A job no-one wants... and decisions that can decide life and death

For most, it's a profession that leads on from a junior role in health care or which results from a career change later in life, inspired by a desire to give something back and find that often elusive job satisfaction.

"Like many people, I didn't set out to become a social worker," says Kate, who has now been qualified for three years. "My degree was in music and performance and when I graduated from university I began working with children with disabilities. Basically, I went as far as I could without specific qualifications and it was then that I realised I wanted to become a social worker. That's how it is for a lot of

people, it's something that develops over time."

Sadly, not enough people feel the same desire as Kate. Last year, the profession found itself in the middle of a recruitment crisis. One in seven posts across England were reported to be vacant and unions described the critical shortage as a "ticking time bomb".

The reasons for the shortfall were clear. At the time, the profession was already struggling to recruit enough trained professionals, the case of Baby P hit the headlines and horrific details of both parental abuse and the failures of key social workers were exposed.

As everyone from politicians to members of the public called for heads to roll, a grim picture of the social work profession emerged. It was one were individuals were buckling under the pressure of impossible caseloads, where no one seemed to talk to each other and where a supposedly simple system of checks and balances had spectacularly failed.

Last week, the profession faced more criticism over the death of seven-year-old Khyra Ishaq, who starved to death in her family home.

A High Court judge had already concluded the little girl would still be alive had "an adequate initial assessment and proper adherence by the educational welfare services to its guidance" been carried out.

With Khrya's mother Angela Gordon and step-father Junaid Abuhamza both awaiting sentencing for manslaughter the outcome of a pending serious case review is unlikely to make pleasant reading.

In short, those high profile cases have made social work seem like a job for only the brave or the foolhardy.

"The cases of Baby P and Khrya Ishaq are truly shocking," says Kate, who works out of the Avenues Children's Centre in York. "You don't need to be a social worker to see how badly the child was failed and I completely understand why what happened deserved to be reported.

"However, you also read those stories with an element of frustration. Mistakes should be pointed out and there has to be accountability, but it would be nice if just once people could talk about the success stories and the hundreds and thousands of children who are helped

each year."

Over the next 12 months, 200,000 jobs across the whole of the social care sector are expected to become vacant and a new recruitment campaign has recently been launched to help plug the gaps. A similar campaign last year saw 32,000 people contact an information line and a follow-up survey showed of those, more than half were actively pursuing a change of career.

When asked, many said they felt unfulfilled in their present employment and felt social work might provide that sense of purpose. They might be right, but those dealing with some of the country's most vulnerable families also have to be prepared to make the most difficult of decisions.

In an attempt to get the best people into the profession, the Government has also recently launched the Step Up to Social Work scheme. Targeted at those who already have a 2:1 degree and experience of working with children or young people, successful applicants will be paid to study for a masters degree while at the same time training to be a social worker.

Up to 200 places will be available from September this year and it is hoped it will bring much-needed new blood into the sector.

Kate deals with cases involving children under the age of 10. By the time the files reach her, they have already been through an initial referral and assessment process and while some will require simple intervention there are other families whose problems are complex and who distrust the authorities.

"Some people do try to tell you what they think you want to hear and some will lie about how they are coping," she says. "However, you have to trust your eyes and ears and listen as much to what they're not saying as what they are.

"A social worker is not necessarily a person people want to confide in and yes some can be verbally aggressive. However, from the initial assessment we usually have an inkling if they are likely to be difficult and if that is the case we would never go to a house alone.

"Often you can sense when things aren't right and there are times when you have to confront families with harsh realities.

"If I went out to see a family and saw things were so bad that I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving a child in the house then of course I would act there and then. There is a lot of paperwork which needs to be completed in this job, but it's there for a reason.

"However, in the most serious cases a child can be taken out of a potentially dangerous situation immediately."

Drug and alcohol addiction plays a part in the vast majority of cases Kate sees and it fuels a kind of chaotic lifestyle where children are still in their night clothes in the middle of the afternoon and where mealtimes come and go without anyone really noticing.

"All the studying in the world can't ever prepare you for visiting the most serious cases," she says. "This job can be shocking, but you have to try to remain detached. Houses can be dirty, relationships can be dysfunctional and it's never as simple as telling people this is the way things should be done.

"You wouldn't be human if you didn't have an emotional involvement with the children, but you have to accept that it can take an awful long time to achieve the kind of family stability that most of us take

for granted."

In the majority of cases which Kate handles, a child protection plans is drawn up. Effectively it lays out in black and white the responsibility of the parents, alongside what a family can expect from social services. Progress is reviewed at three months and then a further six months on, but in between Kate and a raft of other professional maintain close contact with the family.

On a typical day this can mean anything from securing a place at a play group, to checking vaccinations have been carried out and finding an alternative home, even if just temporarily, for a vulnerable child. In many cases, grandparents or other members of the family step in, but when a child has to be moved into foster care, it's Kate who makes sure the transition happens as smoothly as possible.

"The alternative would be to put the child in a taxi and that doesn't seem right," she says, having just come off the phone to check if one foster carer, preparing to take on a baby, has the necessary sterilising equipment and moses basket. "Removing a child from their parents is a last resort and only happens when all other options have been explored.

"You can't underestimate children, even at a very young age they are acutely aware of what is going on around them and we try to do everything we can to make the best of very difficult situations."

After three years in the job, Kate has experienced more than her fair share of highs and lows and she knows that difficult decisions are part of the job.

"Of course there are weeks when things don't go that well," she says. "But I wouldn't do the job if I didn't think it was possible to make a difference."