Care gets framed as gentle and cosy, but that story falls apart the moment you work closely with children who have lived through fear, loss and disruption. I sit down with Richard Rollinson for another instalment of objects that help use remember and think, to explore a tougher, more honest view: care as something we carry, not just something we do. Richard brings two objects to make the point – a Care Bear and the Oxford English Dictionary – and cites definitions that connect “care” to grief, mental suffering, doubt and sorrow. It lands because it sounds like the real emotional labour of child and youth care, residential care, foster care and therapeutic support.
We remind the listener about Richard’s love of objects and storytelling: how a childhood habit of arranging things, an unforgettable stage performance filled with objects, and decades of practice in the Mulberry Bush community shaped a way of communicating that invites people in rather than telling them off. We talk about presence, remembering and the strange truth that a single detail can hold a whole world, including a photo where a father’s shoe becomes a doorway into family history, disability and connection.
We also get practical about safeguarding and organisational culture. Richard contrasts whistleblowing with something that should sit beside it: voicing concern early, as course correction, so teams can question routines before harm happens. That leads into containment and reflection about how supported staff can hold children’s feelings without becoming punitive, how naming an experience can calm a storm, and how good containment spreads through a group in the best possible way.
If you care for children, lead a team, or want trauma-informed practice that stays human under pressure, you’ll find plenty to pause on. Subscribe, share this with a colleague, and leave a review with your biggest takeaway or the object that carries your story.
You can listen to the podcast here:
https://www.buzzsprout.com/2459807/episodes/19549910
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Transcript:
In the Oxford English Dictionary, the definition of care is grief, lament, sickness, mental suffering, a burdened state of mind arising from fear, doubt, or concern about anything or anyone. And the verb to care is to sorrow. But I do think we need reminding that it’s hard work.
Our inner lives, our human relationships, our relationships with the world are actually vast as well. They are enormous. They are very, very deep.
There is so much there. Hello and welcome to the Secure Start podcast. I’m Colby Pearce and rejoining me for this episode is the much-loved elder of the Mulberry Bush community, Richard Rollinson.
Before I begin the episode, I’d just like to acknowledge the traditional custodians of the lands that I come to you from, the Kaurna people of the Adelaide Plains, and acknowledge the continuing connection the living Kaurna people feel to land, waters, culture, and community. I’d also like to pay my respects to their elders, past, present, and emerging. I hope you enjoyed this conversation between Richard and I. I know I did.
So welcome back to the podcast, Richard. It’s been a little while and although not so long, we last spoke I think earlier this year. And one of the central aspects of that conversation was the objects that you use to bring the work to life.
And we finished that conversation with you saying afterwards that there are many more objects that you’d like to have the opportunity to talk about. So here we are. And I’m pleased to be here.
Thank you. For those who haven’t listened to, and there would of course be very few of you, but for those very few of you who didn’t listen to our second conversation where you talked about the objects, I wonder if perhaps you could just set the scene by letting us know how you came to tell stories with the aid of objects. Well, it’s a long story.
And as I perhaps said the last time, people will have to read all 78 volumes of my autobiography in due course. But very briefly on this occasion, I can’t quite understand it. For many reasons, I’ve always been interested in objects, not just themselves, but their significance.
And in fact, I came across a photo since we last spoke. It’s safe here. It’s a photograph.
I would say it’s from 1954. Yes. And it’s in my bedroom.
I’m sharing it with my newborn brother. And it’s a little parade of my toys I did. I can make out a lot of objects in it.
Yeah, it’s an old black and white photo from a century and three quarters ago. But I was quite struck by it when I found it because I thought, oh, yeah, I always collected things. They weren’t just toys.
They were for me objects. And I put them in a shape. Now, I won’t show you the photo again.
But just as important is in the lower left hand side of the photo is my father’s shoe. So he got into the photo. So it was a display.
It was a performance that I did. So I think I’ve always been given to performance and being present myself, but also objects being present that were significant to me. So I have a long history, it would appear, of noticing objects and their significance beyond just what they might be for ordinary daily use, even in play and remembering.
And I think what I valued on our occasions to speak last time particularly, and now this time is, it helps me think. And it helps me remember, not entirely in a sentimental way, but it is important for me, because I always felt that remembering is quite an important part of living. And in the absence of that, I guess I’m, I feel or fear it would be dismembering.
Not just not remembering, but it being taken apart. And holding things together and making sense can be so important. And doing it all on my own in my head would be challenging enough.
So it’s rather good for me that I have these objects. Now, I’m sure that the stories I’ve already told and will tell today about the objects, some of them might not be entirely true, in fact. But there will be truths there, a truth or truths, and there is a difference, as we know.
So it’s really just sharing with people some of the things that I’ve come to understand. And when I was in my first year at university, a long time ago, because I was a perpetual student for a long time. I did, in American universities, when you start, you have a selection of things you don’t major, really until your third year.
And I chose an archaeology course. And the set book for the archaeology course was a book called The Mutestone Speak. And it was about the Etruscan civilization, which was the precursor to the Roman civilization and empire.
And he found all these Etruscan objects. And then he interrogated them and told a story about them, not just, oh, I found this, it was really good. Oh, and then I found this, it was really good.
He really drew me into what communications, what meanings, what significance can be not imposed on objects, but in a sense, taken out of them because of what they are, and what they meant. So I was quite taken by that. And I didn’t really start collecting objects then because I wasn’t working.
But when I came to England and started working, well, when I started studying, I was in York, and I went down to London. It was a good train ride there. It’s even faster now.
And there was a bar on the train, which was great. And so I’d go down. And I was walking around Leicester Square, and I saw this advert for a performance.
And it was called Brief Lives. And the actor was Roy Detrice. And he was performing something he had put together about John Aubrey, who was a diarist in the late 17th, early 18th century, who wrote things.
He was a minor court official, but he kept a diary and wrote about things and about objects and people. And so I thought, oh, that sounds interesting. And I went to see the performance.
And it was this stage that was absolutely filled with objects, filled with them. And the actor came out, because he was young at the time, 1972, as an old person. And he just came in, picked up an object and began talking about a story that emerged from it that was encapsulated in it.
I was quite taken. I thought it was so good. I went back the next day, I stayed in the youth hostel, and went back the next day to see it again.
And to my delight, and amazement, he did the same performance, but he used different objects. He didn’t just talk about the same ones. He really would just pick things up impromptu and talk about them.
And I thought, this is amazing. And I’ve always remembered it. Now, strangely enough, and I think it was about 2015, I was working in Richmond.
And I was walking through Richmond theatres there. And I saw Roy Detrice was performing in the same thing. And I thought he’d been dead for years.
But the only difference was, he didn’t have to get dressed up as an old person, because he was an old person. And he went out, and there were the objects. And he picked them up and did the same.
And it was just wonderful. And it made me realize I had started collecting objects through the course of my work and relationships and things. And I have them.
And I’ve got a suitcase back there where they’re all dumped into and quite a few of them out on the bed now, as well for today’s thing. And I just held them. And I thought, that’s so good.
It’s really good. And over my professional career, increasingly, I’d be asked to give lectures, write papers, and I do them. And I thought it was good.
But after 25 years, I was thinking, well, hang on there. Look, actually, the reality is 96% of people that I’m speaking to are the converted already. They might enjoy it.
I’m happy to reinforce it. There might be another 3% of people who’d say, oh, I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe I’ll think about that.
And there was maybe between 1% and 1.5% of people who, like I say, I could have stood on my head and whistled Dixie, and they wouldn’t have paid any attention to it. I thought, well, you know, what could I do that could really engage people themselves? Not being told, not being told off, which sometimes lectures in some countries do, but just get them interested. And I thought, oh, I’ve got these objects that I’ve been collecting over the years, that were either given to me by children, or I’d see and I thought, oh, that reminds me of so and so.
And so I thought, okay, I’m going to just say, I’m available to do a brief communication, you know, to your team. And I did it and people liked it. They were really interested.
And I even did it with children and young people on occasion. And they were even more enthusiastic than the adults. They would say, oh, yeah, I remember.
Oh, yeah, that that’s something like that happened to me. And that that’s reminds me of that. And, you know, the only thing there was, I had to negotiate sometimes to get the object back because they wanted the object.
I’d say, look, you know, I really need that. But I can get you one for yourself, just like that. And, you know, usually they reluctantly give it back.
But I think it had captured them in a way. And as younger, you know, they wanted the concrete thing. I said, well, it’ll come to you and you start gathering your objects.
And then they did. So it was just something about finding a medium where I could share people, not to tell them, not to teach them. It’s to share with them.
And always the question is, well, what do you think? What do you reckon? Does this issue remind you? Does it make sense or not sense to invite them to engage with, you know, the detail in our living and learning together that we can use to help us make sense, sometimes of ourselves, but other times that remind us of ways we can engage with those with whom and for whom we’re working. And, you know, I did sometimes wonder, well, you know, in terms of the world and the universe, is this any significant? So let me just show this. I may have done this the last time.
The yellow tennis ball is the sun and the golf ball is our earth. And in the museum in Oxford, the Natural History Museum, up on the Clearestory Walk, which is about 200 meters around, on one plinth is, it’s actually gold there, a gold ball the size of a tennis ball. And on the other plinth where you stand, there’s a golf ball.
And they say, these 200 meters distance represents the distance between our sun and our earth. Where would you put the sun that would represent our nearest neighbor in the galaxy? And of course, that’s 200 meters, the equivalent. You would put it on the very bottom of South America.
So our nearest, our nearest star neighbor. And when you realize that distance and how vast the world is, think, well, it’s enormous. It’s so huge.
I’m so insignificant. Why do I even bother to get up in the morning? I’m so insignificant. And then we think, actually, our inner lives, our human relationships, our relationships with the world are actually vast as well.
They are enormous. They are very, very deep. There is so much there.
And just so long as we’re prepared to recognize it. You know, the universe is vast. It’s wonderful.
It’s glorious. But our lives, human, animal and others have so much of meaning and significance. And it’s often overlooked in the ordinary unfolding of a busy day.
And one of the things as well about the objects is it gives me a chance to remember and share even the ways we can think about what’s going on in ourselves, with ourselves, with others and for. So that’s really how I got there and keeping going. And, you know, I really, really feel sorry for whoever is going to be commissioned to organize all my bits and pieces and papers and things, because, you know, I know what it is, but I think to anybody else, it could look like a total mess.
So I’d rather enjoy the last couple of days going through things and picking some things out to talk with you and others about. So that’s my way of introduction about these objects, perhaps a lengthy one, but it gives some context. And I that that example of the sun and the earth and the sun at our nearest other sun is is such a is relates.
And perhaps this is an individual thing as well, for we all make our own meaning of the story. And and so the meaning that I make of that story that you that you just told us is or at least what it got me thinking about is often when we remember our life, it feels like it when it’s part and particularly as you as you get older, it feels like time passes more quickly. And another guest on the podcast, Laura Steadley, introduced me to social acceleration theory.
It that so we we do have that sense of life passing clear quickly, notwithstanding that our life is getting longer and longer, you know, in a way. So we had this this emerging sense of the brevity of life that sits alongside life getting longer and longer. But what I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about, and there’ll be more about this soon, I hope once I get a chance to it, is how how significant an ordinary day is when you pay attention.
When you when you pay attention from, you know, those those dreams we might be having just before we wake up in the morning, you know, and then we wake up and we become aware of waking up and we become aware of our surroundings, our physical environment as the sensations. And then from there, right through the day is vast in terms of our in terms of our experience of it. But as you say, we probably rarely pay attention to it, the vastness of it.
Yeah, it’s actually a little project that I had just between you and I. There’s something coming in relation to this. But yeah, so that was kind of my reaction to that to that first story. And you did tell a previous object.
I’ve been in my mind thinking, shall I bring Richard back to this at the end? Or shall I just do it when I get an opportunity? Because I wondered about the significance of, like, I always got emotional when you said about the your father’s shoe being in the in that photo. Because to me, that was a representation of presence. Yes, yes.
And it’s interesting. You mentioned that and we’ll go back to present. I mean, my father’s shoe is very significant, because he was quite a character.
And he contracted polio at the age of three, walked with crutches his whole life, reminded us that he survived, because in the 1911 polio epidemic, lots of children and young people died, but he lived. And thanks to Franklin Delano Roosevelt, he was able to drive a car. Right.
So in 1955, he got his first car. And the reason that is, is because Roosevelt contracted polio at the age of 28. And there are hardly any photos of him that where he isn’t sitting down, behind a table with a drape, or standing up.
And the table is just above his just below his waist. Everybody knew he was had polio and walk with crutches himself. And shortly after he was elected, no, he was the no, he was elected president.
A cheeky young interviewer said, and tell me, Mr. President, is there anything you miss doing now, that you were able to do before you had polio? And Roosevelt paused and he said, Yeah, yeah, there is one thing, I had just learned to drive a car. And now, I can’t drive a car. Because in those days, it was, you know, shift, you know, manual thing.
And of course, that was, say 1933. And of course, in the run up to World War Two, what was one of the things that was developed, the automatic transmission, the Jeep was the first vehicle that just had a stick, but you didn’t need it, you didn’t have to put it, it’d go forward, or reverse. And you did it.
And so the automatic transmission was developed. And by the early 1950s, it was being sold in many cars in the US and my father got one. And so Jackie would take us, we’d go here, there and everywhere in his automatic transition.
And, you know, which was, it was fantastic. You press down on the pedal for the brake, hold up on the hand control for going, and you do it, and then you turn it off and park. I inherited that car, when he got a new one, in the early 60s.
And he said to me, Look, pal, you can have that car, but you got to keep the hand controls in. Because if my other car brakes, those are my feet, I need to get everywhere. I said, Yeah, that’s right that he said, but you can’t use them.
It’s illegal for you to use them. So that’s fine. So on Sunday mornings in the summer, we drive out to Jones Beach, and we drive along the parkways in Long Island.
And I’d roll the window down. And I put my legs out the window. And I drive with the hand control.
And you can imagine the looks we were getting from that. So I never told him because if he found out, I’d be useless. I mean, one of the other things my brother and I did if there were big sporting events on in New York, Madison Square Garden or Yankee Stadium, my father always had three sets of crutches.
And some of them were just some of them were adjustable. And my brother who was a better actor than I was, he’d get the crutches there, we go in, and we get in early, come this way. So I’ll just go with my brother.
And we get into the match. Again, he would have killed us if he found out what we were doing. But you know, those are the kinds of things in the memories that even a photo where it’s only in, I would say, 4% of the photo from 1955 can awaken all those memories.
And I think remembering, if we only just spend time remembering, I’m not quite sure what kind of life we had. But I think it’s a good balance between the engagement you were talking about earlier, in the day to day living, and remembering, this reminds me, I’ve been thinking, I think I scare people sometimes when I begin saying, I’ve been thinking, because I thought, Oh, my God, he goes, he’ll be on one now again. But but it is something about thinking.
Yeah. Gosh. Right.
Shall I? Anything else? Shall I get an object or something? I think so. Okay. Okay.
Look, I’m going to start with an important combination. This is a Care Bear. It’s, I think it’s my daughter’s, but I’ve taken good care of it.
And along with that, it’s one of my favorite books, the Oxford English Dictionary, based on historical principles. And it’s annotated. See, I’ve got notes, I’ve got notes all through it.
And, and I write in it, which my wife thinks is an abomination. But there you go. It’s my book, I can write it.
Now the thing about Care Bears, I don’t know if they still exist as children’s toys, they might do but, you know, it’s from a particular era. And you know, they’re all soft and gentle and cuddly, and lovely, and they are Care Bears. But I think those of us who are, if I say in the work of living and relating, know that caring isn’t just soft and cuddly, and gentle.
And of course, if we needed evidence of that, here it is. In the Oxford English Dictionary, the definition of care is grief, lament, sickness, mental suffering, a burdened state of mind, arising from fear, doubt, or concern about anything or anyone. It is only lowered down.
It’s in definition four, that it says oversight, with a view for protection, preservation. None of these, none of these work. And the verb to care is to sorrow.
And I think, so I don’t think care is wrong. It is care. But I do think we need reminding that it’s hard work.
And anybody who works with children, particularly young children, you know, you’ve been told countless times, you don’t care. You don’t care. Because what they mean is we’re not just giving in to things that won’t help them or other people.
And it’s worth remembering that they have this sense of care as a Care Bear. And we have to remind them that, well, actually, I’m sure that’s how you feel right now. But I do care about you.
And I care about you enough that I am not going to let you do what you want to do, because it wouldn’t work for others, and it wouldn’t work for you. It would make it far worse. So I’m caring for you by not letting you do things.
Other times, I care for you by helping you, giving you, enabling. But on this occasion, so care has too gentle and genteel a sense about it at times. And I always remember, gosh, senior moment here.
I can’t remember the person today. He coined the phrase stern love, where you have to be stern at times to genuinely show loving care. And I think that’s important.
And it shouldn’t be a passport to just be unthinkingly controlling. It’s about caring, need someone to be in charge, in service to the child, the young person, the work that we’re doing very, very clearly, not as an excuse, but as a support that holds the person and the task in mind, rather than being soft and cushy and squishy. Yes.
You said that maybe it’s something that children can be reminded of. But what immediately went through my mind, hearing you read that definition, is it’s something that adults can be reminded of as well, that particularly in the business of as a professional person, delivering care, and that care is not just those warm, fuzzy moments. Care is a lot more of that.
And I think to sorrow is a very interesting way of thinking about care, because it’s implicit in that, that there is connection with the experience of the cared for person. So care is not just things that you do. It’s a whole experience that you have when you’re relating to someone who you care about, or are delivering care to.
Yeah. And look, you know, being human means we have sentiments, which are important. But I think, you know, I can recognise times when I’m being sentimental.
And, you know, that’s okay, in a bit, especially when one’s being an indulgent grandparent, on occasion. But there are other times where we really have to recognise sentiment, and not be sentimental. And, you know, being very positive by saying, no, we’re not doing that.
So it’s just something that it’s helpful to be reminded. And it’s helpful to remind ourselves about that. We’re not going to get it right every time.
But I think that if we’re at least in tune with that dimension, or the whole dimension of it, we will probably avoid losing ourselves in what would prove to be an entirely unhelpful way of helping and caring. Yeah. It’s a remarkable definition.
I’ve never thought of it in that way before. But it really talks, it speaks to the multidimensionality of care, and caregiving, and models of care. Thinking about what’s a model of care? If it’s not multidimensional? Yes, yes.
No, it is. Just when we mentioned the models of care, it gets me into the whole thing, because we know there’s risks. We know there’s risks.
If there isn’t an internal discipline to pay attention, and a team, group and service, recognition that it can go, we know it goes, it can go badly wrong. Yeah, we can’t just use the word in a concrete way. We have to be really open to challenge.
And I think one of my other objects, I wasn’t going to do this one, it connects, it’s a whistle. It’s a good whistle. This was the whistle I had.
I’ve had for many years. It was connected to the worst job I ever had in my life, which was a lifeguard for four years, back in the States in my late teens. And you blew the whistle to tell people it was the worst thing because I like the sun, the sun hates me.
And you know, they’re picking bits off my head and my back. But, you know, here’s the whistle. But in our work, every organization has a policy.
It’s actually required by law here in the UK of whistleblowing. When something’s gone wrong, people blow the whistle. And I thought, well, okay.
Yeah, that’s got to be there. What I’ve always been interested about is there is not a policy alongside it about voicing concern. And so I did one at the Mowbray Bush.
I said, look, we have to and voicing concern before things have gone really wrong. And you have to blow a whistle, a culture of communication and inquiry that says, hang on a minute, Richard. That’s not what we usually do.
What’s this about? Why are we doing this? What’s it? And, you know, and Richard or whoever has to be able to think, well, what do I tell him? Just shut up. I’m the senior, I’m the boss, and we’ll do what I say. He said, actually, you’re right.
And recognizing that in the pressure of the moment or something, we were going down this route. And it needed a course correction. And, of course, the Roman goddess Fortuna, her symbol is she stands in a boat with a tiller.
And she’s got the cornucopia in one arm, and she’s got the tiller in the other one, because the Romans knew. You can keep a steady hand on the tiller, and things will be going well and all the cornucopia. All you have to do is go a bit off course and a hard turn in another direction.
It’s all lost. So we need to be able to voice concern as course correction. Are we really wanting to go this way? And it really takes hard work to develop a culture of communication and inquiry, where anyone can ask that question.
Why do we do that? I mean, some of the things are just, you know, kind of boringly institutional. Oh, we do that because we’ve always done that. Yeah, well, can we think about it again? And sometimes they’re quite petty things.
When I first went to the Marble Bush many, many years ago, they wouldn’t cut the crusts off bread when they did spreads for the children if they asked for it. Well, we just don’t do that. I said, okay, you know, here it is 1974 or 5, and I’m arriving, and you’ve been around since 1948.
But what’s that about? I don’t think we should do it instead. But if a child really asks for it, could we do it occasionally? Oh, yeah. Okay.
Yeah, we can. Oh, right. Good.
Somebody just had to ask a question. And people say, well, it doesn’t have to be rigid. We won’t do it as a matter of course.
But if a child particularly asks, which might be linked to prior life experience, I think we can do it occasionally. And so it’s small things, but they’re important things. And then very significant things about rules that can become punitive if they are imposed.
Yes. You know, Richard, I’m still stuck on it. Well, I’m not stuck on it.
But in my head is to sorrow. And relating that to what you’re talking about just now, I’m thinking about when we sorrow. Sorrow can be experienced as a hardship of the work.
If we’re to sorrow, truly sorrow for the children and for their experience of life heretofore. And so we know that it’s really important for staff to, and I think that I would also wonder about the role of projective identification here. I’ve become very interested in projective identification, I think, through these conversations and that to sorrow, to take on, to feel for, to feel for the child.
And the need for organisations that work in a social care space to be mindful of this, to be mindful of how the children’s feelings get experienced by us, and the need for containment, the need for opportunities to stop and think and say, this is what’s happening for me. In the same way as what you’re just saying about having a culture of being able to ask questions. I think sitting alongside that easily is a culture that allows people to talk about experience.
And I think the antidote, or an antidote, to being a bit more punitive, I guess, at times in the way in which we approach the work is containment. Now, that’s not my original idea. I’ve had a couple of people on the podcast talk about how punitive caregiving practices often arise in circumstances where staff are feeling uncontained in their experience.
So I’m just reflecting on, and we may not come to the perfect answer to all of this, but I’m reflecting on to care for, to sorrow for, to all of those things, all of that experience of the child, which they may be projecting elements of, which we’re feeling for, which we have to manage in some way, lest we become not only punitive, but also another way we manage the word is to become very routine. This is the way we’ve always done it. It’s easier to not think about the word too much.
I mean, it’s one of the things I’m going to do after we finish this, I’m going to go up to my English dictionary, OED, and look up sorrow. But what you said, it’s also about within that, what you were describing is being able to name something and give a context to it. I’m still in touch with him, Lee.
He was six-year-old when he came to the Mulberry Bush, and he’s 52 or three now. We’ve been in touch. He came up to the breakfast table when, early on when I was there, and John Armstrong was the head.
He came and he said, John, John, you know, Carl said, my dog’s dead, etc, etc. And that’s not fair. And he was jumping up and down his feet.
What he wanted John to do was say, he said, what? Let’s go get him. Let’s go pound him. And, you know, John held on to his coffee.
He taught me how to drink really strong black coffee. And he nodded his head a bit. Meanwhile, you know, Lee is still bouncing up and down his toes ready for action.
And then he turns to me, he said, yes, son. It can be hellish here sometimes, can’t it? And, you know, Lee’s bouncing up and down, got slower and slower. And he said, yes, John, thank you.
And he ran off. He said, Carl, Carl, I told John on you for what you said. And he said, it can be hellish here.
Sometimes. Now, at that moment, I thought, what, what a device, what a way to come things, you know, right. 35 years later, I was thinking about this.
And I thought, actually, that was a hugely important communication. He named something, it can be hellish. It’s not hell.
And it’s not heaven. But it can be hellish at times. And it can be a bit heavenly.
It’s the way we live and work. But we can name things, put it in some kind of structure to understand and, and sometimes be sorrowful about it, or be sorry for it. Well, my mind’s now going on to how, how containment can be a contagion.
Okay. All right. How do you mean? Sorry.
So when when we contain, so I saw that child’s next interaction that he left, and what he said to the next child made meaning of, or the next person made meaning of the experience made, and in some ways made in you in made by putting words to it makes the unbearable, bearable. That’s how we that’s how we contain people. So it had in my mind was going to how contact because I think you talked about this previously about the mulberry bush.
About how you and other other guests have talked about this as well. But you see, after a while, you see the older children or the children who’ve been there a bit longer start to act as therapeutic actors for the newer and the younger child’s children. So that’s like a contagion in not in a bad sense, but in a good sense.
And it’s it’s like, when we contain our staff, our staff are then better able to contain the children. Yes. And then the children are then better able to contain their peers.
And you know, in a fostering agency, in a fostering sense, it would be the fostering social worker contains the foster carer, or foster parent, at which then better equips them to be able to contain the child. So yeah, contagion, the containment can spread like a contagion. And containment is not a restriction.
It’s an enabling in that way. It gives space for feelings to be transformed into thought. Yeah, and inform.
And I think that’s a good example of what we did. And there’s never one single occasion, when you know, the child says, Oh, that’s perfectly clear to me. Now.
It’s a feeling. I don’t have to act on it. Because remember, this is a population, many of the ones we work with, who had life experiences, often from a very early age, if not from birth, or even before, that were unthinkable, and unspeakable.
And we’re encountering them, because either at their age and developmentally, they’re not able to do it, or they’re prevented because they haven’t had a lived experience of it. They don’t have that space. And we are working to give them a way to have space to turn a feeling into a thought that can then inform actions.
And, you know, really, it was just going down to Colin rather than bringing john to pound him to death and bury him under the paving stones. He said, Carl, I told john, and he says, it’s hellish here sometimes. And it just gives a different shape to it.
A way of being. That’s not just an impulsive doing that did it. There’s so much to pause and think about from this conversation with Richard that I’ve decided to release it in two installments.
So keep an eye out for the second installment, which I will release very soon.
Related Podcasts:
Richards first guest appearance:
Richard’s second guest appearance:
Richard’s Bio
Richard has a long association with Residential Therapeutic Communities, having worked at the Mulberry Bush School for well over 20 years and where, from 1991 to 2001, he was its Director. He was also Director, Children and Young People, at the Peper Harow Foundation, from 2001 to 2005. Richard qualified as a Social Worker with an MSc from Oxford University in 1983, following the then Part 1 training in Child Psychotherapy at the Tavistock Centre. In 2005 he completed the Ashridge MA and training in Organisational Consulting. He has been Chairman of the Charterhouse Group of Therapeutic Communities and for many years the Chairman of the Care Leavers’ Foundation. In 2014 he became Chair of Trustees at the Mulberry Bush School, only recently stepping down from that position, while remaining a Trustee with a special brief for the links and development of the contacts with and participation of former pupils. He has published numerous articles and continues to lecture widely across the UK and Europe.
Links:
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/TheSecureStartPodcast/
Secure Start Site: https://securestart.com.au/
Disclaimer:
Information reported by guests of this podcast is assumed to be accurate as stated. Podcast owner Colby Pearce is not responsible for any error of facts presented by podcast guests. In addition, unless otherwise specified, opinions expressed by guests of this podcast may not reflect those of the podcast owner, Colby Pearce. Finally, all references to case examples are anonymised to the extent that the actual case could not be identified, or are fictional but based on real-life examples for illustrative purposes, or have client consent to talk about in an educative context.
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