Field Instructor Nomination

“Mr. Waldon is the glue that keeps the school together.” This is what a student recently said about Joe Waldon, the social worker at Skinner Middle School. Joe told me he found the comment sweet but also amusing, amusing because he certainly doesn’t feel like he has it together. Every morning he comes to school with a to-do list, and every morning something seems to pop up, some crisis diverting his attention. And yet he does hold the school together. He might not be the social worker he envisions himself being, but he’s definitely the social worker the school needs.

Joe begins each morning outside the school’s front doors, greeting students as they enter the building. He tries to learn all 600 of their names. The students, still sleepy-eyed, make their way up the school steps, and Joe wishes them a good morning. He smiles at them, offers high-fives, tells them he believes in them.

Students know they can go to him when they have a problem. Teachers know they can go to him, too. Joe is perpetually busy—his desk is piled high with papers, he can’t step out of his office without being besieged by at least one or two people asking if he can spare “just a minute”—but I don’t think anyone ever feels that he’s too busy for them.

He has shaped the school’s culture. Every summer he invites staff members to his house for a series of dinners. This is an opportunity to bond over great food (Joe’s pozolé is the best I’ve ever had) and to work out the school’s routines and interventions. Thanks in part to these efforts, the school feels like a family. Everyone is (mostly) on the same page, holding students accountable to the same standards, mindful of their emotional needs.

Joe smiles all the time. No matter the day, no matter the stresses, he smiles. There’s just no doubt that he loves working with these young people. Even when he has to be firm, they know he cares about them. I recently observed him in truancy court. He made the school’s case before the judge, outlining each student’s truancy record, and yet in the same breath he managed to affirm their worth, telling the judge, with the students and their families present, that these were good students with so much potential.

Joe extends this same compassion to his interns. During supervision, he leans back in his chair, his eyes on me, the same crinkle on his forehead that appears when he’s providing crisis counseling to a student, and I know I have his full attention. I’ll tell him the difficulties I’ve had counseling a particular student, and he’ll give me fresh ideas, activities to try, metaphors to use, books to read. He’s made sure I’ve been exposed to all aspects of school social work, and he’s even helped me prepare for job interviews.

This winter I had the opportunity to present my findings to a team of teachers and a father at a special education meeting. I think many supervisors would have felt the need to step in and add their own two cents, but Joe let me run the show. I think he saw this as an opportunity for me to grow. As I concluded my presentation, I knew I’d done well. I nodded to the father on my right. I then looked across the table, and there I saw Joe, sitting silently, smiling at me.