The Children's Advocacy Center of Jackson County

Tag: Louisiana

  • Thirty Stories from Thirty Years: Story Number 3

    Thirty Stories from Thirty Years: Story Number 3

    30 Stories in 30 Years. A Career in Child Protection. Blog.

    By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County.

    This is story #3 in Tammi Pitzen’s series of 30 stories from her 30 years working in child welfare.

    You can read all the stories here.

    Change Can Build Resiliency

    Right about now we could all use a little more resiliency with COVID-19 stealing our 2020 spring.

    Thirty Stories from Thirty Years is a look back over a career in child protection and the small things that helped the work continue.

    Many of you know that I grew up in the Deep South and began my career in child protection there as what was called a Crisis Intervention Worker, CI for short.  It was my role to investigate child abuse reports on behalf of the state of Louisiana.  It was my first “real-world” job and continues to be the basis of many of the “real-world” beliefs I hold true to today.

    If you aren’t from the South, let me explain some of the culture around raising children with values and beliefs.

    In the South, really good people use corporal punishment to instill “goodness”, “integrity”, and good old-fashioned values in their children. It was difficult at best to decipher what was abuse and what was “culture”.

    The standard line was then, and still is today, “You can ____ (insert your favorite word – hit, whip, beat, knock, slap) your child as long as you do not leave a mark.”

    This was still the litmus test back in the early 90’s.  In fact, in Louisiana it was not uncommon for teachers or principals in public school to hit children with ping-pong paddles or homemade paddles, without getting parental permission before hand. 

    Some of the more tenured school employees had really unique and well-thought-out decorated paddles that were a testament to fine craftsmanship.  They might have holes drilled in them, have a high lacquered shine or very artistic handles.  Some were fondly named by their owner.  I have no idea if this is still the practice in schools.  I suspect it is still the practice in homes.

    Early on in my career I got many physical abuse reports assigned to me that were, what some would call, “discipline gone too far.”

    I used to keep a list of objects that had been used to discipline children that came to my attention during investigations.  I still remember most of these: hairbrushes, combs, wooden spoons, spatulas, electrical cords, bamboo shoots, switches (basically, small thin tree limbs), paddles – as described above, wooden chair legs, yardsticks, rulers, broomsticks, fists, open hands, socks with a bar of soap (yes, true story), rope, belts, shoes, flip-flops, slippers, baseball bats, etc. I could go on but I think you get the gist of it. 

    Those of you not from the South would see this list and be incredulous that anyone would ever think using these items would be anything but abusive.  But Southerners react in the moment, swiftly and quickly, with whatever they can get their hands on.  AND they do so out of love for their children and out of fear of their children growing up to be irresponsible or worse yet a “thug.” 

    In the beginning part of my career, parents would usually get a “pass” the first time a report was made of bruises being left as a result of discipline — depending on where the bruises were, how severe they were and a few other measures that seemed reasonable at the time in that place.

    In the mid 90’s that all changed.  It actually was the unintended consequence of new policy that was passed through legislature.

    Or at least as I remember, it was more than just policy written by a social service employee somewhere in a higher up position.  It was pretty much forced out as a “no choice” new policy.  In the state of Louisiana at that time, as a result of this policy, no record of any unsubstantiated report of abuse could be kept for longer than 2 or 3 years.  At the end of the time frame, they would be shredded.  The reports, the notes, the medical exam etc.  The unintended consequence was that no longer would there be unsubstantiated abuse in cases where marks, either intentional or unintentional, were left on a child as a result of discipline. 

    No one wanted to be the case worker that unsubstantiated a case with a bruise, that later escalated to “real” abuse.  Reading that now seems absurd.  Of course it was abuse all along. There are too many stories and too many bruises to even begin to write about here. 

    I could write a whole book on bruises alone.  Sad but true. 

    You read this and wonder how is this about resiliency? For me, this passing of a new policy was a pivotal moment in my career and in my desire to look for alternatives to give parents regarding discipline methods.

    It was no longer my discretion.  No longer was it part of accepted culture. 

    It doubled my paperwork because I had more founded cases than I had before the policy.  It challenged my beliefs around culture.  It also made me come at my job with more compassion and empathy than before.  The intention behind the abuse was no longer the deciding factor but was only a consideration in how to move forward. 

    The challenge to learn more about the impact of physical discipline on children became real and now there is actual research out there to address this issue.

    The resiliency part comes in the way to move forward with change.

    Change is the one constant in the field of child abuse.  Some change is good.  Some change is bad.  Some change is not the expected change but the unintended consequence of some other change. 

    Resiliency comes in being able to adapt and move forward. 

    Self-care comes with learning what changes are not ones you are willing or able to make. 

    Self-care comes in knowing that policy and change in policy helps to create boundaries in this work. 

    Self-care is recognizing there is always something to learn from change and that many policies work because the things we learn from past experiences are embedded in that policy change.

    Ironically, in this particular case as in many before and many after, the change did not come from any particular learning.  It was a political move.  Someone somewhere that had a bit of a reputation to keep clean, who also had “pull”, somehow got caught leaving bruises on a child.

    The unintended consequence was actually the right reason to begin to try to change the culture.

    Instead of having more discretion in the defining of abuse when it came to bruises, it actually, for most workers across the state, defined it more narrowly.  As a result of that, the messaging changed.

    It changed from you can hit your child as long as you don’t leave a mark — to let’s talk about other methods you can use to help teach your child discipline that do not involve hitting.  What are “alternatives” to physical discipline?

    Some of the popular ones are Love and Logic and Conscious Discipline.  These provide guidance and strategies for parents.  They are really more trainings/parenting classes.  Conscious Discipline was developed for classroom management and then began being taught to parents. 

    There are books on both of these methods.  There are online resources, as well, for both of these techniques.  There are others but these are the ones I am most familiar with.

    April is Child Abuse Prevention Month.

    April also seems to be stay at home with your children month as a result of COVID-19. 

    Maybe you have always wanted to learn about other parenting strategies.  These strategies are a lifetime commitment of consistency in parenting. 

    Maybe today is the day you look into it.

    This is story #3 in Tammi Pitzen’s series of 30 stories from her 30 years working in child welfare.

    You can read all the stories here.

    #ThirtyFromThirty #30StoriesFrom30Years #ACareerInChildProtection

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  • Thirty Stories from Thirty Years: Story Number 2

    Thirty Stories from Thirty Years: Story Number 2

    30 Stories in 30 Years. A Career in Child Protection. Blog.

    By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of The Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County

    This is story #2 in Tammi Pitzen’s series of 30 stories from her 30 years working in child welfare.

    You can read all the stories here.

    For me, this reflection on my journey is more about examining moments in time that helped me to build my resiliency, than merely telling “war stories”.  Things that allowed me to continue and strengthen my self-care skills.

    I want to just acknowledge some things that my training did not prepare me for in anyway.  I chuckle as I think some of this is still missing from general “core” training that many child protection workers are required to complete in order to start “field” work.  In my case my core training was all about Geno-grams, and how to ask questions that motivate families to do better.  All good stuff, but did not prepare me for the nitty-gritty everyday work.

    1. In no way was I totally prepared to recognize and respond to threats against my safety.

    I remember my very first “serious” level two case.  It involved a child with what appeared to be a burn on his arm.  It was in a very rural area of our very rural parish.  It was not uncommon for families out in literally nowhere cow pasture Louisiana to live in shacks made of particle board.  In fact, for laborers who worked on the farms, it was quite common.  It was part of their pay. 

    I had already talked with the child at the heart of this report at school and made my way to the “house”.  When I arrived I was greeted by a very angry tall man cleaning a rifle of some sort on the front porch.  The school had somehow gotten in touch with him to let him know I was on my way out.  I still haven’t figured that one out.  He did not have a phone.  It was light years before cell phones were a common and there were no neighbors for miles.

    I took a deep breath. I got out of my car, stood tall and flashed the biggest smile I could and introduced myself.  I was in heels, pantyhose, and a dry clean only dress, trying to balance my state-issued black Day-Timer and yellow legal pad so I would be able to take whatever notes I thought I might need to take. The dress and panty hose at that time were pretty much the expected dress of any female state employee. 

    He was a large man decked out in plaid flannel, jeans, and worn cowboy boots.  His first words after I introduced myself was, “Do you know that I can hit the bullseye on that target 100% of the time?”  I turned around to look at a target that was pinned on a tree a fair distance off.  Without skipping a beat, I smiled and said “Wow that is impressive! Maybe you can show me after we finish talking?”  I looked him in the eye and stood my ground.  We went inside completed our business and as I was leaving he offered me some iced tea.  I politely declined, even though I had “cotton mouth” from what I probably would recognize now as anxiety. 

    The whole time I was in this shack, I was trying to plan escape routes.  I had made the mistake of going in and allowing him to enter behind me.  There was one window and I was hoping against hope that I could run and jump out if I needed to, as he had positioned himself between me and the only exit.  When I returned to the office to staff the case with my supervisor, she asked me why I didn’t leave.  She said you should have left.  I sort of laughed and said, “No one told me that was an option.  I assumed I was going to have to get some answers about what happened.”   I did not want to have to work with this family and he think I was scared of him. 

    Which leads me to:

    2. In no way was I prepared to have to leave kids in situations where I was pretty sure they had been hurt by their parent.

    In this particular case, the child was unwilling to tell me what happened.  The school was not cooperative with my investigation, but was very protective of Dad.  No one single person was able to tell me that the round spoon shaped burn on his arm was caused by anything other than an accident.  Even though I had followed every avenue to get that story.  Even though the child told me that he would get in trouble for talking to me.  I remember sitting in my supervisor’s office sort of flabbergasted that we were closing out that report as unsubstantiated with concerns.  I was equally surprised that no other reports came in on that family.  At least not while I was working there.  It could have been that it was an accident.  It could have been that having me on the front porch was as scary for the Dad as it was for me and that was enough of a deterrent.  I will never know which it was. 

    Which leads me to the caveat about learning self-care and building resiliency. 

    When working in such a volatile and trauma filled field, you need to always do the best that you can.  You need to always follow all the information to the end.  You need to always do your best work.  But when you have done all of that, and you are told there is nothing else you can do, you need to accept that and move on.  It’s harder that you think. 

    I never did the moving on part easily. 

    Part of how I dealt with that helplessness for a really long time was to hold my cases open past the permissible 60 days.  I argued a lot with supervisors regarding what I thought needed to happen.  Sometimes I got to move in the direction I wanted and sometimes I did not. 

    The best way to care for yourself is to know your lane and stay in it.  When you drift, you need to ask why you are drifting into someone else’s lane.  It may be vicarious trauma. 

    3. My core training never prepared me for the courage and integrity needed when working as an investigator of child abuse.

    You have to be able to do what is right even when no one is looking.  You have to be able to let the record be what the record is, even when that does not lead to the result that you feel is necessary.  This work demands that you not be afraid to see something all the way through and that you do so with grace, compassion, and empathy.  Anything else leads to global failure of the system.  You also have to do what is scary and right, even when it means you are working more than a 40 hour week, even when it means your paperwork is three times as much as it could be, and even when it makes you face things that are both personally and professionally hard.  To do anything else leads to global failure of the system.  The risks are high.  The rewards are beyond what you can imagine.

    4. My core training never prepared me for the amount of politics that are at play in the child abuse field.

    I am leaving number four as it is for now.  The story behind the lesson learned will wait for another day. 

    The thing I hope that those who work in this field take away from this…is that it is okay to take care of yourself. 

    Not only is it okay, it is required.  You need to set and enforce boundaries that are reasonable.  You need to recognize that sometimes those boundaries will result in you changing employment maybe even leaving the field.  The truth of the matter is the work is the work.  It isn’t for everyone and that is okay too.  There isn’t much that can be done to make it easier.  Organizations, state departments of social services, and other agencies that provide a service or intervene in child abuse are not at liberty to not respond because they are over capacity.  Recognize that.  Recognize that it is okay to say no.  Recognize it is okay to say yes. 

    In the end only you can decide what is okay for your own health. 

    If you are a supervisor working in this field, the thing I hope you take away from this is to always respond with empathy.  When your staff messes up, help them learn and move on.  Sometimes staff needs to hear from you what safety means because like me, they may not fully recognize what unsafe is. 

    Set a culture in your office that allows for self-care. 

    And…remember the work is hard.  The work is what the work is.  We can’t make it easier.  We can help people take care of themselves.

    Lastly, if you are a regular Joe, a regular citizen, recognize the system is flawed. 

    But also recognize that it isn’t something that one person working in your local child welfare office will be able to resolve. Recognize that, as in all walks of life, you have really good workers and sometimes not so good workers.  Do not paint everyone working in the system with the same brush.  Recognize that sometimes those workers you are trashing on social media are the good guys.  Sometimes it is a system failure and not an individuals’ failure.   

    Sometimes that person that you are raging against is just as frustrated as you are.

    This is story #2 in Tammi Pitzen’s series of 30 stories from her 30 years working in child welfare.

    You can read all the stories here.

    #ThirtyFromThirty #30StoriesFrom30Years #ACareerInChildProtection

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  • Hope for the Future of Foster Siblings

    By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County

    Last week I had the opportunity to participate in Legislative Days for the Oregon Network of Child Abuse Intervention Centers (The State Network for agencies like the Children Advocacy Center of Jackson County).  Last week was one of those weeks that took me to Portland and to Salem for meetings.

    The meetings are always important and always focused on serving abused children, in the best way possible, and on the needs of the multi-disciplinary teams across the state of Oregon. 

    I have a love-hate relationship with these meetings.  I love the people at these meetings.  They are “Hidden Heroes”.  They work behind the scenes in many cases to make sure that abused children get the very best services in the most trauma informed way possible.  I am so incredibly lucky to hear the innovative ideas, to be part of the decision making process for the Network and really just to “know” these people.  I hate the drive and the time out of our center.

    Last week was special.  Last week we were meeting with our Representatives and Senators to talk about what we do for abuse victims and how crucial those services are for healing and recovery.  In fact in many cases we are saving the lives of our most vulnerable citizens.  We presented a bill that is focused on sustaining the service across the state and to really make sure that evidence based services are available for every abused child in the state of Oregon, regardless of your zip code.

    But that wasn’t what made the week special.

    While waiting for our hearing, I sat alongside my fellow Executive Directors and heard testimony by two young people who represented a group that is made up of young people currently or previously placed in foster care in Oregon.  Their group was presenting their fourth bill.  The other three were passed and I suspect this one will as well.

    The Oregon Foster Youth Connection is the name of the group and their bill is the Sibling Bill of Rights.  For those of you interested, the bill is HB2216. 

    As I sat and listened to these young people talking about how siblings are their lifeline and how easily that life line is broken, I remember my own days of breaking these lines.

    They talked about not being accepted by their foster family because of being transgender.  They talked about how they were unable to stay in contact with their siblings. They testified about being in the care-taking role of their siblings…teaching them to do their hair and paint their nails, and then being cut out of their life and the struggle of trying to reconnect.

    I have to be honest that I missed some of the testimony.  I was propelled back to a different time and a different set of siblings. 

    I remembered a summer day when I sat on the dirty floor at the Children’s Home in New Orleans, Louisiana in my dry clean only dress, holding a small eight year old girl, a ten year old girl and 12 year old girl in a bear hug as the staff watched.  The floor was not my choice but was where we landed as the girls collapsed.  I had just told the eight year old, who was in the residential treatment center, what her sisters already knew.  Her parents were no longer her parents.  The courts had terminated their rights for failure to do anything to better their situation.  They did not even show up on this day for their “goodbye” visit.

    I can hear the primal wail of her mourning. 

    Mourning the loss of her parents.  Mourning the loss of her siblings as she kept saying over and over again, “It will never be the same”.  And she was right.  I did my best to do what I could for those girls but without the support of the system it certainly was never good enough.  Their case was transferred on to a different foster care worker who I also know did her best.  I don’t think the girls were ever adopted.  They certainly were never placed together in a home again as each required more care than they could receive from a single set of parents.  I remember their visitation as being every other month because of the long distance…a five hour drive one way…between their placements.

    If I am still enough and quiet enough I can hear that cry. It is what keeps me grounded in the reality of what this work I choose is all about.  If I am still enough, I can feel those little fingers clinging to my dress as it was time to leave that day. Those little fingers remind me there are people behind those case numbers and case decisions.

    And if I am still enough and honest enough, I remember that event helped me to decide that I had spent enough time as a foster care worker in rural Louisiana where there were not enough resources, not enough foster homes and where the children could not articulate the damage I felt I was complicit in doing to their childhood.  It was time to be transferred back to investigations.

    In that committee hearing, I was almost overwhelmed with the pride for these two young people who I did not know. 

    I felt hopeful for the future of the foster children who will be placed long after these two young people become adults and move on in their life.  I know that the solutions lay in their hands and in their hearts.  They will change the landscape of the system.  They already are.  I left that hearing with a smile as I recognized that they are powerful.  Their situations had not left them paralyzed.

    They will use that passion and do great things on behalf of children everywhere.  They already are.