What does it mean to be a Social Worker? I think about this question quite often as I internally struggle in choosing a direction in my life. I’m 35 years old and have experienced a lot of ups and downs, as have most people my age. I feel like I’m ‘maturing’ late in life—academically anyways— because I see all of my friends who are super successful. One, who I would argue I admire the most and is probably the most important friend to me, is a neurosurgeon and the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.
When I look at him, and others like him, who are younger than me and have done so much more, I feel like I’m just abysmally behind in life. Then I remember that comparison is the thief of joy; we all have one life to live and every person is special in their own way. I lived a lot of my twenties taking care of my grandparents, and those memories I formed with them are always going to be important to me. Sure I didn’t do four years majoring in Microbiology and then studying for the MCATs to go on to become a doctor (which I at one point had aspirations of doing), but that doesn’t mean I never can become one.
I’ve always made it a point to care about others. When my elderly neighbors needed help shoveling, I would always be out there—admittedly not as early as I should have been, I’m not an early riser—to help them. Taking care of my grandparents and seeing all the nurses and PT’s come and go made me think that I wanted to be a nurse. Taking care of those that struggle. So 2.5 years ago I set out to become one. I took all the classes I needed to take and did all the testing I needed to do to get into Nursing school, and I got into every one that I applied to.
To cut a story short, my friend who has a masters SW and does therapy told me that he thinks I would be a good therapist and to consider Social Work. There was a lull in between my semesters, where I decided not go continue in a private Nursing university because of the cost and instead go to ISU nursing in Springfield. There was an opportunity to do as he suggested and try my hands at Social Work.
I wanted to specialize in psych for nursing anyways, so this seemed logical in my mind. Getting my BSW at UIS and then doing a 1-year graduate program within U of I. It would only take a little longer than becoming a nurse, and I could still get into a master’s program for nursing while holding a bachelors in a different field.
I have enjoyed the Social Work program at UIS so far. While there hasn’t been a huge focus on therapy and therapeutic approaches to things as of yet, I think it has told me enough to get a good idea of my future in this field. But there’s that voice in the back of my head that is always there: ‘is this truly what you want to do in life?’. I honestly can’t answer that. I’ve always been an indecisive person and compare myself to others, such as the neurosurgeon who has always had a linear plan in his mind—to become a great doctor. I wish I had same perspective when it comes to a life plan.
I think you would be an exceptionally good therapist, mental health social worker, or family counselor. If you find the work enjoyable, I would encourage you to continue in this direction. The therapeutic skills are mostly taught in Practice I and Practice II. Then, in your field placement and your first job with a BSW you will learn a lot more, and in an MSW program you can mainly focus on mental health and counseling skills.
Of course, psychiatric nursing is close to mental health social work, and is probably just as good as social work if you mainly want to focus on persons with serious mental illness and you imagine you would enjoy working in a residential setting.
I have always been interested in the life reviews of persons who have had near death experiences. From what I gather, the things we do that may be most significant in our lives are often little gestures of kindness or love we show to someone. Things we do that seem prosaic or incidental to the main narrative of our life may be the most important acts we ever chose to perform.
J. R. R. Tolkien once wrote a short story called Smith of Wootten Major. Superficially it seems a story about cakes, village life, and a special ability bestowed upon a child that allows him to travel into the world of faery. It seems like a setting for a meditation upon the contrast between the mundane world and the world of fantastic and awesome marvels. Within this story, the King of Faery has taken on the life as a mortal, and he has lived for decades as a very low-status working-class sort of person (a baker's assistant) in service to a terrible boss. At one point, he reveals his true identity to the main character (Smith), and asks Smith to return to him the magic that allowed Smith to journey into the fantastic realms of Faery. Smith unhesitatingly does so, and then observes that it seems unfathomable to him that someone such as the King of Faery should submit to live a low-status life in an obscure village for so many years. The King replies to the effect that the decades of life in disguise were worthwhile, because he has been repaid for his “suffering” by Smith’s simple unselfish act of giving back the key that opens the way into Faery. That has always struck me as a very good insight into our lives. The great acts of our life may be simple acts of unhesitating unselfishness, generosity, or self-sacrifice. Helping a neighbor shovel snow may be as significant as being the President of the United States and signing some sort of treaty that brings great benefit to the whole world.
I'm saying, I guess, that utilitarianism only goes so far. The Greatest Good to the Greatest Number works well enough, up to a point. But, it seems to me sometimes that there may be ways in which the small acts between individuals are not any less important than the great acts of group leaders. As Wittgenstein said in Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, “no cry of torment can be greater than the cry of one man. Or again, no torment can be greater than what a single being may suffer... The whole planet can suffer no greater torment than a single soul...” (suggesting that torment is not multiplied to a greater intensity simply because many bear it rather than few; and implying likewise that benefit and joy is not multiplied into greater intensity if we do something that benefits many rather than few).
I am a professor who teaches macro practice and social policy to social work students, so I naturally point out that political action may do a great benefit to many more people than therapy. For example, our class has played a small part in helping to pass legislation that will help social work students in the state (with scholarships to assist them in completing their studies when they are doing field placements). That legislation, when it is finally enacted and funded, will help hundreds of students each year, and the increase in supply of social workers will lead to more people receiving mental health care or good quality social work services, so there ripples of benefit that go out to people all over the state. But, at some deep level, I'm pretty sure that helping one person climb out of a situation of misery and hopelessness and confusion to a place where they can feel good, and get their life back under control, may be no less important than helping pass legislation that benefits thousands or millions of people.
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