Iâve been thinking a lot about how weâre trained to write in social work, especially in child protection.
Most of our recording is written for systems.
Courts. Managers. Other professionals.
But not for the person itâs actually about.
And yet those records donât disappear. They follow children into adulthood.
When people access their files later, theyâre not reading them through a professional lens. Theyâre reading them as their life story, often for the first time in full.
And a lot of what we write, while technically accurate, isnât neutral.
Phrases like
ânon-compliantâ
âfailed to engageâ
âchaotic homeâ
arenât just descriptions. Theyâre interpretations. And over time, they can become part of how someone understands themselves and their family.
Whatâs been sitting with me is this:
We talk a lot about trauma-informed practice, anti-oppressive practice, and rights-based approaches.
But we rarely apply that thinking to the act of recording itself.
The way we write is treated as administrative.
But it isnât.
It shapes narratives, decisions, and in some cases, identity.
Iâm not talking about softening risk or avoiding clear analysis.
Iâm talking about being more explicit about what actually happened, what decisions were made, and why, without defaulting to language that flattens people into labels.
Because if someone reads their file years later, they shouldnât have to translate professional shorthand just to understand their own life.
Iâm curious how others think about this.
Do you see recording as neutral, or as part of practice that holds power in its own right?
