The Tenderness I wish to leave with the children
By Chang,Ting-Man, social worker for juveniles
Tr. : Lian
If I could turn the clock back ten years, to when I was fifteen, when my only concern was with having fun and making friends, when I constantly receiving warning slips from teachers, and when my parents were being called to school every so often for a "talk" -- and I stood in front of that version of myself and said: "You're going to become a social worker, an adult that children look up to, just like a mother of five," I think she would burst out laughing!
I could never imagine that one day, I would be saying to a stubborn-faced child, "Take your time, it's okay -- I'll wait." I also could not imagine I would find myself constantly pulled between reprimanding and accepting, trying to balance the inner struggle between my instinct to protect and to let go.
The days of becoming a social worker are filled with hardship, but more often, with kind nurturing.
I remember every "first" with the children—the first time they initiated to share their feelings, the first innocent smile, the first time they said, "Thank you, Auntie." Each of those moments warmed my heart. Even though they were small gestures, each one brought us closer together. In those moments, all I want is to do more for the children. I realized what I do is no longer just a job; it's a passion. It's something I want to do, something I can do. I want to see their smiles, see them relax around me, hear them say, "I felt happy today…" Just a few words or a small action give me the feeling that "we've taken a step together, and we can go even further."
People often say that social workers are companions, but in my journey, I feel more as one who helps children grow wings, learning to fly through practice and guidance. And when they finally fly on their own, I hope they will remember that in Jonah House, there was someone who supported them, who walked with them through their stumbles and setbacks, until they could soar high and far.
Becoming an "adult" is not easy. Just as I was beginning to learn how to face my own insecurities and doubts on the path to be- coming a social worker, I had to stand firm in front of children and even learn to "gently but firmly refuse".
Children are perceptive, sometimes even more aware of our own emotional state than we are. When I am upset or speak hurriedly, they immediately sense and perceive the change. That's when I began asking myself: What should I be offering them? What type of person should I be showing them? Can I face these children with a whole and sincere version of myself? Can I learn to love others even before I've become "fully mature"? Can I deal with being disliked without being shaken? Can I, in moments when they throw tantrums, talk back, or act provocatively, still see the small soul that is asking for help, expressing, "I don't know what to do… I long to be seen and supported."?
I gradually realized that, aside from providing resources and professional skills, what's more important is to offer a clear sense of "myself." But in fact, I'm still unsure of what kind of adult I want to be. So, do I have the ability to guide the children to become the person they aspire to be? This question has always lingered in my heart, occasionally flashing and stinging. However, because of this un- certainty, I work harder to think about how to help the children discover the person they want to become.
I hope they will be able to face the cruelty of reality and not give up on discovering the beauty of the world; I hope they can maintain the courage to trust others and know how to protect themselves; I hope they will not become what they "should" be, but what they "like" to be. But in the end, I realized that I was overthinking, as I discover- ed that the children are more resilient and more capable than I imagined.
The human spirit is irrepressible. Every interest, opportunity, and challenge help to shape one's ability to overcome difficulties. There was a child who had no motivation or goals in life, but when he discovered that he could do something remarkable, to help others, and to receive praise in the process, he began to smile, have ideas, and eventually, to dream.
Watching them, I sometimes find myself relearning how to face my own vulnerability and growth. Honestly, it's often these small adults who teach me how to be an adult, how to breathe under pressure, how to find joy in the simple everyday moments, how to start again after feeling lost. A casual word or gesture from them often feels like a warm light that sweeps away the day's worries and fatigue. Our companionship and mutual growth are both wondrous and precious. I'm genuinely grateful to the children who have come through Cathwel; they have made me a better person.
I often tell the children, "You look beautiful when you smile. You have so many good qualities. Don't just let me see them. Let everyone know what a great and caring person you are!" Sometimes, they smile shyly, and sometimes they change the subject out of embarrassment. To me, their smiles are like the sun, bright and warm.
I sincerely hope that when these children (and later adults) think of me, what they will remember is "she genuinely cared about me." She wasn't perfect. Sometimes she would say the wrong thing, lose her temper, or handle emotions and situations clumsily, but she never gave up on me.
A child once said to me: 'I feel like I can tell you anything,' 'Being able to share experiences with you is so wonderful,' and 'I look forward to spending time with you in the future...' These almost moved me to tears!
Love is simple. There is no need for fancy words or grand gestures. As long as it comes from the heart and is selfless, children will know it.
I want to leave all my tenderness with you, and my greatest wish is that you take that love and reflect it onto yourselves. Love yourselves well, and grow into the person you desire.
To the children and to Cathwel, thank you for allowing me to occupy even a small place in your lives. You may not realize it, but you have taught me much! Thank you for helping me believe that I can become a social worker -- a grown-up in the eyes of others. Sometimes I feel tired, but I have no regrets. I genuinely love the person I have become, and I want to continue to gently accompany the children as they grow and explore the world, while also discovering new sides of myself.