of the shadow of death …”), to the sounds of Suzy’s heels click-click-clicking, and their voices echoing eerily off the dismal walls, and Suzy’s tinkly laugh. That day in Suzy’s office, they were standing under the ferns near her desk, and Judith, who had never seen mistletoe, wondered if this was mistletoe, and if so, isn’t that what people kiss under? They talked for almost an hour about all sorts of things. Judith discovered to her delight that Suzy, like her, was religious. Christian, of course, not Jewish, but that didn’t matter. In many ways, she thought, religious people from two different faiths have more in common than a religious and secular person from the same one. Religious people understand each other: they can talk about faith, holiness, and God — they can use the “G word”! — without apology. Without having to be embarrassed or ashamed of that love. Just as Judith isn’t embarrassed or ashamed of her growing affection for Suzy. They also talked that day about Judith’s work in Israel with Jewish and Arab kids, and about some of the teachers at Dunhill. Suzy was professional enough not to say anything against anyone. But Judith could tell from her body language — her kinesics, as Suzy had taught them — which people Suzy did or didn’t like. All it took was a little shrug of her petite right shoulder, naked that day in a sleeveless yellow blouse, or a roll of her expressive eyes. It was quickly obvious Suzy couldn’t stand Marie Green, the former Director of the school whom Judith had never met. Judith felt privileged to be let into what Suzy truly felt. To be a trusted insider.
Now Suzy says to the class, “Many people, maybe even most people, are afraid of their feelings. But there is no reason to be, because there’s no such thing as a wrong feeling. I mean it. Some of you are looking at me like you don’t believe me. Okay, then — give me an example of a feeling that’s ‘wrong.’”
A few hands fly up. Suzy points at Martin, whose family lives in Ethiopia. “Anger,” he says.
Suzy nods and points again. “Hate,” says Genya.
“Fear,” says someone else.
“Right,” says Suzy. “These are all unpleasant feelings — negative emotions, if you will. But they are also perfectly normal, and they are, after all, just feelings, part of being human. We need to learn how to accept these emotions in ourselves and in our clients. Otherwise, they’ll feel we are judging them and they won’t be able to open up to us. They’ll feel we are not accepting them for who they are. And they’ll be right.”
It’s true, thinks Judith.
Suzy is writing on the blackboard now, in a flowing, feminine script:
UNCONDITIONAL POSITIVE REGARD
“We’ll discuss this concept more in a little while,” she says, turning back toward the class, still holding the chalk in her right hand as she gestures. “But this is what we have to strive for. To truly accept our clients in spite of the things about them we don’t like, whether these are emotions or behaviours. This is probably the hardest thing you’ll ever have to learn. But it’s also absolutely necessary for working effectively with clients.”
Suzy has brought a guest with her today, an acting student from Dunhill’s Theatre Arts department. Judith gazes at the square-faced woman sitting sullenly at the front table: she reminds her of a picture she once saw of a kapo. That’s one tough broad, she thinks. Suzy is explaining to the class that soon one of them will get to role-play a social worker working with a “resistant” client — a great opportunity to practise all the interviewing skills they’ve learned in this class, including Unconditional Positive Regard. She scans the room and selects Margie, a skinny redhead from Halifax, to take the hot seat. Margie sits nervously across the table from her “client.” Cordelia is a crack addict on welfare who, according to Suzy, has just had her two kids taken away, a three-year-old girl and a two-year-old boy, because a week ago she left them alone in the house for a whole weekend, without any food, so she could go off on a holiday with her crack-pusher boyfriend. During Cordelia’s absence, the two-year-old, Tommy, fell down the basement stairs and is now in hospital with a severe concussion and possibly permanent brain damage. Cordelia hasn’t visited him even once and appears completely unconcerned about him. She also, on her return home from that weekend, hit her three-year-old daughter Angela repeatedly, leaving marks and bruises, for “not taking care of her brother,” and for getting her in trouble with the authorities.
Margie looks anxious. She approaches Cordelia gingerly, trying in a soft timid voice three friendly and empathic openers, such as, “It must be awfully hard having your kids taken away from you,” but each time Cordelia just slaps her down. After her fourth attempt, to which Cordelia responds, “Why don’t you just go fuck yourself?,” Margie looks helpless and pale, her freckles standing out like so many tiny failures, as she tries to come up with what to say next. A long silence is finally broken by the click-click-clicking of Suzy’s heels as she goes and stands beside Margie.
“At this moment,” Suzy asks her, “how do you feel about this client?”
Margie looks confused by the question. She glances at Cordelia as if afraid to answer in front of her. Then she looks away and shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says.
“You don’t much like her right now, do you?”
Margie laughs and shakes her head. “No.”
“Of course you don’t,” says Suzy. “She frightens you. She angers and repulses you, and she makes you feel incompetent. Right now you feel totally alienated from her and I’ll bet you can’t think of one single thing about her you like or respect. Am I right?”
Margie looks sheepish. “Pretty much,” she says. “Am I really that transparent?”
Suzy laughs that charming laugh of hers. “No,” she says. “That’s what most people would feel in this situation.”
But Judith can see Margie is a bit spooked.
“Now I’m going to give this a try,” says Suzy. “Watch what happens when you make use of Unconditional Positive Regard. Thanks, Margie.” Margie stands, looking relieved her turn is over, and Suzy replaces her in the hot seat facing Cordelia, who is now staring at Suzy as blankly and impassively as she stared at Margie. But Suzy doesn’t seem fazed by it: she’s smiling at her kindly, encouragingly.
Judith starts taking notes — “smile encouragingly at client.” But soon the pen is forgotten, and she watches enthralled as Suzy once again works her magic. And magic it seems to be. Cordelia’s face softens. Then she starts pouring out her heart to Suzy about how hard it was being a young mother, only sixteen when the first baby was born, alone all day and all night with that baby, and then there were two of them, two crying babies, and they just cried and cried all the time, no matter what she did. They demanded and demanded, and there was nothing left for her, not five minutes for herself, to watch TV or just sit and have a smoke. If one of them was finally sleeping, the other one was still awake, crying, wanting her, needing her, and she couldn’t stand it anymore, she had to have a break, she had to have something for her for a change, even if it was only a weekend, one weekend away in three and a half years. Cordelia is wiping tears from her face with the palms of her hands. This woman sitting across the table from Suzy is now a fully human person. A pained, mixed-up, maybe even messed-up person, but a real person all the same. Suzy has accomplished this — she has gotten to Cordelia’s “story” — in under ten minutes.
Suzy turns away from Cordelia and faces the class. “This,” she says, “is the power of Unconditional Positive Regard,” and dismisses them, earlier than usual, for their break.
Judith files out slowly with the others. Many of the students around her are talking excitedly about what just happened and a few are laughing. But everyone gives Cordelia a wide berth, even though they know intellectually she is just an actor. Only one student, Lola, goes up to her and starts a conversation. On her way past Suzy, Judith says, “That was amazing.”
“Thanks,” says Suzy. Then she adds, “Judith, can you stay behind after class today? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Sure,” says Judith. But walking to the cafeteria, she feels worried.