Not yet familiar with the machinery of TAP, I found myself recently having to turn out two columns in the space of four days. The first one got in just under the wire—Bill Jeffrey was able to accommodate my lateness—but then I faced the sinking prospect of having to write another piece, in very short order. By sheer luck, however, I had just participated in The American's site visit to my institute and society, and my experiences and impressions seemed ready-made for a column.
Some months ago, when I first heard about the site visit, it was in the context of our Fifth Year Comprehensive Seminar at the Washington Institute being told we would have to meet on February 10, a Friday, early in the afternoon, instead of at our usual Saturday or late Wednesday evening hours. The site visitors were to observe our class, and this was the only time that suited their schedule. For me and two other out-of-town candidates, it meant we would have to cancel many of our Friday hours. Given the frequency of such demands on my time, I did not welcome another. The event seemed something simply to be gotten through. “Who cares?” I thought, and really I did not, at least not until that Friday arrived.
Weeks after that first announcement, one of my supervisors asked me if I would be willing to have a supervision hour with site visitors present to observe. My immediate thought was, “No way. Why would I subject myself to that?” But before I had a chance to respond, she added that the last time she had done this, it had been an enjoyable and informative experience. Further, they were there to watch her and not me. That certainly made it more palatable. “Okay, I'll do it,” I responded, “but only if it can be scheduled near the hour I have to drive in for the Friday seminar.” She agreed to see what she could do, and as it turned out, my request was granted.
As the site visit drew nearer, I began to understand that this was a bigger deal than I had realized. Memos went out steadily to us candidates, with reminders to be certain that our data and reports were current, and these were followed up by notifications that specific items were overdue. It seemed that missives to harass us were being sent right and left. I began to think more concertedly, however, about how I hoped my supervision would go, and how I would organize myself for the event. I felt burdened by the request, on rather short notice, to provide our visitors a brief case summary and a statement about the focus of current treatment. Who, I wondered, would be observing? My fantasy veered more toward expecting “them” to be silent and neutral, rather than friendly and open. Although I tried to remind myself that I was not on the line, I did not really believe it, and I reviewed my notes as if I were preparing for an exam. By the time that Friday rolled around, I had also responded in the affirmative for a pizza lunch that same day; advanced candidates were invited to meet for open discussion with three of the visitors. For me, it turned out to be a full schedule.
No sooner had the two site visitors introduced themselves and discussed procedure—it was to be a typical supervision hour (we chuckled at that)—than I found myself feeling gratified that I had been given this opportunity. The visitors clearly were interested in my case and in being a constructive presence; they were not there simply to judge and criticize. My supervisor and I followed our usual procedure, and our visitors listened. In previous sessions, we had been evaluating this patient's readiness for termination, and continued now to focus on this question as I reviewed process notes. When our time was up, the visitors made some observations, first to the two of us, and then to each of us separately. Each visitor offered quite different perspectives for understanding the patient, my work with her, and the direction the supervision might take. When finally the discussion had to stop, it came as a disappointment. In the few brief moments the two of us had to discuss our experience, my supervisor said that she too felt very positive about it, that the visitors' remarks were indeed food for thought.
The luncheon proved an invaluable opportunity for candidates to learn about the workings of other institutes. Our visitors seemed quite surprised to find that very few of us are given reduced rates for supervision or analysis. At their institutes—and they represented a wide geographic area—the financial burden on candidates was considerably less. We, in turn, were quite taken with the ways these senior analysts saw their roles as training and supervising analysts. For them, their status did not mean simply that their incomes would be enhanced by their professional association with candidates; rather, their rewards came from the training and teaching opportunities, and from their contribution to the future of their profession. These visitors shared our concern about the prospective candidates we might be losing because of the exorbitant cost of training. Other issues, positive and negative, were addressed, and we were given very positive feedback regarding our institute. We were assured that our discussion would be reflected in the site visitors' recommendations.
The class oversight I found less rewarding, in part, perhaps, because the session was intense and I was tired. In addition, there was little time for discussion and feedback from our visitors, which is what I had most anticipated. For that opportunity, I could have gotten a second wind.
As I drove home, I began to think of the meaning of this site visit for my institute and society. The visit had followed rapidly on the heels of our first institute/society retreat, in early fall, where we had begun the kind of self-examination many senior analysts were clearly interested in supporting. That we then experienced an additional examination from the outside, conducted in the same constructive spirit, could not have been more propitious.