Friday, February 01, 2008

Tolerance, justice and wonder: The legacy of Gisela Konopka

Gisela Konopka left us quite a legacy. She was probably best-known for her work with young people, especially adolescent girls. She was also a passionate advocate of group work, a too-often neglected part of social work. Plus, she offered us a model for combining the roles of the roles of scholar and activist.

Gisa, as many of us knew her, died in 2003 at the age of 93. For me personally,I think her legacy lies in three gifts -- "senses" I would call them.

One was her sense of tolerance, another her sense of justice, and third her sense of wonder.Tolerance was always a part of Gisa's teaching (as well as her life). But tolerance to her didn't mean just putting up with other people. Her sense of tolerance called for an active embrace of others. It meant learning about and appreciating other people who differ from ourselves in race, ethnicity, religion and all the other ways. At the same time it meant looking for the common threads of humanity in all of us. Her book shelves were full of many volumes by writers who shared this sense of tolerance.

Justice was another of Gisa's themes. She was tireless in pointing out injustice and seeking justice. This sense of justice prompted her to tangle with officials at all sorts of institutions, including schools, group homes and prisons. If she saw something she thought was wrong, she said it was wrong and continued saying so until it changed.

Wonder was the third sense Gisa left us. I mean "wonder" as in awe -- that quality in a child which so many of us lose when we "grow up." Gisa never lost her sense of wonder about the sun setting or a flower blooming or a bird singing. She would call you over and point out the "wonder" and say "Look."

This sense of wonder extended to so many things. I remember her reaction the
first time she used stamps you didn't have to lick. She was amazed. And I remember her reaction the first time I showed her e-mail on my laptop computer. Again, she was amazed. Then, she asked: "Is this something I should learn?"

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Over and over in my life, Gisela Konopka popped up as a source of encouragement and support. My experiences are not unique, of course. But in telling you a few stories, you can get a glimpse of this remarkable woman. I first met Gisela Konopka more than 40 years ago when I was in high school. I met her the same night I met Charlie Brown -- the real person on whom Charles Schultz based his comic strip character. Gisa was a social worker and professor at the University of Minnesota; Charlie Brown was a social worker at juvenile hall. I was part of a youth group about to start a volunteer project at the Home of the Good Shepherd, a group home for adolescent girls. The talk by Charlie and Gisa was an orientation to our project of developing social activities at Good Shepherd. Later, they became our adult allies as we organized dances, picnics and outings.

Several years later, when I was a student at the University of Minnesota, Gisa popped up again as an ally. She emerged as a sort of "shuttle diplomat "between student leaders and university administrators. It was a turbulent time with marches and demonstrations every week. Gisa's voice helped calm a lot of troubled waters. She sounded a lot like Jane Addams as she pointed out over and over that our activism sprang from our interest in a better world. When I was teaching high school, Gisa came to school to visit. When I was working with youth theater, Gisa would come to the shows. "That was wonderful," she would say. "That was incredible."

When I was discouraged about finishing work on my MSW, Gisa not only called and wrote to encourage me. She also sent emissaries carrying her message. One even tracked me down at the Minnesota State Fair.

Then, when I announced that I was going to apply for admission to a doctoral program, Gisa said she was simply too old to write a reference. She said she would call instead. She did and somewhere in a file at the Unievrsity of Iowa is the transcript of a telephoned reference from Gisela Konopka.

I last saw Gisa in the fall of 2003 at the annual Gisela Konopka lecture. This series brings someone to talk about youth work to the University of Minnesota each year. It started more than 20 years ago when Gisa retired. She didn't expect to be around for the 10th annual, let alone the 20th. "You know," she said to me a few years ago, "this was supposed to be a memorial lecture by now. But I can't seem to leave." That year, as in the past, I rounded up some of my friends who have known Gisa for years, too. And when I got there, I found other friends. Gisa was delighted to see us again.

But I think she was even more delighted because once again I brought along a new person in social work for her to meet. Over the years, I have brought a host of people to meet Gisela Konopka. She was always interested in what the next generation was doing -- and thinking. One time, when Gisa was wondering if group work would soon be extinct, I brought over a social worker whose passion was group work. "Here is living proof,"I said. "Group work is not dead."

In 2003, the new person I brought to meet Gisa was Christna Grier, a 2003 MSW graduate from Iowa. "Here's another one -- like us," I said. "We've got to find her a place, too." Gisa smiled, and later said to me that she'd put her "switchboard" to work. She also said that I'd better hurry up and finish my dissertation. "I'm
going to call you in December," she threatened. "I expect you to be done."

I would guess it's unlikely that she's going to call now. But I wouldn't put it past Gisa to have left a "to do" list for others. So it's possible that I'm not off the hook and one of her emissaries will come looking for me in the very near future.

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You can find out more about the work of Gisela Konopka in these two books:Adolescent Girls in Conflict and Young Girls: A Portrait of Adolescence. She wrote several books on group work, including Social Group Work: A Helping Process. For more about her life, look for her autobiography Courage and Love.