Working History of a Social Worker

By Simone Grandjean

After working 20 years as a dressmaker, in 1980, aged 49 years, I proudly
received a Degree in Social Studies from the University of Sydney.
Then, in 1985 I obtained a Masters Degree in Social Work from the
University of New South Wales.
My first job as a Social Worker, in 1980 was with the Italian Welfare
Centre (CO.AS.IT.) where I stayed for four and a half years. Then six
months in a Nursing Home in London. Then one year with the Department
of Immigration in Sydney and Parramatta. Then from 1987 I worked for the
Aged Care Assessment Team attached to the Bankstown Hospital. I retired
in March 2007 on my 76th birthday.
I enjoyed my work. I liked many of my clients and most of my
co-workers.
I remember some of the cases I had to deal with; many were unusual,
some were sad, some impossible and a few amusing, but all were interesting
as no two people are alike.
In CO.AS.IT. I had a whole range of problems to deal with. All the
clients were Italian migrants mainly from a Peasant background. They
spoke mostly their native dialects mixed with Italian. The greatest number
came from the south of Italy (PUGLIA, CALABRIA, SICILY, and around
NAPLES) and from the poorer parts of the North (Veneto).
I spoke Italian and soon understood the different dialects although I
never spoke any of them. So I was able to deal with people from the different
provinces.
At The Department of Immigration I was in charge of several bi-lingual
Welfare Officers covering Arabic, Greek, Spanish, Lebanese, Polish, all
8
Simone Grandjean
Yugoslav languages, the Filipino dialects, Chinese, Vietnamese and Italian;
my native language is French.
I was also able to use interpreters for those times when a person spoke
something else, such as Portuguese, Armenian or Assyrian, etc . . .
In England and Bankstown 99% of my clients were the elderly, the
greatest percentage were of English or Anglo Australian background, but also
of many other nationalities and ethnic backgrounds.
So, there have been cases relating to family relationship, children, marital
problems, psychiatric problems, immigration, needing information on a large
range of subjects: health, death, work, financial problems, sexual problems,
etc . . . and cultural differences.
But first I was a Social Work Student.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Apr 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493132683

Simone Grandjean

After working 20 years as a dressmaker, in 1980, aged 49 years, I proudly received a Degree in Social Studies from the University of Sydney. Then, in 1985 I obtained a Masters Degree in Social Work from the University of New South Wales. My first job as a Social Worker, in 1980 was with the Italian Welfare Centre (CO.AS.IT.) where I stayed for four and a half years. Then six months in a Nursing Home in London. Then one year with the Department of Immigration in Sydney and Parramatta. Then from 1987 I worked for the Aged Care Assessment Team attached to the Bankstown Hospital. I retired in March 2007 on my 76th birthday. I enjoyed my work. I liked many of my clients and most of my co-workers. I remember some of the cases I had to deal with; many were unusual, some were sad, some impossible and a few amusing, but all were interesting as no two people are alike. In CO.AS.IT. I had a whole range of problems to deal with. All the clients were Italian migrants mainly from a Peasant background. They spoke mostly their native dialects mixed with Italian. The greatest number came from the south of Italy (PUGLIA, CALABRIA, SICILY, and around NAPLES) and from the poorer parts of the North (Veneto). I spoke Italian and soon understood the different dialects although I never spoke any of them. So I was able to deal with people from the different provinces. At The Department of Immigration I was in charge of several bi-lingual Welfare Officers covering Arabic, Greek, Spanish, Lebanese, Polish, all 8 Simone Grandjean Yugoslav languages, the Filipino dialects, Chinese, Vietnamese and Italian; my native language is French. I was also able to use interpreters for those times when a person spoke something else, such as Portuguese, Armenian or Assyrian, etc . . . In England and Bankstown 99% of my clients were the elderly, the greatest percentage were of English or Anglo Australian background, but also of many other nationalities and ethnic backgrounds. So, there have been cases relating to family relationship, children, marital problems, psychiatric problems, immigration, needing information on a large range of subjects: health, death, work, financial problems, sexual problems, etc . . . and cultural differences. But first I was a Social Work Student.

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Work History of

a Social Worker

After working 20 years as a dressmaker, in 1980, aged 49 years, I proudly received a Degree in Social Studies from the University of Sydney.

Then, in 1985 I obtained a Masters Degree in Social Work from the University of New South Wales.

My first job as a Social Worker, in 1980 was with the Italian Welfare Centre (CO.AS.IT.) where I stayed for four and a half years. Then six months in a Nursing Home in London. Then one year with the Department of Immigration in Sydney and Parramatta. Then from 1987 I worked for the Aged Care Assessment Team attached to the Bankstown Hospital. I retired in March 2007 on my 76th birthday.

I enjoyed my work. I liked many of my clients and most of my co-workers.

I remember some of the cases I had to deal with; many were unusual, some were sad, some impossible and a few amusing, but all were interesting as no two people are alike.

In CO.AS.IT. I had a whole range of problems to deal with. All the clients were Italian migrants mainly from a Peasant background. They spoke mostly their native dialects mixed with Italian. The greatest number came from the south of Italy (PUGLIA, CALABRIA, SICILY, and around NAPLES) and from the poorer parts of the North (Veneto).

I spoke Italian and soon understood the different dialects although I never spoke any of them. So I was able to deal with people from the different provinces.

At The Department of Immigration I was in charge of several bi-lingual Welfare Officers covering Arabic, Greek, Spanish, Lebanese, Polish, all Yugoslav languages, the Filipino dialects, Chinese, Vietnamese and Italian; my native language is French.

I was also able to use interpreters for those times when a person spoke something else, such as Portuguese, Armenian or Assyrian, etc…

In England and Bankstown 99% of my clients were the elderly, the greatest percentage were of English or Anglo Australian background, but also of many other nationalities and ethnic backgrounds.

So, there have been cases relating to family relationship, children, marital problems, psychiatric problems, immigration, needing information on a large range of subjects: health, death, work, financial problems, sexual problems, etc… and cultural differences.

But first I was a Social Work Student.

My Student Days

How much can a student do while on a placement? Quite a bit sometimes.

It very much depends on the supervisor.

My first supervisor was a young unmarried woman who worked with parents of children with birth defects. Many were Down’s syndrome children.

I clashed with her, once, when she told me; One of the mums told me that her little girl (under 2 years of age) cried the minute her mother is out of her sight. I told her just to leave her and not to pay any attention. She’ll get used to it. But would you believe it! She said that she could not do that!

Well, I said, if I had been in her shoes and you told me that, I would not have come back to you ever. How could you tell her to do that? Sure, the child eventually has to get used to not seeing her mother constantly, but it can be done gradually, like a game.

She reckoned that I was too soft.

Another time, my supervisor said that she was going to a lecture by a Frenchman who worked with the handicapped in France.

He was on a tour to explain his way of doing so. When I saw her the next day I asked how the lecture had been. How was he? Oh, she said, he was all right if you could understand him. He was like you, he had a terrible accent.

Fortunately, that first placement only lasted three weeks.

My next supervisor and I got on much better. That placement was in a hospital. There were three social workers; two women and one man. They were housed in a small cottage near the hospital.

There was another social worker student from the University of NSW, placed with the other lady Social Worker. Her name was Emma and she was at the end of her placement. She was a nice young woman. We all got on well except that the female social workers tended to make life difficult for the male social worker who was very nice to me. For myself, I had no complaints with any of them.

a)   One day, just on five o’clock, my supervisor got a phone call from the hospital. She was ready to go home so she asked me to go and see what I could do. Apparently, an elderly patent was creating a scene.

I found her on the second floor, crying, yelling, surrounded by three young trainee nurses! She was 90 years old. She had come into the hospital in the afternoon for a cataract operation due to take place the next morning. She had been put to bed and had fallen asleep. She was blind and very deaf. When she woke up, about a quarter of an hour earlier, she had obviously forgotten where she was. She had tried to get out of bed only to be pushed back into it by a nurse. She had lived in a terrace house so she started yelling that she wanted to go downstairs. Each time she tried to get up, someone pushed her legs back in the bed. She was quite hysterical. I asked the nurses; Has she got to be kept in bed for any reason?

It’s the rule.

Meanwhile, another nurse was trying to put a thermometer in her mouth. What are you trying to do? I asked. I have to take her temperature… If you keep on doing that, she is likely to bite off the end of the thermometer. You had better stop.

But the temperature…

Was that taken when she came in?

Yes.

Did she have a temperature then?

No, it was normal.

Then I suggest it is still normal if you don’t upset her. You could try later if you really think that it is necessary.

All right then.

While talking, I had taken the old lady’s hand and was stroking it gently. She had stopped yelling. I suggested that someone put on her slippers and dressing gown and put her in a wheel chair. Then, I said, Take her around the floor quite fast and around a few corners so that she can feel that you are taking her somewhere.

Will that work?

I don’t know, but I hope so.

Then, what?

Bring her back here; she might also want to go to the toilet. Anyway, try it.

As soon as she felt her slippers being put on, she became co-operative. She stopped struggling and with her dressing gown on she sat in the wheel chair. Then one girl said to another; You take her, I feel silly. The other young woman did as instructed. She went around the floor a couple of times and brought her back. The old lady got back into bed without any trouble.

b)   At the same hospital, one of my clients was an elderly Frenchman. He had had an operation for a fractured ankle (sustained months earlier and which was not healing). He was worried about his wife, alone at home, who was a diabetic. They lived a long way from the hospital in another suburb. She couldn’t drive and a taxi was out of the question as they couldn’t afford the fare. He told me his story.

He was born in France. He had four younger sisters. His father had walked out on his family. His mother had contracted tuberculosis and had been put in a sanatorium.

All the children were put in a welfare home.

He was twelve years old at the time.

Six years later, the Second World War started and he had enlisted in the Navy. He had ended up in Indo-China at the end of the war.

Then, he came to Australia, met his wife and got married. They had two children; a boy and a girl. Some years had gone by and they had gone to France where he had traced his sisters. He was surprised and happy to find that his mother had recovered and that he saw her before she eventually died.

Their children grew up in Australia. Their daughter was working in Perth. They were told that she had died due to a defective gas water heater in her bathroom. They had got into the car to go to her funeral, but they had had an accident on the way. Their son was killed and he had had a broken ankle. Now, he said, there are only the two of us. His wife suffered from depression.

I went back to discuss the case with my supervisor who said that she did not know what could be done about it. (There were no taxi vouchers then). Funds for transport were not usually available, and he had to stay in hospital for several weeks. The case was also discussed with other social workers and Emma with similar results. Then I said; You told me that there are two small units for the families of patients from the country. Aren’t they empty? Couldn’t she move into one of them? My idea was greeted with shock-horror; They are reserved for the families of patients learning to use a hemodialysis machine, and" Sister Anne has the key so no one can get it without her permission.

Couldn’t we ask her? I asked. The idea did not appeal to either social worker; It’s hard to approach her. Well, she could only say no. I insisted. Eventually my supervisor said; If you want to try, go ahead.

I asked about the steps to follow. I rang and asked for an appointment and, so I left to keep it. Emma said; Good luck!

The hospital was run by nuns. Sister Anne’s office was in the main part of the hospital. I sat outside her office, as I was told that she was talking to someone. I was nervous and rehearsed in my head what I was going to say in my advocacy for my client.

Someone came out and I was told to go in. I was faced by a small elderly nun sitting behind a desk. I told her my name and my status and, there and then, I realized that that woman was very busy and did not really want to hear a sob story, so I stuck to the bare facts of the case; the couple who had lost both of their children, their accident and therefore his stay in the hospital for the operation, his wife alone, depressed and diabetic. So, I finished, I was wondering whether she couldn’t be allowed to stay in one of the units while nobody else needs it so that they could be together. She had not interrupted me once. She did not reply to me. She lifted the phone, spoke to someone and said; I am sending a social work student. Her name is Simone. Give her a key to one of the units for one of her clients.

I could only say; Thank you very much before walking out. I went to get the key and returned triumphantly to my supervisor. She congratulated me but Emma threw her arms around me and kissed me.

I am so happy for you! She said. She had finished her placement. I did not see her again for about 20 years.

One day in a conference, I saw a young woman who looked familiar. She looked at me and said Simone! I seem to know you, I said, but I cannot remember where I have met you before. When we were both students at the hospital And you remembered me. That’s nice How could I ever forget you? You showed me how not to be afraid to approach someone to help a client. It was the best compliment I had ever received.

My next placement was with the Italian Welfare Centre (CO.AS.IT.) situated in the city about 10 minutes walk from Central Station. I was supervised by a social worker, Gula Pecker, from the Immigration Department as Co As. It only employed welfare officers who were not qualified to supervise a social work student.

There was also another social work student on placement. She was of Italian background but her family came from the north of Italy and they were from a middle class background. She was a very nice young woman but most of Co. As. It. clients came from a peasant background from the South. There is quite a difference of values and beliefs between the two groups even though it is the one country and Sylvia had some difficulty understanding the way the clients viewed the world.

A young woman was referred to Co.As.It. by the social worker of a hospital where she had been admitted after a severe beating by her husband. The case was given to Sylvia who went to see her. Sylvia came back and told me the following. The client came from Sicily. She had three children. It was not the first time that her husband had beaten her. Did she say what brought on the beating? I asked. She said that her parents had promised her husband a sum of money if he married her but they had never given it to him.

Did she say why they promised money to him? No. But Sylvia thought that Sicilians do things that other people would not do. However, I said that it was unusual. Is she ugly? No. She has no handicap? No. Did she say what she wants to do about his bad behaviour? No, she said that it’s her parent’s fault who did not give him what they had promised.

Sicilians don’t usually pay someone to marry their daughters unless they think that nobody else would want her.

During our supervision, Gula asked Silvia more or less the same things I had. She said that when a situation seems odd, one needs to question the client further to try and understand the dynamics of the case. She then read the report that Silvia had written and she suddenly asked; Who is the father of the oldest child? Silvia was shocked; Well, her husband of course. Why of course? She was born before they were married. Was she? Yes. Didn’t you realize it when you wrote this? You gave the names and dates of birth of the children and the date of the marriage.

Poor Silvia cried; I did not notice she said. Gula consoled her. She said that she was not angry with her but, in the future, to pay attention to these details. It was really her assumption that Sicilians behave differently to other Italians that had made her accept the fact that parents would pay someone to marry their daughter even if she had no defect. Of course having a child while single would stop her marrying anyone except the child’s father and, if he was not keen on doing the right thing, he had to be persuaded.

My last placement had at first been arranged to be in a Community Health Centre in an area with a high density of migrants. However, this only lasted about two weeks when the nurse running the Centre obviously did not want a social work student around and had decided that I should have no contact with the actual clients and I should spend my time in other Centres to report to her how they were run. As a nurse she was not qualified to supervise me and my supervision was to be done by a psychiatrist working at the Centre several days a week. As it was my last placement, I realized that this kind of experience would be totally wrong. I contacted the University placement supervisor who agreed with my assessment. Another placement was found with A.D.A.B. a special section of the Federal Department of Education which dealt with overseas students.

a)   One young man from New Guinea, studying at the Institute of Technology, came to say that he had had no news from his family for more than three months. He gave me all the relevant details and I set the system in motion. A telegram was sent asking for news from the local Australian Consulate in Port Moresby.

Time passed and about two weeks later I sent a message for the student to come and see me again. I told him that I was sorry but we had not been able to get any news either. The Consulate had let us know that they had passed our query on to the appropriate village through the Post. The student did not seem surprised by our lack of results. So I questioned him further. He said that from Port Moresby there was a further day of traveling by bus to get to another town, then, he would have to walk three days to get to his village. The postman only went there once a month or there about.

No wonder the mail did not get through quickly!

b)   An older man from Indonesia had been studying for a Master’s Degree in Australia. When his studies’ finished he decided that, before going home he would have a hernia operated on.

He was still in hospital a few days later when he asked to see a Social Worker. I visited him there where he was very sore and sorry for himself. He was also very worried as he thought that all that pain and discomfort meant that he was very sick. I assured him that I believed that hernia operations were very painful.

That reassured him, but he had not told his family that he was having the operation, and he had a big heavy suitcase full of presents and he could not carry it. I said that I would arrange for someone to help him to get it to the airport. Then I suggested that he really needed to let his family know, not only that they could come to get him at the Airport in Indonesia but because I told him, he had not seen his wife for the best part of two years and if she did not know, she would probably expect a nice reunion but he probably would not feel up to it quite so soon. He looked at me in horror: I had not thought of that. I had better let them know.

ADAB opened my eyes on how overseas students were treated when they arrived in Australia. Those were not privately funded students but those who came through their governments and Australia’s Foreign Affairs.

Everything was organized to make their stay here memorable. From getting them at the Airport To finding them suitable accommodation, their own food, people supervising them, students in constant touch with their teachers and organizing tutors as soon as a report came to say that they were struggling in this or that subject. Their English was especially tested early and they benefited of special intensive courses before starting on the course they had come here for.

And these were social workers-three of them-to deal with any other problems they might have. I was told that the students would be the best ambassadors for Australia when they returned to their countries. I thought that if migrants had half as much help when they arrive in Australia, it would prevent a lot of worry and heartbreak.

Anyway, I finished that last placement and was able to graduate early in 1980.

CO.AS.IT.

I got a job in Co.As.It. in a strange way. About six years earlier, with my Swiss friend Margrit, I had gone to see a lady who did palmistry. She was an Australian woman married to a European. She had surprised me when saying: You have started to study late in life, as soon as I gave her my hand. There was no way she would have known about me before that first interview. She read correctly much of my past and predicted some future happenings about my children—which turned out true years later. She then asked if I had any questions. I said: Since you know so much, can you tell me whether I will get through my studies all right? (I had just finished my H.S.C. and did not yet know the results).

She took my right hand and said, pointing to a line: This line goes straight up. You will never fail anything.

Although at the time I was not as convinced as she appeared to be, in some way, I wanted to believe it so that, later-on, at University, during the exams, I used to remain pretty calm just by telling myself: She said I would not fail, And, amazingly enough, I never did fail.

But first I got the HSC results. That morning, a young woman for whom I had made a dress and who was also studying for the HSC at high school, rang me up excitedly and said that she had passed. She had some three hundred and something marks.