The First Note

As a social work teacher I am always looking for ways to inspire students. So it was that Sunday morning I was thinking about how much the practice of social work has changed over the years. For one thing there has been a major shift in emphasis from art to science. This trend echoes society as a whole, where the industrial revolution has brought about an increasing emphasis on what we can know through our senses (what is observable and measurable, for example), to the neglect of what is heartfelt and soulful -- the spiritual, you might say.

There's nothing wrong with science: we need to know if our methods actually work. It's just that science needs to be combined with the ability to make spiritual connections with others.

It got me to remembering the heroes who inspired me as a young social worker. There was Charlotte Towle, who wrote about what all of us need in order to live with dignity as human beings. Her book was called Common Human Needs. She believed the government had a responsibility to ensure that everyone had access to basic necessities. (She would, for example, support universal health care were she around today.) While an inspiration within our profession, she came under suspicion of being a communist during the McCarthy era. The government not only ceased publication of her book, but destroyed the remaining copies. So much for free speech.

I also recalled Felix Biestek who spoke of seven human needs in The Casework Relationship. They were:

• to be treated as an individual
• to express feelings
• to get sympathetic responses to problems
• to be recognized as a person of worth
• to not be judged
• to make one's own choices and decisions
• to keep secrets about oneself

Beautiful! When we honor these needs, we make spiritual connections with others. What Charlotte Towle and Felix Biestek taught was that good science is nothing without concern for the relationship. And true concern for the relationship honors these needs.

I recall the following story. As his students were just beginning to play their musical piece, Pablo Casals shouted, "Stop! The first note has no life!" In relationships, compassion is the first note.


Copyright starfishdoc 2009

Lessons from Lefty

It was eight years ago. We were sitting on the dock on a perfect, late-summer day. A ripple on the still water caught my eye. I watched, transfixed as something approached us along the perimeter of the lake. It was a duck.

There is nothing unusual about a black duck on a Maine lake. But this was no ordinary duck, we would soon discover.

Like any duck, he was easily seduced by the snacks we tossed onto the water's surface. Like mischievous children, we enticed him to come closer with a trail of crumbs. In no time, he was up on the dock.

It was then we saw that he had only one foot.

A flood of thoughts and emotions accompanies the discovery that a creature is compromised. Ours started with pity and concern for how he managed. Then we wondered how he lost that foot. But ultimately, we marveled at his adaptive abilities. That's when we named him "Lefty, the Cull Duck."

I'm no ornithologist. I can't say with any authority if ducks have feelings or personalities. But, to me, Lefty appeared to be a well-adjusted duck. He seem unconcerned about what he was missing. In fact, he managed as if his condition were normal.

I wish more people shared Lefty's spunk. Why dwell on life's trials? Best to adapt to what life throws our way and get on with it. Some might see that as the rantings of an optimist; but I don't see any other choice.

So I thought of Lefty the other day when I slipped on the ice and fractured my wrist. After a quick stop at the pity station to mourn the quilting I won't be doing for awhile, I'm determined to do that adaptable, normalizing thing Lefty did -- I hope to be ambidextrous by the time the cast comes off.

Isn't it amazing what you can learn from a duck?


Copyright Starfishdoc 2009