Taking on the Ivory Tower

I'm going in to have a discussion with one of my instructors tomorrow about an evaluation of my work as a therapist. As noted in the previous entry, the marks for my clinical work put me a bit beyond "where I'm supposed to be" right now in my training -- which is a compliment to my skill -- but the evaluation contains a few ratings and a few words that cross the very fat line between valuable feedback and character defamation.

The instructors -- there are two of them who alternated coverage for the term -- called me "challenging" to the point of being "disrespectful." They also suggested my "behavior" had been "a detriment to the atmosphere and perception of safety in our class."

Further, they have "concerns" about certain character traits of mine. The most offensive to me is that they actually seem to question whether I "respect the fundamental rights, worth and dignity of all people." This is such a profoundly held part of my world view that I feel like an earnest but privately pious person who is having her faith in god questioned. It's really inappropriate.

I'm not claiming turf that belongs to the Dali Lama or anything, but I do know what I know about myself, and that is something I know. People, animals, insects, rocks, paper, scissors -- all of us and all other things are fundamental and essential to Life As We Know It. Every person has a role in this tremendous play, this drama, this comedy, this ongoing saga called "life," and that means -- friend or foe -- that we each have fundamental worth.

But my instructors don't think I get that. Instead, they seem to see me as a little scary or dangerous or something.

Of course, they never mentioned this to me during the term. They once said my "challenging" could be seen as "judgmental and dismissive," but they never told me my colleagues were feeling unsafe.

That is probably in part because my classmates never complained about any such thing. If there was a perception that the class wasn't "safe," it seems to have been experienced mainly by the instructors.

I guess I can understand that in some ways. Because at the bottom of all of this, I sense that one of these two professors -- if not both of them -- were intimidated by the pointed manner in which I questioned theory and practice. My learning process can include vigorous questioning. If I'm trying to understand something and I've got questions, I'll ask them. I pay $645 a credit hour for the privilege of doing so. I want my money's worth.

Which is why my Research Methods class was persistantly peppered with my requests of the instructor: Please explain that again, one more time. In English.

If I'm satisfied with your response, I'll sit back and let it sink in. If I still don't understand or if I want to solicit the input of others, I'll keep asking questions. This is especially the case when there is no concrete, right-or-wrong answer to the questions at hand.

Education for counselors is full of caveats and maybes. The work is fundamentally relational, and no one ever really knows what's going on in a relationship -- not even the people involved. No matter how much we may think we know, the true experiences and thoughts of others are a mystery to us. This is why humans invented the concept known as "trust."

So in exploring how we conceptualize what's going on with clients and how we choose the interventions we'll use, we're always relegated to making a guess. We hope it's a good, educated guess, but in the end, we are profoundly limited by an abiding Not Knowing.

Given that, any conversation about clients is no more than an exchange of ideas, a collection of possibilities. Our ideas should be challenged, not just for the sake of the clients but for our own self-awareness as therapists. Where we tell medical doctors, "Physician, heal thyself," a similar caution applies to therapists: "Counselor, know thyself."

That is a mighty and worthy challenge all unto its own, as anyone who has ever undertaken serious self-examination will tell you. And this class -- this live practicum -- was a ripe opportunity to explore our theory, our projections and our issues of counter-transference in a real way. Because several other people were able to observe the sessions, more opinions -- more ideas, more insights -- were theoretically accessible.

Of course, yours truly had PLENTY to say.

But what I unrolled in this particular class was what most of my friends and many of my colleagues would recognize as "UCM Lite." I was simply attempting to engage in the experience we were offered. In terms of counselor education, it is the rarest of opportunities -- likely the only we will ever have -- to sit and watch LIVE therapy going on or to be able to review a tape of an entire session. Patient confidentiality, especially in these days of HIPPA, makes that an extremely uncommon practice. But for our first foray into the work, we were under intense supervision and, as a result, got to watch each other practice.

I was not interested in squandering this opportunity, so I paid attention to my colleagues in session, and I talked in meaningful ways about what I saw in their work. I also solicited feedback about what they saw in mine. Sometimes, I complimented my colleagues on how they handled a particularly touchy situation or question from the client. Sometimes, I engaged in light-hearted (but never disrespectful) banter with them about the nature of the work. Sometimes, I remarked on their body language. And sometimes, I asked frank questions about how their understanding of things like the ethnicity or sexual orientation of a client was influencing their approach to therapy.

If that's "challenging," then I accept the mantle proudly. I will wear that. I will also bottle and sell it.

But I don't accept that I was disrespectful or created an unsafe environment.

In fact, four of my five classmates (the fifth never responded to my inquiry) said that they did NOT feel unsafe and, moreover, actually appreciated my participation in class. In various ways, they felt like I was "keeping it real," "making us really think," and "moving us toward growth." They said they LIKED being challenged and wished they had gotten more of it from the instructors, as well. (And one classmate told me tonight that the fifth person never expressed a single thought about me outside of class. "There was some tension between you two once or twice, but I don't think he was bothered by you," I was told.)

If we should be satisfied that four out of five dentists say flossing is good for our teeth, I think it's respectable that four out of five classmates surveyed said your UCM was actually GOOD for the class and not -- "absolutely not in any way," in the words of one colleague -- an impediment to its safety.

And yet, my evaluation says the complete opposite.

So I'm going to have to go in there and dispute that.

Unfortunately, one of the other criticisms about me is that I don't accept feedback very well (also really and truly *not true* for the most part). So the existence of that nonsense there in writing puts me in something of a pickle. Think about it: Someone tells you that you can't take feedback, and when you want to dispute *any* of the feedback, the act of doing so (no matter how gently or diplomatically) can be easily twisted into an affirmation of their suspicion.

"A-HA!," I can imagine them saying, "we said she couldn't take feedback, and she disagrees with us about it. See! She can't take feedback!"

*sigh*

But I am going to fight the good fight anyway, because that is one of the things I'm all about. I don't like injustice in any form, but it stings the most when it's personal. And even though I am learning not to take things personally, there are some things that simply ARE personal.

Like being told you don't have respect for the fundamental rights, dignity and worth of people. I can't manage to see that in any light where such a statement about me is not offensive. It is fundamentally offensive.

On that note, I'll sign off with a little repeat of a blog entry I wrote back on March 12, long before this class ever began. This rather succintly summarizes my feelings on the "fundamental worthiness of people":

I have found religion, my Fair Readers.

It is me. It is you. It is us. And all that flows between us.

It is eyes at half mast, stoned and full of pleasure. It is the cringe of fear.

It is a child speaking to the echo of two phones calling each other. It is my dog's erect ears.

The softness of my pillow. Massage. And a bad night's sleep.

The night sky over Wiamea. A dream of Balinese architecture in Hawi.

It is storytelling. And those who aren't ready to hear the story just yet.

Sweet corn tamales. Sushi. Guinness stout.

A gridlock of cars using alternative fuels. Hummers with fake biodiesel bumperstickers.

A trusted friend. A friend who trusts you. The friend who trusts no one.

It is entitlement without the expense and suffering of others.

Joy. Laughter. Love. And letting go of the rest.

It is the absence of ugliness in the light of our undeniable worth.