Thousands of social workers removed from register after failing to meet revised deadline to renew their registration with the Health and Care Professions Council.
Over 8,000 social workers can no longer
practise in England after failing to renew their registration, the
Health and Care Professions Council has announced.
The regulator revealed today that 8,425 social workers have been removed from the social work register for failing to renew their registration despite having had “several opportunities” to do so.
“This means that they can no longer practise as social workers in England,” a statement on the HCPC website said.
Reacting to the news, social workers pointed
out that a number of situations could lie behind the failure to renew.
These include the fact that some social workers may have retired in the
last year, could be out-of-work, or hold roles where registration is
voluntary, such as management positions.
An HCPC spokeswoman said that the regulator did not know how many of the 8,425 social workers removed from the register are actively practising. But it appears that some are currently employed, with the HCPC having written to employers to advise them of social workers who are no longer registered.
Where deregistered social workers are employed as practising social workers, employers have a duty to address the situation.
The HCPC is not prescriptive on what form that action should take. Options could include altering the worker's job role so that they are not practising as a 'social worker', or the employee taking a period of annual leave while their readmission to the register is sorted out, the HCPC spokeswoman said.
Registration with the HCPC is a legal requirement for people to practise using the title “social worker” in England. In November, the regulator was forced to extend its deadline for renewals to the 2nd January 2013 after it emerged that a quarter of social workers had yet to renew.
While 90% of the estimated 88,000 social workers in England met the extended January deadline, around 1 in 10 failed to do so and have now been removed from the register. Social workers who have been removed from the register will now have to apply for readmission. The HCPC has sent readmission forms to all social workers who failed to renew.
“If a social worker returns a completed readmission form by Friday 1 February 2013, we will put them back on the Register provided they have paid their registration fee [of £76],” the regulator said.
Social workers who submit readmissions forms after the 1st February will be forced to complete a “more detailed” readmission form, which incurs a total cost of £191, the regulator said.
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A day in the life of a hospice social worker (UK)
Jason Davidson describes a typical day as a senior social worker for St Joseph's hospice in east London.
The Guardian, Guardian Professional, January 4, 2013.
Hospice care extends beyond just the treatment of physical symptoms. We also consider the emotional, social and practical needs of seriously ill people and their families, friends and carers, providing care that is tailored and personal for each person.
Many families affected by terminal illness have worries about issues such as employment, finances, housing, their children, practical matters, or future care. I work in a team of experienced social workers at St Joseph's hospice to help people address these issues, working across all clinical areas at the hospice, including day care, the in-patient unit and out in the community.
I start work at 9am but I'm usually in the office by 8.30am. The first thing I do is check emails and respond to voicemails. I also attend a morning meeting with our "first contact" team to discuss referrals from the previous day.
At 10am I go to the inpatient unit in the hospice to attend family meetings. I recently facilitated a meeting with a young man in his 30s with multiple sclerosis, and his parents who he lived with. We began discussing his end of life wishes with his parents. Advance care planning can be a sensitive subject, particularly in this case as the man's wishes were different to those of his parents.
In the late mornings, I will leave the hospice for home visits across east London. I have been visiting a young woman newly diagnosed with metastatic cancer. She was told four weeks ago that her prognosis is less than six months. She has three young children at school. During our first meeting, the conversation was very practical. We focused on what she needed to help her get around at home and I referred her to an occupational therapist.
We also discussed what benefits she would be entitled to and called the Department for Work and Pensions to start making claims. She was very clear she didn't want to talk about the future.
But when I arrived for my second visit, she was very tearful and spoke about how frightened she felt. I listened for more than an hour as she talked about her fears for the future and her children's future. We discussed what I could offer and who else we may need to contact for support. We also explored how she might start having conversations with her children about her diagnosis and what support she would need to do this. I left her house feeling exhausted and emotional. It was such a sad visit.
Half an hour after that visit, having had a quick sandwich in a supermarket car park, I was sitting in the living room of a man in his 60s with his wife and their two sons. I have known the family for about three months and he was receiving treatment for head and neck cancer, but had been told by his oncologist that there are no more treatment options available to him. The family were devastated but open to conversations about the future and he told me within five minutes that he needed support to arrange his funeral. I didn't need to say much other than facilitate a conversation between the husband and his wife and their sons about his funeral and his wishes for the remaining time he had left. There were a lot of tears and a lot of laughter. I left an hour later feeling uplifted. I thought about my dad on the tube journey back to the office.
Back in the office, I respond to emails and prepare a presentation for some training I'm facilitating. The training is being held in an acute hospital for medical and social care colleagues and titled Talking About Death and Dying. Its aim is to improve the confidence of professionals in having conversations with patients about death and dying. We run these days monthly and I'm looking forward to the next one as we have a consultant oncologist attending, which should be interesting.
Before I go home, I will pop up to the ward on the inpatient unit. The other day I saw a man who speaks limited English. I usually see him with an interpreter but, on this occasion, we just smiled at each other and sat in silence for a while.
The regulator revealed today that 8,425 social workers have been removed from the social work register for failing to renew their registration despite having had “several opportunities” to do so.
“This means that they can no longer practise as social workers in England,” a statement on the HCPC website said.
An HCPC spokeswoman said that the regulator did not know how many of the 8,425 social workers removed from the register are actively practising. But it appears that some are currently employed, with the HCPC having written to employers to advise them of social workers who are no longer registered.
Where deregistered social workers are employed as practising social workers, employers have a duty to address the situation.
The HCPC is not prescriptive on what form that action should take. Options could include altering the worker's job role so that they are not practising as a 'social worker', or the employee taking a period of annual leave while their readmission to the register is sorted out, the HCPC spokeswoman said.
Registration with the HCPC is a legal requirement for people to practise using the title “social worker” in England. In November, the regulator was forced to extend its deadline for renewals to the 2nd January 2013 after it emerged that a quarter of social workers had yet to renew.
While 90% of the estimated 88,000 social workers in England met the extended January deadline, around 1 in 10 failed to do so and have now been removed from the register. Social workers who have been removed from the register will now have to apply for readmission. The HCPC has sent readmission forms to all social workers who failed to renew.
“If a social worker returns a completed readmission form by Friday 1 February 2013, we will put them back on the Register provided they have paid their registration fee [of £76],” the regulator said.
Social workers who submit readmissions forms after the 1st February will be forced to complete a “more detailed” readmission form, which incurs a total cost of £191, the regulator said.
********************************************
A day in the life of a hospice social worker (UK)
Jason Davidson describes a typical day as a senior social worker for St Joseph's hospice in east London.
The Guardian, Guardian Professional, January 4, 2013.
Hospice care extends beyond just the treatment of physical symptoms. We also consider the emotional, social and practical needs of seriously ill people and their families, friends and carers, providing care that is tailored and personal for each person.
Many families affected by terminal illness have worries about issues such as employment, finances, housing, their children, practical matters, or future care. I work in a team of experienced social workers at St Joseph's hospice to help people address these issues, working across all clinical areas at the hospice, including day care, the in-patient unit and out in the community.
I start work at 9am but I'm usually in the office by 8.30am. The first thing I do is check emails and respond to voicemails. I also attend a morning meeting with our "first contact" team to discuss referrals from the previous day.
At 10am I go to the inpatient unit in the hospice to attend family meetings. I recently facilitated a meeting with a young man in his 30s with multiple sclerosis, and his parents who he lived with. We began discussing his end of life wishes with his parents. Advance care planning can be a sensitive subject, particularly in this case as the man's wishes were different to those of his parents.
In the late mornings, I will leave the hospice for home visits across east London. I have been visiting a young woman newly diagnosed with metastatic cancer. She was told four weeks ago that her prognosis is less than six months. She has three young children at school. During our first meeting, the conversation was very practical. We focused on what she needed to help her get around at home and I referred her to an occupational therapist.
We also discussed what benefits she would be entitled to and called the Department for Work and Pensions to start making claims. She was very clear she didn't want to talk about the future.
But when I arrived for my second visit, she was very tearful and spoke about how frightened she felt. I listened for more than an hour as she talked about her fears for the future and her children's future. We discussed what I could offer and who else we may need to contact for support. We also explored how she might start having conversations with her children about her diagnosis and what support she would need to do this. I left her house feeling exhausted and emotional. It was such a sad visit.
Half an hour after that visit, having had a quick sandwich in a supermarket car park, I was sitting in the living room of a man in his 60s with his wife and their two sons. I have known the family for about three months and he was receiving treatment for head and neck cancer, but had been told by his oncologist that there are no more treatment options available to him. The family were devastated but open to conversations about the future and he told me within five minutes that he needed support to arrange his funeral. I didn't need to say much other than facilitate a conversation between the husband and his wife and their sons about his funeral and his wishes for the remaining time he had left. There were a lot of tears and a lot of laughter. I left an hour later feeling uplifted. I thought about my dad on the tube journey back to the office.
Back in the office, I respond to emails and prepare a presentation for some training I'm facilitating. The training is being held in an acute hospital for medical and social care colleagues and titled Talking About Death and Dying. Its aim is to improve the confidence of professionals in having conversations with patients about death and dying. We run these days monthly and I'm looking forward to the next one as we have a consultant oncologist attending, which should be interesting.
Before I go home, I will pop up to the ward on the inpatient unit. The other day I saw a man who speaks limited English. I usually see him with an interpreter but, on this occasion, we just smiled at each other and sat in silence for a while.
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