Editor’s note: Mandatory reporting laws in the US. require school personnel to report suspected child abuse or neglect to authorities or face criminal or civil penalties. The laws are widely controversial.
I do not like being a mandated reporter. Let me tell you a story. It has been almost three years and I am not naming any people or any locations, so I think I am in the clear. Besides, this story needs to be told.
I was working with high school age kids. I usually do pretty well with that age group since I am basically a large child with a beard. On the first day we instructors introduced ourselves to the class. While I was talking, I noticed a slightly awkward young woman really locking in on everything I said. I figured great, at least one person is listening.
A bit later we were escorting the students across campus to get their school IDs. And yes, it was strange that we had to walk them everywhere like a field trip even though every single one of them was at least sixteen. Anyway, I hung back at the end of the line like the responsible chaperone I pretend to be. She drifted back toward me and said, very casually, “I think I am going to get along with you.”
I said, “Awesome. I think we will get along too. Where do you go to high school”
She said, “I am home schooled.”
Then she added, without any pause, “I get abused at home a lot.”
That stopped the world for a second. When a kid brings something like that up right away, it usually means the issue is serious and the window to speak with someone on the outside is tiny. I kept it simple. “By whom”
“My father.”
I knew I was going to have to escalate this. But I also was not going to betray her trust. So I said, “Are you ok if I pass this along to some people who can help you out”
She said yes. We reached the student center and she got in line for her ID. I went straight to my supervisor and reported what she told me. My supervisor nodded and I went off to run a quick errand. When I came back, my supervisor told me the girl had repeated the same story to her without being asked. That confirmed it. This was serious.
We filled out the required paperwork, the boring part where you hope the system works like it is supposed to. I did not hear anything after that. Maybe something was happening behind the scenes. Maybe.
A week later I was walking across campus and saw the same young woman being escorted by two police officers toward the booking station in the college building. She looked straight at me, crying, and said, “Chris, help me.”
I am not a fan of cops, and in that moment I did not react the way I would have wanted to in my daydream version of this story. I was intimidated. I said, “What is going on”
One officer said, “You are Chris, right You know what is going on.”
I asked, “Can I come with you”
He said, “No.”
They did not cuff her, but each officer had a grip on one of her arms like she was the attacker, not the victim. I should have said, “I am coming with you.” I should have planted myself next to her and refused to move. I did not. I froze. I regret it. I think about it more than I want to admit.
I never saw her again. I tried to find her on social media, not to contact her, but to see if she was still alive. Either she used a different name or she did not use social media. My fear was not overprotective. It was rational. Nobody ever followed up with me. I later found out I could have requested a final disposition, but it has been so long that I doubt that door is still open.
Sometimes I replay the whole thing and imagine walking her out to the car at the end of the day. If her father showed up, maybe I would have just handled it right there with an old fashioned conversation that involved my fists. But that is not how the world works. Instead I did what the law tells me to do. I passed the problem up to a system that often has less training than me and none of my lived experience.
I am a trained mental health professional with a Masters in Social Work. I have been through classrooms, clinics, and a life that taught me more than any textbook. And yet I was required to hand this off to someone who might not know what they were doing.
It is what it is. But it still haunts me.
Chris Miner, MSW, is a formerly-incarcerated PhD candidate in Criminology and an informal social worker.
