I’ve learned that higher education isn’t always about critical thinking—it’s often about obedience, dressed up in APA formatting and passive voice. Turns out, those citations, Yeah, they were less about credibility and more about control.

Let me tell you a story. A friend of mine—also a social work student, attending post-secondary the same years I did—called me one day, just a few weeks into her first term. She was upset and needed to talk. I figured it was first-year jitters, maybe a tough assignment. Nope.

She tells me she was explicitly told: “You won’t be a good social worker if you don’t know APA.”

Uuummm, what?!... FALSE. I was in shock—but also, not. I’ve navigated “the system” my whole life, but hearing it laid out that bluntly hit different. Like, they really said the quiet part out loud.

And that day, two things became painfully clear:

1. Some institutions—especially in social work—prioritize rigid formatting over real-world advocacy.
APA had become less a tool for academic integrity, and more a weapon for compliance.
Lived experience? Silenced. Critical thinking? Smothered under a perfectly punctuated citation.

2.The program wasn’t about challenging systems. It was about conforming to them.
One correctly formatted reference at a time. Apparently, justice takes a backseat to Times New Roman, double spacing, and the reference pages.

 

Really? Because I thought empathy, critical thinking, and cultural humility were kind of... core to social work. ....Weird. 🤷‍♀️

Here’s a thought: maybe instead of using APA to intimidate and control people, we use it to support learning.
Teach it. Kindly. Respectfully. You know—model the trauma-informed, anti-oppressive approach you claim to promote.🤷‍♀️

Because here’s the truth:

I reject academic exclusivity disguised as feedback.
You don’t empower students by making them feel small—you empower them by making knowledge accessible.
You don’t need to lord over reference pages like they’re sacred scrolls from the Academic Gods.

 

APA 7 isn’t the issue.
The attitude and weaponizing behind how it’s enforced is.

 

Try citing that. 🔥

 

“We have done everything we possibly can at this point.”

Since the start of her social work education, Jennifer had been taught that vulnerability is strength, that meeting people where they’re at is foundational, and that dignity is non-negotiable. But what happens when those values are not extended to students? What happens when disclosure—something encouraged in theory—becomes a reason for exclusion in practice?

On April 26, 2024, Jennifer was terminated from her practicum placement after missing two days due to a mental health crisis. She had communicated her struggles days prior to April 26th to two school practicum staff, as well as her on-site supervisor. Her absence wasn’t negligence; it was survival. She had been hospitalized for a suicide attempt just three months prior and was still working to stay afloat. And when she finally put her well-being first, the system that was supposed to support her responded with dismissal.

The school said:

"Jennifer, you are not receiving an F for a mental health diagnosis. The agency has fired you and they gave us a list of reasons (self-disclosure was only just a piece of it)."

In the official termination report, it was stated that Jennifer disclosed her January hospitalization for a suicide attempt to a staff member and a manager at the practicum site—individuals who had previously disclosed their own mental health histories (Anonymous College, 2024).

The report included this:

"Ms. B (the practicum supervisor) found this emotionally impactful because she has loved ones with mental health struggles, and she let Ms. Thomas know that she felt this was sharing too much... this is not the appropriate place to engage in this type of conversation" (Anonymous College, 2024).

Which is not at all how it happened—but okay…

Let’s break that down. Disclosure wasn’t discouraged in class—it was normalized. But when it became real? When it became Jennifer? Suddenly, it was "too much."

Power, Punishment, and the Politics of Disclosure

Before she missed those two days, Jennifer had reached out to two school practicum staff, letting them know she was struggling. That part matters.

One of those messages said:

"I need to do a check-in. I’m struggling. I have been struggling for days but have been feeling nervous to talk to you, honestly."

The response? Referrals to a psychiatrist and counseling, and a message that they were too busy to talk until Friday.
Spoiler alert: that Friday conversation never happened.

After the termination, Jennifer messaged again, explaining:

"I took the last 2 days off to refocus and evaluate myself... All I said was I think it’s wild that’s policy."

She had told Jennifer that they couldn't help her anymore with the practicum situation because it's policy that if you get fired then that's it -there is nothing else they can do because that is policy

Their response:

"We did not get a chance to support you as you chose not to attend practicum the last two days which was the main factor of them letting you go. We have done everything we possibly can at this point."

So, the narrative became: she chose to abandon her practicum. Not that she reached out for help. Not that she was struggling and honest about it. But that she failed to meet their bar.
And so what they were saying was: Jennifer was being punished and not given support because she couldn’t attend practicum due to her mental health? She was confused.

What Really Went Down at the Practicum

Jennifer’s on-site supervisor—Mrs. B—was training her to take over her job while she went on vacation. Yes, that’s right. Jennifer, a student—unpaid and inexperienced—was being asked to essentially hold down her supervisor’s position during her time off.

This same supervisor once told her:

"I always take the stairs. You could use the exercise."

She also made degrading remarks about a client, saying:

"She never comes to exercise class. She’s lazy."

Later that day, Jennifer was asked to review client files and report back. One of those files was about the same client—the one who had been mocked. And in that file, Jennifer read something important: the client had bipolar disorder.

So, when she returned, she asked:

"Mrs. B, have you ever read that client’s file?"

Mrs. B said no. And Jennifer told her:

"She has bipolar disorder, and so, some days, getting out of bed is her best and I know this because I too struggle with mental health stuff."

Mrs. B looked stunned. Because Jennifer wasn’t just doing what she was told—she was advocating. She was pushing back on stigma.

She had disclosed her own struggles then—not for attention, but to deepen understanding. To connect this to real trauma-informed care. But instead of empathy, she was met with defensiveness.

Mrs. B knew Jennifer saw the problem. And Jennifer believed her supervisor feared she might say something. So, when Jennifer took two days off for her mental health, the supervisor panicked. Who would cover her while she was gone? What if Jennifer reported her?

Instead of accountability, Mrs. B chose retaliation.
And the school backed her up.

When the System Punishes Lived Experience

Jennifer was told:

"I will share with you that I have had colleagues (and close friends who also have BPD) and are not self-disclosing at work."

This wasn’t support. It was comparison. Weaponized. Jennifer was essentially being told that it was her fault—for not staying quiet. That lived experience is only acceptable if it’s hidden, polished, and perfectly timed.

But disclosure is part of social work. Or so students are told.

The Human Rights Violation

According to the Alberta Human Rights Commission (AHRC):

"Post-secondary institutions have a duty to accommodate students with disabilities, including mental illness, to the point of undue hardship" (AHRC, 2023, para. 2).

Two missed days? That’s not undue hardship.

And the AHRC is very clear:

"Disciplining, suspending, or terminating a student based on the effects of a disability without meaningful accommodation may be discriminatory" (AHRC, 2023).

What was Jennifer’s accommodation? A dismissal.

What was her support? Being told:

"Don’t you think we’ve had your back enough?"

Ethics and Accountability

The ACSW Standards of Practice state that social workers must:

"Promote client self-determination and respect the client’s capacity to make choices and manage their own lives" (ACSW, 2019, Standard 2.1).

Why is this not extended to students?

The CASW Code of Ethics affirms:

"Social workers oppose discrimination... based on mental or physical ability" (CASW, 2005).

Jennifer’s termination—and the narrative used to justify it—violated that principle. She was not supported. She was pathologized. She was punished not for incompetence but for being visible in her pain.

Final Words

Yes, Jennifer had changed. Not by choice—but by betrayal.

This didn’t just interrupt a practicum or her education. It shattered the illusion of care in systems that claim to teach compassion—not just for her, but for her people.

But she refuses to be silent anymore. She is using her voice—not despite her mental health, but because of it.

She is still here. And she will still become a social worker.

 

One who never punishes pain. One who understands:

“Disclosure is not danger nor is it a bad thing — it’s truth and it helps people understand.”