While you and i have lips and voices which are for kissing and to sing with who cares if some oneyed son for a bitch invents an instrument to measure Spring with? --e. e. Cummings Measurement is everywhere. Its myriad applications are encountered every day. Think about this morning. Did you awaken to a sound triggered by your time measuring device? Did you step on a weight-measuring device when you stumbled into the bathroom? Did you fill your car with a particular amount of fuel as measured by a fuel-dispensing machine? Social work too is replete with measurement. Measurement instruments inform us about a wide range of things--from a person's psychological state to her or his aptitude for a particular occupation. In fact, the pathway to clienthood almost always includes measurement-based information. Often, this information is expressed as numbers, giving it an air of objectivity and trustworthiness. Converting concepts to numbers also generates a need for expert interpretation giving test information a certain authority. These qualities have led social workers to rely on measurement instruments for credible and useful information. Yet, despite this reliance, an aura of mystery surrounds measurement that keeps social workers uncharacteristically silent about this influential source of information. My own social work education taught me about the mystery and power of measurement. My first-year MSW field placement was at a family services agency. The director, who called herself a psychiatric social worker, believed that psychological tests could be an important addition to our social work practice. She hired a psychologist, someone named Dr. Gibeau, to teach us how to administer and interpret some psychological tests, most notably the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI). Developed around 1940 to measure psychopathology, the MMPI (at the time I was learning about it) consisted of about 540 true-false questions on a range of topics. Scores on the MMPI were graphed across its 10 clinical subscales and three scales. To a neophyte social worker, this scientific-looking display was impressive, but not very informative. For Dr. Gibeau, however, interpreting an MMPI profile was like reading a book. I remember watching in awe as he effortlessly spun a narrative from the squiggly line t hat stretched across the scales. He would say something like, This 19-year--old female has periodic suicidal ideation--probably a long-term problem precipitated by being on her own. She has a tendency to run away from problems or retreat into fantasy. The therapeutic task is to get her to interpret reality more accurately. While telling this story, Dr. Gibeau would point out the various scales and combinations of scales that supported his interpretation. We were believers. Using this instrument of psychological science, we could gain access to the inner recesses of our clients' psyches, revealing their fears and pathologies, even those of which they themselves were unaware. There was no fooling the test. Attempts to fake good would be detected by the validity scales, which were designed for this purpose. Yes, this powerful tool would reveal a truth of which we were previously unaware. We could not wait to begin using it. Administering the MMPI felt great. No longer was I merely one more insecure social work student anxiously trying to deal with the range of issues clients presented to me. I was an applied scientist, trained to use a sensitive psychological probe. Reflective listening and empathy were fine, but this went directly to the source. Others in the agency felt similarly and soon MMPIs were being administered regularly to clients. In fact, we hardly talked to people anymore until after they took the test. Once that was done, and we knew the real issues they were struggling with, we could begin meaningful therapeutic work. We also learned, to our surprise, that more of our clients had serious psychological problems than we previously believed. …
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