A mother hopes her positive experience can help other families

When Joe’s mom started working with an Multisystemic Therapy (MST) therapist, she saw it only as requirement to keep her son’s probation officer happy. Joe was in trouble, and she felt that she was, too. He’d been in detention for more than a month after stealing phones at school. Before that, he was out of control—running the streets, coming home high and destroying things in the house. His mom was stretched to the limit. She didn’t know what else to do and had never felt so helpless as a parent. On top of it all, Joe’s mom was working two jobs to support her three children. She could not imagine how it would be possible to make time for another 'program.' Nothing had worked for them before.

Are police in schools a good thing?

When my parents were in school, the halls were "patrolled" by P.E. teachers or vice principals. They were typically looking for kids loitering, chewing gum or sometimes, fighting. The sad reality is that times have changed drastically in the wake of high-profile shootings such as Columbine High School and Sandy Hook Elementary. 

Why we ought to shut down juvenile prisons

Nell Bernstein makes the bold assertion that all juvenile prisons should be completely shut down in her 2014, nationally acclaimed book, Burning Down the House. In April, Bernstein spoke at the Blueprints for Healthy Youth Development conference, where she applauded the 50-percent drop in juvenile incarceration since the mid-’90s. The numbers are down 50 percent, but does that mean the glass is half full or half empty? According to Bernstein, it doesn’t really matter since the  contents of juvenile prisons are toxic to children. “We’re administering this poison to a smaller group of kids, [so] pragmatically, of course [that] matters immensely. But if the goal is not just reform, but justice, we’ve miles to go before we rest.”

Keep juvenile court records closed—really closed

Think about this.

You got into a fight when you were 12 that led to two counts of assault and battery. You lived in a rough Boston neighborhood. Kids fought. This episode earned you probation.

Move forward. You’re now 14 and holding down an after school job. Fast forward and you become your high-school valedictorian. You get a degree from Duke. You apply for a job in Chicago to work with at-risk kids. Suddenly, you are blindsided. You thought your juvenile court record was sealed. You never expected this episode would impact your adult lie. 

A response from an MST staffer and parent

As I read Laurie Spivey’s most recent blog post, "Charging Juvenile Offenders as Adults," I have to admit I struggled. I live in an area where a young person committed one of those horrific crimes on school property that put children I care for at risk. This young person’s behaviors put fear in the eyes of friends who grew up together and violated that sacred ground—their safe space. Community temperature ran high.

For me, as someone who is trained in Multisystemic Therapy (MST), who is trained in adolescent brain development and who in my head knows the best answer—the right answers—I struggled. For a moment, I had to really think. “If this were my child being directly victimized, what would I want?” This situation hit so close to home—our children were there—and now, this was a very real question for me and my family.

What price do we pay by charging youths as adults?

Sometimes young people do terrible things. Things that have lasting consequences. Things that require a swift response. Like two Wisconsin girls who were 12 when they were arrested on suspicion of stabbing a classmate 19 times. Though a decision about charging these young people as adults has yet to be made, in the state of Wisconsin, a child as young as 10 can be tried as an adult. Acts like these are terrible and heartbreaking and it leaves lawmakers, court personnel, and the general public feeling like they have to take action. Is charging juvenile offenders as adults really the best answer?

Juvenile Justice Advocates for more Multisystemic Therapy

Twenty-five years ago, the Australian state of Queensland lowered the age a youth is considered an adult from 18 to 17. This flew counter to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, international law and the rest of the country.

Now, Queensland is rethinking this, following an abuse scandal at the Northern Territory’s Don Dale facility that has the country questioning how juvenile offenders are treated.

Long-time MST therapist has suggestions for communities looking for juvenile offender services

When I became an MST therapist more than 16-and-a-half years ago, I met with a county juvenile probation officer to discuss referrals being made to our program. She was a lovely person with a passion for the work she was doing in the juvenile-justice field. As a probation officer, she was responsible for 40 to 50 cases and knew every one of those young people and their families personally. She believed in the Multisystemic Therapy mission of keeping youth at home, in school and out of trouble with the law as keys to their success.

But how to do that successfully for her was still a question to be answered.

Multisystemic Therapy turns anger into motivation

Allen did not like school and therefore, refused to go. No one could make him do anything he didn’t want to do. If they tried, he’d yell, throw things and generally scare them into backing down.

Everyone backed down when Allen showed them who was boss. Mom did. Schoolteachers did. Social workers did. His anger was a very powerful weapon, and he used it as often as he felt necessary to keep people from telling him what to do. 

A simple phone call could change the way you view juvenile justice

I’ve read the reports. I know the statistics. I am acutely familiar with the disparities that permeate the juvenile-justice system.

I’ve read books, too. Books threaded throughout with personal, heartbreaking stories that attempt to bridge the gap between the abstract idea of youth incarceration and the true experience of living through it. And I’ve been touched by those stories. I’ve felt the secondhand pain of the kids and families whose lives were ripped apart by incarceration.