  Someone kicks into my door and shouts out my name.  Something slides past the outside of my room.

My ceiling creaks, footsteps move, the fly spirals around me and I make a feeble attempt at swiping it.  Suddenly I’m rushing to my window; there was a siren of scream coming from outside.  I pull back the curtains and see car lights streak past.  A car?  There is no road or driveway where it went, only playing fields and then woods.  The car lights swerve, moving out across the field, tracing a crazy zigzag route.  I hear its engine coughing out.  Dots of lights appear then spread out.

What the hell was that?  My heart’s racing; there was an explosive smashing, it’s noise still echoes in my ears.  A sudden swarm of people seem to be gathering together in the now still lights of the car.  I hear a strange ticking; it measures time through the dark night.

I look out into the corridor but it’s a deserted gloom.  I sit on my bed waiting for someone to come to me, to tell me what’s happened, to check I’m okay.  I hear a police car in the distance, its noise gets closer.  Back at my window, I see the shape of an ambulance.  It stops; there’s a movement of torch light; I see a shadow of an arm or a leg but no details.  Finally the ambulance drives off.  I slide my back down the wall and sit on the floor.  I hear voices filling up Sunbeam again.  Adults whisper goodnight; bedroom doors open then close.  I wait for an adult to come to me.  Noise fades and I’m alone; no one comes to me; they leave me awake in the empty hours of a night that brought screams and crashes and ambulances.

I go back to thinking of my dream and then of dad.  Scrawny, ugly dad.  How did he kill?  Did dad use a chain saw?  Or was it just his hands around his old man’s neck, hands in fingerless gloves.  The old man tells him it hurts; he tells him to spare him.  Dad holds him tighter and now the old man struggles.  It’s his own son’s hands around him, once his baby who he couldn’t look after.  The skin of his neck is squeezed tighter, he tries to move his arms but they are so feeble and his body’s old.  He gives in, falls down, a limp rag.  Dad holds him over his lap for a long time, rocking him.  Now is dad crying or laughing?

Or was it a bottle smashing into the old man until blood poured down from his face?  The old man begs for mercy, dad punches again just to hear his own father’s pathetic cry, but then he can’t stand that cry and he has to silence it.

Fuck, that dosser didn’t look strong; dad’s dad must have been a total weakling.  Or maybe my dad changes when he’s angry, like me.  I can turn from small to big and strong.  Is that what mum means when she says I’ve got dad in me?  Fuck.  Could I murder?  Dad, the dosser - would I have wanted to kill him if he’d got too close?

Derek comes into the special group meeting that’s been called on crutches.  He falls back into a chair with his bandaged leg sticking out in front of him.  Shelby limps in behind; he’s just faking it when he says he’s also hurt his leg.  I look round the group; does anyone else here have a dad as bad as mine?  Who else is the child of a murderer.

“Liam is leaving group,” Derek states flatly when everyone’s sat down.

“He hurt Pamelia,” Narinder says.  “Pamelia is still in hospital.”

I haven’t seen Liam in group since that night-time crash.  We all know now how he stole the keys, how he drove Emma’s car across the playing field, how he took Pamelia as his passenger.

“Yes, Pamelia’s collarbone is broken and she was concussed but she’s recovering well.”

“And that mean bastard Liam never suffered a scratch!”

“And Derek, look at Derek,” Shelby squeals.  “Liam ran over your foot.  Will you ever be the same again?”

“Calm down, Shelby, my leg is recovering well.  Now if people have genuine concerns and questions they can discuss them after the meeting with an adult.  Do let’s try and see it from Liam’s point of view and remember times when we ourselves have not controlled our own behaviour.  Liam has been struggling these past weeks.”

“Ben could have stopped Liam; you shouldn’t have let Ben go.”

“Staff choose when to leave.  Now the purpose of this meeting is Liam’s leaving - Liam is going today.  He’s in the office waiting to say good-bye to everyone.”

“Group’ll be better without him.”

“That is not a kind thing to say.”

“But you know it’s true.”

“Listen, I know there’s a lot of hurt and upset among you lot about what happened but Liam himself is suffering; he feels very bad and unhappy.  Now I’m going to fetch him in a minute and anyone who feels they will be unkind to him is free to leave the room.  The rest of you can stay to say good-bye.”

The room’s quiet; no one gets up to go.  When Liam comes in, he puts a tin of chocolates down on the table then stares out across the room.  He’s framed by Derek on his crutches standing behind him; he looks so small and pale.

“See you then,” he says to no one in particular.

“See you,” Narinder says.  “Good luck.”

Liam looks into a space beyond this room, all I can see in him is a tiny child.  He’s no longer Liam, the oldest Sunbeam boy.

“Well, a final good-bye.”  Derek’s voice seems too loud.

Liam circles around him and out of the room.

“Is that it?  When will we see him again?” Shelby asks.

No one answers him.  We’ll  never see or hear from him again.

“He didn’t find the right way out,” Narinder says to me as we walk from the room and then she turns right round to face me.  “I dream of my foster family really wanting me, waiting to love me … You have dreams too don’t you Aaron?  I mean whatever shit we’ve come from, we can do better than Liam.”

Can I?  And can I do better than dad?

“We both stand a chance - I can tell that you do.”

Narinder looks at me, smiles and then walks off.

The process of leaving care is clearly unique for each individual young person, however. Many leave the care system close to their eighteenth birthdays. In my work role of Child and Adolescent Psychotherapist I meet quite a few late adolescents who are or have been in care for most of their childhoods.

Luke’s Story

Luke, now 17, was removed from his mother’s care when he was about five along with his brother as a consequence of his mother’s addiction to drugs and alcohol. He was initially placed in his father’s care as his parents had separated when he was very young. He then spent about three years in his father’s care and his memories of this time are of generally good times apart from when his father would drink excessively and become very aggressive. This culminated in a frightening incident in which his father drunkenly killed his dog with a knife in front of him. It was after this incident that Luke was taken into care and initially placed with a foster family.

Luke recalls never really fitting in with the family, with whom he lived for about two years, and has slightly vague and sketchy memories of moving between foster families and his father’s care until he was finally placed about forty miles from home in a children’s home where he lived for two years from the ages of thirteen to fifteen. He was then moved from that home to the one he now lives in, based in his home town in the north of England.

My first involvement in Luke’s life was an invite to a network meeting in a social services building situated on an industrial estate in the town in which I work in a hospital-based Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services clinic. I struggled to find the place and hence arrived about fifteen minutes late for the meeting. I had been asked by a psychologist colleague to attend the meeting with a view to thinking about how I might be able to help in the longer term. I finally arrived, slightly flustered to discover the children’s home manager and social services team manager in quite a hostile and angry mood. I thought my lateness might have exacerbated this and was very apologetic. However, the mood of hostility and anger continued as my two colleagues proceeded to complain bitterly about the prolonged inactivity of CAMHS in relation to Luke. I felt attacked and barely able to think straight and took note of my psychology colleague’s attempts to placate their fury.

In time I began to think about the undercurrent of blame and dissatisfaction and recalled how Luke was a boy whose parents had really never been able to ‘come together’ with his best interests at heart and began to think we were very much playing out something that must be very familiar in his life. When I shared this slightly abstract idea, the response was almost disbelief on my colleagues’ faces but it led to a slight thawing in hostility. We eventually agreed that my colleague and I would talk more and agree a way forward in terms of how CAMHS might try to meet Luke and his network’s needs.

In this first discussion it emerged that Luke was generating very high levels of anxiety in those who know and care for him. His repertoire of worry-inducing behaviours included anal masturbation using chair legs, dressing up in female clothing both in his bedroom and on occasions outside of the children’s home. He was also buying PVC clothing from sex shops and experimenting with dressing up in these and inserting a ‘plug’ into his anus. He was also defecating on his bedroom floor on a daily basis.

I also noted in these early stages an overwhelming need in the network to somehow locate the right ‘expert’ who would alleviate all these worries. The case had been referred to specialists in Liverpool and people were now wondering if it needed to be exported to a centre of expertise in London. Was this an emerging gender identity development case or something more multi-dimensional and complex? I began to feel under pressure and slightly set up to become the ‘new expert.’

Communication and Complexity

Reflecting on this meeting with my colleague, I soon realised that we both viewed the case through very different, potentially complementary, lenses. My colleague, at least by my perception, was more inclined to take communication at face value whereas my own tendency was to hold onto underlying and deeper possibilities, including what the emotional experience or transference might tell us about the case. It was this that led me to have the thought about where the strong feeling of blame we encountered might have originated.

We agreed a plan of action that would involve me taking on a lead role in the case whilst continuing to collaborate on work with the network. We agreed it would be important to remain joined up, as there was felt to be a tendency to attack a more reflective approach to the work and a general and understandable reluctance or inability in the network to really stick with the harsh realities and difficult feelings aroused by the case. It was agreed that prior to any psychotherapeutic assessment being undertaken it would be useful to allay some of the anxiety about risk by requesting an urgent assessment from a local multi-disciplinary forensic service familiar with this type of work.

I do not want to over-elaborate on the theme of communication here but, perhaps inevitably, the main characteristic of the communication on this across agencies was that of incoherence and splitting. The difficulties in managing this were exacerbated by the continued strength of negative feeling felt by the social care members of the network towards the health members, myself included. However proactive and inclusive I attempted to be, for example copying every e-mail on the subject to every member of the network, something in the following few days would occur that undermined any real sense of togetherness and cohesion.

I also became aware that the more involved I became in the life if this young man the more consumed I felt by the experience and the more hopeless and helpless I began to feel. Clearly this must be a large part of his - and arguably most care leavers’ - experiences.

Assessment with an Eye on the Past, Present and Future

As we all waited to hear the outcome of the forensic assessment I felt my task was to hold the network in mind by talking to them regularly on the telephone and being flexible and responsive in their ‘hour of need.’ I responded to one particularly panicky phone call from the social worker by agreeing to attend the children’s home the following day to help the staff think about how they might manage an escalation in Luke’s defecating on his bedroom floor. The most memorable aspect of this experience was an almost total absence of any hostility in the air when I was in the actual home, although I later received some very negative feedback from the manager in a questionnaire that I’d left with him which wasn’t particularly a surprise but seemed a bit cut off somehow from what appeared on the surface at least at the time.

I needed to chase the forensic assessment report as the deadline day came and went and eventually received a very long, thorough report that I later discovered had been written on the basis of a one-off consultation with parts of the network but no actual face to face contact with Luke himself. The report made harrowing reading and ended with a recommendation that Luke be placed in ‘a specialist therapeutic residential placement.’

It rang alarm bells understandably about the high levels of risk he is likely to present to himself and others if he is not to be provided with specialist input. It was also recommended that he be seen urgently by a child and adolescent psychiatrist before undertaking a psychotherapeutic assessment with myself. This would serve the purpose of ruling in or out symptoms of psychosis and depressive illness and decide whether or not he should be prescribed medication.

After meeting with the network, again in a slightly frosty and hostile atmosphere to feedback the content of the forensic assessment and the psychiatric view that he was not psychotic or severely depressed, it was agreed that I would begin a psychotherapeutic assessment with Luke and we agreed a date upon which we would all reconvene on which decisions could be made about how best to meet his future needs.

Half way through my assessment I received a number of slightly confusing messages from the NHS complex case manager saying she needed every report that had ever been written about Luke on her desk within seven days as she needed to make a decision about whether or not health would pay for part of the specialist placement he needed. I replied with a polite e-mail pointing out that I was naively hoping my own ongoing assessment might have some influence over this process and its outcome and she eventually agreed to attend the final network and planning meeting prior to making final decisions.

I do not want to settle into the fine nuances of my assessment work with Luke here but do want to register that he is an unusual young man with a very plausible, likeable exterior and a lack of emotionality that leaves one filled with a strong sense of uncertainty as to what’s really happening on the inside. His memories and stories of his past are told with a strong sense of both uncertainty and matter of fact-ness.

In relation to his future he was very certain that he would not want to go to any specialist type of setting but would rather stay where he is now in his children’s home or return to his mother’s home where she now lives with a man whom she is about to marry later in the year. In his mind she is off the drugs and in better shape than she has been for most of his life. If he was able he would like to join the army as soon as possible and become an infantryman and work towards becoming a sniper one day! This is, however, not likely to happen until he is eighteen and his Care Order comes to an end at which time he can do what he likes!

Internal Experiences

My sense of Luke was of a profoundly lonely, lost and confused boy emerging into manhood without solid foundations to his personality. Adolescence had clearly reawakened infantile, sexual longings that had yet to find any true meaning or legitimacy in terms of connectedness with others. Indeed in some ways he seemed perversely self-connected as well as profoundly disconnected both internally and in relation to others. Ordinary adolescent process and development is rarely easy or straightforward but is assisted through opportunities for identification with peers and often parents or parental figures. I felt uneasy and uncertain about Luke’s identification with the army and all this entailed.

My greatest area of unease lay in the question of what was fantasy and what was reality? The assessment took place at the same time as Derrick Bird killed twelve people and wounded many others before taking his own life and I had numerous fantasies of my own in which Luke carried out similar actions and was later able to talk about them both dispassionately and disconnectedly. I was also unable, in the way he was, to connect or link up how to reconcile cross-dressing, encopresis, and anal masturbation with life in the barracks or on the frontline in Afghanistan.

The multiple families in the minds of most looked after children present a very particular challenge to their experience of the adolescent developmental process. With whom can or should they identify and what does becoming mother or father-like mean in developmental terms when you have had so many? In my experience the primary psychic attachment and bond to birth parents and relatives rarely fades in looked after children whether they are alive or dead, absent or present and many actively seek them out for some kind of reality testing as they develop into young adults.

External Experiences

Clearly the external reality for many looked after children as they leave care is also quite bleak. I think the quality of disharmony and distrust that surrounded the multi-agency discussions focussed on Luke’s future are not at all unusual. The despair, hopelessness and tendency towards blame are all too frequently experienced when one encounters young people approaching adulthood who still have many of the characteristics of toddlers and primary-aged children. It almost seems to be doing them an injustice to be talking about independent living skills and budgeting skills when most parties present are all too well aware that they are functioning as a much younger child and would benefit from a continued level of very high but unprovidable support.

Ideally transitions out of care might be experienced more and thought of more as transitions into new forms of care. In many instances birth parents are likely to be key players and potential collaborative partners in this process. If not, then perhaps the continuing role and responsibilities of the corporate parent(s) needs to be radically rethought alongside the conscious and explicit need these young people have for enduring attachment figures in their lives.

When I broached this subject with Luke’s children home staff it was clear that once they turn eighteen these young people leave and in most cases never return, nor are they pursued in any way.

Conclusion

In many ways ‘after-care’ is a forever state for children and young people corporately parented. For Luke his life ‘after care’ is yet unknown but it is hard to feel particularly optimistic. I have heard colleagues talk about young people who simply ‘grew out of’ worrying states and behaviours, and time will tell. I recently heard a damning statistic that 45% of this country’s young offender institutions are inhabited by young people who have spent time in care. This tells us something, I believe, about both the power of parenting and the power of what happens when parenting goes wrong for whatever reason.

Over a hundred people gathered at St Cuthbert’s Church in Blyth, a town on the coast of Northumberland on the afternoon of Saturday 24 August 2010, to hold a service of rededication for the war memorial which records the deaths in the two World Wars of the boys from Wellesley Nautical Training School.

Founded in the nineteenth century, Wellesley was an Industrial School which provided nautical training for boys. It was first based on a former battleship (one of the “wooden walls of England”), and then, when that was burnt down, it moved to a site then on the edge of Blyth. The School was eventually handed over to Sunderland Council to run, and they closed it down.

The School itself has now been razed to the ground and if all goes to plan, the site will soon be redeveloped. In the process of demolition the School bell (probably a ship’s bell) disappeared and the war memorial was nearly broken up. Fortunately it was rescued and kept safe in Ferguson’s Transport yard in Sleekburn. Now it is sited outside the western entrance to St Cuthbert’s Church and it looks as if it has been there for decades.

The remarkable thing about the story is that it was the men who as lads had been to Wellesley and who are now in their sixties and seventies, together with some former members of staff, who rescued the slate monument, preserved it, negotiated its resiting and organised the event. They are all proud to have been at the School, and many had careers at sea on leaving. Hearing their life stories, it is quickly apparent that Wellesley not only offered them a nautical training but it helped them to grow up and mature as well. They spoke warmly of the staff who helped them without making any pretence that life at the School was easy or that they enjoyed every moment.

When the Approved School system was dismantled as a result of the Children and Young Persons Act 1969, the main criticism was the “success rate” - the percentage of boys and girls who were found guilty of re-offending within two years of leaving. It was a crude measure that was unrelated to what the Schools were trying to achieve.

Certainly, some Schools were of poor quality and in some the children were abused, but much was lost with the closure of the Schools, and it would be hard to argue that the confusion which followed the demise of the Schools served the boys and girls any better. The men who met to rededicate the monument were living proof that some Schools were able to get through to boys with difficult histories and backgrounds, and give them a useful basis on which to build their careers.

Wreaths were laid by three former Wellesley boys - Brian Ali, Michael Hendryk Majer and Maurice O’Brien, by Jack Earnshaw, a Trustee of Wellesley, and by Captain Haydn Davies Jones, Commanding Officer of the School from 1953 to 1961. It was a moving occasion, attended by people of all ages, including the partners, children and possibly grandchildren of the former Wellesley boys. Some had not met for fifty years; some were remembering those who had died; and the event was, of course, commemorating those who had lost their lives for their country.

An address was given by Christine Nicholas, the daughter of the late ex-Wellesley boy who had paid for the monument to be made.

I am honoured today to represent my father, George Nicholas, at the dedication of this memorial in the grounds of  St. Cuthbert’s.  He passed away in July 2004 but I know he would be proud that my mother, sister and her family were here today to remember with you the Wellesley boys who lost their lives for their country.

George Nicholas was a Wellesley boy from 1938 - 1940.  He came, like many of his contemporaries, from a broken home but Wellesley became his home, his strength and his direction.  He would never forget his time at Wellesley.  Many years later when he visited his old school he noticed a plaque on the wall of the Chapel honouring some of the old Wellesley lads, some only 16 or 17 years old, who had sacrificed their lives whilst serving their country at sea during the War and this moved him to offer to Wellesley a more permanent memorial.  He commissioned this stone, carved from Lakeland sea green slate which was officially dedicated at the Wellesley Nautical School on 15^th June, 1988.  The face of the stone is smooth but the rest of it is as it came from the quarry, with undulations, both gentle and rough,  to represent the different moods of the sea.

Although the slate was estimated to last for 2000 years it was almost demolished in 2007, only 19 years after being commissioned, along with the Wellesley School itself.  Had it not been for the Trustees of Wellesley, it would have been lost forever along with other memorabilia from the school.  They had the foresight to put it in storage pending an appropriate new home.

Thanks to their generosity and the determination and, dare I say, the stubbornness, of the ex-Wellesley Lads, it has now found the best home possible in the grounds of St. Cuthbert’s, where we hope it will remain as a registered war memorial for many years to come.

At the dedication in June 1988, George Nicholas spoke with great affection and admiration about Commander Frank Stone who was the Commanding Officer of the school when my father was there. He said he was a great disciplinarian but that he was also very kind and just.   He quoted from his words which were recorded in the Wellesley Tatler just before the outbreak of hostilities in 1939.  I will also quote from that now:

“If war should come, and we cannot ignore the possibilities of such a tragedy, then you lads at sea will be playing a very important role in bringing us the food and the things we shall need from across the seas.  It will be a man’s job and I sincerely trust that every old Wellesley boy at sea will do it nobly and prove worthy of the task”.

Two months later war was declared and very soon afterwards Commander came to one of the assemblies at the school to announce that his own son, Albert John Stone, had been killed in action.  It was a sad day.  Many Wellesley boys were to follow him during those first hectic years at sea.

The Wellesley School did much to prepare young boys for the rigours of life which many of you here will understand.  It was from this training that my father recognised that a person only gets out of life what he puts into it.  He lived his life by this standard.  George Nicholas would have been 86 years old today, 24^th July, and had he still been alive, he would have been honoured to take part in this dedication and see you all here today.

My family and I, on his behalf, give thanks to St. Cuthbert’s and  to all of you who  have made this day possible,  and we honour all those who have family or friends named on this stone or who died serving their country during World War Two.

Thank you.

1706         Jean Baptiste de la Salle (1651-1719) started a boarding school at St. Yon, France, which evolved into a reformatory; several Roman Catholic approved schools are still run by the Brothers of St. Jean Baptiste de la Salle.

1735-1811 Robert Raikes founded the Sunday Schools to instil an unquestioning respect for the social order.

By this time the Industrial Revolution was well under way. Previously, country communities had been able to absorb their orphans and difficult children, and town parishes had been responsible for coping with their own: problems. Now, there was an influx of Irish, an increase of population, and a move to the towns, as a result of the 1760 Enclosures Act. There was  overcrowding, illness, child labour, loss of social stability and new temptations. The poor rate rose, as did the price of corn.

1756 (or 1758)  Jonas Hanway founded the Marine Society to help boys join the navy; a school for convicts’ children was founded which did good preventative work. When the war with France ended in 1763, Hanway’s excellent aftercare system was used to find alternative employment for the boys.

1777         John Howard wrote The State of the Prisons in England and Wales, which stirred the public conscience.

1783         The Marine Society bought a ship, which became the model for reformatory training ships.

1788         The Royal Philanthropic Society started the New Asylum for the Prevention of Vice and Misery among the Poor for the care of convicts’ children; it also received children sentenced to transportation but released on conditional pardon.

1792         The Society moved to St. George’s Fields, Southwark, where a special building was provided, complete with punishment cells. In the early history of the Society, there were problems of control, staffing and finance. Robert Young, the first superintendent, embezzled a large sum; and the children, being held without legal sanction, had to be treated as “refractory apprentices”  when they absconded. By 1796, 51 of the 176 had absconded, and it was felt that boys over 13 years of age were too advanced to afford much chance of reclamation. In 1797 the Society decided to undertake aftercare.

1801         Examples of punishments typical at this time are the 12 year-old child sentenced to death at the Old Bailey for stealing a bale of cloth valued at 39/-, and the 13 year-old boy publicly executed for stealing a spoon. In 1808 a 7 year-old girl was executed in public at Lynn, and in 1814, five children aged 8-12 were sentenced to death for burglary and stealing shoes.

Meanwhile, in 1801 there were 1,500 Sunday Schools, and in 1806 it was estimated that 30,000 children attended them.

1806         The Royal Philanthropic Society was incorporated by Act of Parliament.

1816         Thomas Buxton founded The Society for the Reformation of Prison Discipline, which paved the way for subsequent reforms.

1817         Elizabeth Fry (1780-1845) founded Newgate School.

1818         Loca1 magistrates founded Stretton-on-Dunsmore Asylum in Warwickshire, where agricultural training was given to juvenile offenders.

In the same year John Pounds (1766-1839), an apprentice shipwright from Portsmouth, founded a school which attracted and contained the wild children of the poorest families. They were taught cookery and shoemaking, and the success of the school led to the Ragged School movement, which led in turn to the Industrial School system.

1820         Warwickshire magistrates discharged prisoners to the care of employers and friends, the first example of a probation system.

1823-44   J.R. Capper ran a notorious prison hulk for juvenile offenders.

1826         The Royal Philanthropic Society appointed a schoolmaster, having previously relied entirely on work to fill the children’s time.

1828         Suggestions were put forward in Warwickshire that juvenile offenders should be dealt with summarily and not in open courts.

1832         Mary Carpenter (1801-1871), “a lady of extreme piety and great capacity”, resolved to devote her life to saving the delinquent and destitute, and in 1835 she became founder-secretary of the Working and Visiting Society in Bristol.

1833         Dr. J H. Wichern (1808-31) founded the Rauhe Haus in Germany. It was run on family lines and the young offenders were expected to become respectable citizens and work as prison officers themselves. Dr. Wichern was appointed Chief Inspector of Gaols in Prussia.

1834         Brenton Juvenile Asylum and Victoria Asylum were founded by Captain Brenton. Backed in 1836 by Lord Russell, these asylums became popular and trained many children.

1835         The state Reform School of Massachusetts was founded at Boston, and it proved a successful forerunner of the American system.

1836         The Glasgow Society for the Repression of Juvenile Delinquency raised £10,000 and founded the first purpose-built reformatory.

1837         The Parkhurst Prison Act was passed and in 1838, the prison for juvenile offenders was opened. Initially boys were held in solitary confinement, and leg irons were used; this image remained through Mary Carpenter’s writings, but Parkhurst was not the failure she suggested and its treatment of boys was an improvement on prison conditions elsewhere. By the same Act, committal of some boys to the Royal Philanthropic Society became official.

1839         After an unfounded scandal in which Captain Brenton was accused of selling children as slaves for the Boers, his Asylum closed; many of his boys had been placed in Cape Colony on release.

1840         M. de Metz, a former French judge who had resigned through disagreement over the sentencing of juveniles, founded the reformatory at Mettray near Tours; it was organized on the house principle and the inmates had to work hard, with kindness as their only luxury. M. de Metz put considerable emphasis on staff training, which was undertaken before the institution opened.

In Great Britain, the death penalty was removed for most offences, while it was in September that leg irons were last used at Parkhurst.

1841         Sheriff William Watson of Aberdeen (1786-1878) opened an industrial school, to cope with the children who begged and wandered in the area; it was a tremendous success and the preventative work done cut down vagrancy and delinquency dramatically.

Rev. Sydney Turner (1814-1819) was appointed resident chaplain at the Royal Philanthropic Society. He objected to the indiscriminate violent punishment and suggested educational improvements.

It was also in this year that public funds were first used to finance a reformatory when a Local Act of Parliament authorised payment to help the Glasgow Society.

1843         Lord Ashley (later seventh Lord Shaftesbury) attempted unsuccessfully to introduce two Bills “to provide moral and religious training for the working classes” , and in so doing attracted attention to the conditions in which many children lived.

Sydney Turner took over the Royal Philanthropic Society’s school.

1844         11,348 persons aged 10-20 were in prison at this time, which amounted to one out of every three hundred and four of this age group in the total population.

1845         Girls were no longer admitted to the Royal Philanthropic Society’s School.

1846         Lord Roughton made an unsuccessful bid to pass a law to establish reformatories. Meanwhile Mary Carpenter founded a Ragged School at Lewin’s Mead, Bristol, for 20 boys. She later moved to the city centre where riots necessitated police intervention; soon, however, her school became “an oasis in the desert of disorder in which it was situated” .

1846         Sydney Turner and Mr. Paynter, a London Police Court Magistrate, visited Mettray and were highly impressed by M. de Metz’s system. Turner formulated five principles:

1) the use of trained staff, 2) the division of institutions into group homes, 3) the use of persuasion instead of force in training, 4) education in work habits through outdoor work, and 5) the combination of voluntary and governmental interest in administration and supervision.

1847         A Lords’ Select Committee was appointed to inquire into the treatment of juvenile offenders.

Dr. Guthrie (1803-1873) founded the Ragged Schools of Edinburgh, which proved most effective, but which created opposition through their religious bias.

1848         Over 500 children passed through Mary Carpenter’s school.

The Royal Philanthropic Society decided to move to Redhill, Surrey to allow the boys complete freedom without repression; the chapel foundation stone was laid by Prince A1bert on 30th August 1849, and the school was run on Mettray lines, adapted for English boys.

1849         Outdoor work was begun at Parkhurst and immediately 34 boys tried to escape. As a result of the public outcry, military guards were posted with muskets at the ready; these were removed soon afterwards but the image remained.

In this year 10,703 children under 17 were sentenced to imprisonment or transportation; it was generally agreed that prison never succeeded,. Meanwhile in Aberdeen vagrancy convictions had dropped from 1,472 in the years 1841-5, to 29 in the years 1846-50.

1851         Mary Carpenter wrote Reformatory Schools for the Children of the Perishing and Dangerous Classes and Juvenile Delinquents, a most influential book.

The First Birmingham Conference met under the chairmanship of Matthew Davenport Hill (1792-1872), the Recorder of Birmingham. Mary Carpenter and Sydney Turner also played leading parts, and it was agreed that the Ragged Schools could not cope with the difficult and delinquent children, for whom the local authorities should provide industria1 schools, while for more serious cases the state should provide reformatories. Prisons were clearly deterring no-one, and intellectual, moral and religious education were thought necessary. The Conference minutes were circulated to influential people. In Newcastle, juvenile offending had doubled since 1838, and a committee met to found a reformatory.

1852         Hardwicke Reformatory was set up, and soon afterwards Mary Carpenter took over some school buildings provided by Lady Byron and founded Kingswood Reformatory.

1853         Mary Carpenter wrote Juvenile Delinquents; their Condition and Treatment, containing principles of treatment and an attack on Parkhurst.

The Second Birmingham Conference recommended that attendance at Industrial Schools should be compulsory, as absconding was proving a problem, but decided that the punitive principle was to be excluded. Voluntary management was also recommended. A House of Commons Enquiry, set up in 1852, took note of these observations and included practically all their ideas in their legislation.

27.04.1853    Edward Andrews died in Birmingham Gaol after being maltreated; the resultant public outcry provided the reformers with useful propaganda.

1854         The Youthful Offenders Act was passed with difficulty; reformatories were legalised, with voluntary managers, under the authority of the Home Secretary. There were already schools at Redhill, Kingswood, Bromsgrove, Buxton, Newcastle and Saltley, but certificated schools were clearly expected to adhere to strict discipline and formal routines, while advanced ideas of family units, relaxed atmosphere and the removal of corporal punishment were thwarted. Children also had to spend at least 14 days in prison as a punishment prior to reformatory treatment, and in fact they were often awaiting placement for longer periods. Saltley was the first recognised Reformatory, certified on 20th August 1858.

Co-education at Kingswood was not working, and so the girls were moved to Red Lodge, where a hostel was provided for girls who need placement on release.

1856         In Scotland, Dunlop’s Act established Industrial Schools officially.

Most early reformatories were financed privately, but grants now covered 50% of rents and teachers’ salaries, plus a capitation grant for food.

The “Akbar” was founded at Heswall, the first reformatory ship, and after early difficulties, its success aroused great enthusiasm.

1857         Rev. Sydney Turner was appointed the first Inspector of Reformatories in England and Scotland, and his early policy was to assess the methods used by other people and impose minimum standards, which in many cases were lower than those he had sustained at Redhill.

At this time the enthusiasm of the voluntary managers led to much innovation and a high degree of individual attention. The Certified Industrial Schools Act was passed, but proved unsuccessful as managers were expected to collect parental contributions, and the class of inmate was not defined. By this time there were 45 reformatories, with 1,966 inmates, including Castle Howard (opened 2.5.1856) and Eastmoor (2.12.1857).

Point Puer, a colony for young delinquents in Tasmania, was closed after considerable disturbance.

1858         Sydney Turner produced his first annual report as Inspector. These were continued until 1914, and in addition to descriptions of the schools for the use of committing magistrates, statistics and theory provided clarification of aims and results. Criticism of individual institutions was usually given informally on inspections. Turner visited each school annually, controlled finances and acted as spokesman through his report, a huge task.

Because of the uncertainty of their aims only two new Industrial Schools were certified, but the Reformatories were doing well, proving financially profitable as well as cutting the prison committal of young offenders by 40% even at this stage. School managers declined a government education grant, claiming that local people benefited and so were responsible.

1859         The second Reformatory ship was opened off Purfleet, called the “Cornwall”.

Reformatories now became a panacea, and Turner complained about the precipitous committal of young children with brief delinquent histories. Between 1859 and 1884 over half of those committed were first offenders, and many were aged under ten.

1860         The nineteen Industrial Schools were transferred to the Home Office by a short Act.

Committals to Reformatories dropped, (as did adult offending), as economic prosperity improved. The Sunderland Reformatory (the only mixed one in England) split and the girls moved.

1861         The Third Birmingham Conference met “chiefly to enlist state aid for Free Day Industrial Schools and Ragged Schools”, for children who had not committed offences but needed care. It was only by 1876 that public opinion had advanced enough to accept these principles. A two-year Experimental Act was passed defining Industrial School intake, stating that the children committed had to be under 12 and convicted of a felony. The Act was later amended and extended until 1867.

1862         Boys committed to Reformatories were no longer allowed to be whipped on committal.

1863         To prevent committal at too early an age, an Act refused maintenance for children under 6. Previously Industrial Schools had been used for children in need of care, even if only 3 or 4 years old.

1864         The Roman Catholic Reformatory ship “Clarence” was moored in the Mersey. Between 1861 and 1877, 9 Industrial Training Ships were opened. Parkhurst, which had taken many difficult recommittals from reformatories in its later years, was closed to juvenile offenders.

1865         Sydney Turner noted that reformatory management was now easier as the old hardened cases had disappeared.

1866         A Consolidating and Amending Act was passed for Industrial Schools and Reformatories in England and Scotland, repealing previous Acts. The children committed to both were of the same type except that the younger less delinquent were sent to the former and the older, more difficult children to the latter. After the Act, Industrial Schools expanded and out-numbered Reformatories. Both types of schools became too large for successful individual training as institutions of that size were more economical and as the managers were now taking less interest and leaving the running of the schools to the superintendents. Riots and immorality arising from the schools’ excessive size were suppressed and rigid harsh discipline took the place of planned training and individual attention.

1868         Mr. B. Rogers, Sydney Turner’s Chief Clerk, was appointed Assistant Inspector. The annual inspection of 130 schools containing 11,000 children was proving overtaxing, and inspection was becoming superficial.

1869         The managers of the Reformatories and Refuge Union, which had met triennially since 1857, now invited superintendents and matrons to join on equal terms for the first time.

1870         The Elementary Education Act allowed school boards to start and run Industrial Schools. Some of the Ragged Schools, which were now closed, became Industrial Schools.

At Stranraer the last attempt to run a Reformatory co-educationally was terminated.

1871         By the Prevention of Crimes Act, the children of women twice convicted of crime could be sent to an Industrial School.

1872         An Elementary Education Act was passed for Scotland to match the 1870 Act in England.

1875         The Home Office ruled that all new schools had to be run on the “distinctive” system, separating the sexes; there were still 18 mixed Industrial Schools. At this period, the success rates of the Industrial Schools were poorer than those of the Reformatories as they had sprung up too fast and relied on poor staff, routine jobs selected for their profit-making and poor aftercare.

1876         Rev. Sydney Turner retired through ill-health, knowing that through his enthusiasm and oversight “the schools had become an accepted part of the social system”. Major (later Colonel) William Inglis took over; he had had no experience of the work and he followed in Turner’s footsteps rigidly.

The Elementary Education Act increased the number of children in Industrial Schools and introduced Industrial Day Schools. It also allowed for the early release of truants but this caused unrest and in practice they were treated the same as the others. As on other occasions, such as 1881 and 1894, complaints were made to the Home Office about the running of the schools.

1877         The first two Industrial Day Schools were founded in Liverpool. The preventative work of Industrial Schools was proving valuable, but Reformatory committals remained high as the population increased. An Amending Act cut the compulsory prison sentence to 10 days for boys committed to Reformatories, and the Prison Act transferred local prisons to the State, though the Prison Authorities continued to contribute to the Reformatories.

Doncaster Reformatory girls rioted, and the police were called in to help control Duke Street Reformatory, Glasgow, an event which recurred in 1882 and 1904.

Mary Carpenter died, still superintendent of Red Lodge. Criticism of her Reformatory was consistently deflected from her through respect or fear of her sharpness of tongue, but after her death Red Lodge was heavily censured.

1878         Strict Truant Schools were also opened in London, Liverpool and Sheffield, which in fact made schooling hateful through rules of silence and solitary confinement. In all, sixteen were founded.

1880         An Act permitted children living in prostitutes’ houses to be sent to Industrial Schools. Children in certified schools now began increasingly to be apprenticed out to local tradesmen. Many children, however, were still sent to prison, and during 1880, 120 aged under 12 and 6,000 aged 12-16 were imprisoned. The Home Secretary, Sir William Vernon Harcourt, was attacked for granting remissions, and it was said that Queen Victoria disapproved.

A boy set fire to the”  Clarence”  and did much damage. In 1884 it was totally destroyed by fire, and in 1898 the ship which replaced it was also burnt completely.

1881         Col. Inglis, the Inspector, noted the success of the Reformatory and Industrial Schools in the drop in delinquency and the end of gang life. Lord Norton campaigned for the schools’ abolition, intending to replace them by “schools for neglected and destitute children”.

1882         In March a Royal Commission was appointed to review the schools. Col. Inglis asked for “a government penal reformatory to which the worst and most incorrigible cases could be drafted”.

1884         The Royal Commission reported its general approval of the system. It attacked early committal and the routine work such as wood-chopping, and matchbox making. The introduction of education was recommended and it was felt that there should be women on all boards of management. Preliminary imprisonment was maintained under pressure from English Reformatory managers, though all others disapproved of it. Indeed this disagreement was symptomatic of the widespread division between those who believed in individual treatment and those who held that reformation was reached through rigid discipline and punishment. This split weakened the Commission’s conclusions and many of the recommendations went unheeded.

1885         There were now 142 Industrial Schools, with 17,000 children and 1,321 officers, allowing for a 1 : 13 ratio of staff to inmates, without taking into account holidays and illness.

1887         The Probation of First Offenders Act allowed for young children or trivial offenders to avoid committal. Many of the children in Reformatories were by no means hardened delinquents and in order to remove the slur of being thereafter known as Reformatory boys, it was proposed to call all certificated institutions Industrial Schools. The Industrial Schools, however, firmly resisted this change in case the stigma was attached to their children.

The Inspector was so worried by the serious mutinies on training ships at this time that he doubted whether they should be maintained, and recommended that all such schools should have playing fields on land to be used daily for sport.

1889         The “Cumberland”, moored at Gareloch near He1ensBurgh, was destroyed by fire. Five of the 360 boys on board confessed to planning its destruction but they were found Not Guilty. The committal rate decreased as magistrates felt increasingly that the preliminary prison sentence was detrimental.

Hostel provision on release became more popular, and genera1y aftercare was good until 1914. Hostel standards varied, some being merely “cheap lodging houses”  which the police visited whenever offences were committed locally.

1891         By an Act, school managers were given limited powers of guardianship, being able to apprentice children or arrange their emigration if they agreed.

Only eight mixed schools now remained, owing to pressure exerted by Col. Inglis, and other schools were closing through lack of numbers.

1892         The Superintendent of a mixed school was exonerated after charges of immorality made by a servant girl. The managers decided to surrender their certificate and it was pointed out that such charges, frequently made in mixed schools, would be avoided if the staff dealing with girls were female.

An attempt was made to burn down the “Empress”  and the four ringleaders were sent to prison. There was dissatisfaction with nautical training at this time as only 66% of boys in Reformatory Ships and 50% of Industrial Training Ship boys went to sea, while the number who remained in the work was even lower. The training was expensive and conditions were hard. The placement of young boys (some aged 8) and the unwillingness of superintendents to transfer boys were blamed for their lack of success. Between 1896 and 1913, five ships were closed or transferred ashore.

1893         An Act known as Lord Leigh’s Act, made the preliminary prison sentence non-compulsory. Reformatories were limited to children of 12 and above and detention was fixed at 3-5 years, with a maximum detention age of 19.

A Scottish Day Industrial Schools Act was also passed.

1894         Committals to Reformatories increased, and 1,107 out of 1,487 omitted the prison sentence.

Truant Schools were being badly run and the Home Office laid down Model Rules.

1895         James Granville Legge took over as Inspector. He was forthright, forward-looking and volatile. He immediately laid down a uniform syllabus to stimulate the educational side of the schools’  training. Poor pay had attracted a poor standard of teachers, most of whom were uncertified. During the year, a girls’ school introduced shorthand and typing into its curriculum, school camps were commenced, and a programme of rebuilding and re-equipping was begun in which £500,000 was spent in six years.

Success rates were generally high; sixteen of the failures in 1895 were boys imprisoned for playing football in the streets.

1896         A Departmental Committee, set up to examine Reformatories and Industrial Schools, reported in detail on the practice and theory of the system. The Report was highly critical, stating that although the system was good, isolation and lack of funds had left the schools at a standstill and out of date. Lack of interest by managers left the children with an inferior status, treated in the mass, held too long for the sake of profit-making in too penal an atmosphere (as seen, for example, in the prolonged periods of silence and lack of physical care in schools without matrons). Sir Godfrey Lushington was chairman and again there was disagreement in the Committee, leading to nine qualifying memoranda. One suggested a change of names to remove the stigma attached to Reformatories. The Report was rejected by the schools, especially the managers. The Committee disapproved also of the preliminary prison sentence.

Home visits were now allowed, and 14 days’ leave per year was granted. Games were encouraged and in 1897 interschool games began.

Meanwhile admissions to Day Industrial Schools dropped considerably as economic conditions improved.

1897         Inspectors began to refer to Reformatories and Industrial Schools as Senior and Junior Home Office Schools respectively, and James Legge suggested a Central Aftercare System based on clubs.

1899         Preliminary imprisonment was at last abolished by an Amendment Act, though temporary detention continued. Whipping was also still allowed as many people felt that there was inadequate punishment.

1900         The Education Act raised the fine for non-attendance at school from 5/- to £l, but the main cause of decreased truancy was neither the threatening of school Board Officers nor the punishment of placement in Truant Schools, but the fact that most parents had by now accepted schooling themselves as a matter of course. The Truant Schools had by now found that harsh punishment was ineffective and they had begun to undertake supplementary teaching to help backward pupils.

About this time, junior republics were begun in the U.S.A. and their success attracted attention elsewhere.

1901         The Youthful Offenders Act allowed young children to be placed in the care of a Fit Person.

1902         In October, a prison for youths aged 16 and above was opened at Borstal. Early in its development, it was organised in houses, and this system became a distinctive and famous feature of Borstal.

1903         On the recommendation of the 1896 Committee, a woman inspector was appointed.

1906         James Legge resigned after a. forceful and stormy period as Inspector, leaving ultimately after a disagreement with a Reformatory Ship, whose certificate was withdrawn. T.D.M. Robertson was appointed as the first to be entitled Chief Inspector.

1907         572 children under 16 were imprisoned in England and Wales during the year, but treatment facilities were broadening. An Industrial School for mental defectives was opened; Truant Schools were extending their period of detention and becoming like Industrial Schools in treatment, type of inmate and results; a Central Aftercare Agency was begun, with aftercare planned to commence with committal; and the Probation of Offenders Act provided supervision and support under the aegis of the courts.

1908         The Children Act, known as “the Children’s Charter”, was passed when Rt. Hon. Herbert Samuel M.P. (later Lord Samuel) was Home Secretary. Described as “a model of legal draughtsmanship”, it was felt by some to be an intrusion of officialdom into the family and a confiscation of parental rights, but its aim was to strengthen the home wherever possible and to rely on voluntary philanthropism in social work. Twelve types of treatment were made available to children and special schools were officially set up for disabled children. Special Industrial Schools were also started. The intake and age ranges of Home Office schools, the duties of managers and inspectors, and regulations for recall, transfer, licence and finance were laid down. Increased maintenance payments by local authorities cut committal rates, which were further reduced by the use of special schools.

By now school buildings had reached a high standard, and attention switched to vocational training and education.

The Certified Schools Gazette was founded, later appearing under the title Approved Schools Gazette, to which it changed in 1933.

The Borstal system was established, following the success of the first institution.

1909         Truant Schools became Short Term Industrial Schools.

1910         Newcastle Industrial School, the last one to be mixed, surrendered its certificate and re-opened for boys only.

Dr. Branthwaite was appointed as medical adviser, and on investigating boys in the Certified Schools thoroughly, he concluded that many were undernourished because of their poor diet, that they were small for the comparable age group from their home areas, and that the many illnesses found in the schools were partly attributable to the harsh living conditions and excessive work.

By this time six special Industrial Schools had been opened in England and Scotland, catering for children with learning difficulties, epilepsy, physical disabilities or trachoma; thereafter local education authorities took over special schoo1s.

A Departmental Committee investigated success rates and considered them unreliable. If boys had not been heard of, they were deemed to be “doing well”. One school claimed 100% success.

22 Oct. 1910     John Bull published a story entitled “Reformatory School Horrors - How Boys at the “Akbar” School are Tortured - Several Deaths”. It was based on the evidence of an ex-deputy superintendent and told of boys being gagged before birching, sick boys caned for malingering and others made to stand all night as a punishment.

T.D.M. Robertson, the Chief Inspector, investigated the incident and rejected the charges, but he has been described as “a comparatively weak and ineffectual person”, and Winston Churchill, then Home Secretary set up a Departmental Committee under C.F.G. Masterman, the Under Secretary of State, to investigate the incidents in March 1911. His report also exonerated the “Akbar” staff but John Bull described the report as “Government whitewashing” and alleged reprisals against boys and staff.

The training ships never lost their image as harsh places. T.D.M. Robertson retired in the following October, and for 18 months there was only an acting Chief Inspector.

One further instance of the central authority’s lack of power was the total of 547 children under 10 still in Industrial Schools, (40 of whom were under 6), after repeated criticisms from the 1884 Commission and the 1896 Committee.

1912         It was generally agreed that changes in the system were necessary; there were only seven Inspectors to supervise 211 establishments and 29,349 children. Children committed were becoming more difficult and their records were longer. Standards in training were also due for improvement; the Turners’ Company, for example, had donated thirty lathes to the schools but there were inadequate staff to use them properly.

1913         Another Departmental Committee, after investigating the whole system of Reformatories and Industrial Schoo1s in detail, reported that “a constant pressure towards a progressive policy” was necessary. Under the chairmanship of C.F.G. Masterman, the Committee included Alexander Maxwell, Charles E.G. Russell and Mrs. Churchill. Russell dominated the Committee and its conclusions were mainly administrative, largely influenced by the “Akbar” affair.

The Inspectorate was to be increased while a Children’s Branch was to be formed at the Home Office. Improvements in staff, classification of boys and institutions, and a number of earlier recommendations, such as the appointment of women managers, were put forward. Confinement cells, barred windows, locked doors and the use of training ships were deplored. A dissenting minority, including Mrs. Churchill, wanted the schools to be placed under the Ministry of Education.

Charles Russell, although gentle by nature, was so keen to reform individual boys, believing fervently in self-respect, that his drive induced Churchill to appoint him Chief Inspector to carry out his recommendations. The intrusion of such an outsider led the managers to petition his removal but his enthusiasm won them over and soon the Inspectorate was increased, lucrative drudgery was cut out and boys were licensed earlier. Boys’ health improved in general also.

Influenced by the junior republics he had visited in America, the Earl of Sandwich and some friends induced Homer Lane, an American, to set up the Little Commonwealth, run co-educationally to help difficult children.

1914         Wartime was accepted as an excuse for low standards and for neglecting to implement the 1913 Committee’s recommendations. However, the Children’s Branch of the Home Office was set up, and the Chief Inspector issued the last of the annual reports.

An enquiry was made into the indiscriminate use of Welsh farm placements. Approved by the Inspector in 1910 as a chance for boys to settle at work well away from the cities, the farms had become a dumping ground with no supervision or aftercare and sometimes the added difficulty of a language barrier.

In the War, boys from Certified Schools gained three V.C.s in 1914 alone; the Army was one of the Schools’ main placements on licence, and in wartime the Navy admitted boys trained in the Reformatory Ships.

1915         The Scottish Departmental Committee Report was published, and there the schools were placed under the Education Department by the 1918 Education (Scotland) Act.

Despite decisions taken in 1896, only 66 of the 196 schools allowed home leave to the boys.

1917         In January Charles Russell, the Chief Inspector, visited the Little Commonwealth, and to his surprise, was greatly impressed; it was certified as a Reformatory in March. In April Charles Russell died, and in December Dr. A.H. Norris succeeded him. At the Little Commonwealth two girls alleged immorality on the part of Homer Lane, and although exonerated by a private committee, the Home Office felt that he could not continue as superintendent and the managers gave up their certificate. The Commonwealth closed in June 1918 but in its brief existence, the therapeutic community and Homer Lane’s personality influenced staff, inmates and visitors tremendously, and the impact of his ideas has since been considerable.

During the War, conditions were difficult as staff had been called up and there was gross overcrowding with higher committal rates.

1919         The 1913 Committee had instituted a pension scheme for staff, but in 1919 a Committee was set up “to inquire into the salaries and conditions of service of officers in the Reformatory and Industrial Schools”. Thereafter pay and conditions improved continuously.

1920         Dr. Norris instituted the “flat rate” payment system whereby the Local Authority paid half of a boy’s training fees and the Home Office paid half. With a secure financial basis and better staffing conditions, the schools were able to emphasise schooling and training geared to the individual, instead of uniform institutional routine tasks. To improve health standards Dr. Norris encouraged out-door work such as gardening and farming.

However, at this period there was a reluctance to split families and stigmatise the children, and so probation became the panacea. From 1910-1925, probation cases doubled, while from 1915-1923, 43 of the 130 Certified Schools closed. The inmates were described as “little factory hands in inefficient factories” and the schools were attacked on all sides. The Home Office did not support the schools publicly and Dr Norris used their unpopularity as a lever to obtain the changes he had planned. However, the remaining 26 Reformatories were said in 1926 to be “carrying out their difficult task with marked success”, and success rates of this period were the highest ever (85-90%).

1921         The Association of Voluntary Managers was formed to prevent their isolation under attack.

1925         Homer Lane was deported under the Aliens Act; he died shortly afterwards in Paris.

1926         Only two Day Industrial Schools remained, both in Liverpool.

Probation Officers were now made responsible for transferring boys to their Reformatories to improve liaison.

1927         Changes in outlook since 1913 had been fundamental and a Departmental Committee on the Treatment of Young Offenders was set up under Sir Thomas F. Molony. The Committee recommended that Reformatories and Industrial Schools should be classed together as schools approved by the Secretary of State, and thus known as Approved Schools. By combining the delinquent children with those in need of care and protection, a rather amorphous group of children in difficulty was formed and the imprecise aims and treatment apparent later stemmed partly from the uncertain nature of the inmates, for whom elements of punishment and treatment seemed equally appropriate. The Committee, unlike earlier ones, was in complete agreement and its recommendations were well received. Classification of boys was suggested but the London County Council prevented legislation to implement it.

1928         A Scottish White Paper on Protection and Training matched the English 1927 Report.

1932 and 1933         The 1932 Children Act had scarcely come into force when it was superseded by the 1933 Act. Described as “probab1y the greatest piece of legislation in the whole of the history of the treatment of the young offender”, it was based on the 1927 Committee’s recommendations, but Dr. Norris was its driving force. The welfare of the child had at last to be taken into consideration by law. Schools were classified by age groups; aftercare was systematised, and the emphasis on the children’s welfare renewed the demand for better staff.

The last of the Day Industrial Schools closed.

1936         Sir Vivian Henderson’s Committee published The Conditions of Service, Remuneration and Superannuation of Approved School Staff which reviewed the pay structure again.

Schools were now more crowded, with 3,579 committals, instead of 1,938 in 1933.

1938         The Boys’ Farm School, Godstone, was built on a lavish scale. It was the first purpose-built Reformatory or Approved School of the twentieth century, and all the other sixteen opened after 1933 were housed in adapted buildings.

1939         In general the Approved School system was unprepared for wartime evacuation but some new sites had been reconnoitred and several thousand children were moved.

1940         The training ship “Cornwall”, which was moored near Grays in the Thames Estuary was the last ship school. On moving ashore to Brandon in Suffolk, the unrest was such that the school was closed.

Dr. Morris retired and T. Patterson Owens was appointed Chief Inspector.

The committal rate increased and it became increasing difficult for the Courts to place children in Approved Schools, having relied previously on connections broken by evacuation or closure. In September 1939, there were 191 boys awaiting placement in Remand Homes; by July 1940, 1,235 boys were waiting and “indescribable confusion” reigned, with some Local Authorities booking places in advance in case of future need.

1941         John S. Gittins, an Inspector involved in opening new schools to cope with the sudden influx, advocated a centralised system of allocation to solve the problems of placing children as many were sent to the opposite ends of the country because of the shortage of places.

1942         Aycliffe School was opened experimentally to act as Classifying School for the North East of England. After observation and diagnosis of problems, the appropriate Training School in the area was selected. As a large Training School was also sited at Aycliffe under the aegis of the Principal, John Gittins, (appointed from the Inspectorate), considerable resentment arose initially because of the power in the hands of the Classifying School.

1943         Areas for which Aycliffe did not cater were served by a Home Office clearing-house which centralised allocation procedures. As a result of Aycliffe’s success, the system was adapted for use in other areas, with Classifying Schools sited at Redbank, Newton-le-Willows in 1950; at Kingswood, Bristol, in 1951; at Redhill, Surrey, in 1955 and with Stamford House as the London Remand Home and Classifying Centre.

It was also in 1942 that Approved School Welfare Officers were appointed to undertake aftercare, mainly in centres of dense population. Each officer had links with a number of schools.

1945         Following the death of Dennis O’Neill, in care at Newport, the Curtis Committee was appointed in March. It reported comprehensively in September 1946 on the care of children deprived of a normal home life, being the first committee to cover the whole range of such children. This inquiry touched on Approved Schools in passing and expressed general approval while criticising excessive regimentation and the lack of feminine influence.

1946         The Reynolds Report on Remuneration and Conditions of Service in Approved Schools and Remand Homes laid the basis for social casework by providing for the new profession of housemastering,

At first, however, pay was poor and training limited to a course at Sunderland and later an in-service course at Aycliffe School, in conjunction with Durham University.

Consequently the calibre of housemasters was inadequate and many posts went unfilled for many years. Their role at first was only to assist teaching staff.

15.2.1947      A master was murdered at Standon Farm School when nine boys stole guns and absconded. An inquiry was held in April and the report (by J.C. Maude and Dr. J. Cor1ett) was produced in June 1947. The school was closed as a result, and most of the blame for the disturbance fell on the headmaster.

5.7.1948   The 1948 Children Act became operative, setting up Local Authority Children’s Departments, staffed with Child Care Officers, and thus covering the complete field of child welfare officially for the first time.

1949         The 1933 Approved School Rules were amended to allow for more managerial involvement in training, and to counteract problems found at Standon Farm.

1951         T. Patterson Owens retired and Miss A.M. Scorrer took over as Chief Inspector. The Franklin Committee on Corporal Punishment reported.

1952         The first Detention Centre was opened at Campsfield House, Kidlington, near Oxford to give impressionable delinquents a short, sharp shock. Soon it was found that punishment could not be sustained for six months, and the increasing committal of ex-Approved School boys in need of strict treatment lowered success rates; impersonal punishment therefore gradually gave way to short-term training.

1955         By this time, Redbank, Redhill and Kingswood had opened Classifying Schools. Meanwhile a drop in delinquency led to the precipitate closure of eight schools, despite attempts by the Association of Headmasters to divert the use of the schools to other types of children.

1958         Stamford House, London, opened as a combined Remand Home and Classifying Centre for the city.

29-30.8.1959             Riots at Carlton School led to an inquiry in November and a report by Victor Durand in January 1960. The role of the managers was criticised, the lack of contact between boys and staff, the poor quality of the buildings and the lack of facilities for leisuretime and outside contact. As a result £5 million was spent on modernising the schools, and, to increase the staffing ratio, higher pay was granted to housemasters.

1960         The Ingleby Committee investigated in detail the whole penal system relating to children; of its 125 recommendations, the improvement of the Approved School aftercare service, the introduction of closed units and the ability to transfer boys to Borstal were the most influential, and the Criminal Justice Act of 1961 amended regulations to facilitate the latter.

The Approved School Welfare Officer scheme was absorbed into the Probation Service, and closed units were commenced soon afterwards at three Classifying Schools. A comparable investigation was made in Scotland by the Kilbrandon Committee.

1963         The Children and Young Persons Act raised the age of criminal responsibility to ten.

The Approved School Rules were again changed to grant more home leave.

1964-6      Following recommendations by Durand, three closed units were introduced at Redhill, Redbank and Kingswood Classifying Schools to contain habitual absconders and the most difficult boys, though such plans had been circulating since 1952.

1965         Miss Scorrer retired and the following year Miss J.D. Cooper took over as Chief Inspector.

Based on ideas from the Longford Report, prepared for the Labour party while in opposition, a White Paper on The Child, the Family and the Young Offender was produced to encourage discussion on the future of the Approved School system. Among other plans it suggested the abolition of the Juvenile Court, a proposal which attracted widespread criticism. In general the paper created unrest and many practitioners felt their jobs were threatened.

By this time proximity to home instead of the earlier criteria of personality type and vocational plans had became the major factor in allocating boys to Training Schools, and this became known as “geographical”  allocation.

1967         Anonymous letters in the Guardian written by an Approved School master led eventually to an inquiry into irregular corporal punishment at Court Lees School. Edward B. Gibbens found four cases of excessively severe caning, and a number of other irregularities proven, and after a misunderstanding between Roy Jenkins, then Home Secretary, and the managers, the school was closed. Much widespread disquiet and anxiety resulted in the service and other crises came to light. Other schools to gain press attention included Kneesworth Hall (which was closed), Loaningdale (where a boy murdered a local girl), and in 1968, St. Swithin’s (where the headmaster retired early after enquiries into caning).

1968         A White Paper Children in Trouble, based on discussion of the earlier White Paper, laid down plans for the residential child care system for the next few years, aiming to amalgamate Approved Schools with other facilities such as Remand Homes into regional systems of Community Homes, each with an Observation and Assessment  Centre and a variety of placements available. Changes in procedure in dealing with young offenders were also envisaged, calling for greater co-operation between police, childcare and education departments, residential establishments and parents.

1969         The Children and Young Persons Act 1969 was passed, introducing many of the changes in the White Paper, with all children’s residential units being termed Community Homes and the introduction of Care Orders to replace Fit Person Orders and Approved School Orders, thus doing away with the boundary between the treatment of young offenders and non-offenders with educational, behavioural or personality problems. (The Act was implemented by stages from 1971 onwards.)

He was, in our view, absolutely right. Mistakes were made and opportunities were lost which could have protected Khyra, but the proper role of the Head of Children’s Services is to create the right setting (policy, finance, morale, communications systems and so on) for his colleagues to work in, not to be responsible personally for every single client and worker. If the chief officer had to resign every time something went wrong, there would be a rapidly revolving door in every authority in the country. In a big authority with massive social problems such as Birmingham there are bound to be misjudgements, mistakes and bad practice from time to time, some of which will have serious consequences.

The fundamental question, we suggest, is whether there is trust that people are motivated to do their best in the first place and to try to put things right if there go wrong. This is not only the trust of elected Councillors in the chief officer, but the staff trust in their managers, and vice versa, and - most important of all - service users’ trust in the professionals who serve them.

Trust is in one sense very simple; it is based on one person’s assessment of another. People often make their minds up quickly about such things - whether to trust a politician’s promise on television, whether to trust a doctor’s diagnosis, whether to believe a story from a child. The judgement is based on a number of factors - the person’s reputation and track record for reliability in the past, whether what is being said sounds convincing and fits the known facts, the person’s body language, the context and a judgement about the possible influences on the person.

At one time the word of professionals was given more weight and there was greater trust in their judgements. There was an assumption that they had their clients’ best interests at heart. Now, there is greater questioning and mistrust.

In part, it may be no bad thing if unquestioning acceptance of professionals’ opinions has been eroded. In medicine, for example, patients can learn much more about their conditions on the internet than previously and doctors need to assume that patients may be knowledgeable. In social services there are many more specialist advocacy groups that can help service users and brief them about their rights, and there are more complex legal processes to protect their interests and rights. All these things limit the power of professionals to act without being questioned.

In part, though, something has been lost. The emphasis on rights seems to have led to an atmosphere in which people make demands as if taking part in an adversarial process, rather than one in which the professionals are motivated to help. The setting of targets does not help, as it encourages workers to judge themselves and be judged by the criteria set, rather than by the satisfaction of the service user and the strength of the relationship between the professional and the service user - in short, their mutual trust.

If the relationship is based on rights, contracts, targets and criteria rather than trust, people respond accordingly. There is the risk that service users demand what is laid down, and professionals provide what is required but no more. We may lose the humanity and warmth in the process. When that happens, the service users may feel uncared for and the workers may get no job satisfaction. Trust is vital if service users are to feel secure in relying on professionals; this sense of security may be their lifeline, helping them out of problems to safety and then self-reliance.

The problem is that the centralising bureaucratic system of government, as applied for the last two or three decades, believes that if things are specified in accordance with good practice, they will be done and there will be good services. That may work in programming computers, but human beings don’t function like that.

Overload on instructions and they will be ignored. Be too specific and there will be human needs which do not fit the guidance. Be overdirective and people may rebel in subtle ways. Individual human beings need to respond to other individual human beings; they may like to experiment, to assert their individuality, to be themselves, to ignore guidelines, to put two fingers up to authority, to be non-conformist, to rebel perhaps.

What matters fundamentally is whether the relationship between worker and service user enables the service user’s needs to be met, not whether the regulations or guidance have been followed. We are not arguing for anarchy, and usually service users’ needs will be met best by following the guidance. We are just recognising the priorities.

The relationship between service user and worker will be one of trust when there is mutual respect, when the worker listens, when talking is straight (and kind), when the worker does what they promise to do, when the service user appreciates that the worker knows what they are doing or what they are talking about, when there is continuity of care to build up the relationship. Note that, while workers need to be skilled, most of the things that matter relate to their values and attitudes, their personal qualities.

Of course, there are many workers with the right values and attitudes, and many managers whose values are right and who are trusted by their staff. What we are suggesting is that the system built up over recent decades tends to some extent to undermine trust by undervaluing the quality of human relations and giving priority to bureaucratic processes. We are not arguing for a total change but a shift of emphases, but it is a shift which is important to both staff and workers.

Bruno Bettelheim (1903-1990) was an Austrian Jew who, before the Second World War, with his wife had fostered a girl whom he later described as autistic. He was one of many Jews rounded up and sent to concentration camps but then released in a public gesture in 1939, after which he emigrated to the US. His accounts of concentration camp life were initially vilified (1968) but he was eventually sufficiently accepted to obtain a post at the University of Chicago where he directed the Orthogenic School. Love is not enough (1950) was in effect his manifesto for the school and A home for a heart (1974) his retrospective on those experiences. By this time, the age range of those attending the school had extended to young adulthood and the focus of the book is on comparing the Orthogenic School with other mental health facilities; so the term patient is used throughout, though most of the ideas and examples relate to, and are relevant to the care of, seriously disturbed children and young people.

Key Points

• People need to believe that people with a mental illness can be ‘cured’ if they are to help them.
• Successful therapists have experienced crises which have enabled them to get some idea of what a patient might be going through.
• Only holistic approaches to treatment will succeed.
• Unsuitable buildings increase costs directly and indirectly through the impact they have on the self-esteem of residents.
• Workers need to understand the patient’s view of their situation in order to help them.
• All interactions need to improve the patient’s self-respect.
• The head should actively engage in the daily life of the residents.
• Converted buildings in urban locations where residents can feel ‘at home’ even though it is not their home are best.
• Buildings need decor to distinguish different parts and locks that keep strangers out but do not keep the residents in.
• Dormitories permitting at least 14-16 square yards of personal space to each resident are better than single or double rooms.
• Investing in quality furniture and utensils, including things that were breakable, was cheaper in the long term than purchasing cheaper ‘unbreakable’ items.
• Patients must see the institution as a place in which they can help themselves rather than as a place to which they are sent or in which they will be ‘helped’.
• Potential residents should be given enough time and experience of the institution to be able to make their own minds up about admission.
• Integrated care comes from having a single person at the centre of the patient’s care supported by two others.
• Only those staff who are prepared to stand up for residents really care about residents.
• Senior staff must offer the same quality of support to staff as they expect staff to offer to patients.
• Selection of staff must involve all those with whom they are to work.
• Key decisions must be in the hands of those who work with patients but they must be prepared to justify them in detail to colleagues and senior staff.
• Working with people inevitably involves working with issues one has oneself.
• Informal meetings are as fundamental to the support of workers as are regular formal meetings.

Content

In the Introduction, he argues that our ambivalence about people with a mental illness underlies the appalling ways in which they are treated; if we believed they could be ‘cured,’ we would treat them as normal human beings but we don’t. Yet a person with a mental illness can be cured in a total therapeutic milieu in which people have “a deep commitment to his physical and emotional well being” (p. 4). Over the years the Orthogenic School had extended its work from children to young adults, achieving an 85% success rate in terms of former residents living a normal life in society.

Therapists have to understand people in relation to those who care for them but their job is, in effect, to descend into the pit where the patient is and where they can see the world from the patient’s point of view and then offer them a way out which they may reject. However, a patient can only be cured once they are confident enough to put their foot on the ladder out of the pit and that will only happen if the therapist shows sufficient interest in the patient’s well-being in the pit to make the patient interested in what they might have to offer. While in the pit, the patient will examine every minute detail of the therapist’s behaviour for evidence of their reliability.

The most successful therapists have been through one or more personal crises which have enabled them to see situations from the patient’s point of view. For example, his experience of the concentration camp had led Bettelheim to reject anything which might enable one person to hold another in their power. On joining the Orthogenic School, therefore, he had insisted that doors remained unlocked. He had also been able to draw on his attempt to ‘treat’ an autistic girl by fostering her before the war and his earlier encounters with schizophrenia.

All such experiences of staff need to be brought together into a coherent philosophy which is put into practice in the institution; this book will look at how this was done through the physical setting, the therapy, the staff and the training.

In Chapter 1 Ambience: buildings and their inhabitants, he argues that we all function differently in different spaces and that the physical arrangements in most mental hospitals do the patients little good. Citing Tuke (1813), he argues that patients need to be given self-esteem. Initially mental patients were imprisoned; then they were subject to ‘moral treatment’ and then, as hospitals became the main focus for their treatment, the characteristics of a hospital for the physically ill were transferred to those for the mentally ill without regard for whether they were suitable for their treatment. Hospitals are often over-crowded compared with other forms of accommodation and understaffed, with restraint now being administered through drugs.

Unsuitable buildings increase costs and the much lower costs of treatment in the Orthogenic School compared with other public and private mental institutions were also in part because some staff preferred to work for lower wages in an institution that worked rather than for higher wages in one that didn’t. But these economic arguments ignore the impact the building has on the self-esteem of the patient; making mental hospitals look like prisons does nothing for them.

In Chapter 2 The “secondary gain” as therapy, he argues that the answer is not community care which is often no care at all and dismisses the argument that some patients accommodate themselves to institutional care, on the grounds that rational people normally try to make the best of any situation in which they find themselves. Rather than dismissing the way a patient has accommodated to the situation, the therapist has to understand this in order to understand the patient. Staff should also not be surprised at the perceptiveness of patients about what is going on among the staff; understanding staff reactions is part of making the best of the situation.

Dismissing those who question whether mental illness is real, he argues that those who suffer mental illness suffer from a lack of healthy, that is, self-critical, self-respect. What we call mental illness are the person’s ways of dealing with this lack. Apart from this lack, people with a mental illness are no different from other people.

In Chapter 3, Mental health, autonomy and need satisfaction, he argues that, if psychoanalysis could solve all problems, there would be no need for mental hospitals and that a key component of mental illness is competing demands which we cannot reconcile, paranoia and depression being two different responses to such competing demands. Unfortunately, in traditional mental hospitals, too much emphasis is laid on keeping patients safe and not enough on supporting the staff and facilitating the patient’s recovery.

Improving self-respect involves providing bathrooms and toilets, where patients care for their physical bodies, that convey positive messages about them. Similarly, responses to violence, whether in terms of physical features or personal responses, need to demonstrate respect for the person in the middle of the outburst and those who might be harmed by them rather than lower their self-respect. Finally, pandering to a patient’s delusions does nothing to improve their self-respect.

In Chapter 4 Ambience: the structure of life, he discuss how institutionalised living gives none of the satisfactions of family life, where eating and bathing can be pleasures, and how institutional rules often militate against staff showing genuine care for patients. They solved the problem of locking away things that might be dangerous to a child by locking them in a locker in the child’s room which the child could inspect at any time. Otherwise nothing was locked away. But this itself was part of the evolution of the Orthogenic School and all good institutions evolve anyway.

In Chapter 5 Needed: an integrative model, he considers the various models used for institutions, from the cottage homes to wards, before arguing for the integrative model of the Orthogenic School which Henry (1957) described as a `“small republic or a large family, depending on the point of view”. He placed himself as the central figure always accessible to the children and therefore someone they could come to know and predict. This was not just a matter of being available to answer questions or deal with complaints but of actively sharing in the children’s leisure when they could make casual enquiries without the formality of coming to the office. The same opportunities were available to the staff.

He argues for urban locations where even those that need an escort can go out into the community and where the act of dressing up to go out is part of reinforcing the person’s sense of worth. Keeping people in touch with the realities of life outside the institution is essential for their rehabilitation.

In Chapter 6 The eye of the beholder: architecture and locale, he describes how a building conveys messages to its inmates and how, in his haste to change the messages the building conveyed, he had failed to understand the old messages that parts of the building conveyed or to explain his intentions fully to the staff. This had unsettled the children who were confused by the new messages.

He notes that the most impressive features of institutions are usually not intended for the patients and that all features of an institution can convey messages to the inmates. While not being ‘home’, it must be somewhere where the patient can feel ‘at home’ and, even without locks, it must have clear boundaries.

In Chapter 7 The silent message: the unicorn and the phoenix, having argued for the conversion of old buildings rather than the building of new, he outlines how that happened over the years at the Orthogenic School, making features of the old building features of the new, using art in a variety of ways, in particular a twice life-size sculpture of a reclining female figure, and attempting to redecorate a hall with a large staircase. He also discusses the smell of a building and its feel when touched.

In Chapter 8 The silent message: situational symbolism, he discusses the importance of using the decor to create landmarks which identify places and of keeping everything open, with locks mainly used to keep strangers out. Of course, things did get stolen but the cost of compensation over the years was 0.0005% of the budget, rather less than the cost of locking things up!

He argues that, though there were occasional assaults, they were never serious enough to justify locking anyone up and they had no suicide attempts even by patients with a history of suicide attempts. Once patients understand that the purpose of locks is to protect them, not confine them, they reinterpret other features such as safety screens as protective also.

Similarly, working with outside agencies to help them to interpret the occasional false alarm as part of a child’s need for reassurance also reassured the child.

In Chapter 9 Living room and Lebensraum: spatial messages, he describes the visitors’ room, which is the first room a child will enter; this contains a throne, a cradle, a dolls’ house, a seahorse and a library all which the child may use. Interestingly, while ‘normal’ children would play with the dolls’ house, those destined for the school did not. The room was also large enough for a child to keep their distance if they wished and for staff to gain clues as to the distance the child wanted to keep. When family come to visit, they meet in the same room.

New admissions need to form an opinion of ‘the boss’ and so he would always meet the child and seek to make the child the centre of attention, inviting the child into his office during the first or second meeting where others would not become a centre of attention.

In Chapter 10 Dormitories: group living and ‘territoriality’, he argues that the most important spaces are the patient’s spaces which should not be single rooms, both because many patients do not prefer this and because they too easily become a place of retreat from the world where they can be overlooked by staff. Double rooms also create problems; for example, when one resident has a visitor, what does the other resident do?

They ended up with groups of six or seven living together, but with other rooms into which children could withdraw if they wanted, normally with a member of staff because they would only withdraw if something was troubling them. Around 14-16 square yards was needed for each person’s personal space. Children varied in how they marked the boundaries of their personal space but they generally sat on their beds while ‘visitors’ sat on chairs in their personal space. Furniture was custom-made in consultation with residents and, though more expensive, was more economical because it was cared for and lasted longer than conventional furniture. Children’s personal possessions were initially kept in metal chests but eventually drawers were added to the beds for children who felt safer sleeping on top of their possessions. The way children decorated these personal spaces often told you a lot about what they were feeling and thinking.

In Chapter 11 Dining room and bathroom: trauma and treatment, Bettelheim argues that food should always be available, not just at set times, and that tables should be circular because they promote more interaction than rectangular tables. Tablecloths were used for special occasions and knives were only withheld from patients on the rare occasions when they had evidence that they might be misused. If patients threw food on the floor, a staff member, rather than a domestic, cleared it up; utensils were deliberately not made unbreakable because that implied the patients would want to break them.

Patients were involved in choosing the menu and also the fabrics and furnishings and, while this tended to mean patients cared for their environment, that was never turned into an expectation. For one thing, the cost of letting a patient take out their feelings on the fabric of the institution was far less than the cost of treatment sessions to deal with those feelings. These feelings then needed to be addressed in the day-to-day interactions with the patient rather than in specific treatment interventions.

He decries the utilitarian bathrooms and toilets, often serving both purposes, in institutions, arguing that they should be comfortable and attractive places that convey respect for the patient. Their toilet doors were lockable but not completely full-length so that a patient could have privacy but also not be inaccessible should they seek to harm themselves. He concludes with an example of a girl whose difficulties with the toilet and bathroom were symbolic of the emotional abuse she had suffered and how she was helped to deal with these.

In Chapter 12 The I of the beholder: pre-admission visits, he argues that a patient must be given time to get to know the institution before they are admitted; only in this way can the patient make their own decisions about how to respond to the institution. He describes how a seriously anorexic girl arrived believing she had been ‘admitted,’ how he insisted she drink a glass of liquid and then let her leave to convince her that it was her choice and that he did care for her. She came back the next day.

He stresses that patients must see an admission as a way of dealing with their feelings about the situation in which they find themselves, not because other people think it is a good idea or because they are going to be ‘helped’. Because they can never be sure they can keep most promises, the only one they make is that staff will do their best. Prospective patients are only introduced to staff, not to other patients, at this point and eventually they are asked whether they wish to proceed with the admission. Some agree and regret it, running away later, but they are always accepted back without recrimination - and they always returned.

In Chapter 13 Receiving the newcomer: a social transition, he describes how, with limited turnover, applications were only accepted when a vacancy was pending and then only in consultation with the staff responsible for the group where the new admission would be placed. Those who met the prospective admission during the pre-admission visits had to decide whether they were prepared to accept the patient and, if so, purchase a welcoming gift for the new patient as well as prepare their personal space so that it had no reminders of the previous occupant.

The patients would be informed of the new admission and given basic information about them and they might discuss among themselves or with staff how best to respond to the new admission. It was important in these discussions to convey that the arrival of a newcomer did not mean that attention would be diverted from the existing residents, even though the newcomer might need more time initially.

In Chapter 14  From pilgrimage to psychoanalytic setting, he discusses earlier attempts to ‘cure’ mental illness, pointing out that many of the activities undertaken would be generally beneficial to a person. He stresses the importance of security, telling the story of a man who had been emotionally abused as a child and found refuge and peace, though not treatment, as the gardener of a mental hospital, and emphasising that no-one who has known the patient previously is allowed beyond the visitors’ room so that the patient can feel secure in the Orthogenic School.

However, in many institutions, patients get security but not treatment; they need a total therapeutic milieu, such as those attempted by Aichhorn (1951) and Redl and Wineman (1952), in which to re-organise their lives.

In Chapter 15 Experiments in total treatment design, he describes how the Orthogenic School had originally treated people with learning disabilities and then with physical disabilities and epilepsy before a decision was made to focus on childhood schizophrenia and Bettelheim had been appointed. He recalled that, when he had fostered the autistic girl before the war, he had been irritated by the psychiatrist’s attitude to what they were offering and so he had re-organised the Orthogenic School to involve all staff and try to avoid any hierarchy. However, particular patients gravitated to certain staff more than to others and this led them to realise that they had to know more about the specific strengths of particular staff in working with particular children.

In practice, helping staff to understand themselves contributed to creating the therapeutic milieu. For example, feeling physically good about oneself is an important part of feeling emotionally good about oneself and so staff who did not consider their own or the patient’s physical care as important as their emotional care were unable to create a total therapeutic milieu.

In Chapter 16 Staff organization and unity, he argues that the traditional structure of psychiatric hospitals militates against any commitment from worker to patient; instead, institutions define what the patient is receiving by who is giving it - casework from a caseworker, psychoanalysis from a psychiatrist or nursing from a nurse - and, if therapy is to be given, that is seen as an extra task on top of the existing ones.

Unity of treatment does not come from uniformity or the absence of status hierarchies but from the same worker responding in different ways to the different needs of patients and sharing with other workers a common understanding of the patients’ needs even though each worker may meet those in slightly different ways. To ensure this, they provided for each patient a trio of staff, a personal counsellor, a deputy counsellor and a teacher, the personal counsellor being selected during the pre-admission visits and remaining the centre of the work with the patient. He notes that personal counsellors always wanted to do the best for their patients but suitable help was rarely available from specialists or from publications which tend to gloss over the struggles that go on to understand a particular patient.

In Chapter 17 Common sense organized, he discusses studies of the Orthogenic School, notably the paper by Henry (1957), disagreeing with him that he permitted autonomy to staff and arguing that workers gained autonomy through standing their ground and justifying their actions. He also disagrees that losing workers involves losing their training; rather it involves losing the relationships they have developed. In standing their ground and making their own relationships, the workers were modelling what the patients needed to do to recover. They will only do this if they believe something is important and they will only make their own relationships with patients if they do not rely on others to tell them how to do it. If things turn out well, both they and the patient gain; but if they have just been following orders, neither they nor the patient gains because the relationship has not been strengthened.

Staff must be able to gain support from other members of the team who are secure enough in themselves not to be jealous of another’s successes. Jealousy may arise from patients as well as other staff members and, if unacknowledged, may turn into blame and interrupt the flow of support. Similarly, refusing to acknowledge an error and blaming the patient may break the flow of support to the relationship with the patient.

Senior staff must provide the same quality of support for the workers that they expect the workers to give to the patients.

In Chapter 18 Staff selection - in depth, he discusses new staff, noting that the second door they pass through is unusually decorated and they almost always comment on this; in fact, not remarking on it could be taken as a sign of insecurity about the place. New staff are expected to familiarise themselves with the work of the school by reading published material about the school and then write, as part of their application, an autobiography indicating what experiences in their lives prompted the application. The school is interested in honesty and non-destructive self-criticism.

Everyone is brought into the visitors’ room just like a patient and every member of staff, including domestic and support staff, is interviewed to ascertain why they want to work in this environment so that, if they do find themselves clearing up after a patient’s outburst, they understand that that can contribute to a quicker and less expensive recovery for the patient.

The school’s low turnover partly gave them the opportunity to take time over selection and, while those who had had a disturbed past were not normally suited to the task, those who had no experience at all of mental upset were often unsuitable too because they did not have sufficient experience to be able to imagine what it might be like to be a patient.

Applicants then spent a number of shifts working with patients which enabled them to come to terms with the realities of the work and gave the staff and patients an opportunity to appraise them. A negative response from staff would lead to rejection and one from patients to careful consideration with staff. Even with all this care, not all applicants were able to accommodate themselves to the demands of the school, often because they could not give the personal commitment to others that the school demanded.

In Chapter 19 Opening up to the patient, he argues that a total institution has a powerful impact for good or for ill. To have a positive impact, staff have to have the inner self-confidence not to withdraw or intellectualise under pressure from the patient but to respond to the patient in the here-and-now. Interestingly, applicants who had undergone psychoanalysis tended to do less well than those staff who underwent it after they had left and went on to other jobs. He stresses the importance of a shared journey for worker and patient, not  ‘us’ and ‘them’, and also that workers who cannot make that journey have to leave.

He then describes some of the experiences of staff on the way from being beginners to accepted members of the team.

In Chapter 20 Staff: joining the community, he discusses the impact of living-in on those staff who lived in and were therefore available to patients all the time. Living in the same building as the patients demonstrates that the building is worth living in but it must have status - including not being confined to low status staff - and staff must not be abandoned by senior staff in the evenings and at weekends. Some could not acclimatise to living in and would leave but others would begin to personalise their accommodation and often became more interested in helping patients to personalise their personal space.

Those who did not live in often went through a period of dropping in more often than necessary before settling on a more balanced routine while those who lived in would often move out into the surrounding area when the time came.

Professional and ancillary staff would routinely discuss what was going on and what needed to be done informally as well as in a monthly meeting. These were important when, for example, maintenance staff were repeatedly called to deal with malfunctioning equipment caused by disturbed behaviour or domestic staff had to understand the importance of particular personal possessions to patients. But when the staff saw the improvement wrought in the patient, they could share in the personal satisfaction which is a necessary motivation for everyone working with disturbed young people.

In Chapter 21 The total involvement of staff members, he argues that, while the key decisions about patients should be taken by those working most closely with them, those decisions should be the subject of detailed scrutiny by colleagues and senior staff to ensure that the reasons for the decision are clearly understood, are not based on fears or personal biases and are accepted by all. Part of the process is helping the worker to see the world from the patient’s point of view so that the decisions make sense in terms of the patient’s world view.

He illustrates this with an extended account of how a worker’s decisions in the case of a patient called Dana were based on the worker’s world view and failed to take account of Dana’s world view with abusive consequences for both. He stresses that, while on the one hand not repaying aggressive responses with aggression defuses their power, on the other not responding at all amounts to a failure to acknowledge the patient’s communication. He points out that violence from patients is most often directed at the staff who mean most to them and therefore that staff should respond in ways which demonstrate their acknowledgement of the relationship and the feelings that underpinned the violence.

Dealing with patients’ emotions is emotionally exhausting for staff and they need continual support, not least to recognise that, however devoted they are to a patient, it may take many years for the patient to acknowledge the reality of what they are offering.

In Chapter 22 Reintegration: the staff member against himself, he discusses the ways in which relating to patients can affect workers’ understandings of themselves and their own experiences. He draws on workers’ accounts of how long it had taken them to understand the impact patients’ interactions were having on them which sometimes led to greater understanding of the impact patients’ interactions were having on others. Senior staff had to support this, developing understanding of themselves and others.

A worker is only able to acknowledge their own contribution when they can give credit to others, not just the patient for what they have accomplished but also colleagues for the ways in which they have supported the patient and the worker; at the same time colleagues need to acknowledge what the worker has done. As head he had found that quiet praise, outside the ear of the worker’s colleagues, was more effective than public praise.

In Chapter 23 Personal change and professional growth, he describes how those who came to work at the school often developed in ways which enabled them to make even greater progress in their chosen professions. Others, however, found they were unable to cope with the emotional demands made by the patients and would normally, citing hours or pay. Those who remained had generally successfully navigated a crisis in their understanding of themselves and their relationships with the patients six months to two years after their arrival.

In order to chart staff members’ progress, he had invited a number to make drawings of aspects of the school which he discusses. He then relates these to discussions he had had with staff as they tried to relate to what the school was attempting to do.

Drawing on research by Wright (1957), based on Stephenson (1953), identifying four stages in the professional development of residential child care staff - observation, intrusion, participation and participant-observation, he observes that workers do not progress through these stages evenly or uniformly and relates them to the experiences of staff at the school.

In Chapter 24 The inward journey, he stresses that the worker’s own learning has to be complemented by informal learning from colleagues, perhaps over a supper after the children are in bed, or through the regular anecdotal reports on the patients which enabled workers to put their thoughts on paper, which other staff might read and which might also be discussed with patients.

He stresses the importance of informal meetings, some of which became more formalised over the years, of shared occasions and of the afternoon meetings between all the patients and staff and discusses some of the issues that might arise in those meetings.

In addition, there were five formal staff meetings a week the proceedings of which were recorded and he uses extracts from those records to illustrate the issues that might be discussed at such meetings.

Discussion

This is one of a handful of texts, the study of secure units by Blumenthal (1985) being the most notable UK example, to address all aspects of child care from the design of the building through the fabric and furnishings and the processes of care to the support and development of staff. Whether or not one agrees with the approach taken, the questions it raises about how best to provide residential care will repay study by workers, managers, policy makers, teachers and researchers.

His arguments that those best placed to help people in a crisis are those who have experienced some sort of crisis in the past have been supported in variety of ways. Maas and Kuypers (1974) found that those who had experienced stress in the past were more able to deal with stressful situations later in life, and Gilligan (1993) found that personal development was often prompted by a personal crisis.

In stressing the importance of patients’ self-respect, he is echoing the much earlier philosophy of  ‘moral treatment,’ which he confuses with ‘moral management.’  ‘Moral treatment,’ which was invented by the Frenchman, Jean-Baptiste Pussin, was all about raising patients’ morale and was the term adopted to describe the early work of the Quaker Retreat at York, where similar attention was paid to the built environment. ‘Moral management’ was the term coined by John Kitching later on to describe the widely used management of patients by rewards and punishments (Digby, 1985).

In making himself readily accessible to the patients, he puts into practice what King et al. (1971) found was crucial to quality care, the head modelling to staff positive interactions with children. He also implicitly agrees with Cawson and Martell (1979) and Blumenthal (1985) that meeting children’s needs does not require closed conditions and that even dangerous behaviour can be managed successfully in open conditions.

His arguments against single or double rooms tend to be borne out in practice by the fact that Millham et al. (1975) found no evidence that dormitory living prevented quality outcomes of care, though I am unaware of any research specifically supporting his arguments that paying more for quality furnishings and utensils speeds recovery.

Though family involvement is now regarded as a key feature of quality care (Taylor and Alpert, 1973; Fanshel and Shinn, 1978), his arguments for excluding family from the care of children may have some support from the finding by Wiener and Wiener (1990) that a very small number of parents consistently fail to act in the best interests of their children.

His argument for something akin to the keyworker system (Residential Care Association/British Association of Social Workers Study Group, 1976) has found little favour outside residential care in the UK, not least because the ‘professional’ relationships which he criticises in other mental health facilities have dominated UK child care in spite of the evidence from, for example, Tizard (1977) that such relationships are damaging to children. Indeed, the most successful out of home care, whether by adoptive parents, foster parents or residential child care staff has always been characterised by the personal commitment to a child, which he regards as essential in anyone seeking to help a disturbed child or young person.

In arguing that senior staff should provide the same quality of support to staff as they expect staff to provide to those in their care, he sets a standard which few senior staff in the UK would be expected to attain and it would be rare, given the routinising of appointment procedures, for children in care today to be given an opportunity to comment on the suitability of staff coming to work with them.

Similarly the idea that a key feature of staff support should be undocumented informal meetings would be a bureaucrat’s nightmare while the idea that therapy should focus on day to day lived experience and not on ‘key’ events in a child’s life would leave most therapists with nothing on which to work.

His account of how a worker becomes effective and his suggestion that this takes up to two years has general support in more recent research into the development of child care workers (Anglin, 1993).

The key omission from this otherwise comprehensive text on how to manage a therapeutic milieu is any discussion of how patients’ departure from the school was handled. Though he claims that 85% were living ‘normal’ lives, he does not say where they went on departure and what other factors in their lives might have contributed to this outcome.

References

Aichhorn, A (1951) Wayward youth London: Imago First published 1925 Verwahrloster Jugend Wien: Internationaler Psychoanalytischer Verlag

Anglin, J (1993) How staff develop FICE Bulletin 6, 18-24

Bettelheim, B (1950) Love is not enough: the treatment of emotionally disturbed children Glencoe IL: Free Press See also Children Webmag August 2009.

Bettelheim, B (1968) The ultimate limit Midway 9, 3-25 Autumn Reprinted in B Bettelheim (1979) Surviving and other essays London: Thames & Hudson

Bettelheim, B (1974) A home for the heart London: Thames & Hudson

Blumenthal, G J (1985) The development of secure units in child care Aldershot: Gower See also Children Webmag December 2009.

Cawson, P and Martell, M (1979) Children referred to closed units DHSS Research Report No 5 London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. See also Children Webmag December 2009.

Digby, A (1985) Madness, morality and medicine: a study of the York Retreat, 1796-1914 Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

Fanshel, D and Shinn, E B (1978) Children in foster care: a longitudinal investigation Guildford: Columbia University Press See also Children Webmag March 2009.

Gilligan, C (1993) In a different voice: psychological theory and women’s development London: Harvard University Press With a new introduction

Henry, J (1957, February) Types of institutional structure Psychiatry 20 (1), 47-60

King, R D, Raynes, N V and Tizard, J (1971) Patterns of residential care: sociological studies in institutions for handicapped children London: Routledge & Kegan Paul See also Children Webmag April 2009.

Maas, H S and Kuypers, J A (1974) From thirty to seventy: a forty-year longitudinal study of adult life styles and personality San Francisco: Jossey Bass

Millham, S, Bullock, R and Cherrett, P (1975) After grace, teeth: a comparative study of residential experience of boys in approved schools London: Human Context See also Children Webmag March 2010.

Redl, F and Wineman, D (1952) Controls from within: techniques for the treatment of the aggressive child Glencoe ILL: Free Press See also Children Webmag November 2009.

Residential Care Association/British Association of Social Workers Study Group (1976, 2 September) How can residential and field social workers co-operate?: The respective and reciprocal roles of residential and field social workers Social Work Today 7 (12), 346-348

Stephenson, W (1953) The study of behavior: Q-technique and its methodology Chicago: Chicago University Press

Taylor, D and Alpert, S W (1973) Continuity and support: following residential treatment New York: Child Welfare League of America See also Children Webmag March 2009.

Tizard, B (1977) Adoption: a second chance London: Open Books See also Children Webmag January 2010.

Tuke, S (1813) Description of the Retreat, an institution near York, for insane persons of the Society of Friends: Containing an account of its origin and progress, the modes of treatment, and a statement of cases York: W Alexander

Wiener, A and Wiener, E (1990) Expanding the options in child placement Lanham MD: University Press of America See also Children Webmag January 2010.

Wright, B (1957) Attitudes toward emotional involvement and professional development in residential child care Ph. D. thesis, University of Chicago, Chicago

F G Lennhoff’s account of his work with maladjusted boys at Shotton Hall gained a favourable review from Probation Journal (Fees, 2008). An educational psychologist, he had been inspired by August Aichhorn (1925), and also drew on Bettelheim (1950) and Redl and Wineman (1951), to create a school for maladjusted children as defined in the 1944 Education Act. Much like Aichhorn he saw this as a facility for those whose problems could not be managed satisfactorily within the community by a child guidance clinic. So he did not start from any assumptions about offering individual therapy but about creating a total environment in which the child’s symptoms could be managed and their behaviour changed.

However, he combined the assumption that early experience has a lifelong impact and that all problems in the here-and-now are related to events in the child’s past with what might now be called a ‘reality based’ approach to treatment, insisting that boys accept responsibility for their actions and make restitution for any offences or harm done to another person. He perhaps best exemplifies the ‘pragmatism’ which is often said to be a characteristic of the English.

Key Points

• Difficulties may be caused by parents or by schools.
• Different children respond differently to similar situations.
• Maladjusted children have difficulty in giving and receiving affection.
• Children need to be encouraged to make restitution when they have harmed others.
• Staff need to be helped as much as the children, in particular not to take out their frustrations on the children.
• Children’s initial reactions may vary widely but eventually the symptoms of their maladjustment will come out.
• Activities offer an important way of enabling children to learn.
• Regression is essential for development.
• Creative activities can facilitate the release of feelings, the demonstration of symptoms and therapeutic outcomes.
• Giving as much freedom and responsibility as possible encourages better social behaviour.
• Taking a low key approach is the best way of addressing most problems; issues of sexual development are best addressed in informal settings.
• Notwithstanding much positive behaviour, adults should not be ‘taken in’ by maladjusted children.
• The behaviour of maladjusted children is often unpleasant and good public relations are essential.
• Any ‘cure’ comes from a multiplicity of factors.

Content

In the Introduction, Lennhoff argues that there is too much reliance on the assumption that following one’s instincts leads to success and he gives examples of the difficulties that can occur within families or at school. He stresses the importance of education for parenthood with a focus on emotional development but cautions that children are not all affected in the same way by family or other difficulties.

In Chapter I Selection and entry, he says that Shotton Hall accommodates 35 to 40 boys aged 10-16 of good intelligence who have arrived there for a variety of reasons and exhibit a variety of symptoms. Typically, they are “insecure and unhappy, finding it as difficult to receive the affection and trust of a sound human relationship as to give these qualities to others” (p. 26). They tend to lack security and may steal as a love substitute but they can sometimes be helped by something as simple as Lennhoff saying in a court report that a boy could change; the father believed this, his attitude changed and so did the boy’s.

In other cases parents need to be educated not to blame the child for their own problems and teachers to recognise children’s needs and not ignore them. Often they can be dealt with by a child guidance clinic but, where the problems cannot be dealt with in the community, it is essential that those who have already been working with the child make the referral, giving a full case history and the reason why the school has been chosen because there is a range of schools from which to choose.

They offer an interview to the child, the parents and the social worker; the parents are interviewed separately while another pupil takes the child on a tour of the school; then the child is interviewed separately followed by the social worker. Then the whole group meet and Lennhoff tries to get the child to ask to come to the school, unless the decision is No, when he might say the school was not suitable because it is important to minimise any feelings of rejection.

In Chapter II The setting for a new life, he stresses the importance of the building being one that children would like to live in; the walls need to be light, the furniture strong and the children able to choose pictures and ornaments. Where children damage other people’s things, for example, out of jealousy, they need to be encouraged to make recompense.

The children often begin by destroying things around them and, when they moved from their original accommodation to Shotton Hall, an advance party of boys worked alongside the workman finishing the conversion so that they would have pride in the home. There are areas in which boys can play and a wood into which adults rarely venture.

With a general lack of trained staff, staff need to be helped just as much as the children, in particular to deal with frustration and to avoid taking things out on the boys. They need to balance a permissive atmosphere with reasonable demands on the boys. One problem is that children may crave affection but have difficulties with human relationships. This may create difficulties for adults because the child wants to test things out; however, it is important not to appear too saintly to the child. At the same time staff must make sure that no blame falls on the child for the situation in which they find themselves.

All staff need to be aware of normal development, to be able to share faults, to have a creative, artistic or sporting skill and to be patient. Teachers need to be able to deal with the group first, and then with individuals. House staff need to be emotionally stable, open and honest and willing to learn. The technical staff are often socially closer to the boys and may become confidants or informal instructors.

He concludes by outlining the process of staff selection and a syllabus for staff in schools and hostels. (This was before the Home Office opened the Certificate in Residential Child Care courses to staff who did not work in children’s homes.)

In Chapter III The daily life of the child, he describes how the child is sent a clothing list. The clothes may be purchased either in advance or on arrival but very often boys are unaware of the cost of clothes. New boys normally arrive before start of term to familiarise themselves with the school before the others arrive.

There are two main rules: don’t go on the roof and don’t go out without telling someone, and some minor ones, such as not walking through the entrance with muddy boots. Boys can bring pets and other personal possessions. Some react by being angels and others by trying to see how far they can go. Some will boast of earlier delinquencies and some still see themselves as having been ’sent away’.

By around six to eight weeks, the symptoms of the child’s actual state begin to appear. Generally, the first year involves the manifestation of symptoms, the second the first steps towards relationships and confidence and the third stabilisation and progress. As a rule, the older the boy is, the longer this takes.

Each day they are woken at seven and then given a reminder; they do exercises in front of the house while the stragglers are collected and then one hour ‘cleaning up’; boys may be paired to do jobs. Breakfast is at 8.30, followed by a house meeting. School begins at 9.30 with a break at 11.00 after which some go back to classes and others to activities. These end at 12.45 and lunch at 1.00 is supervised by two staff while the other staff eat separately to review the day. In the afternoon there is school for the senior group and activities for the others until 4.00, when they have some free time until tea at 5.00 followed by evening activities. Supper is at 7.30 and bedtimes are staggered from 8.30 to 9.30, though the boys often talk for hours after going to bed.

He argues for shared responsibility rather than self-government and there is an elected committee of three boys with the secretary which meets twice a week to decide punishments, special purchases, outings, and so on.

Restitution is encouraged, though boys often find this more difficult to cope with than corporal punishment, particular those used to punishment. An example might be making a contribution to the fire service welfare fund from the boy who lit a fire in dormitory. With an emphasis on restitution, there needs to be variety in the forms of restitution.

In Chapter IV The problem of learning, he notes that maladjusted children have no confidence in those who teach them and argues that activities offer different ways of helping children to learn. Problems can arise when children want all the adult’s attention or when their fear of getting things wrong leads them to blame others for this. Some boys complain of a lack of ’spare time’ but, if given it, they don’t know how to use it.

Among the different ways of keeping boys interested are outside speakers and, for example, giving a boy unable to stay in the classroom the task of making a door for a lean-to shed. The boys have a strong sense of ‘fairness.’ Some senior boys may immerse themselves in work to avoid addressing reality; they often have unrealistic ambitions.

Turning to school subjects, they tend not to like history but geography is acceptable. They need to get over any fear of failure to do maths but maths can lead on to practical applications. Science is most acceptable. Current affairs is also acceptable but English is generally disliked, though English literature gets a mixed reception. The boys treat art at first as a route to freedom and only later ask for formal art lessons. Divinity is based on stories from the Bible with the addition of practical work. Teaching maladjusted boys is actually very difficult to describe; people need to experience it first hand.

In Chapter V Our life outside the classroom, Lennhoff argues that what has once been experienced can never be undone and that the boys need opportunities for regression and then development. Art and craft can help to deal with aggression and depression and are also ways of demonstrating problems. They teach boys the recorder and Mrs Lennhoff runs a music group though the boys tend to have difficulty singing together.

Many do not know their father’s occupation and have no experience of working life. They lack concentration but they are allowed to contribute to repairs around the school. They can cope with work experience placements because they know it is only for a week; they are encouraged to discuss their experiences on their return. In reality they have a greater level of freedom than in most schools and children from stricter schools tend to behave less well when on outside activities. They have lots of opportunities to be away from the school though they have to give a reason and he also limits the numbers to one venue and may ask a stable boy to chaperon a less stable one.

On Thursday evenings there is a group therapy ‘discussion’ which starts with an innocuous topic and normally then develops. They use play therapy, especially with the younger boys and, where this reveals problems, these are noted and discussed and may be referred to the psychiatrist.

Animals and the visits from the vet play a significant part in the life of the school; they allow exploration of the facts of life. There has also been less absconding since they acquired the farm; the children were involved in its purchase and renovation.

The boys have difficulties over games; they tend to be bad losers and also to lose games anyway. Staff need to avoid boys ‘teaming up’ with those with similar problems.

In Chapter VI Some of our problems, he mentions how, when his wife was in hospital, there were numerous crises in the school because of his emotional state at the time and gives various examples of situations where he did the wrong thing.

About a third of the boys wet the bed and a tenth soil; this is taken in its stride. There may occasionally be a discussion group but different things have been successful with different boys. They generally ignore swearing, aggression and temper outbursts. With pilfering and lying, they try to identify whether it is just a passing phase or a symptom of rejection but they generally suggest restitution.

They help boys to adjust to their sexual development with a mixture of biology and ethics; ideally, he would like co-education and the school started in this way but societal fears led to the decision to make it a boys’ school. Sex education is important, especially as children begin to explore own bodies; having open discussion leads to willingness to talk and sex education is always given informally, not in school.

Absconders used to run a long way away until they got the farm, eight miles away. If boys abscond, they are returned with the minimum of fuss and, if their reason for absconding was frivolous, they are invited to contribute to petrol costs. Early absconding is not a reason for despair.

Most boys are unable to cope with standard religious practices, so they listen to the schools broadcast voluntarily and have a simple service on Sunday. This probably gets closer to the purpose of religious life than the formal rites.

In Chapter VII The child and the adult world, he stresses the importance of understanding present behaviour in the light of past experience and of the adults dealing with own ‘areas of anxieties’ (Bettelheim, 1950). The psychiatrist acts as a go-between, sometimes seeing boys individually but also drawing attention to staff weaknesses or mistakes.

It is important to break down the ‘us’ and ‘them’ between adults and children so that boys realise that adults can be different. Visitors should not be taken in by an initial friendly welcome or policemen by a willingness to admit things that boys haven’t done.

In Chapter VIII The child and the law, he notes that the boys often feel guilty after their offences. Initially police officers were suspicious of the school but gradually they became more confidant. The main problems were boys saying that they knew they were doing wrong when they didn’t and their statements being unreliable. The boys were generally tense and suspicious when a policeman came. The police gradually accepted the value of restitution, particularly after the Underwood Report (1955) commended it.

There is a need for research into the causes of delinquency because it is not clear what proportion of children are like Shotton Hall children. Children should also have their offences removed from the record after a certain number of years of no offending.

In Chapter IX Backroom work and beyond our fences, he outlines the amount of paperwork they have to do, noting that the children can see their files if they insist but it is generally discouraged. Then there are the visitors and the time needed to plan outings. They provide twice-yearly reports to local authorities.

Discharge planning involves offering work experience, arranging accommodation and making local contacts and then having a farewell party. Often they do not hear from a boy for one to two years until suddenly they return, sometimes with good, sometimes with bad news. Old boys tend to be a good example to existing pupils and sometimes they can support old boys but, apart from a general newsletter to old boys, contact is at the instigation of the boys.

He comments that most of manifestations of maladjustment are unpleasant and so good public relations become important, particularly when dealing with unsympathetic neighbours but also when sympathetic neighbours become ‘too kind’.

In Chapter X A general summing up, Lennhoff argues that they help boys to see adults as human beings by being honest and apologising when they get things wrong. They also help by only setting tasks which are practical and recognising that maladjusted children are still individuals.

Supervision is important but being good at everything is not. Pity is unhelpful but symptoms need to be taken calmly and opportunities created for children to broach subjects. Overall, the first step is relaxation, the second is learning from the group, especially about other boys’ problems and the third is therapy which may take place in interviews or discussions, through making relationships or through accepting responsibility. He also acknowledges the importance of him and his wife being a successful married couple.

In the end  ”‘cure’ … comes about from the interplay of many factors” (p. 180) and strength comes from the belief that they have led some people towards a constructive life.

The book concludes with a number of appendices illustrating various aspects of the work of the school.

Discussion

It is perhaps difficult with hindsight to recognise how radical Lennhoff’s ideas were in the 1950s. Hitherto, pioneers such as Neill, Lyward and Wills had worked largely outside the statutory frameworks and so could be dismissed as ‘one-offs.’ Lennhoff showed that it was possible to work within the 1944 Education Act to provide care and education specifically tailored to children ascertained as maladjusted which was also informed by the most progressive ideas about child care then available.

His central thesis that disturbed children have difficulties giving and receiving affection has been largely supported, though today’s terminology might be that they have ‘anxious-resistant’ or ‘anxious-avoidant’ attachments (Ladd, 2005). He agrees with Bettelheim (1950) and Redl and Wineman (1952) on the importance of activities, though it is not clear whether they would be as important for girls (Konopka, 1966).

His argument that disturbed children do not need many rules and that they were better behaved when that was the case was quite revolutionary. Nearly a decade later Clegg and Megson (1968) were having to demonstrate the benefits of less punitive approaches in ordinary schools. His use of restitution, which he argues children often find harder to cope with than corporal punishment, can be seen as a return to the original concept of compensation to the victim rather than a fine which the state pockets (Strang, 2002). It is unlikely that he knew that his use of a committee of boys to take certain decisions, including punishments, dated back at least a century to Demetz and La colonie agricole (Heywood, 1978).

Though he does not develop these themes in any detail, Lennhoff’s recognition that dealing with disturbed children can be very unpleasant and his argument that staff need support to cope with any frustration caused by the children’s behaviour suggests a realism which is perhaps more constructive than just relying on ‘professionalism’ or professional training. He anticipates Highet (1963) in arguing that staff need to have some creative, artistic or sporting skill; Highet argued that, unless teachers had something from outside their own subject to bring to their pupils, they would be very boring teachers.

Lennhoff’s argument that regression is essential for development has now been discounted and he might have achieved more rapid outcomes had be not been waiting for the boys to demonstrate their regression before he began to intervene more directly. His finding that the older the boy, the longer this takes, may reflect a propensity for some professionals to avoid a residential placement until it is unavoidable and the child’s situation is worse.

He shares with many practitioners a belief in the value of creative activities, though I am unaware of any research which has validated this assumption. However, his arguments for a low-key approach to many problems, including temper tantrums, to which Trieschman et al. (1969) devote an entire chapter, would draw approval from many behaviourists (Sheldon, 1995). His willingness to talk openly and informally about sex and to explore alternative approaches to religious education were unusual at the time. He does not conclude, as Clarke and Clarke (1976) do, that the current environment is the most significant factor in recovery from previous deprivation or disturbance but his argument that any ‘cure’ comes from the interplay of many factors is not inconsistent with their conclusion.

His plea for more research was to be answered in the decade after his book was published and his arguments for removing children’s offences from their records were eventually to be implemented in part. He was a long way ahead of most practitioners in allowing children to see their files, even though he tried to discourage them. His relaxed attitude to follow-up was to be vindicated by Taylor and Alpert (1973) and his recognition of the value of good public relations is something which too few practitioners have recognised.

Lennhoff continued to self-publish a wide range of books drawing on his experiences of working with children at Shotton Hall but, by the 1970s, the theoretical assumptions he had made were no longer widely accepted and some of his ideas about sex, for example, had become old-fashioned. So the extent to which he was a genuinely progressive practitioner, well ahead of his time in many areas and still ahead of some people today, and the lessons which could be drawn from his pragmatic approach have tended to be ignored other than by those who either accepted his assumptions or could see the value of his ideas regardless of their theoretical underpinnings.

References

Aichhorn, A (1925) Verwahrloster Jugend Wien: Internationaler Psychoanalytischer Verlag See also Children Webmag August 2009.

Bettelheim, B (1950) Love is not enough: the treatment of emotionally disturbed children Glencoe IL: Free Press See also Children Webmag August 2009.

Clarke, A M and Clarke, A D B (1976) Studies in natural settings In A M Clarke and A D B Clarke (Eds) Early experience: myth and evidence, Chapter 6, pp. 69-96 London: Open Books

Clegg, A B and Megson, B E (1968) Children in distress Harmondsworth: Penguin See also Children Webmag September 2009.

Committee on Maladjusted Children (1955) Report of the Committee on Maladjusted Children (Chairman, J. E. A. Underwood). London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office

Fees, C (2008, May) Lost bridges and residential therapeutic child care: Howard Jones (1918-2007) and Reluctant Rebels http://www.childrenwebmag.com/articles/child-care-history/lost-bridges-and-residential-therapeutic-child-carehoward-jones-1918-2007-and-reluctant-rebels

Heywood, J S (1978) Children in care: the development of the service for the deprived child (Third ed.) London: Routledge & Kegan Paul

Highet, G A (1963) The art of teaching London: Methuen

Konopka, G (1966) The adolescent girl in conflict Englewood Cliffs NJ: Prentice Hall

Ladd, G W (2005) Children’s peer relations and social competence: a century of progress London: Yale University Press

Redl, F and Wineman, D (1951) Children who hate: the disorganization and breakdown of behavior controls Glencoe ILL: Free Press

Redl, F and Wineman, D (1952) Controls from within: techniques for the treatment of the aggressive child Glencoe ILL: Free Press See also Children Webmag November 2009.

Sheldon, B (1995) Cognitive-behavioural therapy: research, practice and philosophy London: Tavistock

Strang, H (2002) Repair or revenge: victims and restorative justice Oxford: Clarendon Press

Taylor, D and Alpert,  S W (1973) Continuity and support: following residential treatment New York: Child Welfare League of America See Children Webmag March 2009.

Trieschman, A, Whittaker, J and Brendtro, L (1969) The other 23 hours: child care work with emotionally disturbed children in a therapeutic milieu Chicago: Aldine See also Children Webmag November 2009.

Uprooted tells of the children who were shipped off from the UK to Canada, focusing on the years 1867 to 1917, but also telling briefly of the early beginnings and describing the aftermath following the period under study. The current simplistic view is that this practice was awful - painful and damaging for the children, such that people now wonder how philanthropists such as Dr Barnardo could have ever got involved.

As always, such oversimplified views fail to reflect the complexity of the situation - the politics, the relationship between England (the old country) and Canada (the new Dominion), the economic pressures on countries and individuals, the arguments about the acceptability of the practice at the time, the influence of organisations and charismatic individuals, the failures and the successes, the differential approaches to young offenders, Poor Law children and others. Professor Parker’s book is thorough and covers all these angles, such that by the end the reader can build up a much more realistic picture of the issues involved.

It is not a quick read; the arguments and thinking are laid out carefully and they are substantiated with plenty of documentary references and individual examples. If the subject is of interest to you, you will find that this book will tell you all you need to know.

There are fourteen chapters, each broken into an average of five sections on different topics, such as the work of different organisations. As such, the range of material is too great to describe comprehensively in a review, but some tasters may be of help.

Economics

The overwhelming message is that the arguments which carried weight were not philanthropic but economic. Canada needed people to help develop the land, especially when there was the big expansion west, for example into Manitoba. There was concern that it was being peopled by immigrants from continental Europe, and British settlers were wanted. Of course, Canada wanted fit upright people - not unhealthy or disabled people or ne’er-do-wells who relied on the Poor Law. In particular they wanted strong lads who could work on farms and reliable girls who could help out in farm houses. Even in Canada there was the drift to the cities and they needed people to work the land.

From the British point of view, objections to child emigration depended to a large extent on the state of the economy too. When times were hard, there were fewer objections to sending surplus dependent children abroad. When the economy was booming, the girls were needed in domestic service in England, and boys were needed in the burgeoning cities.

Individuals and Organisations

One of the fascinating features of the whole period is the interplay between individuals and organisations. Most of the schemes (and there were 23 in operation at one time) were set up by forceful characters who persuaded and cajoled people at every stage that emigration was a good idea - the children’s parents, the local Poor Law Commissions, the Poor Law Board, donors to pay the fares, Canadian officials to provide transport on arrival, farmers and their wives to accept the children and so on.

Although the basic idea might be simple, making it work was not, and the most successful schemes had the backing of charitable organisations. However, without the drive of the individuals, nothing would have happened. Although the basic intentions of most of these entrepreneurs were good, Roy Parker makes it clear that many of them were prepared to try things on to keep their schemes going, making promises they did not keep, failing to follow up and check, misleading parents, losing sight of the children and, occasionally, probably making money out of the system.

Good Practice …..

A good model of practice appeared to emerge over time though it never seems to have been codified. This entailed obtaining parental permission, training the boys in farming and the girls in household tasks before emigration, having a home in the UK  to gather the prospective emigrants, having a home in Canada from which they could disperse, arranging transport, checking out the placements in advance, siting children where they could be monitored, checking up on their progress at intervals, and returning them to the UK when things did not work out.

….. and Bad Practice

Unfortunately this model was applied in part at best, and a lot of the practice was appalling, particularly in the failure to follow up placements and see how children were getting on. Some of the individuals involved do not come out well, such as the shady W.J. Pady, who eventually lost credibility. More surprisingly Dr Barnardo emerges as manipulative and deceitful, for example outmanoeuvring the children’s parents to get his way and send children abroad contrary to the parents’ wishes.

Frequently children simply disappeared, perhaps leaving an unhappy placement and heading for the city or to the United States. They were, of course, vulnerable to exploitation and abuse. A proportion of the girls became pregnant, and in court their word was generally not accepted against the citizens whom they accused. Frequently the children were underfed, unschooled, expected to work long hours and beaten if they made mistakes or upset the farmer. Without anyone to turn to for support they were vulnerable.

However, it has to be said that it is dangerous to judge their experiences by today’s expectations. Life was hard for many people then, whether in the slums of British cities or on the new farms of Canada. To punish children severely was also acceptable practice to a large section of the population. Life may have been miserable for many of the emigrated children, but it also might have been miserable if they had remained at home.

Outcomes

It is hard to get a balanced picture of the process as a whole. Clearly there was a lot of misery and clearly there were some good experiences. Some returned to the UK; some made good. On balance the evidence comes from those who suffered - who had had bad employers, for example, or who had been told they were orphans when they were not. The system eventually withered.

In drawing together such a range of material (including a lot of fascinating photographs), analysing it and laying it out so lucidly, Professor Parker has provided a book which will be the standard text on the subject.

Parker, Roy (2009) Uprooted: The Shipment of Poor Children to Canada, 1867-1917

Policy Press, Bristol University

ISBN : 978-1-84742-668-0

While the plot is very simple - Paddy Doyle’s life as a child in the ‘care’ of a variety of ‘caring’ services - the graphic directness of the writing makes the book as gripping a read as any thriller. Assuming you have not yet read the book, you will not know the outcome, other than that Paddy Doyle survived his experiences and was able to write it. Unlike Poirot’s cases, there is no neat denouement - just a young person growing up into adulthood with a really mixed bag of childhood memories.

Paddy Doyle was born in 1951 and both his parents died in 1955, his father having committed suicide, an image etched deep in Paddy’s brain as a small child. His uncle could not care for him, and so off he went, not yet old enough for school, to live with a lot of other children, parentless or abandoned by their parents in an Industrial School.

Industrial Schools were set up in the nineteenth century. In England they were changed into Approved Schools in 1933 and into Community Homes with Education in 1969, but in Ireland there was no new child care legislation between the Children Act 1908 when Ireland was under Westminster rule and 2001 when the Republic brought in a sweeping new Children Act. So in Paddy’s day they still had Industrial Schools, many of them run by Catholic Orders.

The picture he paints of the apparently casual cruelty of many of the nuns is grim, but it rings true. It sets questions going too. Did the nuns know that they were being cruel? Did they want to be like that? Or did circumstances put them under pressure? Controlling a large number of stroppy children can be difficult, and Paddy Doyle leaves plenty of clues that he must have been quite a handful at times. How would the nuns have described the events in his book?  Was it the corruption of power over little children that changed them? Was it the effect of repressing so many human urges and the need to appear good? Did they truly believe that a harsh regime would bring the children up on the straight and narrow? Or did the work attract the wrong sort of people?

The story rings true also because Paddy acknowledges the kindness and love shown by quite a number of the people who cared for him, from consultants to unqualified nurses. And some of the cast in the story play walk-on neutral parts. They are not all simply villains or saints.

In reading this book one has to remember the social context at that time. Ireland was a poor country, and few people were well off. If the children had been at home instead of in the Industrial School, they would still have had plain food and got a walloping for their misdeeds. Even allowing for conditions at that time, some of Paddy’s observations are surprising. The children in the Industrial School only used spoons, and he did not know how to use other cutlery. There was no toilet paper either. I cannot speak of Ireland at that time, but in England people were still sticking squares of newspaper on a nail in their outside toilet then, and hard toilet paper was still in use in the 1970s in institutions.

One of the most painful things for Paddy was the lack of information he experienced and the lies which concealed the truth about his predicament or about the decisions which had been made about him. These days there would be the expectation that children should be informed and consulted, but then children were to be largely seen but not heard. They were not involved in decisions and many professionals did not know how to talk to children. Explaining to Paddy about his father’s death would have been beyond the ability of the Industrial School staff.

Paddy Doyle has some lovely cameos, for example of the matron who sweeps in, terrifies staff and patients, makes decisions which must be obeyed, and sweeps out. Society was hierarchical then, but it was the next generation’s decision to get rid of such dragons which led to all the dirty hospital wards from which we are now beginning to recover.

The God Squad was first published in 1988 and it deservedly won the Christy Brown award for Literature. Paddy Doyle has developed quite a career since its publication as a writer, media personality and campaigner. I do not recall its impact at the time, and if any reader could fill out the story I would be interested to hear what effect it had in Ireland. It was many years after publication before the Ryan inquiry was set up, but maybe Paddy Doyle’s story helped to soften up the ground.

The message we need to take away is that of the pain, fear and loneliness which children may experience, even when they appear to be quiet, conforming and amenable. We need to be alert to their real feelings, prepared to listen and confident that their needs can be met with skill and love.

Doyle, Paddy The God Squad

Corgi

ISBN : 0-552-13582-8

Clair Davies has written about work with disturbed children in an educational setting, preparing them for The Long Journey Home.

We have an article about a CLIP project for children leaving care in Bulgaria.

Robert Shaw’s digests of Key Texts both consider aftercare - Elizabeth Reinach’s research about children who left an assessment centre, and Mike Stein’s study of leaving care.

Our Editorial takes a philosophical view of  aftercare.

If you are not a regular reader of Beyond Caring, the story by A.J. Stone, give it a try; it is getting more gripping month by month. Trenchy wrote in asking if it is true and if it is continuing. We can assure Trenchy that it will continue for quite a few months to come. Whether it is true depends on what you mean. It feels true. Whether it is factually true is known to A.J. Stone, but not us.

In the In Residence column this month Keith White writes about the importance of those who are close to us but not blood relatives. If you enjoy Keith’s column, see the advert on the right for Reflections on Living with Children - a hundred of Keith’s columns for a very modest price.

Chris Durkin looks at politics and children. What will the coalition do?

We have a report of an excellent conference which looked at a dozen aspects of children’s records and archives. (The full proceedings are on the Child Care History Network website.)

There are two book reviews: Well-Being from Birth by Dr Rosemary Roberts and How Nurture Protects Children by Jim Rose

Finally, we encourage you to read the latest issue of the e-journal on childcare issues edited by Charles Sharpe - www.goodenoughcaring.com.

There are those gardeners who want instant success - not only the experts who put together gardens for Chelsea Flower Show in a few days and make them look as if they’ve been there years. Sir William Beckford was a nineteenth century magnate who was into instant gardening. He walked round his grounds and told his head gardener what he wanted - a shrub or flower bed here or a tree or path there - and by the next morning he expected the job to be completed; his staff slaved through the night. In our view child care is not like that.

Capability Brown was the model gardener for child care workers. He envisaged the way that things might be after he had gone, when the trees had matured and formed avenues or decorative groupings round the lake. Child care workers are giving children opportunities to shape their lives and to carry on maturing after the child care workers have passed on.

We have quoted Robbie Kydd before in his opinion that residential child care is about creating futures for children. Of course the present is important. We have to deal with current problems. We want children to enjoy their childhood. But we need to see the present in terms of the past and the future. We have to understand and come to terms with the past, but the future is there to be moulded. We need to give children hopes and aspirations, and the means to achieve them. We need to ensure that what we are doing in the present is serving the long-term future for children.

Which is why aftercare is so important, as it leads children and young people on to the next stages of their “long journey”, to borrow Clair Davies’s title. Instant gardens at the Chelsea Flower Show make for good television, but it is Capability Brown’s landscapes that last.

I look at my drawing, the miniature red house with green windows is consumed beneath a vast roof.  You can see through the roof into the loft - see the bed, the pile of money and the train track.

“Tell me about your drawing,” Rebecca says.

I’ve drawn the bed from the side but the train track from above making a muddle of the loft.

“There’s no door,” she says.

“Oh.”  She’s right, I haven’t given the house a door.

“And what is behind these windows below the roof?”

“I don’t know … Bedrooms, bathrooms, normal stuff that’s in a house.”

I walk away to the art therapy room window; I feel the cold coming off the glass as I pull back the net curtain.  I wonder who’s out there, looking in.  Which tree does the dosser hide behind?

I see a strange transit van parked by the back steps.  Suddenly I hear screaming and then some adults are dragging a wild form to the van.  A back arches, the hood of a fleece hangs down, a howling jaw pleads up to the sky.  It’s Andrew.

“Quick, Rebecca, look.”

“Oh god, come away, Aaron, come away.”

I see how the doors of the transit van open, how they bundle Andrew inside, how they slam the doors closed behind him.  I think I see the whole van vibrating with the rage of Andrew inside.

“Please come away, Aaron!”

A strange man gets into the driver’s seat, the engine starts and they’re off.  Adults stand staring after the tracks of the van - they don’t run after it; they don’t wave.

“Is that the end of Andrew?” I ask Rebecca.

“He’s gone somewhere better suited to his particular needs.”

Taken away, locked up.  The adults outside slowly walk towards Templewood; one shakes his head, the other just stares ahead.  I turn back into the room and come over to the table.

“He hurt me,” the words whisper out of me.

“What’s that, Aaron?”

“I didn’t do enough to stop him; I never do enough.”

“Didn’t stop what?”

“Andrew came at me; he was on my zip.”

“When you ran off … What happened Aaron?”

“I fought him.”

“And then what? … He was on your zip; did he undo it? … Is that what he was trying to do?”

I shrug.

“Please, Aaron, tell me.”

“I don’t know; nothing more happened.  I ripped his shirt; I didn’t mean to.”

“What else can you tell me, Aaron?”

“There’s nothing more to say.”

“Aaron, what you say to me is of importance for me to share with Derek and Jean.”

“Just don’t let them ask me any more questions.”

I walk back to the drawing of my house; I see the green of the house jarring against the red windows.  I dip the brush into the black paint and draw streaks of heavy rain lashing across the house.

I’m sat in my room, alone, awake, when it suddenly comes to me.  In that roof of my drawing, in with the train set and the bed, there should be a toilet and a bath filled with bubbles.  HE poured a gold liquid from a bottle into the running water.

‘Play trains,’ I was begging him with my eyes.  ‘Not a bath.  Please.  Me be good.’  HE makes me undress.  He locks the bathroom door.  I quickly get into the bath to hide my bare flesh beneath a hill of bubbles.  The heat of the water is a stinging, dizzying pain.  I breathe in the smell of sickly sweet bubble bath along with piss and his smell of sweat and lemons.   Mum’s out; I need her to come back.  His finger touches my nose.  I see some old tangled hair riding on the bubbles.  My nose itches from his wet touch.  I stare at the spots of dirt that cover the ceiling.  I’m totally still.

‘Father Christmas beard,’ he says putting some bubbles on my chin.

The bubbles pop and crackle then slip away.

‘Clap some snow,’ he says throwing foam into the air and watching it fall.  ‘Dada’s here.’

No, not my daddy.  Daddy’s long gone.  His giant hands touch me; they’re so big he can toss me in the air or throw me down.  His boots could stamp me out.

‘You’ve got the cutest nose … Relax, don’t be scared; I’ll look after you.’

My breathing’s too fast - gasping in, pushing out.  He washes me - my ears, behind my ears, my arms.

‘I couldn’t have dreamed up a better boy than you.’

His blue eyes try to find mine.  He reaches round to my back.

‘Close your eyes; melt into the heat my little prince.’

 His arms travel around my chest, my belly.  Arms plunge down across my belly button; my insides shrink back then harden.

 ‘My precious boy, I’m here to care for you.’

I sink down but he lifts me out and wraps me tight in an orange towel.  He puts me down on the unmade bed, tugs the towel away from me.  The bath’s weakened me, but now I have to take my chance; I grab the towel and try to cover my nakedness as I dodge past him to the door.  I’ve got to get through that door.

He is the wall that blocks me.  I bounce off him to the window; my fists pound on glass.  I’m pulled away, punched down, kicked, thrown back onto the bed.

‘You want to break the fucking window and get us into trouble?’

Blood falls down from my lip.

‘For fuck’s sake stop bleeding!’

He shoves tissues into my mouth.

‘Now shut up and lie back down.’  His hand whacks against my head.  ‘Shall I tell your mom about the trouble you’ve been?  Well shall I?  Who’ll look after you then?  You ungrateful son of a bitch … That’s it, calm again, now my little prince …’

I have to speak to mum.  Every time I saw Derek I told him this and finally now I’m stood holding a phone.  Derek dialled her number and then left the room.  I told him that if I’m allowed to be alone with mum on a visit then I can have the same on a ‘phone call and he didn’t argue against me.  Two rings while my heart beats a hundred times.  A laugh, a fumble.

“Mum?”

“Who is it?”

“Mum, it’s Aaron.”

“Do I know you?”  Mum laughs a strange laugh; it speaks of her being in a sliding world.

“Mum!  It’s me, Aaron.”

“I had a son once called Aaron.”

“For fuck’s sake, mum!”

“Don’t shout; don’t get excited over nothing.”

“Listen, mum, please listen; I’ve worked it out.”

“What now?”

“Mum that giant with blue eyes … he lived in the loft.”

“The loft?” she laughs again.  “The whole fucking house was his!”

“So you do know who I mean.”

“No … Look, I’ve got a headache; this isn’t a good time to speak.”

“Please, mum, I won’t be allowed to ring you again for ages.  If you love me mum, then help me; I need you … Mum, there’s something about that man.”

“There’s lots about him.”

“Mum, please don’t be cross.”

“You what?”

“I don’t really know, mum.  Who was he?”"

“Who?”

“The man.  You said it was his house.”

“Do you mean that Stevie?”

And while mum’s giggling, I’m thinking - Stevie?  Stevie, has she named my monster?

“Yes, I think Stevie has blue eyes.”

“And dark hair?”

“… Yes.  We lived in his old house until …” she pauses.  “… He looked after you, he was like a dad to you - he played with you, he read you stories.  He kept the days moving.  He brought you stuff, he built up a whole train set just for you.”

A train set!

“He’d play trains with you for hours; you loved playing trains.”

And the more we played the more time there was to feel afraid.  Waiting for what would come next, jumping at his every move, not knowing if today would be marked by lack of pain.

“Is that who you mean?”

“He hurt me.”

“I’m telling you; that Templewood is doing you no good.”

“Mum, listen to me; you don’t know how it was.  He ate me up and spat me back up.”

“Ate you up!  That’s a joke I hope.”

“You were blind, mum, and I kept what happened from you.”

“You think you can keep things from a mum?!  You have no secrets from me.”

No, she can’t know.  She would have never left me with him if she knew.

“You were obsessed by Stevie, you followed him around …”

“He did bad things to me.”

“Stop complaining … Oh my poor Aaronee, you’re not talking about the time you needed your hormones moving around are you?  I think you’re getting yourself in a muddle over nothing.”

Hormones?  I don’t know what she’s saying.

“Listen, Stevie helped you.  He’s an intelligent man.  You got better when we lived in that house with him; you quietened down.  I had a proper house then.”

“A house?”

“Yes, he let us live with him.”

“Did you trade me for a house?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“We lived there so you could have a house?”

“Think, Aaron, you’ve got to think it out.  Did you want you and Lee to grow up without a house?  I even had my own bedroom there, separate from you and Lee.”

“I’d rather have been on the streets than there.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Stevie … He made my work safer.  We had food and money for clothes and toys.  Stevie … he used to make me feel okay, sort of special.”

“Stop using his name!”

“Stevie … yes, you liked him.  Don’t go getting all confused.”

“Mum, do you … do you still see him?”

In mum’s silence I know the truth.  She sees him; he’s still about.  He is the monster in me, the danger that lurks.

“Why the fuck do you keep the man who stopped my life as your friend?”

“Friend?  Oh Aaron, you don’t understand a fucking thing.  Now be a good boy and as for the past, I say, fuck it.  Fuck the past; it’s another time.  Going over stuff does no good.”

As soon as I’ve hung up on mum I regret it.  I go to find Derek and ask him to re-dial her number.  Her mobile doesn’t work at first but when Derek finally tries one more time it just rings and rings and then the line goes dead.

Rebecca makes me an egg for tea.  It’s in a red cup with a row of buttered soldiers.  I tap on the shell and push in my spoon.  A slimy gunge oozes out then stretches down the side of the egg.  I stare at it, unable to move or breathe.  I don’t eat it but I feel it as elastic strangling around my throat.  I sense a taste in my mouth of chewing on a balloon and of bleach and soap.

Alone in my room, I slam my head into my wall - once, twice, three times.  It comes to me now.

HE pushes me down on my front, pulls off the orange towel that twists around me.  He growls.  His heat lurks over me and that smell of sweat and lemons.  Wetness licks up my back, trails around my neck.  Claws and teeth pierce into me.  A weight presses on my legs, something digs into me.  I try to free my hands but they’re jammed up under me.

‘Lie still, my little prince.’

A jolt and his truncheon slams into my bottom, hitting against layers of bruising and stinging raw flesh.  My scream is just a broken gurgle against the pillow he pushes me into.  He hits again against the barrier of my shit-hole.  I fight him, but know it’s useless and makes things worse.  Something falls and china smashes; he curses.

Does he know how much I hurt?

‘Lie still!’

His heavy breath fills the room.  My longing for mum screams silently through me.  His truncheon is a drill hammering into me.  Hands force my buttocks open.  I’m trapped between the bed and his bulk.  He lifts away from me then pushes on through me again and again.  Where is mum?  All that exists is him slamming into me.  Swirls of red streak through my darkness.  I’m crashed on, crushed, minced.  I want to die.

‘Oh fuck, oh my god …’  he’s yelping, howling - he’s screaming out my pain.

 He reaches into me, scoops out my life.  He falls away; he’s shattered every grain in my body.

 ‘My little prince, you are the best; I love you.  You know someone’s got to help you and I’m here for you.’

Yes, it comes to me now.

How the other came.  Fat faces, red faces, sweaty faces.  Unseen faces.  Deep grunts, low sobs.  Shouting.  Silent.  So much gunge spilling everywhere.  White poo.  Disgusting … the dirt, the smell.  It fell on me; it covered me.  It filled my throat; I retched on the strangling taste of raw eggs and snot.

I search through my drawers; I find a pencil but its end just prods into the surface of my skin leaving a grey mark.  Chess piece - no.  Money - no.  I have to find something.  Thick, hot blood pumps through my head.  The light bulb - unscrew the light, smash the bulb gently without sound.  I stab a fragment of glass into my arm but it only makes a pathetic pinprick.  I try again but the fucking thing isn’t sharp enough.  I feel no pain; I’m getting nowhere.  I see the sharp edges of torn glass left on the bulb’s base.  I plunge my arm down onto it.  Nothing, only red marks.  I smash my arm back down much faster and harder and as I pull back a chunk of glass stays stuck into me.  I swivel the glass around, digging deeper and wider into my arm.  Now blood finally starts to come.  I tug on the glass to pull it up my skin, it cuts a neat line.  ‘Stevie’, ‘Stevie’ the name pushes around me.  Get me away from here.  ‘Stevie’, I can’t breathe under the name.

I’ve got to tear open more skin.  I find a larger piece of glass and now I’m unzipping my skin, a ripping that’s suddenly so easy.  My arm spills out in a bright red.  A pain so deep, so alive, so good.  A pressure releases.  Blood drips onto the bed; my arm starts shaking.  My walls swerve and lean in on me.  I’m lightening, becoming space and emptiness.  This is what I need.  I can breathe again.  I’m beginning to drift, such a sweetness floating me away.

I can make out the figures of Rebecca and Kate in the distance.  Rebecca’s arm touches me but it makes no sense because she’s standing far away.  Voices speak out through the fog around me.

“We obviously need to keep a close eye on him,” Kate says.  “The bleeding’s stopped; he’s going to be all right.  Stay with him and we can get the doctor in if we need to but I don’t think Aaron would appreciate a long wait in casualty right now.”

Bandages strapping around my arm start to pull me back into myself again, I try to push them off but lack the strength.

“Rebecca, I need some medicine, something, anything.  Make me better.”

“Tell me of your hurt.”

No!  I spoke up once to just one teacher in one school, and HE was right - those few slipped words tore my world apart.  Words lost me mum.  Words don’t even make sense of anything.

“Tell me, Aaron.”

“Help me; please give me medicine.”

“Aaron, there is no medicine for the pain of living and of remembering.”

“Do something.”

She clasps around me.

“I’m going crazy.”

“I’ve got you; I’ve got you.”

I lie in bed listening to the sounds of everyone else getting up and moving about.  I look at the bandages on my wrists.  My aching holds me heavy in bed.  I hear Liam calling out, wanting his body spray from the locked cupboard and now, like every morning, some adult tells him not to shout.  It’s the same thing in this house day after day.  Get dressed, comb your hair, brush your teeth - don’t forget to wash your face, say good morning … No, don’t mess up … Go downstairs quietly.  Breakfast, wash your dishes, get your book bag, wait in the lounge, go to school.  They have us marching along.  Like any of it matters.  I won’t play along any more; I’m not even going to get up.

Time drifts; the meals put down in my room and then taken away uneaten begin to define the day passing.  I doze in and out of sleep and always pretend to be asleep if I’m awake when my door is opened.  Some adults are quiet, some try talking to my still form.  Rebecca often just sits there beside me; sometimes she lays her hand on me; one time she wiped over my face with a cool flannel.  Once I woke and she was holding my hand.

I feel the banana milkshake HE’s forced me to drink pass through me and I can’t help a yawn.  As he reads ‘Mr Tickle’, a mistiness travels through my head.  He lifts me onto the bed; my arms ache with weakness; they can’t begin to fight him now.  I want mum.

I’m being swallowed up in the softness of a bed.  I’m lying back into a cloud, such a soft cloud.  So warm.  I’m swimming though air.  There is a hum of voices.  Where am I?  The cotton wool of my cloud cloaks around me and fogs my hearing.

A large hand reaches through my cloud.  It pops the cloud.  Suddenly I’m cold and naked.  I try to move but the command from my mind can’t reach my legs to make them work.  I have no legs.  I have no arms, no head.  My eyes are looking out of a nothingness.

No, I have a bottom.  I can feel it as pain.  I have a back; I can feel the weight on it.  I have a mouth but can’t scream out; it’s strained open, filled to choking.  There are swirls of people around me.  So many men.  Grunting beasts.  Shots of torture rip me apart.

I’m so weak and dizzy.  There’s no edge between me and the space around me.  I feel sick.  The bed’s a fluorescent yellow.  Men’s eyes look inside me; even the boy in the picture on the wall turns to look in on me.  Coins shower down.  Butterflies of paper money.  Buckets full of sweets.

I feel so ill.  Sleep, I’ve got to fall asleep.  I can’t keep my eyes open.

Rebecca opens my curtains and I feel the stinging brightness of day through my eyelids.  I’d started to fight HIM but that stopped once he began to give me milkshakes. Banana milkshake used to be my favourite drink, then somehow it started to make me so ill.  It brought on a faintness that was way beyond normal tiredness.

Rebecca strips the duvet off my chest, I pull it back over me.  She ruffles my hair and her hand catches on a knot; it’s a lively streak of pain that’s soon lost inside my heavy head.

“Come on, Aaron, I want you to get dressed today and then we’ll have a nice time.”

I don’t move from my bed.

“Do you need the toilet?”

Do I?  My body’s dried out and a stale thirst coats my mouth.

“Look, I’m going to stand outside your door and I want to hear you getting up and dressed.”

After Rebecca goes out, I pull the duvet over my head.  When she returns, she rocks the bundle of duvet with me inside.

“Sit up,” she whispers.

She pulls my arms from my pyjama top and then slips it off.  She guides my arms into a shirt.  She stands me up, hands me trousers and tells me to put them on while she waits outside.  She comes back to comb my hair and slide my feet into socks and shoes.  She leads me from my room.  I flatten myself against the wall as Shelby rushes past.  She guides me downstairs.  I sip some orange juice and turn it around in my mouth; it stings my cheeks.

“So, Aaron, what would you like to do today?” Rebecca asks.

“I’ll just sleep a bit more.”

“We could go swimming or to the cinema.  I could even take you down to the fair at the coast.”

“Not really,” I yawn.

“Remember from holiday last year when you went on the waltzers and the dodgems?  You’ll enjoy it once we get there.”

“What’s so great about the dodgems?  People knock into you, that shakes you up and then they laugh.”

“Aaron …”

“And with the waltzers I’ll just get spun and thrown around until I feel even more sick and dizzy.”

“There must be something you’d like to do.”

“No.”

Some girls go off to town with Kate for haircuts; Ben’s taking Liam to his football club.  The house goes quiet as everyone heads out.  Rebecca puts on a video and sits beside me to watch it.  After a few minutes, I ask her if I can go back to bed.

“Nothing you want to do?”

“No.”

“Let’s have a snack together first and then see if you still want a rest afterwards.”

Only after I won’t eat anything does Rebecca give up on me and I get to go back to bed.

At tea-time, Rebecca’s made a cake.  It’s covered in chocolate buttons and the soft icing drips down from the top.  Shelby claps his hands and jumps around.  I put my mouth around a bite of cake; everyone else says how good it tastes.  The whole cake’s gone in minutes; just the rest of my slice remains.

I put a spoonful of cereal in my mouth.  Voices talk around me.  Swallow, drink my juice.

“Aaron,” Rebecca’s voice is sharp.

I look up.

“Well are you going to answer Shelby?”

“Sorry what?”

I’m fine, I’m going to be fine.  I can make it back into school today.  Leave the table, take my bowl and cup.  Tip my leftover cereal into the bin.  Rebecca puts my book bag into my hand and takes me over to school.  I stand at the door of a class and stare in at noise and movement.

“Good to have you back, Aaron.”

A man’s voice, John.  I stare at him as he talks from the front; everyone else laughs with him and then settles down to quiet work.  I open my book.  I need the toilet; I get up and shuffle along one side of the classroom.  I stop by the window and look out at a boy running past.

“Back to your table, Aaron … Aaron!”

“Sorry, what?”

“Back to your table.”

What did I get up for?  I pick up a sharpener and put it in the box where it belongs then go and sit back down.  I look over at a girl sat near me to see what I should be doing.

“You dope head,” she laughs.

Suddenly something smashes through the window; people start screaming and jumping about.  I stay sitting still.  Someone prods me in the back but I ignore it.  John’s smoothing the waves of excitement around me.

I remember it was the toilet that I needed.  I clear people apart as I push through them searching for the toilets.  A green chipped door means I’m there.  I go in, lock the door and stand in the locked aloneness.

When I go back to class, John’s got everyone back to work.  The crack in the window is blocked by the large atlas.  John asks me if I want to go on the computer; I sit down with him beside me.  I look around the class; everyone’s getting on with their work.  John could have had me in the boiler room.  I’ve thought of him and felt no panic.  I look at him.  I see his blue eyes, his dark hair - so like HIM.  But, no, John is not HIM.  John is not my past or the looming danger of my present.  I breathe in, put my hands on the keyboard and start to do what John tells me.

The next chapter will appear in next month’s issue.

We are successful with the majority of our children. However, there is a small minority who can not return home, usually because their families would not cope and get them to school. Our third home, Willow Bank, supports these children through their teenage years and Appletree’s Next Steps Education ensures they receive an individually tailored curriculum both with us and in the community.

We would like to share the stories of our recent leavers, known here as Spencer, Susan, Daisy and Carl.

The First Step

Spencer was referred to Appletree when his specialist foster placement broke down. He was seven years old and court proceedings were in process for him to become Looked After.  His parents were being investigated for sexual, emotional and physical abuse of him and his sister who was six years old.  They had initially been placed in foster care together but Spencer was moved following sexualised behaviour between the siblings. His specialist foster placement broke down as his wish to be around his foster mother and exclude his foster father was jeopardising their relationship.  At the same time he was excluded from his Pupil Referral Unit for violent behaviour.  He was described as severely under-achieving in school with possible moderate learning difficulties.

The Second Step

Spencer was referred to us as we had already made significant progress with another child from his authority.  They particularly liked the fact that we do not have children older than twelve years, so our children are free to enjoy the play they have missed out on without the influence of much older young people.  Spencer was considered by our admissions panel which includes the Principal, Head Teacher, Senior Care Manager, Registered Manager and Clinical Psychologist.  As we do not exclude children and aim to work with them over the years to return to families and day school, it was vital that we make the right decision for Spencer and for the other children we currently had placed with us.  It was a unanimous decision.  Spencer was coming to stay.

The Third Step

We invited Spencer and his Social Worker to visit.  We had decided that he would best be placed in our Fell House Children’s Home and School as this specialises in vulnerable children in need of an extremely nurturing environment.  We already knew which bedroom he would have, which classroom he would be in and who would act as his key worker.  We wanted to ask him how he would like his bedroom decorated and what he would like for his first tea.  He wanted trains in his room and spaghetti bolognaise.

The Fourth Step

Spencer joined us at Fell House and initially it was as if we were dealing with a “model” of a child.  He showed no spontaneous emotion of any kind.  He was entirely guarded, polite and “masked” from our view.  He refused to do any school work but was not disruptive.  We commenced our assessment and our clinical psychologist offered consultation to the care and teaching teams for Spencer.  This consultation continued throughout his stay and is now offered for all children.  We drew up an Individual Programme for Spencer with targets in Health, Social Skills, Home and Family, Anti-social behaviour, Education and Psychological Growth.  The assessment and targets were discussed and agreed with Spencer, his parents who had supervised contact and his social worker.

The Fifth Step

Spencer and his sister were awarded a Full Care Order.  Her plan was to be adopted by her foster carers, his to remain with us.  There was to be direct contact twice a year.  Spencer’s parents were not to have direct contact with his sister but could have supervised contact with him.  They decided they would not have contact with Spencer as it would be “too hard”.  Spencer could have monthly supervised contact with his maternal grandmother and this continued throughout his time with us.

To the Nine Hundred & Ninety Ninth Step

Over the next three years Spencer continued his journey.  There were times when for months he would have rage-filled outbursts which he could not control.  He hurt team members and other children.  It was a memorable moment when one of these rages ended in tears and Spencer allowed himself to be comforted.

Later in his journey he wanted to sexually touch female team members, particularly one whom he cared about.  Love for Spencer was associated with hurt and sex. Our Clinical Psychologist helped our teams to respond therapeutically to Spencer and to process their own feelings when he touched or hurt them.

Spencer engaged in play therapy which we contract from the NSPCC.  His therapist held regular meetings with the Fell House team to feed back themes.  Gradually Spencer allowed us to parent him.  Appletree has been described as ‘giving the best possible parenting until a child is ready for the best possible parents’.  Spencer made friends with the other children and then with other children in the area.  He loved cadets and looked so smart in his uniform.  He enjoyed the challenge of rock-climbing.  He began to risk doing some schoolwork, although initially much was quickly destroyed once done.  Slowly he started to learn, then learn quickly and finally enjoy himself.  His crowning moment came when he starred in a Christmas production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory which he had written.

The Hardest Step

Spencer was now ready to leave us and live with forever foster carers.  He was excited but scared.  Predictably his anxiety resulted in a regression.  How could we love him and still let him go?  He waited at the window to meet his foster carers for the first time.  He ran up the drive to meet them.  “Can I call you Mum and Dad?” were his first words to them.

Spencer left us in the summer of 2005.  He is still with his foster carers and attending a day Moderate Learning Difficulties school.  His journey is typical of the children we help.  Over the last four years 75% of our leavers have joined families and day schools.  Of those children 90% are still with the same families. The cost of all of Appletree’s services is little more than the average cost of a local authority children’s home.  The cost if Spencer had not been helped back onto normal paths is incalculable.

Susan’s Story

Susan and her three younger siblings were taken into care when she was six after serious concerns of sexual, emotional and physical abuse from their parents and extended family.  Her two youngest siblings were adopted together and her younger sister was fostered by her mother’s sister.  Susan spent time in foster care and a children’s home but her soiling, sexualised behaviour and language, violence and complete lack of understanding of social cues and interactions meant that nobody felt they could cope with her.

Susan was seven years’ old when she was referred to us and after careful consideration and liaison with her social worker and Special Educational Needs officer we offered her a place at Appletree.

When we met her she was a little girl who appeared to have been failed to be given the care, love and consistency which a baby needs to begin to gain a sense of themselves, that they are valued, that their needs can be recognised and met.  We were going to have to give her this intensive experience and she would find it very hard to accept.

Over the next two years Susan slowly began to respond to the patient and consistent care she received.  Signs of improvement were small but so significant.  She finally kept a soft toy on her bed without defiling, destroying or throwing it from her window.  She allowed her teacher to praise her work without ruining the moment with lewd behaviour or violence.  She managed ten minutes playing football, which she loved, with other children and without some conflict leading her to storm off or become violent.

Susan also began to engage in play therapy.  There were many disturbing themes in her play and her therapy and gradually Susan became able to give them a voice.  She disclosed the things she had suffered and, along with her sisters’ evidence, this was sufficient for her abuser to be imprisoned.

She still had many struggles to overcome her loss of family.  Susan was however one of the most vibrant and spirited children I have ever known.  As she began to find a sense of herself she developed an amazing sense of humour and she was often now heard laughing and entertaining others.  She began to have some respite with her sister and Aunty. It was difficult and Susan had to accept that they could not look after her all the time but she was able to have fun with (and argue with) her sister.

After three years Susan was able to make friends in our village and attend the village primary school for a limited time each week.  We worked with her authority to identify appropriate foster carers for her and then carefully planned a transition over many months.  When Susan was ready to leave the primary school her classmates gave her a party and presents.  She could not stop smiling and laughing and hugging everyone at Appletree and when the tearful goodbyes came they were heartfelt.

At the time of writing this Susan has been with foster carers and mainstream school for two years.  She visits during the Summer holidays and it is wonderful to see her.  She is still loud and lovely and the corridors again resounded with her cheeky laughter.

Daisy’s Story    Joined : April 2007     Left : July 2010

Daisy and her elder sister Poppy were neglected and abused from birth. They witnessed extreme domestic violence and drug abuse. When Daisy was six and a half years old and her sister eight they were placed with foster carers. Daisy’s sexualised behaviour and extreme violence were very difficult for the carers to manage and after two years she was referred to Fell House. This is our extremely nurturing home and small school which specialises in helping children who have missed out on vital early years’ experiences of feeling safe and loved.

When she joined Fell House Daisy was having difficulty verbalising her needs and was unable to control her feelings. She was showing inappropriate sexual awareness and there were gaps in her emotional development. Her ability to learn in school had been severely limited by her life experiences and her additional learning difficulties.

After 3 years at Fell House

• Daisy has made strong positive attachments with adults at Fell House.
• Daisy’s foster carers now feel able to cope and want her to live with them permanently.
• Daisy has a loving and caring relationship with her sister.
• Daisy has made good friends with some Fell House children and also has a good friend near her foster carers.
• Daisy has engaged in individual therapy, contracted from the NSPCC and made great progress including making sense of her sexual muddles.
• Daisy’s maths levels have increased from P8 to Level 1A, her speaking and listening from P8 to Level 1A, reading from P8 to Level 1B and writing from P8 to Level 1C.
• Daisy’s vocabulary knowledge has gone from 5th to 25th centile.
• Daisy’s ability to understand spoken sentences has gone from 1st to 10th centile and she is assessed as having gained the ability to analyse, explain, reason and reflect.

Carl’s Story    Joined : April 2008           Left : April 2010

Carl and his younger brother were born into a family in which there was domestic violence and substance misuse.  Their father left when Carl was two and had no further contact with him.  Carl’s mother went on to have his half-sister with another partner who also left but maintained contact.

As Carl grew up he began to have very violent outbursts, particularly towards his younger brother but also others.  He also had sexualised behaviour towards his half-sister which very much shocked and upset his mother.  Carl was referred to Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service and given a diagnosis of ‘unsocialised conduct disorder’. He was prescribed medication for this.  He was referred for art therapy but his violent outbursts in therapy and school led to him being excluded from both.

Carl was referred to us by his local education authority and after talking with professionals, reading reports and a visit from Carl and his mother, he was admitted to Appletree when he was 8 years old.

Joining Appletree

When we met Carl he appeared to feel worthless, had no empathy for himself and unconsciously he tried to ensure that others had no empathy for him too.  He behaved well but seemed to be suppressing his emotional responses.  It is likely he developed this strategy as an infant when his needs were not responded to or were met with anger or rejection.

Our Work with Carl

We needed to help Carl to express his emotions and realise that they could be contained and responded to by the adults around him.  This would take some time and our first task was to begin to build relationships which could then be used to increase his self esteem.

Carl was very academically able and during his very compliant stage did incredibly well in school.  This led to lots of recognition of his achievements on an hourly, daily, weekly and even termly basis.  Carl still holds the record for getting the most ‘Star of the Term’ Awards of any pupil.

Slowly the praise and positive regard helped Carl to trust us and himself enough to express some of his anger, anxiety and sadness.  We were able to acknowledge his emotions and also help him to realise that he can make mistakes without catastrophic consequences.  He engaged in weekly therapy where he explored these themes through play and his therapist consulted with the teams to help them to support his progress.

Things were going well at Appletree but there were still difficulties, particularly with his siblings at home.  Eventually his mother was able to acknowledge that although she loved Carl, she could not manage him at home.  This was hard for Carl as he loved his Mum and yearned for her.  We supported him to understand that she would always be important in his life.  We then needed to work with the professionals in his home area to identify a foster placement and support Carl’s transition

Carl’s Transition

A male carer was identified and he and Carl ‘clicked’ straight away.  Since the carer lived close to his Mum, Carl would be able to see her more and excitedly spoke about popping in to see her after school before going ‘home’.

We had been working hard with Carl to increase his ability to manage within the community.  He had been helped to get to the stage where he could walk to the swimming pool or local shops on his own and manage with groups of children without becoming violent.  We referred him for reassessment of his diagnosis and the conduct disorder was no longer evident.

Carl gradually built up time with his foster carer and was able, almost exactly two years after joining us, to go to live with him permanently.

Leaving Appletree

I spent time with him the day before he left and was able to share with him my feelings of fondness for him and sadness that I would miss him.  I was so pleased that he was able to have a hug and a cry before he left, a totally changed child from the emotionally closed and frightened one who had come to us.

Based on CLIP PROJECT BULGARIA

(Care Leavers Integration Programme)

Index

Introduction

A brief description of CLIP’s objectives

A. An individual and personalised approach for each “out-of-home” child

          A1. Working with the individual approach

• Defining the objectives of each “out-of-home” stay, always bearing in mind the best interest of the child.
• The importance of the individual reference person (a qualitative relationship with each child)
• The work on the child’s resilience, resources and intrinsic competencies.
• The importance of the child’s participation to define its needs, options and perspectives for the future
• Recreating the links with the child’s family whenever possible.
• Creating an external social network for each child

          A2. The professionals’ values and attitude when performing the individual approach

• The importance of respecting the child as a full individual with its own history and will.
• The importance of “Tender Loving Care”, especially for children living in institution: the Erikson’s “life cycle”
• Creating a balance between collectivity and and individuality.

A3. The Individual approach and the children’s living conditions. The Protected Living Spaces and the Half-Way Apartment as key to a progressive autonomisation.

• Protected Living Spaces (PLS)
• Half-Way Apartments (HWA)
• The importance of respecting each child’s intimacy

B. The creation of a favourable environment: the necessary conditions for an effective work.

          B2. At social and political level

• The collaboration with the institutions at municipal level
• The Operational groups
• Sensitisation and trainings
• The promotion of decent working conditions for the professionals working with children
• The creation of the CSRI: promoting a multidisciplinary approach.

Preamble

Social and vocational integration of young people leaving residential care

In many countries of the former Soviet block, tens of thousands of children without parental care are still living in social institutions in poor conditions. They are the innocent victims of a hideous social system inherited from the past and are at the same time the future of their countries. The life of these children has been harsh not only because of the lack of essentials (food, clothes, medical care etc…) but also because they didn’t have the chance to rely on someone caring for them and interested in their fate. Once they reach the age of 18 years old they are sent away from their “home” without support, place of life or real prospect to integrate the labour market or the studies. As a result, many of them end up caught in criminal activities or living on the verge of the society. These wasted lives represent a shame for the country they are living in as well as a social and economic burden.

How is it possible to create a positive future for children with a heavy past?

ISS had the opportunity to run a four year programme (CLIP) in Bulgaria aiming to prepare and support the social and professional integration of the young people raised in social institutions and about to leave them. By publicizing these guidelines we would like to share our experience and the lessons we have learned. Even though our programme had some material components, the main work and achievement was the change of attitude from the society’s actors towards these young people.

We started from the needs expressed by the young people themselves and built progressively a model based on three main pillars:

• the individual care of young people and the development of their personal skills
• the development of trust relationships
• the development of genuine prospects for their future.

The model of action developed by the project constantly refers to the individual approach towards the child and insists on her/his resources rather than on her/his deficiencies. This approach must be adopted not only by professionals but also by the whole society. Indeed, integration cannot be delegated to a single institution but is the responsibility of the community.

The methodology developed in the frame of the programme is intended for capacity building of the young people themselves as well as of the child care workers. Such methodology shouldn’t be applied as such. It’s not a technic or a magic recipe, but it’s more an adaptive tool aiming to change attitudes for a bigger respect of the child.

Rolf Widmer and Olivier Geissler

Director and coordinator of the CLIP programme

Introduction

Based on CLIP capitalisation report, those summarised guidelines are elaborated specifically on CLIP principle of action, values and methodology. They are destined to provide the professionals with a brief “reminder”, hopefully to help them in their day-to-day work.

The main questions addressed by those guidelines are:

• How is it possible to create a positive future with/for a child who has had a heavy past?
• What are the main care-leavers needs and how is it possible to meet them? How is it possible to palliate the lack of family care for the children living in institutions?
• How should an “out-of-home” child be progressively prepared to autonomy?

CLIP project (2003 -2007) aimed at working with children during the crucial phase of their existence - since 15 years old to maximum 20 - when they are about to leave residential care (institutions). The children living in institutions in Bulgaria have to leave when they reach the age of 18[1], whether they are prepared or not. Therefore, the final objective of the project was to progressively prepare them to become truly and durably independent.

In order to do that, and overcome the risks of an unprepared and brutal leaving for those children, the projet intended to work three main topics:

• The LIVING CONDITIONS and PLACES were the children live (as proper tools to prepare them to independence)
• The SOCIAL integration of children
• The PROFESSIONNAL integration of children

A. An individual and personalised approach for the “out-of-home” children

A1. Working with the Individual Approach