Steve Halley, LSCSW
Welcome to our blog. These posts share some of the many tried and true tools, skills, and techniques that the Family Peace Initiative has found to be valuable through the years.
We hope that this Facilitator's Tool Box will become a resource for you in your own quest to be the best facilitator you can be. We will be adding new blog posts monthly. Enjoy!
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Learning styles vary among those who attend BIP classes. The more activities used that relate to different learning styles, the stronger the BIP curriculum. One activity that we use is the Completion Letter. As the name describes, this is a letter that is written and presented by the participant to the class at the end of the program. This assignment carries with it the expectation that it will be a demonstration of what was learned throughout the 27 weeks. The following example was recently read in class as part of a completion process. Of course, the names have been changed:
"Bob” sits in class talking about the cruelty that he used against his wife. He acknowledges yelling at her, calling her names, and on several occasions, punching and pushing her down. The rest of us sit quietly, listening to his effort to take ownership of his violence. As he gets close to the end of what he wants to say, he makes a comment that I have heard far too many times among those who use violence in their families. Bob says, “as bad as I have been to my wife, at least I have never been abusive to my kids.”
I can’t think of a better example of denial than what “Bob” just said. As if he can separate out his violence in the home and play like it only impacts one person. Whenever there are children, abusive behavior towards “my wife”, is child abuse. It is impossible to abuse a partner without abusing the kids. A parent is not a “good parent” if they are abusing their children’s other parent. Period.
If you have been doing work with those who batter for any length of time, it is likely that you have heard the “mantra of shame”. It usually comes unexpectedly. The mantra normally begins with a sigh, and then the eyes shift toward the floor. There is a pause and then the words come, barely audible. “I promised myself…… I swore that I would never become… I vowed that I would never be… like my dad… and look…I am just like him.” Tears often follow.
I have heard this mantra of shame numerous times. This mantra is loaded with the emotional energy of sadness, fear, anger and profound grief for both the suffering of the past and the reality of present day. It is a humbling moment when those who batterer realize that they have recreated the horror and trauma of their own experience. They have found themselves face to face with their own “River of Cruelty”.
I remember playing “tackle the man with the ball” during recess in 5th grade. I hated this game. I didn’t mind “tackling the man with the ball” but I was terrified of being the one getting tackled. I did not want my classmates to know I was afraid, so occasionally, I would muster the courage to grab the ball and run. The blood thirsty mob would join in pursuit, and just as I was about to be tackled, I would throw the football over my head, high up into the air, and someone else would pick up the ball and run. I had effectively given my fear away to someone else.
My work with those who batter reminds me of “tackle the man with ball”. Many who batter go to great lengths to look brave, courageous or manly, but when the façade wears thin and fear becomes intolerable, anger, violence and threats are useful tactics to hand off the fear to others “like a football”. This need to give adverse feelings away to others is a direct result of growing up in “The River of Cruelty” where fear is considered weakness.
Here in Kansas, everyone who gets referred to a batterer intervention program undergoes an assessment prior to engaging in the program. One question we ask is how they were disciplined as a child. A few questions later, we ask about experiences of physical abuse. The answers that people give to these two questions says a lot about how cruelty is passed from person to person and from generation to generation.
Commonly, when the question about discipline is asked, the answer goes something like…
“Oh, I was a bad kid growing up. I got whoopings all the time when I got in trouble.”
I follow up with a question like…
“What did a ‘whooping’ look like in your experience?”
COMMUNITY PROGRAMS
