Apr 29, 2020 | Volume 10 - Issue 2
Kristen Arla Langellier, Randall L. Astramovich, Elizabeth A. Doughty Horn
Counselors are frequently called upon to be advocates for their clients and, more broadly, to advocate for the counseling profession. However, many new counselors struggle with integrating advocacy work in their counseling practice. This article provides an overview of service learning and identifies ways counselor educators may foster advocacy skills among counselors-in-training through the use of planned service learning experiences in the counselor education curriculum. The authors then provide examples of service learning activities for use within the Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs (CACREP) 2016 core curricular areas, including professional orientation and ethical practice, social and cultural diversity, career development, helping relationships, and group work.
Keywords: advocacy, service learning, counselor education, ACA, CACREP
University faculty members frequently include service learning experiences in the undergraduate curriculum as a means for helping prepare students to develop as community members through meaningful civic engagement experiences that are augmented with classroom education (Servaty-Seib & Tedrick Parikh, 2014; Stanton & Wagner, 2006). Unfortunately, service learning assignments tend to diminish significantly as students make the transition from undergraduate to graduate education (Jett & Delgado-Romero, 2009; Servaty-Seib & Tedrick Parikh, 2014; Stanton & Wagner, 2006). Much of the existing scholarly literature centers around the impact of service learning on students who are at a traditional undergraduate age (Jett & Delgado-Romero, 2009; Servaty-Seib & Tedrick Parikh, 2014). The lack of service learning opportunities in the graduate curriculum is surprising, given that service learning may help students develop a deeper sense of community, appreciate others’ perspectives, and identify avenues for contributing to social change (Cipolle, 2010).
Within graduate counselor training programs, counselor educators could more frequently utilize service learning projects (SLPs) in order to enhance knowledge of diverse community cultures among counselors-in-training (CITs) as well as provide CITs with opportunities to assess community needs and implement advocacy efforts. The counseling profession’s Multicultural and Social Justice Counseling Competencies (MSJCC), revised in 2016, states the importance of “integrating social justice advocacy into the various modalities of counseling” (Ratts et al., 2016, p. 31). In addition, the MSJCC posits that counselors and counselor educators conceptualize clients through a socioecological lens so as to understand the social structures affecting their world. Service learning curricula often include a social justice focus, which has been demonstrated to help students understand the structures in place that oppress others (Tinkler et al., 2015). With these guidelines in mind, the purpose of this article is to provide practical suggestions to help counselor educators infuse service learning into their curriculum, thus offering CITs more opportunities for personal and professional development.
Service Learning
Service learning was first introduced in the early 1900s as a method for fostering academic and social learning and advancements for students via community involvement (Barbee et al., 2003). Bringle and Hatcher (1995) defined service learning as
a credit-bearing, educational experience in which students a) participate in an organized service activity that meets identified community needs, and b) reflect on the service activity in such a way as to gain further understanding of course content, a broader appreciation of the discipline, and an enhanced sense of civic responsibility. (p. 112)
Since its inception, many disciplines have found service learning useful as a method of merging the academic with the practical; it has become popular with disciplines such as nursing (Backer Condon et al., 2015), teacher education (Tinkler et al., 2015), and public health (Sabo et al., 2015).
With respect to counselor education, there has been a diminutive amount of research related to the implementation and effectiveness of service learning. In 2009, Jett and Delgado-Romero described service learning as an area of developing research in counselor education, and this could still be said today. There is a paucity of literature regarding service learning in graduate education (Servaty-Seib & Tedrick Parikh, 2014) and, more specifically, within counselor education. Yet university faculty, particularly counselor educators, are tasked with the challenge of bridging academic theory and research with “real-world” experiences. Therefore, SLPs may serve as a method for students and faculty to connect with the community in which they live and beyond (Nikels et al., 2007).
After reviewing service learning literature, Dotson-Blake et al. (2010) determined successful SLPs contain five essential characteristics that contribute to the overall intention of service learning. They contended successful SLPs should be developed in concert with a community or professional partner, contain coherent and well-defined expectations, incorporate stakeholder support, consider students’ developmental levels, allow ample opportunity for reflective practices, and broaden or expand because of the impact of the project (Dotson-Blake et al., 2010). Focusing on the above underpinnings of successful SLPs could potentially assist counselor educators in the planning and implementation stages of these sorts of projects, as they can take time and considerable effort to develop.
Service Learning and Social Justice
According to Cipolle (2010), social justice and service learning are interrelated. She asserted that service learning and social justice need to be considered together so as to accomplish a larger goal of connection with the community. An additional component to service learning is the development of critical consciousness. Students engaging in service learning as a means of social justice may gain compassion and understanding from their participation (Cipolle, 2010). A by-product of service learning with a social justice focus may be the development of self-awareness through students’ opportunities to see for themselves how others live their lives; perhaps students will also see the impact of the dominant culture (Cipolle, 2010). Self-awareness is a key component of the 2016 MSJCC (Ratts et al., 2016) and is found throughout the Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs (CACREP) 2016 Standards (CACREP, 2015). Additionally, the ACA Code of Ethics asserts that counselors should ascribe to self-awareness to maintain ethical practice and reflection (American Counseling Association [ACA], 2014).
Service Learning Versus Community Service
An important distinction between community service and service learning lies within the beneficiaries of each. Within community service, the beneficiaries are those receiving the service. Service learning posits a reciprocal model, with both the recipient of service and student benefitting from the project (Blankson et al., 2015). Thus, SLPs provide students with opportunities to be exposed to issues of social justice that may foster empathy and cultural self-awareness. Students can benefit from service learning as it may assist them in developing increased compassion for others (George, 2015). With the continued focus on social justice within many disciplines, SLPs may provide another avenue for counselor educators to help students more fully understand the diverse needs of their communities and advocate for the underserved.
Throughout participation in an SLP, and at the completion, students are encouraged to apply critical thinking to their efforts and reflect on progress, barriers, and benefits (Blankson et al., 2015). For successful service learning to occur, projects should be connected to specific course objectives. Such a curricular emphasis is not generally a component of community service initiatives. By combining student projects and course material, instructors are able to help students solidify course material into practical applications (McDonald & Dominguez, 2015). This experiential avenue may appeal to non-traditional learners and provide more integration of material than didactic coursework alone (Currie-Mueller & Littlefield, 2018).
Effects of Service Learning
Cipolle (2010) reported that students participating in early service learning received numerous benefits, including having higher self-confidence, feeling empowered, gaining self-awareness, developing patience and compassion, recognizing their privilege, and developing a connection and commitment to their community. All of these outcomes are consistent with the aims and goals of standards, competencies, and codes of ethics within the counseling profession (ACA, 2014; CACREP, 2015; Ratts et al., 2016).
Scott and Graham (2015) reported an increase in empathy and community engagement for school-age children when participating in service learning. They also reported that several previous works measured similar favorable effects among high school– and college-age individuals. Because of these overlapping desired effects and the need to incorporate social justice throughout the curriculum, service learning would fit well into current models of counselor education.
Service Learning Efforts in Counselor Education
The ACA Code of Ethics (2014) calls upon professional counselors to donate their time to services for which they receive little to no financial compensation. The incorporation of SLPs could provide an opportunity to fulfill this ethical obligation while training students and connecting with the community. A dearth of literature exists as to specific counselor education service learning efforts. Of the few results, many are focused on pre-practicum level SLPs (Barbee et al., 2003; Jett & Delgado-Romero, 2009), pedagogical tools woven into the multicultural and diversity-based courses (Burnett et al., 2004; Nikels et al., 2007), and group leadership training (Bjornestad et al., 2016; Midgett et al., 2016). Alvarado and Gonzalez (2013) studied the impact of an SLP on pre-practicum–level counseling students and found that students reported an increase in their confidence in using the core counseling skills and a deeper connection with the community outside of the university setting. Havlik et al. (2016) explored the effect SLPs had on CITs and found similar themes to Alvarado and Gonzalez, particularly that of raised levels of confidence in the ability to use the core counseling skills.
In other counselor education–related studies, researchers also reported positive impacts of service learning. One such impact was that of raised student self-efficacy (Barbee et al., 2003; Jett & Delgado-Romero, 2009; Murray et al., 2006). An added and practical benefit for students has also been a greater understanding and familiarity of the roles and settings of professional counselors and a deepened understanding of counselors’ roles within professional agencies. Students were able to examine their own professional interests prior to practicum work and participate in valuable networking experiences with other professionals (Jett & Delgado-Romero, 2009).
An increased compassion for the population with whom they work has been reported (Arnold & McMurtery, 2011) as a result of service learning. Burnett et al. (2005) reported increased counselor self-awareness, which is an important component of counselor education, regardless of delivery method, program accreditation, or instructor pedagogy. They also reported a component of a successful service learning course to be peer-learning. Peer-learning involves the giving and receiving of feedback, and this provides a foundation for experiences of group supervision feedback later in counseling programs (Burnett et al., 2005). A frequent reported result of participation in service learning has been increased multicultural competence and social justice awareness on the part of the student (Burnett et al., 2004; Lee & Kelley Petersen, 2018; Lee & McAdams, 2019; Shannonhouse et al., 2018). In short, the incorporation of SLPs would benefit counselor educators in developing desired qualities in beginning counselors while giving them opportunities to network and more fully integrate material.
Integrating Service Learning Into Counselor Education
Freire (2000) espoused that education should inspire students to become active and engaged members of the classroom in order to develop a deeper critical consciousness of society. Keeping Freire’s goal in mind, counselor educators could utilize service learning to bridge the divide that exists between the “ivory tower” and communities outside of academia. Counselors are called to apply their theoretical knowledge to real-world clients and to be advocates for those whose voices are silenced because of various forms of oppression (ACA, 2014; CACREP, 2015; Ratts et al., 2016). Through participation in SLPs, students are able to see firsthand the effects of oppression and assist with creating solutions; often, the projects chosen contain an element of social justice (George, 2015). Furthermore, SLPs woven into coursework may provide the opportunity for students to begin finding their voices as advocates and activists in a supportive environment, where peers are available to assist with potential problems that may arise.
By encouraging CITs to participate in SLPs earlier and often within their graduate education, students may have more opportunities to engage with diverse populations and to experience community environments and sociopolitical influences faced by different groups. The focus of clinical work during the practicum and internship phases of counselor education typically emphasizes counselor skill development and client progress rather than community-focused perspectives (Barbee et al., 2003; Jett & Delgado-Romero, 2009). Thus, by incorporating SLPs into regular coursework, students may feel freer to engage holistically in a community system rather than focus narrowly on their own counseling skill development and individual client progress. For all SLPs, there is the potential for students to experience the project components as challenging to complete. In this situation, students may be redirected to identify and analyze barriers to the success of the project and to identify strategies for eliminating those barriers.
Gehlert et al. (2014) argued that SLPs can also serve as potential gatekeeping tools. They posited that by engaging with individuals outside of the classroom experience, especially earlier than the practicum stage, students might decide for themselves that the counseling profession is not the right choice for their career (Gehlert et al., 2014). They further contended that utilizing SLPs early in students’ programs of study will allow the opportunity for faculty to identify students who might be in need of remediation plans before they are working with clients (Gehlert et al., 2014).
Counselors are urged to be advocates for the profession and for clients (ACA, 2014). Service learning may function as a natural initiation into that identity (Manis, 2012; Toporek & Worthington, 2014) and could possibly provide a bridge between an identity as a counselor and that of a counselor advocate. Another potential benefit of service learning is that students may be able to gain knowledge as to the realities of the profession beyond specific contact hour requirements to satisfy internship and licensure requirements. This could prove helpful as a gatekeeping tool as well. Students who find themselves disliking significant aspects of the profession might choose to leave the program without requiring faculty intervention.
Experiences of SLPs can be distilled into poster presentations or conference presentations. In this context, SLPs benefit both CITs and counselor educators, as professional development can occur for both. For students, conferences can be valuable networking opportunities, and for counselor educators, conference-related activities fall under required professional development (ACA, 2014; CACREP, 2015). Experiences could also serve as the foundation for manuscripts and research projects, both of which are considered professional development.
Service Learning Opportunities Within Specific Counseling Content Areas
CACREP (2015) provides counselor educators with standards for training that can be used to facilitate course development, learning objectives, and class assignments. Several core content areas within a CACREP-aligned counseling curriculum may offer instructors and students the chance to engage in SLPs. Because little information currently exists regarding best practices for service learning within counselor education, the authors created example SLPs that are based on CACREP standards and rooted in the relevant content area literature. These are designed to facilitate the development of advocacy skills in a variety of environments. It should be noted that with any SLP, it is important for counselor educators to engage in continued monitoring of projects and student placements. Given that SLPs provide a reciprocal benefit for both students and the community, it is important to ensure everyone involved is experiencing ongoing added value. Therefore, counselor educators are encouraged to create and maintain relationships with stakeholders for feedback throughout the SLP and to make adjustments as necessary.
Professional Orientation and Ethical Practice
Licensure remains an important topic within the counseling profession (Bergman, 2013; Bobby, 2013) and professional counselors are now able to obtain licensure in all states (Bergman, 2013; Urofsky, 2013). In order to become more familiar with state licensure policies and procedures, an SLP might involve student interviews with a member of the state licensure board and reflection upon that experience through a written journal entry. Questions posed to the board member could range from the practical aspects of obtaining a license in their state to the broader implications of ethical issues the board encounters. Student findings could then be utilized to develop a project involving the entire class in which students brainstorm ideas about what assistance the board might need in terms of outreach or advocacy. Examples could include barriers to licensure because of cost or English as a second language (making the testing aspect of obtaining licensure difficult). Students and faculty could use class time deciding what action to take and then implement and assess their plan.
Another example of an SLP that falls under this core content area is for students to volunteer time (e.g., 6 hours or more over a semester) assisting their state branch of ACA. An important aspect of the profession of counseling is involvement with relevant policy and legislation (Bergman, 2013). Students interested in getting involved in this area could spend time working with the lobbyist for their state’s ACA branch (provided the state has retained a lobbyist) in order to assist them in advocating for the profession. Simple tasks such as assisting with office work can be of significant help to one working in a high-stress position and can prepare students for the realities of clinical work. State and federal government have a significant role in shaping the profession (Bergman, 2013), and because of this, counselor educators can utilize service learning in order to inspire students to become involved early in their careers.
Should the state ACA branch not have retained a lobbyist, students can work with branch leadership in order to determine barriers. Perhaps costs are prohibitive, in which case students could help with fundraising efforts and outreach. Encouraging master’s students to take interest in policy and legislation pertaining to the profession will give them the foundation for making meaningful change and assisting with social justice efforts (Cipolle, 2010; Bergman, 2013).
Social and Cultural Diversity
Much of the existing literature regarding service learning and counselor education focuses on social and cultural diversity with regards to SLPs (Burnett et al., 2004). Philosophically, SLPs align with the aims and scope of the MSJCC (Ratts et al., 2016). Frequently, course assignments contain a cultural immersion project in order for counselors to encounter experiences in which their personal values might cause a conflict when working with clients (Burnett et al., 2004; Canfield et al., 2009). Service learning experiences could easily augment the student learning process within multicultural or diversity courses by helping students experience cultural immersion, which may foster greater compassion, empathy, and cultural sensitivity (Cipolle, 2010; Burnett et al., 2004).
One possibility for a social and cultural diversity–focused SLP would involve students working at a shelter for homeless populations or a center for refugees. Students could also find an organization that serves a minority or oppressed population and partner with them to help fill a need they are experiencing. Students would therefore gain experience working with people from groups with whom they may have limited prior experience. This can assist with students identifying their own privileges prior to working in the counseling setting. Ideally, students would contact the shelter or center at the start of the semester in order to ascertain the exact needs of the agency.
An additional SLP could focus on assisting an organization that advocates for minority or oppressed populations. This also emphasizes gaining experience with diverse populations; however, students would have more freedom in choosing the specific population and could gain more experience in understanding the systems involved in advocacy work. Ideally, the instructor would encourage students to choose organizations in which the student is challenged by their privileges (e.g., not being identified as a member of the population served). Through this project, students have the opportunity to work with a wider variety of individuals and help to bring about social change via their specific project goals. For instance, students could choose a women’s health center that has experienced a decline in attendance. The students might investigate and discover a particular city bus route was discontinued, making transportation to the health center difficult for residents. Students might then partner with various organizations with van access (such as churches) and raise money for weekly transportation in and out of the area.
Career Development
Within the career development area of the CACREP core curriculum, students have the possibility of learning about their own careers and the impact careers have on the lives of clients. Examples of SLPs can include opportunities for students to immerse themselves within various aspects of career development. Several SLPs could come from partnering with a local employment agency. Students could discover barriers to employment for members of the local community and implement a project to alleviate some of those barriers. For example, students might discover a lack of late-night childcare in their community, which affects those working during the evening and night. They might implement a project in which university students provide childcare for a reasonable cost to the parents, making finding employment easier. If liability issues make this too difficult, students could focus their attention on fundraising to hire more qualified individuals to provide the childcare.
As mental health and wellness are primary foci of professional counselors (ACA, 2014; CACREP, 2015), a second potential SLP assignment related to career development could be for students to partner with a local business and provide mental health and wellness screenings, and education via seminars or workshops. Ideally, students would familiarize themselves with the company insurance (or lack thereof) and prepare referrals and resources accordingly. Workshops and seminars could be an avenue for educating employees and the community at large about wellness, prevention, and good mental health. These could be delivered via “brown bag lunches” or more formal trainings for employees.
Helping Relationships
As CITs progress though counselor education programs, it might be helpful for them to discover new ways to employ their skills in helping relationships outside of counseling sessions. Much of the aforementioned scholarship exploring service learning within counselor education discovered an increase in self-efficacy with respect to core counseling skills as a result of participating in SLPs (Alvarado & Gonzalez, 2013; Havlik et al., 2016). An SLP suitable for this core curriculum could be to partner with a suicide prevention agency and provide assistance where needed. For example, students might work on a suicide hotline or provide referrals for people in distress, utilizing their relationship-building skills and reflective listening while learning about suicide assessment or prevention efforts within the community. Of course, it is important to consider students’ level of development and readiness to work with individuals who are suicidal. Counselor educators should ensure there are appropriate supports and supervision for students in these settings. A related project could be for school counseling students to partner with such an organization to create a developmentally appropriate suicide education presentation for high school–age children and deliver it to area schools.
Another SLP focused on the helping relationship might involve students seeking non-counseling placements at local counseling agencies or private practice settings. Ideally, students would have the opportunity to immerse themselves in many elements of practice without having a focus on accruing direct client contact hours. Spending time at an agency before practice might provide students with opportunities to learn many aspects of the profession and the operations of the agency, which in turn could help students decide within which settings they would like to work. This project might also help inform students about potential barriers clients might face in accessing services. They could develop a plan for removing the barriers, which might include identifying potential sources of funding for the project (e.g., grants, scholarships, community donations) and providing an outline of how to access this funding. Another potential benefit to this project is that it could provide students with the opportunity to network within the local counseling community and connect agencies with potential interns.
Group Work
SLPs that correspond to group work can be similar to those under the helping relationships core curriculum. For example, students could partner with a local counseling agency that provides group counseling services. Students could determine if clients encounter any barriers to receiving group counseling and implement a plan for eliminating the barrier(s). A further example is perhaps if the agency has a group in which they would like to see more culturally relevant topics used in order to attract a more diverse group of clients. Students partnering with this agency could perform outreach to discover what clients would like to see at the group and any barriers, such as transportation, to attending this group. Another possibility for an SLP is for students to facilitate a group counseling experience for an agency or shelter for no cost to those participating in the group.
Conclusion
SLPs have the potential to enhance the learning experiences of students within graduate counselor education programs. Although not previously emphasized within counselor training, SLPs may be developed and implemented within a variety of core counseling content areas as suggested by CACREP (2015). From an advocacy and social justice perspective, SLPs also may provide students with multiple opportunities to experience the needs of clients and identify barriers to providing counseling services with diverse client populations. Ultimately, by utilizing SLPs, counselor educators can help foster CITs’ advocacy and social justice identities, preparing them for work as responsible citizens and effective counselors.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest
or funding contributions for the development
of this manuscript.
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Kristen Arla Langellier, PhD, NCC, is an assistant professor at the University of South Dakota. Randall L. Astramovich, PhD, LCPC, is an associate professor at Idaho State University. Elizabeth A. Doughty Horn, PhD, LCPC, is a professor at Idaho State University. Correspondence may be addressed to Kristen Langellier, Division of Counseling and Psychology in Education, University of South Dakota, 414 E. Clark St., Vermillion, SD 57069, kristen.langellier@usd.edu.
Apr 29, 2020 | Volume 10 - Issue 2
Chad Luke, Eric T. Beeson, Raissa Miller, Thomas A. Field, Laura K. Jones
As with many advancements in science and technology, ethical standards regarding practice often follow innovation. The integration of neuroscience with counseling is no exception, as scholars are just beginning to identify important ethical concerns related to this shift in the profession. Results of an inductive thematic analysis exploring the perspectives of 312 participants regarding the ethics of integrating neuroscience with counseling are presented. This study is the first of its kind to explore mental health counselors’, counselors-in-training’s, and counselor educators’ perceptions of neuroscience integration. The researchers identified a continuum of concern ranging from no concerns to grave concerns. In addition, they identified four specific ethical quandaries: a) neuroscience does not align with our counselor identity, b) neuroscience is outside the scope of counseling practice, c) challenges with neuroscience and the nature of neuroscience research, and d) potential for harm to clients. Implications include four key considerations for counselors prior to proceeding with integrating neuroscience into practice.
Keywords: neuroscience, integration, counselor identity, ethics, counseling practice
The integration of neuroscience with the mental health professions continues, and with this expansion comes the risks associated with any nascent area of innovation (Luke et al., 2019). Neuroscience integration, as used herein, is understood using Beeson and Field’s (2017) definition of neurocounseling, a synonym for the integration of neuroscience with counseling:
A specialty within the counseling field, defined as the art and science of integrating neuroscience principles related to the nervous system and physiological processes underlying all human functioning into the practice of counseling for the purpose of enhancing clinical effectiveness in the screening and diagnosis of physiological functioning and mental disorders, treatment planning and delivery, evaluation of outcomes, and wellness promotion. (p. 74)
Counselors and the counseling profession, under code C.2.b of the American Counseling Association’s ACA Code of Ethics (2014), are charged with scrutinizing innovations and specialty areas prior to and throughout their use in clinical practice; this is a safeguard to protect clients from risky or poorly evidenced theory or practices. For example, some of these risks, as they pertain to neuroscience (i.e., the study of the brain and central nervous system) and neurobiology (i.e., literally, the biology of the neurons and the nervous system), include accuracy, embellishment, misapplication, and hype (Beeson & Field, 2017; Kim & Zalaquett, 2019; Luke, 2016).
The first and perhaps most salient ethical concern in terms of counseling values is that neuroscience integration is not a unilaterally benevolent addition to counseling (Luke, 2019). Although limited research has focused specifically on mental health counselors, several authors have closely examined the effects of using neurobiological language and frameworks to explain and understand mental health disorders in other mental health fields (Fernandez-Duque et al., 2015; Haslam & Kvaale, 2015; Lebowitz et al., 2015; Luke et al., 2019; Nowack & Radecki, 2018). Haslam and Kvaale (2015) summarized the literature on the effects of brain-based explanations of mental health conditions, such as schizophrenia and depression. Their findings challenge long-held notions that biogenic and neurobiological explanations for mental health and psychopathology are singularly positive. The larger assumption in the profession has been that biomedical explanations can reduce self-blame and public shaming of individuals with substance use and other mental health disorders (Badenoch, 2008; Lebowitz & Appelbaum, 2017). Unfortunately, these biological explanations can at times carry unintended consequences that operate against this positive outcome. Clients may be less likely to invest in psychosocial treatments, believing that while on the one hand their biogenic (i.e., brain-based) condition (e.g., depression) is not their fault, it is also therefore out of their control (Lebowitz & Appelbaum, 2017). In other words, one risk of these biological explanations is that they may reduce outcome expectancy with counseling, while increasing the belief that only biological-based treatments (e.g., psychotropic medication) will work for them.
Mental health providers also seem to be similarly affected by these biased perceptions, at times experiencing less empathy for clients in cases framed as neurobiologically based (Lebowitz & Ahn, 2014). Lebowitz et al. (2015) demonstrated that these negative effects could be mitigated somewhat through training. However, Haslam and Kvaale (2015) asserted that it is imprudent to believe that training is sufficient, because “it is unlikely that all of the ill effects of biogenetic explanation can be reversed simply by educating laypeople about bioscience, or that the fundamental problem is their ignorance of neuroplasticity and epigenesis” (p. 402). It is notable that the research above did not include mental health counselors, so the extension of these concerns to counselors remains uncertain. Nevertheless, the concerns seem warranted regarding the allure of neuroscience conceptualizations (Beeson & Miller, 2019; Field et al., 2019; Luke, 2020). Fernandez-Duque et al. (2015) demonstrated how easily humans can be deceived based on the use of the “prestige of science” hypothesis (p. 926). In a series of experiments, the authors used superfluous neuroscientific jargon and images to fool participants into viewing the content as more veracious. Additionally, concerns about the encroachment of science-based reductionism on the humanistic ethos of counseling has begun to resound through the counseling literature (Beeson, Field, et al., 2019; Beeson & Miller, 2019; Field, 2019; Luke, 2019; Luke et al., 2018). Wilkinson (2018) offered a review of the threats of neuroscience to counseling by highlighting the perceived superiority of objective brain-based methods over the humanistic principles of the counseling profession.
Nowak and Radecki (2018) introduced a special issue in the Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research focused on “neuro-mythconceptions.” The authors explored the many ways that neurobiology might be exploited by professionals to justify their current practices. Their concern centered on how plausible neuroscience-based claims can sound. Such plausibility results in professionals passing along dubious information to clients in the name of cutting-edge advances in optimizing human performance. The risk of neuromyths also have been cited in the professions of counseling (Beeson, Kim, et al., 2019; Kim & Zalaquett, 2019) and education (Dekker et al., 2012; Deligiannidi & Howard-Jones, 2015; Gleichgerrcht et al., 2015; Karakus et al., 2015; Macdonald et al., 2017; Papadatou-Pastou et al., 2017; Simmonds, 2014).
Purpose of the Present Study
The potential concerns identified above highlight the need to consider potential ethical implications of counselors integrating neuroscience within their practice. Although ethical concerns regarding the implementation of neuroscience have been referenced anecdotally in conceptual reviews (e.g., Beeson & Miller, 2019; Field, 2019; Luke, 2019; Wilkinson, 2018), no studies were found that explored concerns of the counseling community regarding the broader ethical assumptions about the integration of neuroscience with practice. Therefore, this research is the first to empirically address this critical gap by eliciting the counseling community’s perceptions of ethical concerns related to the integration of neuroscience and counseling. The research question guiding this study explored if counselors perceive ethical concerns pertaining to integrating neuroscience with their counseling practice, and if so, the nature of these concerns.
Method
This study utilized a survey-based qualitative methodology to explore counselors’ perceived ethical concerns regarding the integration of neuroscience with their counseling practice (Merriam & Tisdell, 2016). A single open-ended survey question was selected for qualitative data analysis in this study. This question was part of a larger survey examining counselor perceptions of neuroscience and neuroscience integration with counseling. Given the exploratory nature of the study and the current status of neuroscience literature in the counseling profession, a thematic analysis of a single item from a larger survey was chosen. This methodology was best suited to obtain a general, broad understanding of the concerns within the profession. Use of thematic analysis is consistent with other research in which a standardized measure of the construct (i.e., ethical integration of neuroscience with counseling) does not exist (Bengtsson et al., 2007; Donath et al., 2011). A total of 458 participants completed the larger survey, with 312 participants (67.9%) responding to the question, “What ethical concerns do you have regarding the integration of neuroscience into clinical practice (if any)?”
Participants
Integration of neuroscience with counseling practice affects multiple professional roles within the counseling profession. As such, the survey was developed for counselors, counselor educators, and counselors-in-training. We sought to gain responses from counseling practitioners, counselor educators and supervisors, and current master’s- and doctoral-level counseling students. Inclusion criteria for the study consisted of at least one of the following: (a) being licensed as a counselor, (b) belonging to a professional counseling organization, (c) being a current student in a counseling program, or (d) being a current faculty member in a counseling program. Participants who did not meet one of these four criteria were excluded from the study.
Participants varied in their educational attainment, with the highest percentage of participants having graduated with their master’s degree and not pursued doctoral study (35.3%, n = 110). This group was followed by master’s-level students (27.2%, n = 85), doctoral-level graduates (22.1%, n = 69), and doctoral-level students (15.4%, n = 48). Most of the sample (81.4%, n = 254) had attended programs accredited by the Council for the Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs (CACREP). Many participants (60.9%, n = 190) reported they were exposed to neuroscience in their graduate programs.
The majority of doctoral-level graduates (85.5%, n = 59) were full-time faculty members in counselor education programs. The other 10 doctoral-level graduates were either administrators of clinics, working in private practice, or retired. Of those 59 faculty members, 62.7% (n = 37) provided direct counseling services within the past year. In comparison, 81.0% (n = 205) of the non-faculty participants provided direct counseling services in the past year. When combined, the majority of the sample (77.9%, n = 243) provided direct counseling services within the past year.
The mean number of years of counseling experience was 10.13 years, with a large amount of variance (SD = 10.87). The range for years of experience was 0 to 40 years. Doctoral graduates had the most years of experience on average (M = 19.91, SD = 11.04). They were followed by master’s graduates who were not pursuing doctoral study (M = 11.70, SD = 10.42), doctoral students (M = 7.29, SD = 5.21), and current master’s students (M = 1.74, SD = 4.98). A subset of the sample comprised full-time counselor educator faculty (18.9%, n = 59). Faculty members in the study had more counseling experience (M = 17.83 years, SD = 11.00) than non-faculty participants (M = 8.33, SD = 10.04). No age differences existed by education level. The mean age for the sample was 42.55 years (SD = 13.66) with a range from 21 to 82 years.
Approximately half (54.5%, n = 170) of participants were currently licensed as counselors or psychologists. In addition, 31.1% (n = 97) held the National Certified Counselor (NCC) certification. The majority of the sample (87.5%, n = 273) were members of counseling associations. Participants self-reported their gender identity, racial/ethnic identity, age, and number of years of counseling experience. The sample consisted of 73.3% (n = 229) females, 25.0% (n = 78) males, 1.0% (n = 3) non-binary, and 0.6% (n = 2) transgender. One person did not report gender identity. The survey gave participants the option to report multiple racial/ethnic identities. Fifteen percent of participants (n = 48) identified as multiracial, whereas 84.6% identified as Caucasian/White (n = 264, of which 45 were multiracial). Of the remaining participants, 8.0% identified as Asian or Asian American (n = 25, of which 19 were multiracial), 5.4% as African American/Black (n = 17, of which 13 were multiracial), 3.8% as Hispanic or Latinx (n = 12, of which 10 were multiracial), 1.0% as American Indian or Alaskan Native (n = 3, of which three were multiracial), and 0.3% as Arab/Arab American (n = 1, of which zero were multiracial). No participants identified as Pacific Islanders.
Procedure
The question addressed in this article was drawn from questions used in a larger study that explored training and attitudes related to neuroscience and counseling. The question used in this study was included intentionally as a means to gain a better understanding of perceptions of the ethics of neuroscience integration, recognizing it as a stand-alone construct for the purposes of analysis. The full survey was constructed by the authors, following a thorough review of the literature around the integration of neuroscience in counseling. All survey questions were constructed to conform to Patton’s (2015) conventions and recommendations for qualitative questions, such as using open-ended and neutral questions, asking one question at a time, and avoiding “why” questions. The specific question analyzed and presented in this report was “What ethical concerns do you have regarding the integration of neuroscience into clinical practice (if any)?”
We utilized convenience and snowball sampling to recruit participants, which makes calculating response rate difficult. However, as the purpose of the project was exploratory and the method qualitative, the participants were not intended to be fully representative. The potential response bias inherent to this study could mean that participants were aware to some degree of the status of the profession with regard to integrating neuroscience into clinical practice, both positively and negatively. Following IRB approval, the authors electronically distributed the Survey Monkey–created online survey to the following: neuroscience interest networks in counseling, the counselor education listserv, CESNET-L, and direct emails to colleagues for distribution. A link to the informed consent and full questionnaire was included in the email. Interested participants clicked on the link and were asked to give their consent in order to continue to the survey. Three separate requests for participants were disseminated, with each request coming 2 weeks apart. Participants who completed the survey in full had the option of submitting their email in a separate survey to be included in a drawing for two signed copies of neuroscience in counseling texts.
Role of the Researchers
To limit unconscious bias in the research process, we engaged in discussions throughout survey development, data collection, and data analysis. Such conversations detailed our respective passions, assumptions, histories, and visions of the profession. Several prior assumptions emerged in this recursive process. These ethical concerns largely mirrored the issues raised in existing literature and described in the introduction section of this article. The primary assumption included the belief that incorporating neuroscience into counseling is a largely positive endeavor but that counselors should follow ethical guidelines outlined by professional counseling organizations to avoid ethical concerns related to integration. One author explicitly assumed that participants would generally default to the ACA Code of Ethics in their response, such that responses might begin with, “According to the ACA Code of Ethics regarding new specialty areas of practice. . . .” One author assumed that most participants would preface their response with “It depends on what you mean by ‘integration’” because integration was intentionally undefined in the survey. We continually challenged and actively reflected on these assumptions in order to understand the impact on the authors’ relationship with the data and subsequent themes (Hays et al., 2016; Hunt, 2011). We also engaged in reflective writing, particularly through writing memos (Hunt, 2011), in order to maintain awareness of worldviews and potential for bias in coding. Commonly referred to as reflexivity, this process aided in being transparent about assumptions rather than trying to behave as if any researcher would be able to be free from biases in approaching a set of data (Hays et al., 2016). Additionally, we established an electronic audit trail that enabled returning to the data, tracking the process, and checking that the coding remained close to the words of the participants. Lastly, two of the authors served as auditors for the results, having familiarized themselves with the data, but refraining from engagement in analysis and theme development.
Data Analysis
We selected thematic analysis, grounded in a pragmatist framework (Duffy & Chenail, 2008), to guide the inquiry into perceptions regarding the ethics of integrating neuroscience and counseling. Clarke and Braun (2017) defined thematic analysis as “a method for identifying, analyzing, and interpreting patterns of meaning (‘themes’) within qualitative data” (p. 297). We reviewed literature related to content analysis and thematic analysis and found that there was significant overlap (and sometimes merging) of the two approaches in published literature. Our best understanding of the two related approaches is that they exist on a continuum, with content analysis stopping at the manifest level of analysis and thematic analysis continuing to identify broader meanings. Although we stayed very close to the participants’ responses in coding, we did move beyond content analysis “categories” to extract some inductive-level themes across cases.
We followed Braun and Clarke’s (2006) six-phase framework, utilizing an inductive and semantic approach to thematic analysis. Braun and Clarke described these connected approaches to analysis as “a process of coding the data without trying to fit it into a preexisting coding frame, or the researcher’s analytic preconceptions . . . themes are identified within the explicit or surface meanings of the data” (pp. 83–84). Given that the data were obtained through an open-ended survey question versus an in-depth interview protocol that could capture greater context and meaning, we aimed to stay close to participants’ exact words. In this way we resisted the urge to include guesses at participants’ motivations or assumptions as part of themes. The emergent codes and themes reflect an inductive, descriptive account of participants’ perceptions. We followed the subsequent steps in analyzing the data.
The first three authors served as members of the coding team for data analysis. We first familiarized ourselves with the data by reading all responses through several times and taking notes on general observations and personal reactions to the data (Braun & Clarke, 2006). Afterward, we met via videoconferencing and looked at all the responses together, line by line, to begin identifying initial codes. The average length of responses was one to two sentences; the range of responses was from one word to over 200 words (a paragraph).
We then searched for patterns in the data, noting frequently used words and phrases and commonly expressed ideas. Fourth, we identified connections and grouped codes into preliminary themes. In doing so, we further expanded the overarching themes into subthemes, capturing some of the nuance represented in participants’ responses. We discussed and resolved differences in coding data via consensus.
Fifth, we reviewed the preliminary themes in light of the raw data and the research question, paying particular attention to our own perspectives and values. The third author re-read each participant response and matched each response to one of the theme groups. Parts of responses at times fell into different theme groups. For example, one participant wrote, “Ethical concerns would be keeping into consideration what the clinician’s scope of practice is, the potential for any side effects or results of rapid growth and brain training, and what insurance companies will cover.” The first part was coded in theme 2 (scope of practice) and the second part was coded in theme 4 (potential harm).
The first and second authors worked with the codes and themes in a more abstract and creative manner, developing thematic maps and conceptual continua that reflected relationships between and among participant responses. This process led to combining some themes and changing the title of other themes to better reflect the descriptive accounts of participants. Lastly, in refining the theme list, we discussed theme definitions and final theme names, attempting to capture the nature and essence of each thematic group (Braun & Clarke, 2006; Clarke & Braun, 2017). Clarke and Braun (2017) noted that “each theme has an ‘essence’ or core concept that underpins and unites the observations, much like characters have their own psychological makeup and motivations” (p. 108). In examining these underlying core concepts in our data, we identified questions that seemed to be illuminated through participants’ expressed concerns. As an additional step, we calculated frequency counts to convey the saturation of each theme within the data. Because the purpose of tallying frequencies was to report the strength of qualitative findings rather than to specifically quantify the results, greater weight was given to qualitative data than quantitative frequencies.
Results
In reviewing the conceptual maps of participant responses, it appeared that participants varied in their degree of ethical concerns. To make meaning of this variation, the authors placed responses on a continuum from “none” to “yes.” These items were coded based upon whether an ethical concern was reported and under what conditions the ethical concerns existed. Some participants (4.2%, n = 13) entered “n/a,” but it could not be determined if these responses indicated whether they had any ethical concerns.
Continuum of Ethical Concerns
During the initial review of the data, the authors observed a response range that led to a further analysis of the continuum of responses. Most participants (78.2%, n = 244) indicated some level of ethical concern regarding the integration of neuroscience in counseling. These responses had various degrees of certainty and conditions. Most responses (65.1%, n = 203) fell into the yes, with no conditions grouping. Example responses included: “Deeply concerned” and “There’s a lot of misinformation out there! It’s a complex subject and I have seen varying degrees of ability to explain things easily and correctly. Also I think sometimes people want it to provide answers that it can’t or read more into the research than is truly there.”
The second category identified was yes, if/only (3.5%, n = 11). One example response included in this subtheme was: “I would only be concerned if counselors use their knowledge of the brain to profess some magical or intellectual superiority in controlling a client.” The third category was none, but (3.2%, n = 10). For example, responses included in this subtheme were: “none—except more research is needed,” and “none other than the importance of competence.”
The fourth category we identified was just like any other (3.2 %, n = 10). Some participants indicated that they had ethical concerns that were no different than for other methods of counseling. For example, one participant stated they felt “the same as with any other evidence-based practice: counselors need quality training and an understanding of what it means to be ‘competent.’” A fifth category was unethical not to integrate (3.2%, n = 10). An example response included in this subtheme was: “At this point, it would be unethical NOT to formally integrate these studies” (emphasis in original). Nearly 20% of participants (19.9%, n = 62) believed there were no ethical concerns regarding the integration of neuroscience in counseling. Given the methods of the study, the “n/a” responses were kept separate from the no ethical concerns group, as the analysis aimed to stick close to the participants’ actual words rather than infer their intention. Therefore, “n/a” could have been listed for any number of possible reasons that could not be determined in the current study. These responses were further divided into the following groups: (a) participants who believed there were explicitly no ethical concerns (13.8%, n = 43), (b) participants who believed there were no ethical concerns at the current moment (3.8%, n = 12), and (c) participants who believed there were no ethical concerns as long as certain conditions were met (2.2%, n = 7). This continuum provided a richer understanding of the emergent themes, as discussed below.
Themes of Participant Concerns
Most participants (78.2%, n = 244) identified ethical concerns. From the continuum above, these are the responses from the following groups: unethical not to integrate; no ethical concerns but; ethical concerns if/only; ethical concerns with no conditions; and ethical concerns just like any other. The analysis of these responses produced a total of four themes and ten subthemes and are summarized in Table 1. The four major themes were: neuroscience does not align with our counselor identity, neuroscience is outside the scope of counseling practice, challenges with neuroscience and the nature of neuroscience research, and potential harm to clients. For each subtheme, response frequencies are reported to provide a contextual understanding of how commonly the theme occurred. Subthemes all were deemed equally meaningful, regardless of the response frequency.
Theme 1: Neuroscience Does Not Align With Our Counselor Identity
The first theme was reflective of participants’ concerns that integrating neuroscience into counseling might be inherently inconsistent with or even violate counselors’ identity. Specifically, participants emphasized the loss of humanistic principles by either directly using the word “humanistic” or using terms consistent with humanistic principles (e.g., holism, human-first, subjective data, process, compassion, relationship, and wellness). Two subthemes related to the overarching theme were as follows: Subtheme 1.1) overemphasis and/or overreliance (n = 27), and Subtheme 1.2) reductionism and/or determinism (n = 25). These connected, yet discrete, subthemes reflected participants’ particular areas of apprehension. These areas of concern centered on either giving too much weight to biological, brain-based conceptualizations at the cost of clients’ subjective worlds (e.g., “undervalue subjective experience”) or reducing human experience in a way that neglected human agency (e.g., “reducing human experience to just science”).
Theme 2: Neuroscience Is Outside the Scope of Counseling Practice
The second theme was reflective of participants’ reservations that neuroscience was within counselors’ scope of practice based on educational backgrounds, training, knowledge, and/or skills. Three subthemes were identified as follows: Subtheme 2.1) training and education (n = 59), Subtheme 2.2) lack of standards for training and practice (n = 21), and Subtheme 2.3) competence (n = 69). Sample responses from this theme included feeling “woefully untrained.” Some participants focused more on academic background and elements of training (e.g., continuing education, supervision) as indicative of scope, whereas other participants highlighted counselors’ understanding of neuroscience concepts, focusing more on knowledge and application skills. A smaller group of responses emphasized the absence of current training and/or practice standards (e.g., “inadequate training standards”). This line of responses included concerns around an absence of qualified trainers, certification opportunities, and/or general laws and regulations.
Theme 3: Challenges With Neuroscience and the Nature of Neuroscience Research
The third theme captured participants’ varied reservations about the general field of neuroscience and the accurate translation of neuroscience research into clinical work. Participants expressing concerns in this area seemed to be asking, “How can we be sure this is done right or well?” Subtheme 3.1, ever-changing and evolving (n = 14), included responses related to challenges counselors might face in staying current with neuroscience findings. These concerns were centered around the vastness of the field and the fast pace at which research is emerging. Subtheme 3.2, quality of research (n = 23), included more critical commentary on the type of research being conducted in the neuroscience field (e.g., relevance of lab-based research to clinical practice, insufficient applied research). Subtheme 3.3, interpreting and applying research (n = 52), emphasized concerns with counselors overstating, speculating, misrepresenting, and misinforming clients of neuroscience research and concepts. Participants voiced concerns with “overhyping findings,” “unknown practical use,” and the “ever-changing and not fully understood” research base.
Theme 4: Potential for Harm to Clients
The fourth theme reflected participants’ concerns that integrating neuroscience into counseling could put clients, and potentially counselors, at risk. A total of 18 participants used the exact phrase “potential harm” or the related idea of informed consent. Fourteen participants referred to concerns with potential harm, and four people noted concerns with informed consent. In Subtheme 4.1, neuroscience information may be intentionally misused in a way that harms clients (n = 21), participants feared counselors deliberately using “embellishment” and “manipulation.” Subtheme 4.2, unintended potential negative side effects (n = 18), reflected ways that integration could inadvertently harm clients or harm counselors These concerns included giving false hope and creating problems with insurance claims to issues with liability and malpractice.
Table 1
Summary and Frequencies of Themes and Subthemes
| Theme |
Subtheme |
Description |
Frequency |
Sample Statements |
| Theme One: Neuroscience does not align with our counselor identity |
Sub 1.1 Overemphasis and/or overreliance |
The integration of neuroscience in counseling may lead to counselors giving preference to non-humanistic aspects of the client and/or the treatment process (e.g., psychopharmacology, science, the brain). |
n = 27
|
• Too reliant on brain
• Science over compassion
• Defaulting to neuro
• Brain obsession
• Undervalue subjective
experience |
| Sub 1.2 Reductionism and/or determinism |
The integration of neuroscience in counseling may lead to counselors moving away from holistic conceptualizations and limiting human agency. |
n = 25
|
• Oversimplification
• Takes away focus on
interpersonal
• Reducing human experience
to just science
• Cultural bias |
| Theme Two: Neuroscience is outside the scope of counseling practice |
Sub 2.1 Training and education |
Counselors do not have sufficient training and/or educational backgrounds to ethically integrate neuroscience into counseling practice. |
n = 59
|
• Insufficient training
• Woefully undertrained
• Not having qualifications
• Scope of training
• No formal supervision |
| Sub 2.2
Lack of standards for training and practice |
There are insufficient standards for guiding the training and practice of neuroscience integration. |
n = 21 |
• Lack of laws, regulations, and
guidelines
• Standards for qualifications
• Qualifications of trainers |
| Sub 2.3 Competence |
Counselors are integrating neuroscience into counseling practice without sufficient knowledge and/or skills. |
n = 69
|
• Lack of knowledge
• Scope of competence
• Not being informed
• Skill level of clinician |
| Theme Three: Challenges with neuroscience and the nature of neuroscience research |
Sub 3.1
Ever-changing and evolving |
The field of neuroscience is continuously evolving, serving as a barrier to counselors staying sufficiently up to date to ethically integrate principles into counseling practice. |
n = 14
|
• Ever-changing and not totally
understood
• Staying current
• Constantly evolving
• Keeping up to date
• Vastness of the field |
| Sub 3.2 Quality of research |
Neuroscience research is often too complex, poorly conducted, and/or insufficient for counselors to apply to their work. |
n = 23
|
• More research needed
• Poor research
• Generalizability of research
• Lack of scientific foundation
of knowledge
• Unknown practical use |
| Sub 3.3 Interpreting and applying research |
Neuroscience research is being misunderstood, misinterpreted, and/or inaccurately applied to clinical practice. |
n = 52
|
• Accurately interpreting and
applying
• Overstatement
• Misrepresenting science
information
• Giving incorrect information |
| Theme |
Subtheme |
Description |
Frequency |
Sample Statements |
| Theme Four: Potential for harm to clients |
Sub 4.1 Manipulation |
Neuroscience information may be intentionally misused in a way that harms clients. |
n = 21
|
• Manipulation leading to
damage
• Misuse of knowledge
• Controlling the client |
| Sub 4.2 Unintended potential negative side effects |
The integration of neuroscience into counseling may have unintended negative consequences on clients and/or counselors. |
n = 18
|
• Jargon alienates – feeling
inferior
• Clients misperceiving
counselor identity/role and
not attending other
appointments |
Note. N = 312
Discussion
Counselors, counselor educators, and counselors-in-training reported a wide range of ethical concerns regarding the integration of neuroscience with clinical practice. These concerns largely reflected existing ethical guidelines (ACA, 2014) and existing literature related to neuroscience and counseling (e.g., Beeson & Miller, 2019; Field, 2019; Luke, 2019; Wilkinson, 2018). We developed four primary themes through the data analysis process. In reviewing these themes, we identified questions that participants seem to be asking through their expressed concerns. Each of the themes shared a meaningful connection, through implication and association, with major sections of the ACA Code of Ethics (ACA, 2014). These connections are discussed below.
Theme 1: Neuroscience Does Not Align With Our Counselor Identity
Humanistic concerns in this theme reflect counselor concerns that the integration of neuroscience may shift the profession away from wellness and focus on pathology. As already noted, other scholars have shared this concern (Wilkinson, 2018). However, other authors have alluded to the possibility for neuroscience to expand rather than reduce the client experiences and actually enhance counselor identity (Beeson, Field, et al., 2019; Beeson & Miller, 2019; Field et al., 2019; Ivey & Daniels, 2016).
Humanistic concerns are consistent with criticisms in the literature regarding essentialism (Schultz, 2018). Essentialism, in particular Schultz’s neuroessentialism, is the process of reducing individuals down to mere brain function. This position reflects the positivist, materialist approach to science in general and neuroscience in particular. All human experience is based in neurobiological process (Kalat, 2019), which can feel deterministic and therefore diminish the hope that counselors are called to instill (Schwartz et al., 2016). This theme aligns with several ACA ethical codes, including counselor professional identity and values (Beeson & Miller, 2019). However, influential scholars in the counseling profession have elevated how neuroscience is an extension of the wellness perspective, akin to the professional identity of the counseling profession (Cashwell & Sweeney, 2016; Ivey et al., 2017; Russell-Chapin, 2016). Whereas this theme indicates that some counselors believe neuroscience poses ethical risks to professional identity, the reality remains unclear.
Theme Two: Neuroscience Is Outside the Scope of Counseling Practice
Concerns regarding the requisite knowledge or expertise of counselors aligns well with two specific ACA ethical code standards in this regard: C.2.a. Boundaries of Competence and C.2.b. New Specialty Areas of Practice. This theme assumes that there is a standard of competence that exists. In order for a counselor to be competent, there must be a standard to which they are compared. However, what qualifies a counselor to be competent integrating neuroscience is unclear. There are a few neuroscience-related standards outlined in the American Mental Health Counseling Association (AMHCA) Standards for the Practice of Clinical Mental Health Counseling (2020) pertinent to biological bases of behavior and CACREP practice standards (2015) pertinent to neurobiology. However, these standards are not widely known among counselors and lack recommendations for implementation (Beeson, Field, et al., 2019). This lack of explicit direction is similar to concerns regarding the implementation of other counseling standards, such as the Multicultural and Social Justice Counseling Competencies (Ratts et al., 2016).
Theme Three: Challenges With Neuroscience and the Nature of Neuroscience Research
The third theme highlighted the concern that understanding and applying the body of literature that undergirds integration are essential (Field et al., 2019; Luke, 2019). Neuroscience literature is ever-changing, ever-evolving. This rapid pace of change creates two challenges for counselors. First, counselors could have difficulty staying abreast of the state of the art of integration, leading to the potential for using outdated information in practice. Second, counselors might integrate early findings too quickly before there is enough evidence to support their integration. The quality of neuroscience-related research also appears to be a barrier to integration in that counselors may struggle to discern high-quality research from low-quality research (Gruber, 2017; Kim & Zalaquett, 2019). Related to this, counselors face the challenge of accurately interpreting and applying relevant research for practice. Results indicate a primary concern related to issues of accuracy, leading to misapplication, overstating implications, and misinforming clients. This concern is elevated by other research warning against presumed superiority in neuroscience research, given the potential for neuroscience to seduce, allure, and enchant consumers of literature (Coutinho et al., 2017; Lilienfeld, 2014; Weisberg et al., 2008). Concerns regarding the accuracy of neuroscience knowledge among counselors also have been cited (Kim & Zalaquett, 2019). However, counselors in at least one study indicated more accurate neuroscience knowledge and average endorsement of neuromyths when compared to educators, undergraduate students, and coaches (Beeson, Kim, et al., 2019).
These concerns align with several ACA ethical codes, including Section C: Professional Responsibility (2014). When counselors practice based on emergent literature with which they are only superficially familiar, they risk miscommunication with clients and damaging the veracity and integrity of the profession as it relates to client care. This finding is consistent with previous research (Bott et al., 2016; Luke, 2016) that highlights the risk of using information without great care.
Theme Four: Potential for Harm to Clients
The fourth theme has the highest salience for the profession, as safeguarding client safety and welfare are paramount (Kaplan et al., 2017). Results indicated that manipulation is a real concern among participants. Manipulation can occur through misuse, misrepresentation, embellishment, and controlling of clients through invoking neuroscience (Bott et al., 2016). Respondents reported that the actions leading to client harm may be overt. For example, in a desperate attempt to instill hope in a client, a counselor might overstate the concept of neuroplasticity. Similarly, in an effort to present as more competent than perhaps they feel, a counselor might use neuroscience-laden language with clients, resulting in alienation (Lebowitz et al., 2015). Harm may also occur through unintended consequences of integration. Clients may experience negative side effects such as false hope, deflected responsibility, and forgoing medical consultation. Similar concerns have been found in recent literature (Haslam & Kvaale, 2015; Lebowitz & Applebaum, 2017). These authors note that although on the surface integration seems positive, harm is possible. This underscores the purpose and importance of the ACA Code of Ethics regarding new specialty areas: “Counselors practice in specialty areas new to them only after appropriate education, training, and supervised experience. While developing skills in new specialty areas, counselors take steps to ensure the competence of their work and protect others from possible harm” (ACA, 2014, C.2.b).
Limitations
As with any qualitative data analysis, transferability is limited. The authors obtained the data from an online survey, using a convenience and snowball sampling method. Therefore, respondents may have had strong opinions regarding neuroscience and not necessarily be representative of the profession. Another limitation was the use of a single, open-ended question that did not allow for an in-depth follow-up. We made conservative inferences regarding the meaning and intent of the data in the discussion. However, interviews would have allowed for more context into participants’ answers. This has long been viewed as a threat to trustworthiness and transferability (Creswell & Plano-Clark, 2018). The structure of the survey in general and the question also could have influenced this result. For example, there was insufficient information available from the responses to know respondent motivation for “n/a” or “none” responses. Although it is likely that respondents did not feel they had enough information to identify ethical concerns, other reasons for such a response are also possible. White females also were overrepresented in the survey sample. This representation is consistent with surveys of CACREP-accredited graduate programs, in which White females are also overrepresented in student and faculty composition (CACREP, 2017). The findings from this study may have been different had the sample been more diverse. The voice of counselors-in-training may be overrepresented in the data. This may also reflect the increasing interest in new counselors-in-training and counselor educators–in–training of neuroscience-informed counseling (Beeson, Field, et al., 2019; Kim & Zalaquett, 2019).
Implications for Practice and Research
This research highlights the need for continued debate and evolution of who we are as counselors and what role neuroscience integration plays in our professional identity, training, and practice. Remaining silent runs the risk of counselors indiscriminately, and perhaps unethically, integrating neuroscience without adequate consideration to counselor professional identity (Luke, 2020). Forgoing these discussions also introduces the risk that counselors may not ensure that such integration enhances rather than detracts from our professional identity. Failing to do so would further support concerns described in 20/20: A Vision for the Future of Counseling (Kaplan & Gladding, 2011). The concerns highlight the consistent trend that best practices tend to be “dictated to counselors by other mental health professions” (p. 371).
A second implication is the need to clarify counselors’ scope of practice with regard to neuroscience. Only one comprehensive set of standards related to neuroscience currently exists (AMHCA, 2020). Yet even with these standards there is little awareness or training around application. Understanding scope will support preventing client harm by ensuring the previous themes are addressed. In this way, counselors will better understand the strengths and limitations of integrating neuroscience information with practice. Further, counselors should continue to practice humility regarding neuroscience evidence. In doing so, they will ensure that they also will be maintaining values (e.g., humanistic orientation) that are hallmarks of the counseling profession.
The results of this study highlight the need for more training in accessing, interpreting, and being current in neuroscience research. This focus includes the need to increase resources to support high-quality neuroscience-based studies in counseling. As scholars have asserted (e.g., Myers & Young, 2012), neuroscience provides a unique strategy to evaluate the outcomes of counseling services. The challenge, as we demonstrate in this article, is how the profession moves forward in view of these ethical standards. It is one thing to assert that counselors operate only within their scope of competence. It is another thing to articulate and circumscribe the limits of competence in an emergent area like neuroscience.
Determining ethical concerns regarding the integration of neuroscience in counseling requires several professional milestones to be met. This could begin with consensus building in the profession regarding neuroscience and counselor scope of practice. To accomplish this step, counselors need to define what it means to integrate neuroscience with practice. As noted in the current study, participants relied on their own operationalization of the integration of neuroscience. The resulting data seemed to indicate that most viewed this integration as neuroeducation (Miller, 2016) or technical applications (e.g., neurofeedback). Many have expressed more broad integration of neuroscience (e.g., Field et al., 2019) as a means to conceptualize client experiences and guide the selection and timing of various techniques.
Next, once integration is defined, there needs to be a clear standard for the training and practice of all master’s-level students (e.g., how much neuroscience does a master’s-level counselor need to know?). In addition, standards for advanced practice postgraduation also require consideration. It is unrealistic to think that master’s-level programs can prepare counselors to be experts in any area of practice, including neuroscience. As such, the profession also needs to define how much training is enough to ethically practice technology-based (e.g., neurofeedback) and non–technology-based (e.g., using to guide case conceptualization and treatment planning) integration. In doing so, counseling will create the scope of practice that can be used as a gauge of competence and limit risks to practicing outside of one’s scope.
Lastly, the counseling profession needs to develop an intentional research effort to validate training standards and therapeutic outcomes related to integration. Additional research is needed before we can appropriately discern future directions of integration. The current paucity of neuroscience literature in the counseling profession is concerning. Of particular concern is the lack of empirical and outcomes-based articles. The lack of training in how to design and evaluate research using emerging paradigms, such as the National Institutes of Health’s Research Domain Criteria, further isolates counselors from participating in national discourse regarding the future classification of mental functioning and mental health diagnoses. As the profession accomplishes these tasks, we will promote ethical care, limit the potential for harm, and ultimately advance the profession as a whole.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest
or funding contributions for the development
of this manuscript.
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Chad Luke, PhD, NCC, MAC, ACS, LPC/MHSP, is an associate professor at Tennessee Tech University. Eric T. Beeson, PhD, NCC, ACS, LPC, CRC, is a core faculty member at The Family Institute at Northwestern University. Raissa Miller, PhD, LPC, is an assistant professor at Boise State University. Thomas A. Field, PhD, NCC, CCMHC, ACS, LPC, LMHC, is an assistant professor at the Boston University School of Medicine. Laura K. Jones, PhD, MS, is an assistant professor at the University of North Carolina at Asheville. Correspondence may be addressed to Chad Luke, Clinical Mental Health Counseling, Tennessee Tech University, P.O. Box 5031, Cookeville, TN 38505, cluke@tntech.edu.
Apr 29, 2020 | Volume 10 - Issue 2
Daniel Gutierrez, Allison Crowe, Patrick R. Mullen, Laura Pignato, Shuhui Fan
Researchers used path analysis to examine self-stigma, help seeking, and alcohol and other drug (AOD) use in a community sample of individuals (N = 406) recruited through the crowdsourcing platform MTurk. Self-stigma of help seeking contributed to AOD use and was mediated by help-seeking attitudes. We discuss the implications for advocacy and stigma reduction in substance use treatment. Counselors and counselor educators can implement and advocate for interventions and training that increase positive attitudes toward seeking help, such as providing appropriate training with supervisees and counselors-in-training, providing clients and the community with mental health literacy, and engaging in more advocacy. Moreover, they can challenge thoughts of seeking help as weakness, normalize seeking psychological help, and discuss the benefits of counseling and therapy to address the development and effects of self-stigma of help seeking for individuals with substance use issues.
Keywords: alcohol and drug use, self-stigma, help seeking, help-seeking attitudes, stigma reduction
In 2015, approximately 20.1 million people over the age of 12 suffered from an alcohol or substance use disorder (SUD) in the United States (Bose et al., 2016). However, only 3.8 million people (1 in 5) who needed treatment received any substance use counseling (Bose et al., 2016). Barriers to receiving substance use treatment include the location of the program, legal fears, peer pressure, family impact, concerns about loss of respect, and stigma (Masson et al., 2013; Stringer & Baker, 2018; Winstanley et al., 2016). Of these concerns, stigma is arguably the most complex and the least understood. In response, substance use prevention and mental health care researchers have begun to turn their attention to stigma and how it influences counseling treatment and recovery (Livingston et al., 2012; Mullen & Crowe, 2017; Stringer & Baker, 2018). Researchers have found that individuals with SUDs experience higher levels of stigma than individuals with any other health concern (Livingston et al., 2012). However, more research on the intersection of stigma, help seeking, and alcohol and other drug (AOD) use is still warranted. Thus, this article delves further into these concepts and describes a study that examined the relationships between these variables.
Stigma and Substance Use
Individuals with substance use concerns report high levels of public stigma in the form of negative labeling, discrimination, and prejudice by others (Crapanzano et al., 2019; Goffman, 1963). Prejudice against people with substance use problems is common and widespread on individual, interpersonal, and institutional levels (Barry et al., 2014). There remains a substantial public belief that those using illicit substances simply need to take responsibility for their choices (Barry et al., 2014). As a result, individuals with SUDs report experiencing judgment, mockery, inappropriate comments, overprotection, and hostility from the public (Mora-Ríos et al., 2017). Even health professionals hold negative perceptions toward patients using substances, believing them to be dangerous, violent, manipulative, irresponsible, aggressive, rude, and lazy (Ford, 2011).
People who perceive this stigma from their health or mental health professionals show a higher treatment attrition rate, less treatment satisfaction, and less perceived access to care (Barry et al., 2014). People with substance use concerns may also experience perceived stigma from the impressions they receive from society and through their own and others’ past experiences (Smith et al., 2016). Perceived stigma is also related to low self-esteem, high levels of depression and anxiety, and sleep issues (Birtel et al., 2017). Individuals who experience public stigma can develop self-stigma (i.e., stigma that is internalized), which impacts help-seeking attitudes (Vogel et al., 2007). For example, an individual could see a person struggling with alcohol use disorder portrayed in the media as being malicious, selfish, and incompetent and begin to believe those stereotypes about themselves.
Additionally, researchers have demonstrated that public stigma is a predictor of self-stigma over time (Vogel et al., 2013). Self-stigma initially develops from stereotype awareness, resulting in stereotype agreement and self-concurrence, which lead to self-esteem decrement (Schomerus et al., 2011). Self-stigma can increase maladaptive coping strategies such as avoidance that can deter seeking treatment, applying for jobs, and interacting with others in social settings (da Silveira et al., 2018). Luoma et al. (2014) also suggested that people with a higher level of self-stigma have lower levels of self-efficacy and tend to remain longer in residential substance abuse treatment.
Role of Stigma and Help Seeking in Relationship to SUDs
The role of public stigma on seeking and receiving psychological help for substance use treatment has been well established by researchers (Birtel et al., 2017; Smith et al., 2016), but the influence of negative perceptions remains less understood (Center for Behavioral Health Statistics and Quality, 2018). Researchers have asserted the importance of examining negative public attitudes toward seeking psychological help; such attitudes act as a catalyst for the development of self-stigma incurred by individuals struggling with SUDs (Vogel et al., 2013). Also, recent reports indicate that the self-stigma of seeking psychological help may be a major contributor to the treatment utilization gap (i.e., the dearth of individuals receiving substance use treatment despite substance misuse and use disorders becoming a public health crisis). The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Office of the Surgeon General (2018) reported that ingrained public attitudes have hindered the delivery of medications used to treat SUDs, such as methadone and buprenorphine, because of misconceptions and prejudices surrounding these medications. Other factors they found contributing to the treatment gap include the view of substance use as a moral failing rather than a disease and the belief that the person simply has a “character flaw” (p. 12). Consequently, policymakers and researchers have emphasized the importance of understanding the effect of negative public attitudes on the delivery of substance use treatment and the decision to seek psychological help for mental health concerns involving AOD (Bose et al., 2018; Corrigan, 2011).
To illustrate, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA; Bose et al., 2018) recently stated that 1.0 million (5.7%) of the 18.2 million individuals aged 12 years or older who reported experiencing an SUD perceived a need for treatment for their illicit drug or alcohol use. However, these respondents reported not seeking specialty substance use treatment because they believed getting treatment would have a negative impact on their job (20.5%) and cause their neighbors or community to have a negative opinion of them (17.2%). Additionally, out of the 4.9 million adults aged 18 or older that reported an unmet mental health service need for a serious mental illness, over a third had not received any mental health services in the previous year. Respondents gave the following reasons for avoiding seeking help: concern about being committed or having to take medicine (20.6%); the risk of it having a negative effect on their jobs (16.4%); the belief that treatment would not help (16.1%); the possibility that their neighbors or community would have negative opinions (15.7%); concern about confidentiality (15.3%); and not wanting others to find out (12.6%).
Given these responses and statistics, it is logical to infer that the commonly held public perception of seeking help for mental health concerns and substance use is still very negative and that many still experience significant fear of discrimination from others (e.g., loss of job or a negative impact on social opportunities) as a result of seeking help for AOD issues. The responses also indicate the harmful influence this public stigma has on individuals’ decisions regarding whether to seek psychological treatment for substance use. Furthermore, these findings suggest that respondents possibly internalized negative public attitudes toward seeking professional help for both mental health and substance use concerns, resulting in self-stigma. The respondents’ decision not to receive needed substance use treatment in the previous year in order to avoid negative reactions from others and their lack of belief in the utility of treatment indicate self-stigma surrounding help seeking. This corresponds to previous literature reporting the effects of self-stigma on help-seeking behaviors and attitudes (Vogel & Wade, 2009).
Purpose of the Present Study
The existing research is clear that stigma has some influence on substance use and recovery. However, there is a lack of research explicating the causal pathways that shape this influence. Another area that is unexplored is the relationship between self-stigma and AOD use, and there is no research that we know of that explores the relationship between help-seeking attitudes and AOD use. Given that self-stigma for mental illness and self-stigma for help seeking are often related in the literature (Mullen & Crowe, 2017), and that a large portion of individuals with SUDs have a co-occurring mental illness (39.1%; Center for Behavioral Health Statistics and Quality, 2015), it is reasonable to suspect that the stigma of mental illness influences help seeking in AOD users. A greater understanding of the relationships between these constructs will allow counselors and other helping professionals to develop better strategies for combatting substance abuse by addressing issues related to stigma and attitudes toward help seeking. Therefore, the aim of this study was to examine the relationships between self-stigma of mental health concerns, attitudes toward help seeking, and AOD use. Specifically, we tested the following research hypotheses: Hypothesis 1—Self-stigma toward mental health concerns will have a negative direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking and a positive indirect effect on drug and alcohol use as mediated by attitudes toward help seeking; Hypothesis 2—Self-stigma of help seeking will have a negative direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking and a positive indirect effect on drug and alcohol use as mediated by attitudes toward help seeking; and Hypothesis 3—Attitudes toward help seeking will have a negative direct effect on drug and alcohol use.
Method
Participants
We acquired 406 participants using Amazon’s Mechanical Turk (MTurk). Most of the participants were male (n = 213; 52.5%) followed by female (n = 191; 47.0%) and transgender/gender nonconforming (n = 2; 0.5%). The mean age of the participants was 34.39 years (SD = 10.02, range = 20 to 67). In addition, most participants indicated they lived in the United States at the time of the study (n = 349, 86%) with 57 (14%) participants who lived internationally. As for ethnicity, participants included American Indian or Alaska Native (n = 12; 3%), Asian (n = 79; 19.5%), Black or African American (n = 24; 5.9%), Hispanic or Latino (n = 20; 4.9%), Multiracial (n = 5; 1.2%), Other (n = 2; 0.5%), Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander (n = 1; 0.2%), and White (n = 263; 64.8%). Table 1 displays additional demographic information.
Table 1
Participant Characteristics
| Demographic Characteristics |
n (%) |
| Clinical cutoff for alcohol use |
|
| Met criteria for problematic drinking |
203 (50.0%) |
| Did not meet criteria for problematic drinking |
203 (50.0%) |
| Clinical cutoff for drug use |
|
| Did not meet criteria for problematic drug use |
281 (69.2%) |
| Met criteria for problematic drug use |
125 (30.8%) |
| Individual yearly income |
|
| Less than $30,000 |
173(42.6%) |
| Between $30,000 and $50,000 |
124 (30.8%) |
| More than $50,000 |
108 (26.6%) |
| Education level |
|
| Bachelor’s degree |
169 (41.6%) |
| Some college (no degree) |
82 (20.2%) |
| Master’s degree |
59 (14.5%) |
| Associate degree |
49 (12.1%) |
| High school diploma |
34 (8.4%) |
| Doctoral degree |
8 (2.0%) |
| Some high school (no degree) |
3 (0.7%) |
| Other |
2 (0.5%) |
| Marital status |
|
| Married |
201 (49.5%) |
| Single |
139 (34.2%) |
| Cohabitation |
45 (11.1%) |
| Divorced |
17 (4.2%) |
| Widowed |
2 (0.5%) |
| Separated |
2 (0.5%) |
| Employment status |
|
| Full-time |
290 (71.4%) |
| Part-time |
53 (13.1%) |
| Unemployed (looking for work) |
18 (4.4%) |
| Full-time caregiver |
14 (3.4%) |
| Unemployed (disabled) |
10 (2.5%) |
| Student |
6 (1.5%) |
| Other |
6 (1.5%) |
| Unemployed (not looking for work) |
3 (0.7%) |
| Unemployed (volunteer work) |
1 (0.2%) |
| Note. N = 406 |
|
Procedures
Prior to starting this research investigation, approval from our Institutional Review Board was received. To collect data for a community sample, we employed the use of MTurk, which is an online crowdsourcing platform used for survey research (Follmer et al., 2017). Researchers have found evidence that supports the data quality of MTurk for studies trying to sample diverse community populations that include individuals with substance abuse concerns (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017; Kim & Hodgins, 2017). We placed the consent form, measures, and demographic questions for this study in a Qualtrics survey management site. Then, we created an MTurk portfolio that linked to the Qualtrics survey. The study was advertised to all MTurk participants, and we offered a 50-cent incentive for participation. Participants were screened to allow only individuals who actively engage in the recreational use of drugs and/or alcohol. A total of 406 participants completed the study before it was closed. Participants who took the survey spent an average of 18 minutes completing it.
Measures
Self-Stigma of Mental Illness
Researchers used the Self-Stigma of Mental Illness scale (SSOMI; Tucker et al., 2013) to measure participants’ self-stigma of mental illness. The SSOMI is a self-reported, unidimensional measure consisting of 10 items on a 5-point Likert-type scale that ranges from 1 (strongly disagree) to 5 (strongly agree). Sample items include “If I had a mental illness, I would be less satisfied with myself.” We summed the items and calculated a mean score after accounting for the reverse-scored items, with higher scores indicating greater self-stigma of mental illness. Prior research has shown strong reliability with a Cronbach’s alpha of .93 on participants’ SSOMI scores collected through an online survey (Mullen & Crowe, 2017). In our study, we found good internal consistency reliability, with a Cronbach’s alpha of .91 for participants’ scores on the SSOMI.
Self-Stigma of Help Seeking
Researchers used the Self-Stigma of Help Seeking scale (SSOHS; Vogel et al., 2006) to measure participants’ self-stigma of seeking psychological help. The SSOHS is a self-reported, unidimensional measure that contains 10 items on a 5-point Likert-type scale that ranges from 1 (strongly disagree) to 5 (strongly agree). Sample items include “I would feel inadequate if I went to a therapist for psychological help.” After reverse scoring items, we summed and averaged the scores, with higher values indicating greater self-stigma of seeking psychological help. Scores on the SSOHS have indicated good internal reliability, with Cronbach’s alphas ranging from .89 to .92 in prior research (Tucker et al., 2013; Vogel et al., 2006). In our study, we found good internal consistency reliability for scores on the SSOHS, with a Cronbach’s alpha of .86.
Attitudes Toward Help Seeking
To measure attitudes toward help-seeking, researchers used the Attitudes Toward Seeking Professional Psychological Help–Short Form scale (ATSPPH-SF; Fischer & Farina, 1995). The ATSPPH is a self-reported, unidimensional measure that contains 10 items scored on a 4-point Likert-type scale from 0 (disagree) to 3 (agree). Sample items include “I might want to have psychological counseling in the future.” Participants’ total scores were calculated by summing all items together after reverse scoring items. We averaged the scores on the ATSPPH-SF to help in interpretation, with higher total scores indicating that a participant had a more positive attitude toward psychological treatment. Higher scores on the ATSPPH-SF have been associated with decreased treatment-related stigma and a higher likelihood of future help seeking (Elhai et al., 2008). Prior research has shown good internal consistency reliability for scores on the ATSPPH-SF, with Cronbach’s alphas ranging from .84 to .86 (Fischer & Farina, 1995; Karaffa & Koch, 2016). In the current study, the scores on the ATSPPH-SF provided good internal consistency reliability, with a Cronbach’s alpha of .84.
Alcohol Use
The Alcohol Use Disorders Identification Test (AUDIT; Saunders et al., 1993) was used to measure respondents’ alcohol use and screen for problematic drinking behaviors. The AUDIT is a 10-item, self-reported measure that gathers information on an individual’s alcohol use and provides a clinical cutoff score for harmful drinking. Participants rated their alcohol consumption and related experiences over the past year in response to a series of 3- or 5-point Likert-type scale questions. Sample items include “How often do you have a drink containing alcohol?” with a 5-point scale from 0 (never) to 4 (four or more times a week). Total scores were calculated by summing the items with scores ranging from 0 to 40. We used a total score of 8 or higher as a clinical cutoff point to identify problematic drinking (see Table 1). Prior research has reported good internal consistency reliability of the AUDIT scores with a Cronbach’s alpha value of .88 (Kim & Hodgins, 2017). For this study, the Cronbach’s alpha was .89, indicating good internal consistency reliability.
Drug Use
The Drug Abuse Screening Test (DAST-20; Skinner & Goldberg, 1986) assessed participants’ degree of drug use and potential drug abuse over the past year. The DAST-20 is a 20-item, self-reported measure that provides a total score used to calculate the severity of drug use. The DAST-20 includes 20 nominal items in which participants select Yes or No (with values of 1 and 0, respectively) to a series of questions. Sample questions include, “Can you get through the week without using drugs?” (reverse scored). Total scores were calculated by summing the participants’ item responses after reverse scoring items 4 and 5 with a range from 0 to 20. We used a cutoff score of 6 or higher to indicate problematic drug use (see Table 1). Scores on the DAST-20 have demonstrated good internal consistency reliability with Cronbach’s alphas ranging from .74 to .95 (Yudko et al., 2007). In the current study, we identified a Cronbach’s alpha of .92 for DAST-20 scores, indicating good internal consistency reliability.
Data Analysis
To address the questions in this study, we facilitated a path analysis with the data to test the a priori model with a community sample acquired through MTurk. The recommended fit indexes (Kline, 2005) used in this study included the chi-square statistics (p-value, > .05 indicates fit), comparative fit index (CFI, ≥ .90 indicates fit), standardized root mean square residual (SRMSR, ≤ .08 indicates fit), and root mean square error of approximation (RMSEA, ≤ .08 indicates fit). In addition, the Bollen-Stine bootstrapping procedure was used with 5,000 samples as an additional assessment of model fit. The path analysis was performed in AMOS (Version 24; Arbuckle, 2012) using a maximum likelihood estimation approach. The direct effects are displayed as standardized regression weights (β).
Results
Preliminary Analysis
We examined and screened the data prior to analysis. No outliers were identified, and the data met statistical assumptions associated with path analysis (e.g., multivariate normality, low multicollinearity, and linearity; Hair et al., 2006; Tabachnick & Fidell, 2007). The correlation coefficients between the variables in this path model (see Table 2) were lower than .8, meaning there was a low chance of collinearity problems. We identified no issues of multicollinearity, as the variance inflation factors for the constructs in the path model were lower than 10 (Hair et al., 2006; Tabachnick & Fidell, 2007). Table 2 also includes the means and standard deviations for the variables in this model. Various guidelines were reviewed as a means for determining the appropriate sample size for this investigation. Jackson (2003) and Kline (2005) stated that a 20:1 ratio of sample size to parameters is preferable, and our current study exceeded this recommendation.
Table 2
Correlations, Means, and Standard Deviations for the Variables in the Path Analysis
| Variables |
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
| Self-Stigma of Mental Illness |
– |
|
|
|
|
|
| Self-Stigma of Help Seeking |
.54** |
– |
|
|
|
|
| Attitudes Toward Help Seeking |
-.28** |
-.62 |
– |
|
|
|
| Drug Use |
-.02 |
.11 |
-.16* |
– |
|
|
| Alcohol Use |
-.01 |
.12 |
-.14* |
.68** |
– |
|
| Age |
.08 |
-.01 |
.05 |
-.27 |
-.26** |
– |
| M(SD) |
3.23(.89) |
2.74(.81) |
1.71(.61) |
4.31(5.07) |
9.79(8.01) |
34.39(9.99) |
Note. Measures used in this study include the Self-Stigma of Mental Illness Scale (SSOMI; Tucker et al., 2013), the Self-Stigma of Help Seeking Scale (SSOHS; Vogel et al., 2006), Attitudes Toward Seeking Professional Psychological Help – Short Form (ATSPPH-SF; Fischer & Farina, 1995), the Alcohol Use Disorders Identification Test (AUDIT; Saunders et al., 1993), and Drug Abuse Screening Test-20 (DAST-20; Skinner & Goldberg, 1986).
* = p < .01, ** = p < .001.
We examined the variables in this study (i.e., self-stigma of mental illness and help-seeking, attitudes toward help-seeking, and drug and alcohol use) to evaluate for potential control variables. Specifically, we conducted several correlations comparing the variables in this study with demographic characteristics. For dichotomous variables, we utilized point-biserial correlations. These analyses indicated that age had significant relationships with both drug and alcohol use; thus, we included age in the path analysis as a control variable.
Model Specifications
The a priori hypothesized model tested in this path analysis included a total of six observed variables that were placed in a causal directional structure that we developed from our understanding of the literature. The exogenous variables included self-stigma of mental illness (as measured by the SSOMI; Tucker et al., 2013) and self-stigma of help seeking (as measured by the SSOHS; Vogel et al., 2006). In addition, attitude toward help-seeking (as measured by the ATSPPH-SF; Fischer & Farina, 1995) was both an exogenous and endogenous variable. Lastly, alcohol use (as measured by the AUDIT; Saunders et al., 1993) and drug use (as measured by the DAST-20; Skinner & Goldberg, 1986) and were endogenous. We correlated self-stigma of mental illness and self-stigma of help seeking along with the error terms for alcohol and drug use. In the model, we examined the direct effect of self-stigma of mental illness and self-stigma of help seeking on attitudes toward help-seeking. Furthermore, we examined the direct effect of attitudes toward help seeking on drug and alcohol use. We included age in this model as a control variable as we examined its direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking, drug use, and alcohol use. A total of 5,000 bias-corrected bootstrapped samples were created (Fritz & MacKinnon, 2007) to examine the indirect effect of self-stigma of mental illness and self-stigma of help seeking on drug use and alcohol use, with attitudes toward help seeking as the mediator.
Path Analysis
The model (see Figure 1) produced excellent fit: χ2(6, N = 406) = 6.85, p = .34; χ2/df = 1.14; CFI = .99; RMSEA = .02; SRMSR = .01, Bollen-Stine bootstrap, p = .21. Self-stigma of mental illness did not have a direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking (β = .07, SE = .03, p > .05) whereas self-stigma of help seeking did have a negative direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking (β = -.66, SE = .04, p < .001). Attitudes toward help seeking had a negative direct effect on both drug use (β = -.15, SE = .02, p < .01)
and alcohol use (β = -.13, SE = .06, p < .01). The control variable of age had a negative direct effect on drug use (β = -.27, SE = .00, p < .001) and alcohol use (β = -.25, SE = .00, p < .001) but not attitudes toward help seeking (β = .04, SE = .00, p > .05). The residuals of self-stigma of mental illness and self-stigma of help seeking had a positive correlation (r = .54, SE = .04, p < .001) along with drug and alcohol use (r = .64, SE = .01, p < .001). These findings indicated that higher self-stigma of help seeking was associated with a more negative attitude toward help seeking, and more positive attitudes toward help seeking were associated with lower drug and alcohol use. It is also important to note that the effect sizes in the model ranged from small to large (Sink & Stroh, 2006).
Figure 1
Path Model With Age as a Control Variable

The mediated path analysis results indicated that self-stigma of mental illness did not have an indirect effect on drug use (β = -.01, SE = .05, p = .14, 95% BC [-.03, .00]) nor alcohol use (β = -.01, SE = .01, p = .14, 95% BC [.-03, .00]) through attitudes toward help seeking. The mediated path analysis results also indicated that self-stigma of help seeking had an indirect effect on drug use (β = .10, SE = .03, p < .001, 95% BC [.05, .15]) and alcohol use (β = .08, SE = .03, p < .001, 95% BC [.03, .14]) through attitudes toward help seeking.
Discussion
Research has indicated the importance of decreasing stigma surrounding substance use treatment in order to address the public health issue of so many individuals lacking treatment in the United States (Bose et al., 2016; Clement et al., 2015). Although the effects of self-stigma on help-seeking behaviors (Crowe et al., 2016; Mullen & Crowe, 2017), attitudes toward seeking psychological help (Cheng et al., 2018), and AOD use (Luoma et al., 2008) have been well documented, there remains a gap in the counseling literature explicating the relationship between the above constructs. In this study, the proposed theoretical causal model (see Figure 1) suggested that self-stigma of mental illness and self-stigma of help seeking would have a direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking and a positive indirect effect on drug and alcohol use mediated by attitudes toward help seeking; moreover, it suggested that attitudes toward help seeking would have a negative direct effect on AOD use.
By using the online platform MTurk for a community sample of 406 participants, the results from a path analysis indicated an excellent fit model with significant standardized regression coefficients that revealed a complex relationship between self-stigma of mental illness, self-stigma of help-seeking, attitudes toward psychological help seeking, AOD use, and age. Although the results of the present study did not support all three initial hypotheses, the findings did show a statistically significant indirect relationship among the six variables.
The first hypothesis was not supported by data because self-stigma of mental illness did not have a direct effect on attitudes toward help seeking or an indirect effect on AOD use. However, self-stigma of mental illness did correlate with self-stigma of help seeking, which included a large effect size that indicated a strong relationship between these variables. The lack of direct effect between self-stigma of mental illness and attitudes toward help seeking may have resulted from a moderating influence caused by the direct effect of self-stigma of help seeking on attitudes toward help seeking. Based on these findings, we concluded that self-stigma of help seeking is a stronger predictor of attitudes toward help seeking when paired with self-stigma of mental illness. However, more research is needed to replicate these findings, and specifically the potential moderating effect of self-stigma of help seeking on self-stigma of mental illness.
In contrast, the results from the path analysis provided evidence for our second hypothesis. Specifically, participants who reported high levels of self-stigma of help seeking had less positive attitudes toward seeking psychological help as well as higher alcohol use or drug use. This finding is consistent with findings from prior research that revealed participants who reported high levels of stigma had decreased adaptive coping skills such as help-seeking behaviors (Crowe et al., 2016) and increased maladaptive coping skills such as drug use (Etesam et al., 2014). It is possible that participants turned to drinking or drug use as a method of coping rather than seeking formal support. However, we cannot determine if that is the case from the current study. The direct relationship of an individual’s reported stigma of help seeking with less positive attitudes toward seeking psychological help also confirms previous theoretical descriptions of the relationship between self-stigma of help seeking and attitudes toward help seeking (Tucker et al., 2013; Vogel et al., 2007; Wade et al., 2011).
Lastly, participants who reported more positive attitudes toward help seeking had significantly lower AOD use, which provided support for our third hypothesis. These findings suggest that regardless of age, participants who had a positive attitude toward seeking help reported significantly lower AOD use. In addition to the unique findings uncovered through mediation analysis, this study further supports the argument that self-stigma of mental illness and self-stigma of help seeking are two theoretically and empirically distinct constructs (Tucker et al., 2013). Moreover, the significantly direct effect of an individual’s self-stigma of help seeking on attitudes toward seeking psychological help confirms the need that treatments must address more than one component of self-stigma and that addressing self-stigma of mental illness alone may not improve attitudes toward help seeking (Tucker et al., 2013; Wade et al., 2011). The findings may also suggest the benefit of increased advocacy and health promotion as it relates to help-seeking and combatting stigma.
Implications for Counselor Education and Counselors
Given that we found an individual’s attitudes toward seeking psychological help negatively relate to AOD use, it behooves counselors to address factors that impede help seeking. Equally important, the present findings and prior evidence reporting public stigma as a predictor of the development of self-stigma over time (Vogel et al., 2013) have important implications for the advocacy work needed by counselors and counselor educators on both an individual level and a systemic level to fully address the development of self-stigma of help seeking that subsequently affects an individual’s attitudes toward seeking psychological help. On an individual level, counselors can implement and advocate for interventions that increase an individual’s positive attitudes toward seeking help that may lower the individual’s substance use through mental health literacy (Cheng et al., 2018). Moreover, they can challenge thoughts of seeking help as weakness (Wade et al., 2011), normalize seeking psychological help, and discuss the benefits of therapy to address the development and effects of self-stigma of help seeking for individuals with substance use issues. Counselors can also empower clients by cultivating awareness and reflection of internalized negative beliefs developed from experiences of discrimination and prejudice that contribute to the self-stigma of help seeking. Moreover, efforts to deliver healthier messages about help seeking for mental health concerns from the media or faith-based organizations can assist with decreasing self-stigma that still exists.
In adherence to advocacy competency standards set forth by the American Counseling Association (Lewis et al., 2003), counselors should also consider using their position of power to address, on a systemic level, the enacted and perceived stigma experienced by individuals with substance use issues as well as the detrimental impact on attitudes toward seeking psychological help. For example, counselors can disseminate information that dispels myths surrounding help seeking and substance use to the public or create multimedia materials such as public service announcements that explain the impact of stigma on those with SUDs in the United States, making sure to include affirmative language about seeking psychological help and individuals reporting AOD use (Corrigan, 2011). Counselors also can lobby to make changes to workplace policies and practices to increase mental health support for those with AOD concerns, as supportive policies and practices can also decrease the stigmas associated with AOD concerns.
Additionally, counselors and counselor educators can improve attitudes toward help seeking as well as decrease the stigma of individuals with substance use issues by intentionally using person-first language on administered surveys, academic scholarship, and provided resources to clients and the community (Tucker et al., 2013). For example, Granello and Gibbs (2016) found that participants reported higher tolerance and less stigmatized attitudes when the language on surveys was changed from “mentally ill” to “people with mental illness.” In the current study, we used person-first language in order to model correct terminology and would suggest that future researchers do the same. By disseminating knowledge and material to the public in less stigmatizing language, counselors and counselor educators can counter negative group stereotypes that lead to self-stigma of individuals with substance use issues (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017; Rao et al., 2009).
For counselor educators and supervisors training beginning counselors, this study suggests the importance of increased awareness of their own attitudes toward individuals reporting AOD use because of the effects of internalized public stigma, which increases maladaptive coping skills such as treatment avoidance (Crowe et al., 2016) and AOD use (Etesam et al., 2014). To illustrate, counselor educators and supervisors may ask beginning counselors to reflect on their personal beliefs regarding seeking psychological help and individuals with substance use issues, as well as how these beliefs may have been learned based on public perceptions or knowledge of information regarding substance use. Classroom strategies that encourage reflection and increase an ethic of care may address previous findings of implicit bias, internalized negative public attitudes, or stigmatizing behaviors by health professionals that lower positive attitudes toward psychological help seeking for individuals with substance use issues (Ford, 2011). Lastly, counselor educators can further promote beginning counselors’ advocacy competencies through creative and engaging assignments that challenge students to develop ways of encouraging help seeking in the general public and dispel public myths about substance use or the stigma of seeking psychological help—for instance, the creation of fact and resource brochures distributed within the community.
This study also further supported the use of MTurk for reliable and valid data in an accessible community sample (Kim & Hodgins, 2017). The anonymity, convenience, and incentive offered to participants via MTurk while reporting behaviors stigmatized by the general public may contribute to the gathering of reliable and valid data (Kim & Hodgins, 2017). Additionally, this study supports MTurk as a tool to identify clinical populations with alcohol use problems (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017). The use of MTurk as a sampling method is currently limited in counselor education literature and may lead to more representative samples that resemble targeted community populations beyond the commonly accessed university samples by researchers.
Limitations
This study has several limitations. First, although the study used a community sample, the sample included only individuals accessible through MTurk, and research on the representativeness of samples drawn from MTurk is limited (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017; Kim & Hodgins, 2017). The sample employed through MTurk was gathered widely from the community and previous studies have shown evidence of validity and reliability of MTurk as a recruiting tool with substance-using populations (Kim & Hodgins, 2017). However, because MTurk uses an online platform, it is subject to the same classic limitations associated with online data collection, such as representativeness and technical difficulties (Granello & Wheaton, 2004). Therefore, the current sample showed diversity among participants, but researchers could not confirm whether MTurk samples were representative of the populations from which they were drawn. Specifically, the sample consisted primarily of White and Asian participants, thereby limiting generalizability to people of other race/ethnicity classifications. Another limitation of this study is the absence of inattentive screening items. Additionally, this investigation used correlational data analysis methods to examine the proposed model; therefore, the findings could not indicate causality among the variables (Gall et al., 2007). Finally, although we wanted to know about stigma related to SUDs, we used scales that were designed to measure stigma in general. Although all instruments demonstrated strong psychometric properties in the current study, it is worth noting that stigma of SUDs may be different from stigma related to mental health concerns with no substance use.
Future Research
Considering the limitations, these findings provide significant implications for future research. We suggest replication of the present findings on future groups through the MTurk platform and other sampling methods (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017). Additionally, researchers are encouraged to conduct experimental studies implementing potential substance use treatments that disrupt and measure the internalized negative group stereotypes that individuals with substance use issues may incorporate into their identity, substance usage, and treatment efficacy or length (Luoma et al., 2014; Tucker et al., 2013). Researchers have emphasized identity as a diagnostic moderator of self-stigma incurred by individuals with mental illness and substance use issues (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017; Yanos et al., 2010), which suggests the importance of countering negative group stereotypes and public stigma for vulnerable groups such as individuals with substance use issues who report high levels of self-stigma. Further, counselor educators are encouraged to explore the relationship between identity, self-stigma of help seeking, and attitudes toward seeking psychological help with individuals reporting substance use issues as well. Lastly, counselor educators may examine the use of MTurk to gather a community sample, explore behaviors and attitudes considered socially unacceptable by the general public, and recruit individuals meeting the clinical criteria for substance use, who are often a hidden population because of enacted and perceived stigma.
Conclusion
The current study examined the complex and understudied relationship between AOD use, self-stigma of help seeking, self-stigma of mental illness, and attitudes toward seeking psychological help. The findings suggest the unique, indirect relationship between self-stigma of help seeking, a positive attitude toward seeking psychological help, and AOD use, regardless of participant age ranges. Previous conceptualization of the interdependence between self-stigma and group stereotypes (Al-Khouja & Corrigan, 2017) as well as the unique findings of the current study suggest that counselors and substance use interventions need to counter group stereotypes that individuals with substance use internalize, which decrease positive attitudes toward seeking psychological help and help-seeking behaviors for mental illness (Crowe et al., 2016; Tucker et al., 2013; Wade et al., 2011). By countering group stereotypes through methods targeting attitudes toward help seeking and the self-stigma of help seeking, counselors and counselor educators can potentially combat the negative attitudes toward seeking psychological help that become internalized treatment barriers for individuals with substance use issues (Luoma et al., 2008) and help lower AOD use.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest
or funding contributions for the development
of this manuscript.
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Daniel Gutierrez, PhD, NCC, LPC, CSAC, is an assistant professor at the College of William & Mary. Allison Crowe, PhD, NCC, LPCS, is an associate professor at East Carolina University. Patrick R. Mullen, PhD, NCC, is an assistant professor at the College of William & Mary. Laura Pignato is a doctoral student at the College of William & Mary. Shuhui Fan, NCC, is a doctoral student at the College of William & Mary. Correspondence may be addressed to William & Mary, Daniel Gutierrez, School of Education, P.O. Box 8795, Williamsburg, VA 23187-8795, dgutierrez@wm.edu.
Apr 29, 2020 | Volume 10 - Issue 2
Heather J. Fye, Ryan M. Cook, Eric R. Baltrinic, Andrea Baylin
Burnout is a statistically significant phenomenon for school counselors, correlated with various individual and organizational factors, which have been studied independently. Therefore, we investigated both individual and organizational factors of burnout conceptualized as a multidimensional phenomenon with 227 school counselors. Multidimensional burnout was measured by the five subscales of the Counselor Burnout Inventory, which included Exhaustion, Incompetence, Negative Work Environment, Devaluing Clients, and Deterioration in Personal Life. Using hierarchal regression analyses, we found individual and organizational factors accounted for 66.6% of the variance explained in Negative Work Environment, 38.3% of the variance explained in Deterioration in Personal Life, 36.7% of the variance explained in Incompetence, 35.1% of the variance explained in Exhaustion, and 14.0% of the variance explained in Devaluing Clients. We discuss implications of the findings for school counselors and supervisors. Identifying the multidimensions of burnout and its correlates, addressing self-care and professional vitality goals, communicating defined school counselor roles, providing mentoring opportunities, and increasing advocacy skills may help alleviate burnout.
Keywords: stress, burnout, job satisfaction, coping processes, school counselors
In addition to providing counseling services, school counselors are charged with performing multiple non-counseling duties in their schools (Bardhoshi et al., 2014). These multiple and competing demands place them at risk for experiencing burnout (Mullen et al., 2018). Accordingly, it is important to identify factors that contribute to burnout to promote school counselors’ psychological well-being (Kim & Lambie, 2018), which in turn reinforces school counselors’ ability to support students’ well-being (Holman et al., 2019).
Burnout is a workplace-specific complex construct characterized by feelings of exhaustion, cynicism, and detachment, and a lack of accomplishment and effectiveness (Maslach & Leiter, 2017). Others have conceptualized counselor burnout as a multidimensional construct, featuring the interaction between the individual and work environment (Lee et al., 2007). Given the complex, multidimensional, and interactional nature of burnout, the Counselor Burnout Inventory (CBI) was developed to measure the construct with five subscales: Exhaustion, Incompetence, Negative Work Environment, Devaluing Clients, and Deterioration in Personal Life (Lee et al., 2007). Specific to school counselors, Kim and Lambie (2018) suggested that burnout occurs to varying degrees across individual and organizational factors. Individual factors include perceived stress (Fye et al., 2018; Mullen et al., 2018; Mullen & Gutierrez, 2016; Wilkerson, 2009; Wilkerson & Bellini, 2006) and coping processes (Fye et al., 2018; Wilkerson, 2009; Wilkerson & Bellini, 2006). Organizational factors include perceived job satisfaction (Baggerly & Osborn, 2006; Bryant & Constantine, 2006; Mullen et al., 2018) and role stress (Bardhoshi et al., 2014; Coll & Freeman, 1997; Culbreth et al., 2005).
Researchers of school counselor burnout have studied individual and organizational factors of this phenomenon using a unidimensional structure such as the CBI scale score (Mullen et al., 2018). Other researchers (e.g., Bardhoshi et al., 2014; Moyer, 2011) studied organizational factors, including caseload and administrative (non-counseling) duties, within the multidimensional structure of the CBI (Lee et al., 2007). However, researchers have not yet comprehensively studied these known individual and organizational factors within the context of a multidimensional structure of school counselor burnout. For example, Mullen et al. (2018) investigated the relationships between perceived stress, perceived job satisfaction, and school counselor burnout. However, they did not examine organizational factors such as role stress (e.g., clerical duties), which are also significant to understanding school counselor burnout (Bardhoshi et al., 2014). Thus, we sought to extend the research findings by examining several individual factors (i.e., perceived stress, coping processes) and organizational factors (i.e., perceived job satisfaction, role stress) within a multidimensional structure of school counselor burnout.
Individual Factors
Individual factors related to school counselor burnout include psychological constructs and demographic factors (Kim & Lambie, 2018). The two psychological constructs included in the current study were perceived stress (Mullen et al., 2018) and coping processes (Fye et al., 2018). Researchers have previously found contradictory results for the relationship between years of experience and school counselor burnout (Mullen et al., 2018; Wilkerson, 2009). Therefore, the factor of years of experience was included in the current study.
Perceived Stress
Perceived stress is theorized as an individual’s ability to appraise a threatening or challenging event in relation to the availability of coping resources (Lazarus & Folkman, 1984). To that end, a transactional model of stress and coping suggests that stress is a response that occurs when perceived demands exceed one’s coping abilities. For school counselors, perceived stress may occur regularly because of various factors, including non-counseling duties, excessive paperwork and administrative duties, and work overload (Bardhoshi et al., 2014).
Researchers have described a positive relationship between stress and burnout among school counselors (Mullen et al., 2018; Mullen & Gutierrez, 2016). Specifically, higher levels of stress and burnout were related to lower levels of job satisfaction and delivery of direct student services (Mullen et al., 2018; Mullen & Gutierrez, 2016). Others have reported increased emotional responses alongside increased burnout (Wilkerson & Bellini, 2006). For example, school counselors who attempted to deal with stress emotionally may be at greater risk for developing symptoms of burnout including emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and lower levels of personal accomplishment (Wilkerson, 2009). Additionally, school counselors reported higher levels of emotional exhaustion than other mental health professionals, which can negatively impact their delivery of school counseling services (Bardhoshi et al., 2014). The correlation between stress and burnout further highlights the importance of assessing the components of stress and the ways school counselors are coping with these factors.
Coping Processes
Coping processes are defined as the cognitive and behavioral processes used to manage stressful situations (Folkman & Moskowitz, 2004). There are several coping processes, including problem-focused coping, active-emotional coping, and avoidant-emotional coping (Folkman & Lazarus, 1985). For example, problem-focused coping is defined as an action-oriented approach to stress in which one believes the stressors are controllable by personal action (Lazarus, 1993). Active-emotional coping is an adaptive response to unmanageable stressors and avoidant-emotional coping is described as a maladaptive response to those stressors (Folkman & Lazarus, 1985).
Among school counselors, Fye et al. (2018) studied the relationship between perfectionism, burnout, stress, and coping. These authors found that maladaptive perfectionists engaged more frequently in avoidant-emotional coping and relatedly experienced higher levels of burnout. Moreover, adaptive perfectionists experienced less stress and burnout and reported higher levels of problem-focused coping. Overall, for school counseling professionals, emotional-focused coping is positively related to burnout (Wilkerson, 2009). Given these findings, it is imperative for school counselors to be aware of their coping processes, including the degree to which they are affecting their levels of stress and burnout (Wilkerson, 2009).
Organizational Factors
In addition to individual factors such as stress and coping (Fye et al., 2018; Mullen et al., 2018; Wilkerson, 2009), school counseling researchers noted several organizational factors as contributing to school counselor burnout (Holman et al., 2019; Kim & Lambie, 2018). Accordingly, researchers in the current study examined organizational factors, including perceived job satisfaction and role stress (i.e., role ambiguity, role incongruity, and role conflict; Culbreth et al., 2005). Additionally, because previous researchers found a relationship between the organizational factor of school district (e.g., urban setting) and burnout (Butler & Constantine, 2005), this variable was included in the present study.
Perceived Job Satisfaction
Perceived job satisfaction refers to the degree of affective or attitudinal reactions one experiences relative to their job (Spector, 1985). Understanding the extent of school counselors’ perceived job satisfaction may be one way to buffer the effects of stress and burnout. This is because, according to Bryant and Constantine (2006), job satisfaction predicted life satisfaction for school counselors.
Perceived job satisfaction and its relationship with stress and burnout have received increased attention in the school counseling literature (Mullen et al., 2018). Among the contributing factors, higher levels of role balance and increased perceived job satisfaction resulted in greater overall life satisfaction (Bryant & Constantine, 2006). Higher perceived job satisfaction has been aligned with school counselors engaging in appropriate roles. For example, Baggerly and Osborn (2006) found that school counselors who frequently performed roles aligned with comprehensive school counseling programs were more satisfied and more committed to their careers. Similarly, higher perceived job satisfaction was directly related to the school counselor’s ability to provide direct student services within their schools (Kolodinsky et al., 2009). Conversely, school counselors who did not intend to return to their jobs the following year reported higher levels of demand and stress because of non-counseling duties, such as excessive paperwork and administrative disruptions (McCarthy et al., 2010). As a result, those who are not satisfied are at risk for disengagement (Mullen et al., 2018), while school counselors who are satisfied with their jobs may have increased student connections (Kolodinsky et al., 2009).
Role Stress
Role stress refers to the levels of role incongruity, role conflict, and role ambiguity experienced by school counselors (Culbreth et al., 2005; Freeman & Coll, 1997). Role incongruity may occur when there are structural conflicts, including inadequate resources for school counselors and engagement in ineffective tasks (Freeman & Coll, 1997). Several authors noted that inappropriate or non-counseling duties contributed to burnout, including excessive paperwork, administrative duties, and testing coordinator roles (Bardhoshi et al., 2014; Moyer, 2011, Wilkerson, 2009). Moyer (2011) found that school counselors who engaged in increased non-counseling duties also had increased feelings of exhaustion and incompetence, had decreased feelings toward work environment, and were less likely to show empathy toward students. Furthermore, school counselors who were assigned inappropriate roles reported higher levels of frustration and resentment toward the school system. Overall, authors emphasized the importance of educating administrators on the appropriate and inappropriate roles for school counselors to decrease burnout (Bardhoshi et al, 2014; Cervoni & DeLucia-Waack, 2011; Moyer, 2011).
Role conflict occurs when school counselors experience multiple external demands from different stakeholders (Holman et al., 2019). Role conflict examples for school counselors include: (a) whether school counselors should focus on the education goals or mental health needs of students first (Paisley & McMahon, 2001) and (b) whether a school counselor should engage in an actual role given by an administration or supervisor (e.g., testing coordinator) or preferred role (e.g., classroom guidance activity; Wilkerson, 2009). As such, school counselors can feel overwhelmed and often engage in inappropriate duties, according to the American School Counselor Association (ASCA) National Model (2019). In turn, school counselors experience stress and burnout (Mullen et al., 2018).
Role ambiguity is the discrepancy between actual and preferred counseling duties (Scarborough & Culbreth, 2008). Role ambiguity has been linked to burnout because of school counselors’ stress from lacking an understanding of their professional roles and being misinformed about the realities of the job (Culbreth et al., 2005). For example, school counselors face challenges of navigating mixed messages about role expectations across stakeholders (Coll & Freeman, 1997). This confusion may lead to school counselors experiencing role ambiguity (Scarborough & Culbreth, 2008). When school counselors interact with stakeholders who have conflicting ideas about their roles, it creates stress. It is especially difficult for school counselors when stakeholders’ conceptualization of their roles clashes with what school counselors learned during graduate training (Culbreth et al., 2005). When school counselors are assigned duties that conflict with their own understandings of their roles, they are not able to operate in alignment with their professional mandates (Holman et al., 2019). Overall, school counselors experiencing role ambiguity also report higher levels of stress, both of which have been linked to burnout (Kim & Lambie, 2018).
Purpose of the Present Study
Despite prevalence in the school counseling burnout literature regarding individual and organizational factors of burnout, we were unable to locate a study that holistically researched these variables. To align our findings with a theoretical understanding of school counselor burnout, we examined these phenomena as a multidimensional construct. Additionally, we controlled for years of experience (Mullen et al., 2018; Wilkerson, 2009; Wilkerson & Bellini, 2006) and school district (Butler & Constantine, 2005). Therefore, we answered the research question: What is the relationship between individual (i.e., perceived job stress, problem-focused coping, avoidant-emotional coping, and active-emotional coping) and organizational (i.e., perceived job satisfaction, role incongruity, role conflict, and role ambiguity) factors after controlling for years of experience and school district, with the subscales of school counselor burnout: (1) Exhaustion, (2) Incompetence, (3) Negative Work Environment, (4) Devaluing Clients, and (5) Deterioration in Personal Life?
Method
Sample
A total of 227 school counselors participated in the study. Ages ranged from 26 to 69 (M = 46.21; SD = 10.26; four declined to answer). The sex of participants included females (n = 166, 73.1%) and males (n = 61, 26.9%). The race and ethnicity of participants included White (n = 185, 81.5%), African American/Black (n = 20, 8.8%), Hispanic (n = 7, 3.1%), Asian/Pacific Islander (n = 3, 1.3%), American Indian/Alaskan Native (n = 1, 0.4%), and Biracial/Multiracial (n = 9, 4.0%), and two participants (0.9%) declined to answer. Participants held a master’s degree in school counseling (n = 175, 77.1%), a PhD or EdD (n = 33, 14.5%), or a master’s degree in another counseling or mental health specialty area (n = 19, 8.4%). The years of experience ranged from 2 to 41 years (M = 13.68, SD = 7.49). Participants reported working in suburban (n = 97, 42.7%), rural (n = 76, 33.5%), and urban (n = 54, 23.8%) settings. Regarding level of practice, participants worked in an elementary school (i.e., grades K–6; n = 80, 35.2%), middle school (i.e., grades 7–8; n = 14, 6.2%), high school (i.e., grades 9–12; n = 59, 26.0%), or multiple grade levels (e.g., K–8, K–12, etc.; n = 74, 32.6%). A power analysis was completed in G*Power 3.1 before beginning the study (Faul et al., 2009). The necessary sample size was determined to be at least 200, with a power of .80, assuming a moderate effect size of .15 in the multiple regression analyses, and with an error probability or alpha of .05 (J. Cohen, 1992).
Procedures
Institutional Review Board approval was obtained prior to beginning the study. The first author sent recruitment emails to 4,000 school counselors who were professional members of the ASCA online membership directory. Specifically, approximately 20% of school counselors in each of the 50 states and District of Columbia were chosen from the membership directory to receive the recruitment emails. The emails included a brief introduction to the study and an anonymous link that took potential participants to the online survey portal in Qualtrics. Potential participants first reviewed the informed consent. Once they consented to the survey, participants completed the demographics questionnaire and instruments. A convenience sample was obtained based upon voluntary responses to the survey (Dimitrov, 2009).
Instruments
The first author constructed a brief demographics survey to gather information about the participants (e.g., age, sex, race and ethnicity, degree, and years of experience) and their work environment (e.g., school district, grade level). The Perceived Stress Scale (PSS; S. Cohen et al., 1983) and Brief COPE (Carver, 1997) were used to measure individual factors. The Job Satisfaction Survey (JSS; Spector, 1985) and Role Questionnaire (RQ; Rizzo et al., 1970) were used to measure organizational factors. The CBI (Lee et al., 2007) was used to measure the dimensions of school counselor burnout.
Perceived Stress Scale (PSS)
The PSS (S. Cohen et al., 1983) is a 14-item inventory designed to measure an individual’s perceived stress within the past month. In the present study, we used the PSS-4, which is a subset of items from the original 14-item scale. The PSS was normed on a large sample of individuals from across the United States (S. Cohen et al., 1983). Participants responded to a 5-point Likert-type scale ranging from 0 (never) to 4 (very often). Scores on the PSS-4 ranged from 0 to 20. An example question of the PSS-4 is: “In the past month, how often have you felt difficulties were piling up so high that you could not overcome them?” The PSS-4 was determined to be a suitable brief measure of stress perceptions, based upon adequate factor structure and predictive validity (S. Cohen & Williamson, 1988). Reliability has been upheld (e.g., S. Cohen & Williamson, 1988) with test-retest reliability at .85 after 2 days (S. Cohen et al., 1983). For the present study, the internal consistency reliability was calculated at α = .76. Correlations between the perceived stress total score and CBI subscales ranged from r = .19 to .55.
Brief COPE
The Brief COPE (Carver, 1997) is a 28-item inventory designed to measure coping responses or processes and includes 14 subscales. We followed previous researchers’ (e.g., Deatherage et al., 2014) grouping of the 14 subscales into three coping processes (i.e., problem-focused, active-emotional, and avoidant-emotional). Therefore, problem-focused coping contained the Active Coping, Planning, Instrumental Support, and Religion subscales. Active-emotional coping contained the Venting, Positive Reframing, Humor, Acceptance, and Emotional Support subscales. Avoidant-emotional coping contained the Self-Distraction, Denial, Behavioral Disengagement, and Self-Blame subscales. For the present study, the items pertaining to participants’ alcohol and illegal drug use as coping responses were omitted because of their sensitive nature. Therefore, 26 items were included in the present study. The inventory uses a 4-point Likert-type scale with scores ranging from 0 (I haven’t been doing this at all) to 3 (I’ve been doing this a lot). A sample item on the Brief COPE is “I’ve been turning to work or other activities to take my mind off things.” Construct validity has been upheld with the three coping processes (e.g., Deatherage et al., 2014). Test-retest reliability for the three subscale groups has been upheld over a year timespan (Cooper et al., 2008). For the present study, the internal consistency reliability was calculated for problem-focused coping at α = .84, avoidant-emotional coping at α = .70, and active-emotional coping at α = .81. Correlations between problem-focused coping and the CBI subscales ranged from r = .00 to .13, correlations between avoidant-emotional coping and CBI subscales ranged from r = .20 to .48, and correlations between active-emotional coping and CBI subscales ranged from r = .01 to .16.
Job Satisfaction Survey (JSS)
The JSS (Spector, 1985) is a 36-item inventory intended to measure an individual’s perceived job satisfaction or attitudes and aspects of the job. The JSS contains nine subscales: Pay, Promotion, Supervision, Fringe Benefits, Contingent Rewards, Operating Procedures, Coworkers, Nature of Work, and Communication. The inventory uses a 6-point Likert-type scale with scores ranging from 1 (disagree very much) to 6 (agree very much). Total scores range from 36 to 216 with the higher the score, the higher job satisfaction experienced. An example item on the JSS is “My job is enjoyable” (Spector, 1985, p. 711). The JSS was constructed for, and normed on, social service, education, and mental health professionals (Spector, 1985, 2011). Spector (1985) established convergent validity with the Job Descriptive Index (Smith et al., 1969), and produced scores ranging from .61 to .80. Strong reliability has been established for the JSS, including a Cronbach coefficient alpha of .91 for all factors combined, and at 18 months, the test-retest reliability score was .71 (Spector, 1985). For the present study, the internal consistency reliability was calculated for the total scores at α = .91. Correlations between the perceived job satisfaction total score and CBI subscales ranged from r = -.13 to -.75.
Role Questionnaire (RQ)
The RQ (Rizzo et al., 1970) is a 14-item inventory designed to measure the level of role conflict and role ambiguity an individual has about a job. The RQ has been factor analyzed with school counselors (Freeman & Coll, 1997) and found to have three distinct factors (i.e., role incongruity, role conflict, and role ambiguity). The inventory uses a 7-point Likert-type scale with scores ranging from 1 (very false) to 7 (very true). Role incongruity refers to conflicts with the structure of the system and allocation of resources (Freeman & Coll, 1997). The role incongruity factor comprises items 1–4. Total scores range from 8 to 32, with the higher the score, the higher role incongruity experienced. A sample item for role incongruity is “I receive an assignment without adequate resources and materials to execute it.” Role conflict refers to the contradictory requests of work expectations with varying groups (Freeman & Coll, 1997). The role conflict factor comprises items 5–8. The higher the score, the higher role conflict experienced, which can range from 8 to 32. A sample item for role conflict is “I receive incompatible requests from two or more people.” The role ambiguity factor, which measures a lack of clarity on the job, is negatively worded; therefore, the lower the score, the higher the role ambiguity experienced. The role ambiguity factor comprises items 9–14, and total scores range from 6 to 42. A sample item for role ambiguity is “Explanation is clear of what has to be done.” Construct validity for the three factors with school counselors was established by Freeman and Coll (1997). Reliability of the three factors have been upheld for school counselor participants (Culbreth et al., 2005; Wilkerson, 2009; Wilkerson & Bellini, 2006). For the present study, the internal consistency reliability was calculated for role incongruity at α = .82, role conflict at α = .79, and role ambiguity at α = .90. Correlations between role incongruity and CBI subscales ranged from r = .14 to .65, correlations between role conflict and CBI subscales ranged from r = .14 to .53, and correlations between role ambiguity and CBI subscales ranged from r = -.22 to -.56.
Counselor Burnout Inventory (CBI)
The CBI (Lee et al., 2007) is a 20-item inventory designed to measure counselors’ burnout levels. The CBI includes five subscales, with four questions for each subscale: Exhaustion, Incompetence, Negative Work Environment, Devaluing Clients, and Deterioration in Personal Life. The CBI uses a 5-point Likert-type scale ranging from 1 (never true) to 5 (always true). Total scores on each subscale range from 5 to 20, with the higher the score, the higher level of burnout. A sample item from the Exhaustion subscale is “Due to my job as a counselor, I feel tired most of the time.” A sample item from the Incompetence subscale is “I am not confident in my counseling skills.” A sample item from the Negative Work Environment subscale is “I am treated unfairly in my workplace.” A sample item from the Devaluing Clients subscale is “I am not interested in my clients and their problems.” A sample item from the Deterioration in Personal Life subscale is “I feel I have poor boundaries between work and my personal life.” Two independent samples composed of counselors from a variety of settings across the United States were used to explore and confirm the factor structure (Lee et al., 2007). Gnilka et al. (2015) upheld the CBI five-factor structure with a confirmatory factor analysis in a sample of school counselors. Cronbach’s alpha for the total CBI was .88, with scores ranging from .73 to .85 for the subscales (Lee et al., 2007). For the present study, internal consistency reliability for the CBI subscales were calculated and ranged from α = .78 to .89.
Results
Prior to conducting the primary analyses, we used SPSS (Version 25.0) to clean the data, impute missing data values, and test the assumptions of the primary analyses (i.e., hierarchal regressions), as recommended by Tabachnick and Fidell (2013). We used expectation-maximization (EM) to impute missing data (Cook, 2020), after we tested the randomness of the missing values with Little’s missing completely at random (MCAR). All missing values were determined to be MCAR, except for the active-emotional coping of the Brief COPE and the JSS: χ2(40, N = 227) = 79.13, p = .000, and χ2(671, N = 227) = 836.57, p = .000, respectively. Because the missing values for the active-emotional coping and JSS were less than 1%, expectation-maximization was an appropriate imputation method (Cook, 2020). Less than 5% of values were imputed for the PSS-4, the factors of the RQ (role ambiguity, role incongruity, and role conflict), and the five subscales of the CBI (Exhaustion, Incompetence, Negative Work Environment, Devaluing Clients, and Deterioration in Personal Life), and less than 1% of the values were imputed for the problem-focused and avoidant-emotional processes of the Brief COPE.
To answer the research question, we used three-step hierarchical regression models to analyze the individual and cumulative contributions for demographic, individual, and organizational factors with each subscale of the CBI. Qualities of the instruments are provided in Table 1. In Step 1, we entered the demographic factors (i.e., years of experience and school district). In Step 2, we entered the individual factors (i.e., perceived stress, problem-focused coping, avoidant-emotional coping, and active-emotional coping). In Step 3, we entered the organizational factors (i.e., perceived job satisfaction, role incongruity, role conflict, and role ambiguity). Completed assumption checks showed no outliers or influential data points, as concluded by an examination of the Q-Q plots, histograms, scatterplots, and Mahalanobis distance. We checked multicollinearity and found it to be an issue for school district (tolerance < .01). Therefore, we removed the school district variable and reentered years of experience in Step 1. To control for Type I error, we used the Bonferroni method to adjust the family-wise alpha (Darlington & Hayes, 2017), which resulted in .01 as the cutoff for statistical significance for Step 2 (i.e., individual factors) and .0056 as the cutoff for statistical significance for Step 3 (i.e., organizational factors). Results for each of these models are presented in Table 2.
Table 1
Qualities of Instrumentation
| Instrumentation |
Scores |
M |
SD |
α |
| Perceived Stress Scale-4 Total Score
Problem-Focused Coping
Avoidant-Emotional Coping
Active-Emotional Coping
Job Satisfaction Scale Total Score
Role Ambiguity
Role Incongruity
Role Conflict
Exhaustion
Incompetence
Negative Work Environment
Devaluing Client
Deterioration in Personal Life |
4–19
8–32
8–24
10–38
82–204
7–42
4–28
4–26
4–20
4–17
4–20
4–13
4–19 |
8.24
22.55
12.48
25.74
143.25
29.67
15.47
15.18
11.54
8.77
9.87
5.61
8.65 |
2.86
5.29
3.03
5.56
25.28
7.25
5.77
5.58
3.97
2.96
3.75
2.08
3.32 |
.76
.84
.70
.81
.91
.90
.82
.79
.89
.78
.85
.80
.78 |
Table 2
Results of Hierarchal Regression Analyses of School Counselor Burnout
|
Exhaustion |
Incompetence |
Negative Work Environment |
Devaluing Clients |
Deterioration in Personal Life |
| Step 1 |
|
|
|
|
| Years of Experience |
-.038 |
-.233* |
-.072 |
-.190* |
-.047 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| R2 |
.001 |
.054 |
.005 |
.036 |
.002 |
| F |
.323 |
12.89** |
1.17 |
8.46* |
.500 |
| Step 2 |
|
|
|
|
|
| Years of Experience |
.030 |
-.151** |
-.042 |
-.155 |
.001 |
| Perceived Stress |
.392** |
.184 |
.283** |
.093 |
.491** |
| Avoidant-Emotional Coping |
.160 |
.360** |
.025 |
.180 |
.103 |
| Active-Emotional Coping |
.030 |
.087 |
.026 |
.131 |
.151 |
| Problem-Focused Coping |
-.043 |
-.151 |
.081 |
-.229** |
-.105 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| R2 |
.240 |
.284 |
.109 |
.116 |
.323 |
| Δ R2 |
.239 |
.229 |
.104 |
.080 |
.321 |
| ΔF |
17.34** |
17.69** |
6.43** |
4.98** |
26.24** |
| Step 3 |
|
|
|
|
|
| Years of Experience |
.056 |
-.097 |
.052 |
-.125 |
.025 |
| Perceived Stress |
.303† |
.150 |
.057 |
.070 |
.437† |
| Avoidant-Emotional Coping |
.170 |
.338† |
.025 |
.165 |
.077 |
| Active-Emotional Coping |
.034 |
.126 |
.050 |
.151 |
.155 |
| Problem-Focused Coping |
-.064 |
-.180 |
.042 |
-.243† |
-.127 |
| Perceived Job Satisfaction |
-.198 |
.080 |
-.489† |
.032 |
.029 |
| Role Ambiguity |
.014 |
-.276† |
-.122 |
-.147 |
-.029 |
| Role Incongruity |
.207 |
.190 |
.220† |
.069 |
.172 |
| Role Conflict |
-.014 |
-.096 |
.106 |
-.018 |
.188 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| R2 |
.351 |
.367 |
.666 |
.140 |
.383 |
| Δ R2 |
.111 |
.092 |
.652 |
.024 |
.060 |
| ΔF |
9.29** |
8.03** |
90.43** |
1.51 |
5.26** |
Note. N = 227
* p < .05. ** p < .01. † p < .0056. |
Exhaustion
The hierarchical regression model for Exhaustion revealed that years of experience was not statistically significant: F(1, 225) = .323, p > .05. Introducing individual factors explained 23.9% of the variation in Exhaustion, and this change in R2 was significant: F(5, 221) = 13.96, p < .001. The inclusion of organizational factors explained an additional 11.1% of the variation in Exhaustion, and this change in R2 was significant: F(9, 217) = 13.05, p < .001. However, the β values revealed that the only statistically significant factor of Exhaustion was perceived stress (β = .303, p < .001). Together the independent variables accounted for 35.1% of the variance in Exhaustion.
Incompetence
For Incompetence, years of experience explained 5.4% of its variation and was significant: F(1, 225) = 12.89, p < .001. Adding individual factors explained an additional 22.9% of the variation in Incompetence, and this change in R2 was significant: F(5, 221) = 17.50, p < .001. Including organizational factors explained an additional 9.2% of the variation in Incompetence, and this change in R2 was significant: F(9, 217) = 14.53, p < .001. The statistically significant factors of Incompetence were avoidant-emotional coping (β = .338, p < .001) and role ambiguity (β = -.276, p < .001). Together the independent variables accounted for 36.7% of the variance in Incompetence.
Negative Work Environment
For Negative Work Environment, years of experience was not statistically significant: F(1,225) = 1.17, p > .05, R2 = .005. Adding individual factors explained 10.9% of the variation in Negative Work Environment, and this change in R2 was significant: F(5, 221) = 5.40, p < .001. Including organizational factors explained an additional 65.2% of the variation in Negative Work Environment, and this change in R2 was significant: F(9, 217) = 48.05, p < .001. In the final model, perceived job satisfaction (β = -.489, p = .000) and role incongruity (β = .220, p = .000) significantly explained Negative Work Environment. Together the independent variables accounted for 66.6% of the variance in Negative Work Environment.
Devaluing Clients
For Devaluing Clients, years of experience contributed significantly to the model and accounted for 3.6% of its variation: F(1, 225) = 8.46, p < .05. Including individual factors explained an additional 8.0% of the variation in Devaluing Clients, and this change in R2 was significant: F(5, 221) = 5.80, p < .01. Adding the organizational factors in the third step was significant: F(9, 217) = 3.92, p < .001, R2 = .140. However, the inclusion of the organizational variables did not explain a significantly different equation: ΔF(4, 217) = 1.51, p > .05, ΔR2 = .024. Therefore, we interpreted the β values of the second step, and the statistically significant factor of Devaluing Clients was problem-focused coping (β = -.229, p = .009).
Deterioration in Personal Life
Finally, for Deterioration in Personal Life, years of experience was not significant: F(1, 225) = .500,
p > .05, R2 = .002. Including individual factors explained 32.1% of the variation in Deterioration in Personal Life, and the change in R2 was significant: F(5, 221) = 21.14, p < .001. Including the organizational factors explained an additional 6.0% of the variation in Deterioration in Personal Life, and this change in R2 was significant: F(9, 217) = 14.98, p < .001. An examination of the β values revealed that only perceived stress was a statistically significant variable for Deterioration in Personal Life (β = .437, p = .000). Together the independent variables accounted for 38.3% of the variance in Deterioration in Personal Life.
Discussion
The present study illustrates an expanded understanding of individual and organizational factors associated with the subscales of school counselor burnout (i.e., Exhaustion, Incompetence, Negative Work Environment, Devaluing Clients, and Deterioration in Personal Life; Lee et al., 2007). We intended to control for years of experience but found that before adding the individual and organizational factors, it was a statistically significant variable and negatively related with Incompetence and Devaluing Clients. School counselor researchers have reported contradictory findings between years of experience and burnout. Similar to our findings, Wilkerson and Bellini (2006) and Mullen et al. (2018) reported a negative relationship between years of experience and burnout—essentially describing that those earlier in their careers have a higher risk of experiencing burnout. In contrast, Butler and Constantine (2005) and Wilkerson (2009) reported burnout happening over time (i.e., a positive relationship between years of experience and burnout). Our study underscores the vulnerability school counselors may experience earlier in their careers (Mullen et al., 2018). Our results also provide a unique finding in that fewer years of experience as a school counselor is associated with the burnout dimensions of Incompetence and Devaluing Clients.
In the present study, we found individual factors (i.e., perceived stress, problem-focused coping, and avoidant-emotional coping) significantly related to Exhaustion, Incompetence, Devaluing Clients, and Deterioration in Personal Life. School counselor scholars (e.g., Mullen et al., 2018; Mullen & Gutierrez, 2016) reported a statistically significant positive relationship between school counselors’ perceived stress and burnout. Our results provide unique findings in that stress was positively related with the Exhaustion and Deterioration in Personal Life dimensions of burnout. Other school counselor scholars (e.g., Bardhoshi et al., 2014; Moyer, 2011) found the stress-related variable of engagement in non-counseling duties was significantly related to Exhaustion and Deterioration in Personal Life.
For the coping processes, avoidant-emotional coping was positively related to Incompetence and problem-focused coping was negatively related to Devaluing Clients. These findings provide two distinct understandings of school counselor burnout. First, and notably, school counselor participants who were experiencing Incompetence were also engaging in increased avoidant-emotional coping. This finding is similar to those of Fye et al. (2018), who found maladaptive perfectionists were more frequently engaging in avoidant-coping processes. We did not research perfectionism in the present study; however, our findings may expand an understanding of a positive relationship between avoidant-emotional coping and burnout dimensions for school counselors regardless of perfectionism types. Second, we discovered school counselor participants’ problem-focused coping was negatively related to Devaluing Clients. This is a promising finding from our study because participants were likely to incorporate increased problem-focused coping alongside valuing students. As previously discussed, it appears that these school counselor participants were maintaining high levels of positive regard and empathy for students (Gnilka et al., 2015; Mullen & Gutierrez, 2016). Engaging in problem-focused coping may be beneficial to their engagement in student care and maintaining professional vitality.
The organizational factors of role ambiguity, role incongruity, and perceived job satisfaction were significantly related to the Incompetence and Negative Work Environment dimensions of burnout. Specifically, role ambiguity was positively related to Incompetence. Our results confirm that when school counselors’ roles are increasingly unclear, they are experiencing higher levels of burnout (Mullen et al., 2018), and specifically Incompetence. Perceived job satisfaction was negatively related to Negative Work Environment, while role incongruity was positively related to Negative Work Environment. Consistent with previous research, our findings support the significant relationships between organizational factors (i.e., administrative and clerical duties contributing to role stress) and Negative Work Environment (Bardhoshi et al., 2014). Other scholars have studied perceived job satisfaction as an outcome and potential preclusion to school counselor burnout (Baggerly & Osborn, 2006; Bryant & Constantine, 2006). School counseling scholars have found that burnout mediated the relationship between perceived stress and perceived job satisfaction (Mullen et al., 2018). In the present study, the perceived job satisfaction factor had the highest β at -.489. It appears that perceived job satisfaction is an important factor alongside school counselors’ specific experiences of Negative Work Environments. Perceived stress was a statistically significant factor in Step 2 with Negative Work Environment, but insignificant in the context of the organizational variables. This is an important finding because burnout, by definition, is a function of one’s work context (Lee et al., 2007; Maslach & Leiter, 2017), and we found that organizational factors explained a large amount of the variance (i.e., 65.2%) for the Negative Work Environment dimension of burnout. Overall, our findings support the complex and multidimensional nature of school counselor burnout.
Limitations and Future Research
We attempted to research multidimensional burnout with a nationally representative and diverse sample of ASCA member school counselors. Despite our efforts, the response rate was 5.68%. The majority of our participants identified as White and female, which is similar to the reported demographics of professional school counselor members (ASCA, 2018). However, caution may be warranted when generalizing our findings to all school counselors. Expanding research efforts (i.e., qualitative methods) to increase understanding of the burnout experiences of school counselors unrepresented by our participant sample is warranted. Last, it is unknown whether or not participants answered sensitive questions, such as those about burnout, in a socially desirable manner.
Future research should seek to understand additional individual and organizational variables related to the burnout dimensions for school counselors (Lee et al., 2007). For example, the Devaluing Clients dimension has been viewed by school counseling scholars as a complicated construct that has functioned differently from the other dimensions of burnout (Bardhoshi et al., 2014; Mullen & Gutierrez, 2016). Additional research is needed to understand this burnout dimension with school counselors. Kim and Lambie (2018) discussed the need for research to focus on burnout interventions. We concur and believe the distinction of individual and organizational factors within the dimensions of school counselor burnout should be considered when constructing these interventions, which may be important because burnout may not be an end state; instead, it may be a mediator of other important outcomes, such as work and health (Maslach & Leiter, 2017). It may be helpful to expand research that studies relationships between school counselor burnout and physical and mental health outcomes.
Implications for the School Counseling Profession
Our findings have implications for school counselors, school counselors-in-training, and counselor educators and supervisors. They illustrate the importance of conceptualizing the ecological relationship between individual and organizational factors with school counselor burnout. School counselors may have more control over individual factors, and supervisors may have more control over organizational factors. Despite these considerations, it is important to share the responsibility of burnout prevention within the school system. This is important because despite one’s efforts to increase helpful coping, self-care, or wellness practices, it appears that continued exposure to negative work environments will continue to place school counselors at risk for burnout.
Because school counselors are responsible for providing counseling services that align with professional and ethical standards (Kim & Lambie, 2018), it is imperative for them to recognize, monitor, and address their symptoms of burnout (ASCA, 2016). Therefore, it may be helpful for school counselors and supervisors to identify and understand the dimensions of burnout experienced and their relationships with individual and organizational factors. By using the instruments from this study, school counselors can identify contributions of individual and organizational factors with their burnout scores. This would allow supervisees to understand the relationships between these factors and burnout dimensions. During supervision, time could be dedicated to setting personal goals for maintaining self-care and professional vitality. This may be important, especially in identifying and decreasing avoidant-emotional coping, alongside increasing problem-focused coping processes. In general, school counselors should monitor their own self-care in relation to work context stressors and perceived job satisfaction. Our results may provide support to the potential limitations that wellness practices have on decreasing burnout within the Negative Work Environment (Puig et al., 2012)—meaning, wellness practices may be important in alleviating the individual factors related to burnout (i.e., high perceived stress, coping responses) but may have limited ability to decrease factors out of school counselors’ control (i.e., work context practices and policies).
Despite best practice guidelines, the reality remains that school counselors engage in various non-counseling duties (Bardhoshi et al., 2014; Gutierrez & Mullen, 2016), which contributes to role stress. To lessen organizational stressors, as early as graduate school, counselor educators and supervisors should allow space in the learning process for students to learn the various counseling and related duties expected of school counselors within the school environment. Providing learning contexts for graduate students to explore these various roles may set the stage for lessened role stress. Specifically, assignments should be included in the curriculum that allow graduate students to explore school counselors’ professional identity and the real and ideal roles of the school counselor. These discussions should be engaged in along with conversations of how these varying roles can affect burnout (specifically role incongruity and role ambiguity), especially for those earlier in their careers. These dialogues should be reinforced during the practicum and internship experiences and include personal sources of perceived job satisfaction. In schools, supervisors can help to facilitate school counselors’ competence by clearly defining expectations through measurable outcomes. For example, school counselors and supervisors can use the ASCA National Model’s (ASCA, 2019) Annual Administrative Conference Template (p. 60) and Annual Calendar Template (p. 70) to open communication between the school counselors and their supervisors and document their duties. This discussion may additionally open communication regarding the adequacy of funding, resources, materials, and staff available to school counselors (Freeman & Coll, 1997). If inadequate, school counselors may use the opportunity to advocate for increased support from supervisors and administrators.
It is important to note that in the present study, school counselors earlier in their careers reported higher levels of Incompetence and Devaluing Clients. School counselor supervisors should understand these relationships. Mentoring of school counselors who are earlier in their careers by those with significant experience may help the younger professionals build their professional identities and student-focused work. Last, recognizing dimensions of burnout in relation to individual and organizational factors may not be enough to maintain professional vitality. The school counseling profession may find it helpful to train school counselors and graduate students in advocacy skills. Trusty and Brown (2005) outlined advocacy competencies for school counselors, which include dispositional statements, knowledge, and skills necessary to becoming effective advocates. The self-advocacy model prepares school counselors to have the communication (oral and written) necessary to maintain effective advocacy roles.
Conclusion
In conclusion, our results provide an expansion of findings related to relative contributions for individual and organizational factors with school counselor multidimensional burnout. In short, burnout dimensions are uniquely related to personal and work context factors. It is difficult to conceive of burnout absent its relationship to some aspect of the work setting. School counselors and supervisors can use our results to conceptualize burnout from a multidimensional perspective, which may in turn help them find new ways to remain professionally vital to themselves, their students, and their school community.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest
or funding contributions for the development
of this manuscript.
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Heather J. Fye, PhD, NCC, LPC, is an assistant professor at the University of Alabama and a certified PK–12 school counselor. Ryan M. Cook, ACS, LPC, is an assistant professor at the University of Alabama. Eric R. Baltrinic, LPCC-S, is an assistant professor at the University of Alabama. Andrea Baylin, NCC, PEL, is a doctoral student at the University of Alabama. Correspondence may be addressed to Heather Fye, Box 870231, Graves Hall 315B, Tuscaloosa, AL 35487, hjfye@ua.edu.
Apr 29, 2020 | Volume 10 - Issue 2
Nathaniel J. Wagner, Colleen M. L. Grunhaus, Victor E. Tuazon
According to recent research, counselors may benefit from a variety of supports offered by mental health agencies after a client dies by suicide. Research is sparse concerning how often agency supports and outreach are offered to counselors and what supports counselors find to be the most helpful after a client suicide. In this cross-sectional survey research study, the researchers recruited a sample of counselors (N = 228) who self-identified as having experienced a client suicide. The authors examined relationships between perceived organizational support, supervisory alliance, and the impact of the event on counselors. The authors also examined the use and perceived helpfulness of agency policies regarding counselor-oriented support after client suicide. Results highlight the need for more counselor training around suicide, increased empathy for counselor survivors, and the need for agency policies related to postvention.
Keywords: client suicide, supervision, agency policies, counselor survivors, postvention
According to McAdams and Foster (2000), approximately 23% of counselors are counselor survivors, meaning the counselor has had a client die by suicide. These client suicides impact counselor survivors personally and professionally. Counselors can feel sad at work and lose professional confidence in the aftermath of client suicides (Draper et al., 2014). Some counselor survivors demonstrate a fear of working with clients who present with suicidal ideations and are reluctant to accept subsequent suicidal clients (Hendin et al., 2000). Counselors also may experience various emotions, including anger, betrayal, fear of blame, grief, guilt, self-doubt, shame, and shock (Draper et al., 2014; Hendin et al., 2000). In addition, counselor survivors may become more sensitive to client suicidal ideation and experience heightened stress (e.g., Draper et al., 2014; Fairman et al., 2014; McAdams & Foster, 2000, 2002).
McAdams and Foster (2002) reported that counselor survivors found the support of a supervisor helpful in the recovery process. However, counselors further along in their professional experience, or practicing independently, might not have access to supervisory support. According to Fairman et al. (2014), after a client suicide, counselors benefitted from the following: (a) facilitated debriefing, (b) informal group support, (c) individual counseling, (d) paid leave of absence, and (e) continuing education activities. A dearth of research exists regarding how often employers offer the above supports to counselor survivors of client suicide. Considering the deleterious impact of client suicide on the personal and professional functioning of counselor survivors, researchers have implored mental health organizations to provide supportive actions to the distressed individual (e.g., Michel, 1997).
For this study, we recruited a sample of counselor survivors who identified as having a client who completed suicide during their professional career. We explored the effect of supervisory and organizational support on participants’ perception of the impact of client suicide. Participants also described the responses of their colleagues, supervisors, and agencies, and reported which responses participants viewed to be the most and least helpful for counselor survivors coping with client suicide.
Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States, and for younger populations (ages 15–24), suicide is the second leading cause of death (McIntosh & Drapeau, 2020). In a study of 5,894 deaths by suicide, Ahmedani et al. (2014) found that nearly one-third (29%) of individuals who completed suicide were enrolled in mental health services in the year prior to their death. In this same study, 45% of those who completed suicide had an appointment with a health professional resulting in a mental health diagnosis within the month prior to their completed suicide. In a national comorbidity survey (N = 5,692), Nock et al. (2010) found that 44.1% of those who attempted suicide were diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and 43% were diagnosed with a mood disorder. In total, Nock et al. estimated that 76% of people who attempt suicide have a mental disorder of some kind. Unsurprisingly, counselors are highly likely to work with clients who complete suicide. Approximately 25% of counselors will experience a client suicide (McAdams & Foster, 2002), and the vast majority of mental health professionals will encounter clients with presentations of suicidality or suicide attempts throughout the course of their career (Kleespies & Dettmer, 2000; McAdams & Foster, 2002; Rogers et al., 2001).
Counselors have some training to assess and respond to suicide risk through required trainings on models and strategies of suicide prevention as well as methods of suicide risk assessment (Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs [CACREP], 2015). Despite this experience and exposure, counselor survivors often reported feeling overwhelmed and unprepared, substantial emotional distress, and reduced work performance when a client suicide occurs (Ellis & Patel, 2012). Identifying avenues of support for affected counselors is paramount to address the harmful effects to counselor well-being and effectiveness.
The Impact of Client Suicide
The profound emotions counselor survivors experience when a client dies by suicide may be moderated by the length and quality of the therapeutic relationship (Grad & Michel, 2004; Luoma et al., 2002). Researchers found that counselor survivors experienced shock, disbelief, or numbness upon learning of a client suicide (Darden & Rutter, 2011; Sanders et al., 2005). Counselor survivors described strong emotions in the context of losing control; for example, some felt angry toward a mental health system that presumably failed the deceased client along with emotions related to grief and sadness (Christianson & Everall, 2009; Knox et al., 2006). Sadness was associated both with the loss of the client and regret that the client was unable to thrive (Sanders et al., 2005). Other counselor survivors experienced fear of litigation or guilt related to holding some responsibility for the death (Christianson & Everall, 2009; Grad & Michel, 2004). Shame impacted counselor survivors’ self-conception as competent counselors and may have prevented them from admitting their fears to family and intimate partners (Darden & Rutter, 2011; Grad & Michel, 2004).
Behaviorally, counselor survivors often changed their professional practices after experiencing a client suicide. Some counselor survivors refused to see clients they perceived as potentially suicidal (Hendin et al., 2000). Knox et al. (2006) found that counselor survivors’ sensitivity to suicide risk and client suicidal ideation may be heightened after client suicide. Loss of a client can lead to increased feelings of self-doubt. Darden and Rutter (2011) determined that approximately half of counselor survivors who participated in their study experienced increased self-doubt when working with clients who presented with suicidal ideations or intent. Similarly, Sanders et al. (2005) found that counselor survivors felt like professional failures after client suicide. On the other hand, counselor growth may also accompany the loss of a client. For example, some counselor survivors indicated using the pain of the experience to grow in their understanding and approach with suicidal clients (Grad & Michel, 2004; Sanders et al., 2005). This growth included greater self-confidence in clinical instincts because of what they learned from the suicide event (Sanders et al., 2005). Counselor survivors can also grow through external supportive resources such as supervision and support groups.
Supportive Resources
Researchers found that counselor survivors often look to the professionals around them (e.g., colleagues, supervisors, mental health professionals) to provide a response, support, or assistance in processing bereavement (Grad & Michel, 2004; Knox et al., 2006; Sanders et al., 2005). Counselor survivors’ complex emotions and perception of failing as a professional can leave survivors grasping for assistance to make sense of the event. Professional responses to survivors vary and include chart audits (Grad & Michel, 2004), debriefing (Ting et al., 2006), or avoidance (Christianson & Everall, 2009; Darden & Rutter, 2011; Grad & Michel, 2004).
Organizational Support
Counselor survivors can benefit from organizational support and outreach in the wake of client suicide. Often, survivors experience frustration and isolation in unsupportive organizational contexts (Hendin et al., 2000). Counselor survivors indicated that institutional responses such as case reviews were rarely helpful and instead increased counselor survivor self-doubt and distress, particularly when these reviews included blame for the client suicide or false reassurance that the suicide was inevitable (Hendin et al., 2000).
On the other hand, supportive contexts that allow for increased social connection with colleagues and debriefing can be helpful (Ting et al., 2006). Michel (1997) suggested that debriefing sessions for the team may be beneficial for coping with client loss. Fairman et al. (2014) stated that when coping with a patient suicide, hospice clinical staff found team-based support strategies and debriefings supported counselor recovery. Alternatively, Michel reported that counselor survivors may find it difficult to disclose intimate and personal feelings to colleagues, especially in a team setting and without reassurance of confidentiality; these counselors may only disclose emotional problems to a personal therapist. Hendin et al. (2000) suggested that team-based debriefings may inhibit insight when they include platitudes such as “it’s not your fault.” Similarly, counselor survivors felt isolated by client suicide when coworkers offered empty assurances. On the other hand, counselor survivors felt supported and less isolated when coworkers shared their own experiences and demonstrated empathy (Hendin et al., 2000).
Counselor survivors may perceive organizational and collegial support as helpful, but researchers have not described the extent to which professional organizational support ameliorates the impact of the suicide event. Further research is needed to explore this interaction. In addition, further inquiry is needed to clarify what forms of organizational support are frequently offered to survivors of client suicide and which resources are most and least helpful.
Supervisory Support
Supervisors play a critical role in preparing for and responding to client suicidal behavior (Ellis & Patel, 2012). Knox et al. (2006) found that counselors-in-training who survived a client suicide appreciated when supervisors created a safe place to discuss the event, self-disclosed their experiences with client suicide, and provided reassurance that the suicide was not the fault of the counselor-in-training. Conversely, counselor survivors found conversations that were particularly critical of their actions prior to the client suicide, or insensitive to the counselors’ experience of the loss, as prohibitive to coping (Knox et al., 2006). Ellis and Patel (2012) recommended that supervisors actively guide supervisees toward self-care (e.g., support-seeking, personal counseling) and reduced workloads, rather than expecting them to know how to manage their grief and professional concerns simultaneously.
Darden and Rutter (2011) found that counselor survivors without a direct supervisor perceived lack of supervision as a barrier to recovery from the loss. Alternatively, counselor survivors in training programs can feel inhibited in fully processing grief and other emotional reactions with a supervisor who also is responsible for their professional evaluation (Gill, 2012). Counselor survivors without a strong supervisory relationship prior to the client suicide typically have limited access to effective and cathartic supervision experiences and to other professional support networks. Depending on the approach of the supervisor and the relationship between the supervisor and supervisee, supervision can be helpful or harmful. Further empirical research is needed to determine the effect of the supervisory relationship on the impact of the suicide event. In addition, more specific information related to agency and supervisory practices and policies that are helpful for counselor survivor recovery would provide further clarification.
Purpose of the Present Study
The following research questions guided our study: (a) Does the perceived support from a supervisor or an organization impact counselor survivors’ experiences of client suicide?; (b) Which policies are most frequently utilized by agencies when a counselor experiences client suicide?; and (c) What interpersonal and agency responses are perceived to be most and least helpful for counselor survivors?
Method
Participants
Prior to data collection, the researchers were granted Institutional Review Board approval to conduct the research. We utilized Qualtrics as a survey management website to conduct a web-based survey to collect data from practicing counselors. We invited 9,521 counselors to participate; however, eligible participants were only counselors who experienced a client suicide, and many invited participants did not meet this study requirement. Potential participants’ names and email addresses were accessed from the Florida licensing board and publicly available state counseling association directories, including those from Alabama, Connecticut, Georgia, Illinois, Kentucky, Maine, Missouri, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Texas, and Wyoming. We distributed the survey through an initial email that provided a description of the study and included a link to the web-based survey. Potential participants who did not complete the survey and did not choose to opt out of the survey received a second email. Finally, participants who did not respond after the first two emails received a final email reminder. Emails and survey materials were developed according to the Tailored Design Method (Dillman et al., 2014). No incentive was provided for participation in this study.
Of the 9,521 potential participants contacted, 980 of the addresses provided were invalid. In addition, 172 individuals responded to the invitation and indicated that they had not experienced a client suicide. Out of the resulting 8,369 potential participants, 228 participants completed the survey (2.7% useable response rate). The response rate was low; however, only counselors who had experienced a client suicide were appropriate for the survey and it is likely that approximately 75% of those surveyed did not meet the qualifications for this survey (McAdams & Foster, 2002). Also, Dillman et al. (2014) noted that low response rates may be acceptable for niche populations that are difficult to directly access. We used an a priori power analysis (Balkin & Sheperis, 2011) with a power of .8, an alpha error probability of .05, and a .25 effect size, resulting in a required sample size of 200 for the most robust statistical test we used in our data analysis.
Our participants (N = 228) were predominately Caucasian females. Also, participants had a mean age of 49.1 (SD = 11.6, Mdn = 48) with 15.5 years of experience (SD = 10, Mdn = 14). Table 1 describes additional demographics of our participants, including their race/ethnicity, licensure status, professional orientation, and the agency type that employed them.
Table 1
Participant Demographics
| Variable |
n |
% |
| Gender |
|
|
| Female |
175 |
76.8 |
| Male |
51 |
22.4 |
| Other |
2 |
0.9 |
| Race/Ethnicity |
|
|
| Caucasian |
174 |
76.3 |
| Black or African American |
21 |
9.2 |
| Hispanic or Latino |
19 |
8.3 |
| Multiracial |
9 |
3.9 |
| Asian |
3 |
1.3 |
| Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander |
1 |
0.4 |
| Other |
1 |
0.4 |
| Professional Orientation |
|
|
| Licensed professional counselors (LMHC, LPC etc.) |
159 |
69.7 |
| School counselors |
43 |
18.9 |
| Marriage and family therapists |
7 |
3.1 |
| Clinical psychologists |
8 |
3.5 |
| Social workers |
3 |
1.3 |
| Other |
8 |
3.5 |
| License Level |
|
|
| Fully licensed |
190 |
83.3 |
| Provisional license |
23 |
10.1 |
| Other |
15 |
6.6 |
| Employment setting |
|
|
| Outpatient |
58 |
25.4 |
| K–12 schools |
54 |
23.7 |
| Inpatient |
43 |
18.9 |
| Private practice |
35 |
15.4 |
| Community mental health |
8 |
3.5 |
| Corrections |
8 |
3.5 |
| College counseling |
6 |
2.6 |
| Intensive in-home |
4 |
1.7 |
| Social services |
4 |
1.7 |
| Government |
4 |
1.8 |
| Shelter and domestic violence |
2 |
0.9 |
| Telephone counseling |
1 |
0.4 |
| Religious-based counseling |
1 |
0.4 |
Note. N = 228
Measures
For the purpose of this study, three measures were utilized: (a) the Short Supervisory Relationship Questionnaire (S-SRQ; Cliffe et al., 2016), (b) the Survey of Perceived Organizational Support (SPOS; Eisenberger et al., 1986), and (c) the Impact of Event Scale–Revised (IES-R; Weiss & Marmar, 1997). We also used open-response questions to ask about client suicide experiences and perceptions of agency responses. Participants completed a demographics form that queried participants’ personal information (e.g., age, race, ethnicity, and gender) as well as professional experiences (e.g., discipline, years of experience, and agency responses).
S-SRQ
Cliffe et al. (2016) created the S-SRQ scale, which is an 18-item self-report scale to measure an individual’s perception of their supervisory relationship with their supervisor. Respondents identified their level of agreement to each item on a 7-point Likert scale that ranged from strongly disagree to strongly agree. Sample statements on the S-SRQ include “my supervisor was approachable,” “my supervisor encouraged me to reflect on my practice,” and “supervision sessions were focused.” Evidence for reliability was described by Cliffe et al., including internal consistency (α = .96), and test-retest reliability (r = .94). In the present study, the measure had excellent internal consistency as measured by Cronbach’s alpha (α = .95).
SPOS
The SPOS is a one-factor scale created by Eisenberger et al. (1986). The SPOS scale measures whether individuals believe their organizations care about their well-being. The original scale had 32 items; however, we utilized the eight-item short form self-report measure. Respondents rated their agreement to each statement on a 7-point Likert scale (strongly disagree to strongly agree). The SPOS includes statements such as “The organization values my contribution to its well-being” and “Even if I did the best job possible, the organization would fail to notice.” For scoring purposes, we reverse-scored negatively worded items and summed all items to find a final score. With the full scale, Eisenberger et al. found evidence of internal consistency (α = .97). The current sample had high internal consistency (α = .95).
IES-R
Weiss and Marmar (1997) created the IES-R scale to examine stress responses or PTSD symptoms following an event. The IES-R has 22 items and consists of three subscales, Intrusion (eight items), Avoidance (eight items), and Hyperarousal (six items). Participants responded to items asking about the degree of distress they have been experiencing in the previous 7 days. The IES consists of items such as “Other things kept making me think about it” and “I stayed away from reminders of it.” Responses are on a 5-point Likert scale from 0 (not at all) to 4 (extremely). Participants took the scale twice—once as recommended relating to current experiences (IES-Rc) and once as they remembered their experiences during the first 7 days after the client suicide happened (IES-Rp). Weiss and Marmar reported evidence for good internal consistency for Intrusion (α = .89), Avoidance (α = .84), and Hyperarousal (α = .82). The current sample resulted in Cronbach’s alphas of .90, .86, and .87 respectively. The adapted scale had similar Cronbach’s alphas to the original scale, .90, .88, and .88, respectively.
Open-Ended Responses
We used open-ended questions to assess information not captured by the previous instruments and to gain insight into factors participants believed were helpful or unhelpful in the experience. We asked four open-ended questions: (a) “At the time of your first client suicide, what was most helpful in this experience?” (b) “At the time of your first client suicide, what was least helpful in this experience?” (c) “Thinking back on your experience of your first client suicide, what more could your agency have done that you might have found helpful?” and (d) “Thinking back on your first client suicide, what would you have liked the agency to have done less of, or differently?”
Agency Policies
We asked participants to choose from a list of possible agency policies for responding to client suicide that their agency had in place at the time of the suicide. We also asked participants if they perceived these policies to be helpful in their coping with the event. Policy options included extra supervision, mandated counseling, mandated debriefing, mandated time off, additional paperwork, an option to select “other” along with a text box to explain, and an option for “no policy.” Participants were encouraged to select all options that applied.
Data Analysis
A cross-sectional research design was utilized for this study. Upon completion of data collection, numerical data was transferred to SPSS (Version 23) to conduct statistical analyses. To assess responses to the open-ended questions, we followed Brown’s (2009) method to individually code participants’ responses into categorical themes and clusters. We then compared codes and negotiated results to come to a consensus on categories (Creswell & Poth, 2018). We assessed frequencies and descriptive statistics of these themes to determine the most prevalent participant responses. We examined statistical assumptions (e.g., independence of cases, normality, and homoscedasticity; Tabachnick & Fidell, 2007) for each measure, including the Kolmogorov-Smirnov measure for normality. Data were analyzed with frequencies and descriptive statistics, Pearson’s correlations, one-way analysis of variance (ANOVA), and a simple linear regression (SLR), independent samples t-test, and chi-square goodness-of-fit and tests of independence.
Results
Our first research question examined the impact of supervision and organizational supports as moderators of the impact of client suicide on counselor survivors. More specifically, we wanted to determine whether or not the supervisory relationship (S-SRQ; Cliffe et al., 2016) and counselors’ perceptions of organizational support (SPOS; Eisenberger et al., 1986) predicted the impact of client suicide on the counselor survivor at the time of the event (IES-Rp; Weiss & Marmar, 1997) and at the present (IES-Rc; Weiss & Marmar, 1997). The findings of this research question are reported below.
Participants who reported being under supervision when they experienced a client suicide (n = 118) completed the S-SRQ (M = 96.9, SD = 25) as a measure of their supervisory relationship, and the IES-Rp (M = 45.1; SD = 15.9) and IES-Rc (M = 26.6; SD = 8.4). An SLR was calculated to predict the impact of events at the time of the event based on the counselor survivor’s supervisory relationship at the time of the event. A significant regression equation was found (F[1,116] = 6.9, p = .01) with an R2 of .06. Participants’ impact of events at the time of the event decreased .15 for each point increase in supervisory relationships. This indicates that a strong supervisory relationship at the time of a client suicide may help mitigate counselor survivors’ symptoms. An SLR was also calculated to examine the impact of events at the present with their supervisory relationship at the time of the event. However, the findings were not significant (F[1,116] = 57.53, p = .37), suggesting that any differences found between supervisory relationship and the current impact of events may be attributed to chance.
All respondents (N = 228) completed the SPOS (M = 23.9, SD = 3.5), the IES-Rp (M = 43.7, SD = 16.1), and the IES-Rc (M = 26.8, SD = 9.4). Bivariate correlations revealed a lack of significance between SPOS and either impact of events scale (p = .6 for each). We also conducted an ANOVA to examine the effect of perceived level of support based on agency type and found no significant difference in SPOS scores based on agency type (F[7, 220] = 1.084, p = .4). Contrary to expectations, SPOS did not seem to affect the counselor survivors’ experience of client suicide.
Agency Responses
Our second research question inquired about agency policies governing responses to the counselor survivor at the time of a client suicide. Possible agency policies that respondents could choose from included no policy; debriefing of the event; required paperwork; extra supervision; mandated personal counseling; mandated time off; and a final category, “other,” which allowed respondents to fill in an answer that was not listed in the choices. Respondents were provided with the opportunity to choose as many responses as applied; thus, the responses cumulatively totaled over 100%. The most frequently indicated response for agency-initiated policies was no policy (n = 118, 52%). This was followed by mandated debriefing of the event (n = 63, 28%), required paperwork (n = 57, 25%), extra supervision (n = 16, 7%), mandated counseling (n = 8, 4%), and mandated time off (n = 4, 2%). Fourteen respondents (6%) chose “other” to indicate that the agency enforced a policy not listed in the choices. Write-in responses that differed from the listed choices included group debriefing (n = 6), psychological autopsy (n = 2), notification of administrators (n = 2), crisis team intervention (n = 1), and liability review (n = 1).
We conducted a chi-square test of independence to determine if agency type differed according to the presence of an agency policy for counselor support at the time of suicide. Because of insufficient group size of some of the agency types, only participant responses from agency types that had over five participants (outpatient [n = 59], K–12 schools [n = 54], private practice [n = 34], acute psychiatric [n = 26], and residential [n = 16]) were included in the analysis. A significant difference was detected with this test (χ2 = 14.3, p < .01), which indicated that some agency types may be more likely to have a policy in place than others. We then followed up with multiple chi-square goodness-of-fit tests, which revealed that participants who worked in acute psychiatric settings (n = 26, χ2 = 5.6, p < .05) were significantly more likely to have a policy in place than other agency types, and participants who worked in private practice settings (n = 34, χ2 = 5.77, p < . 05) were significantly more likely to have no policy in place than participants who worked in other settings.
Helpfulness of Agency Responses
Regarding our third research question, participants (N = 228) were asked to rate the level of helpfulness of responses to client suicide. Of the participants who reported receiving counseling after client suicide (n = 99, 43%), 54 (55%) participants reported that this agency response was either very helpful or extremely helpful. Additionally, 28 (28%) participants reported counseling as moderately helpful, 13 (13%) reported counseling as a little helpful, and four (4%) participants reported counseling as not helpful at all.
Over one-third (n = 77, 34%) of participants reported that they took time off work after a client suicide. Most of the participants who reported taking time off reported it was very helpful or extremely helpful (n = 41, 53%). This was followed by those who found time off as moderately helpful (n = 15, 20%), a little helpful (n = 12, 16%), and not helpful at all (n = 9, 12%).
Participant responses to our questions inquiring about agency policies and mandated responses differed from responses to perceived helpfulness of agency responses. For example, only eight individuals indicated that their agency mandated personal counseling, whereas 99 individuals indicated that they engaged in personal counseling after the event and rated the perceived helpfulness of the counseling. Similarly, only four participants indicated their agency required they take time off, whereas 77 participants reported that they took time off and rated the helpfulness of this response. These discrepancies are likely due to the wording of “mandated” in the item choices related to agency policy responses, as most participants (n = 118, 52%) indicated that their agencies had no formal policy.
Participants described debriefing discussions related to the counselors’ emotional experience of the event (n = 140, 61%) and the actions of the counselor leading up to the event (n = 136, 59%). Sixty-three (45%) participants described debriefings related to the emotions of the experience as very helpful or extremely helpful. Other participants expressed that emotional debriefing was moderately helpful (n = 31, 22%), a little helpful (n = 36, 26%), or not helpful at all (n = 10, 7%). Debriefings related to the actions of the counselor were reported by 60 (44%) participants to be very helpful or extremely helpful, whereas 34 (25%) participants identified them as moderately helpful, and 42 participants indicated that debriefing of the actions of the counselor was either a little helpful (n = 26, 19%) or not helpful (n = 16, 12%).
Participants (n = 92, 40%) also described their perception of audits of the client’s chart. About half of the respondents (n = 47, 51%) described their audit experience as only a little helpful or not helpful. Fewer (n = 24, 26%) found audits to be very helpful or extremely helpful and 13 (14%) respondents indicated audits as moderately helpful.
Some participants (n = 72, 32%) reported agencies providing additional training for counselors when there was a suicide in the agency. Additional training was reported as very helpful or extremely helpful 63% of the time (n = 45). Twenty-four (33%) participants described additional training as moderately helpful, whereas three (4%) participants indicated receiving additional training as not helpful at all. Only 25% (n = 58) of participants were provided with increased supervision. Twenty-five (43%) of these participants found it very helpful or extremely helpful, 11 (19%) viewed their additional supervision as moderately helpful, and 22 participants (38%) reported increased supervision as only a little helpful or not helpful at all.
Strategies to Improve Agency Responses
We asked participants open-ended questions regarding agency responses that should be improved, changed, or reduced to improve care of future counselor survivors and categorized these into themes. The most frequent response, which occurred in 29% (n = 94) of responses, indicated that increased empathy and acknowledgement of the traumatic nature of the experience would be most helpful. Sample statements from participants included “more focus on the emotional impact on the clinicians,” “reacted to me as a person and as someone who was also grieving instead of just someone who needed to do their job,” “given me some attention and validation for my distress,” “the school I was at never asked about my wellness,” and “I felt like the suicide was viewed as an unfortunate part of being a counselor.” Some participants (n = 51, 18%) described a need for more thorough debriefing and discussion of the event (e.g., “provide a more thorough debriefing,” “been more open to processing the issue”).
Many participants (n = 37, 11%) indicated feeling unprepared to deal with client suicide and recommended further training and resources so that they would be better prepared if they or others were to face a similar situation again. Similarly, participants reported that it would be helpful if their employers had clearer policies and procedures about how to handle client suicide. Participants expressed a desire for agencies to provide policies and procedures (n = 34, 11%) and indicated that these policies should not focus solely on “pointing the finger” or assigning blame (n = 17, 5%) but on the emotional impact of the death on counselor wellness.
Discussion
Client suicide is a painful personal and professional experience for counselors (Ellis & Patel, 2012). Unfortunately, client suicide is not a rare occurrence for counselors (McAdams & Foster, 2000). For the purpose of our study, we examined how organizational and supervisory support might mitigate the impact of the client suicide on counselor well-being. We also examined the supports offered in various work environments and the perceived helpfulness of this outreach in counselor survivor coping.
Supervisory Support
Our first research question was related to the effect of supervisor and organizational support on the impact of client suicide on the counselor survivor. Based on our findings, stronger supervisor relationships seemed to help participants process their experience of client suicide. This may align with Knox et al. (2006), who suggested that negative interactions with supervisors can prohibit the counselor’s coping. Conversely, supportive supervisory interactions, such as those actions that address counselor survivors’ grief and loss experiences (e.g., accepting responses, openly discussing the loss and trauma, creation of a safe environment), could have a lasting impact on the counselor survivors’ recovery (Ellis & Patel, 2012). According to Broadbent (2013), supportive supervision assisted grieving counselors in experiencing greater empathy and connectedness within their future therapeutic relationships. Effective supervision included developing a safe place in which supervisees felt “heard and witnessed” and affirmed (Broadbent, 2013, p. 268).
We did not find supervisory relationships to have a significant impact on participants’ experience at the present. We suspect that one reason for the lack of impact of supervisory relationships on the current impact of events was that the grief and trauma may have changed and lessened over time, as evidenced by a dramatic reduction in mean scores between IES-Rp and IES-Rc (45 and 27 respectively). Similarly, other life events may have influenced the counselor survivors between the suicide of their client and the present which could serve to diminish the impact of the supervisory relationship on how participants perceived client suicide.
Implications for Mental Health Organizations
Surprisingly, we found no effect of organizational support and the impact of the event on counselor survivors. A number of questions from the SPOS were focused on the employee’s contribution, accomplishments, and effort. However, when coping with client suicide participants reported a desire for emotional care and support. Based on our quantitative data, the support participants perceived from agencies did not influence the IES scores, but participants’ qualitative responses revealed they valued agency responses that demonstrated support for the counselor as a person (e.g., additional counseling, empathy, debriefings related to the counselor’s experience).
Participants expressed a desire for agencies to treat them more holistically, and to recognize that they had experienced a trauma. Other researchers also indicated need for empathic support for the clinician following a client suicide. For example, Ellis and Patel (2012) expressed that “clinicians and supervisors should recognize the right (and responsibility) to engage in self-care activities following a client’s suicide” (p. 285). In contrast, our participants reported finding administrative responses focused on agency liability (e.g., chart audit, debriefings related to the actions of the counselor survivor) as unhelpful.
Nearly half of participants indicated that debriefings were helpful. Participant responses to open-ended questions indicated that debriefings were helpful when focused on the emotional experience of the event. In practice, agencies can work to enhance the debriefing procedures they use. The authors encourage agencies to carefully avoid blaming or finger pointing within debriefing procedures, as these responses often have deleterious effects on counselor survivors. Instead, agencies can provide an environment in which the client suicide can be discussed safely and openly, and offer an opportunity for learning and growth.
Despite relatively infrequent agency utilization, counselor survivors who received trainings related to suicide prevention reported these trainings as one of the most helpful responses to client suicide. Many participants reported not feeling prepared for a client suicide and a desire that their agency would have provided additional trainings that could have prepared them for the loss or helped them better respond to the suicidal client. Trainings may include a wide variety of topics such as factors to look for to recognize suicidal ideation, development of a concrete method of responding to expressions of suicidal ideation/intent, discussion of consultation practices, possible steps that a counselor may take when facing client suicidal ideation, when to explore hospitalization, and how to increase the network of people who know about the client’s suicidal ideations. Participants reported that increased trainings would heighten their self-efficacy in working with clients experiencing suicidal ideation, intent, and planning. Additional training may help counselors feel more prepared to work with suicidal clients and thereby reduce client suicide while also increasing the counselor’s feelings of competence (e.g., Ellis & Patel, 2012).
Training should not only include knowledge and skills, but also the development of appropriate attitudes around client suicide (Ellis & Patel, 2012; Michel, 1997). Considering the lack of self-efficacy identified by our participants in response to client suicide, when developing additional trainings, we suggest consideration of Bandura’s theory of self-efficacy which holds that mastery experiences, vicarious experiences, and verbal persuasion can be used to increase confidence (Bandura, 1986). Trainings developed with bolstering self-efficacy in mind can help counselors develop beliefs that they can effectively work with suicidal clients. Best practice indicates that trainings should occur after the counselor survivor has time to recover, whereas supportive resources to assist with grief reactions can be offered immediately following the event (Dransart et al., 2017).
Agencies and supervisors must develop a realistic sense of the extent and limits of a clinician’s responsibilities regarding client suicide (Ellis & Patel, 2012), but they must do so in an empathic manner. Our participants often reported feeling ill-prepared for client suicide, and then blamed, questioned, or challenged about their treatment of the client; this unempathetic response was prohibitive to counselor coping. Agencies and supervisors can instead offer more helpful supportive resources such as emotional debriefing, time off, and personal counseling, and then implement suicide prevention trainings to bolster self-efficacy after the counselor survivor has stabilized. Suicide prevention training is effective in preventing suicide and in reducing self-doubt and questioning when a suicide occurs (Dransart et al., 2017).
Suicide Response Policy
Over 50% of respondents shared that their agency did not have a formal policy of response to the counselor survivor. Although we found no effect of this lack of protocol on participants’ IES scores, participants from this study, along with researchers in other studies, have suggested that agency responses can be valuable supports to counselor survivors (e.g., Hendin et al., 2000; Michel, 1997; Ting et al., 2006). Counselor survivors in our study reported that organized and empathic agency responses were helpful for their recovery. We found that organizations that predominantly treat higher acuity cases (i.e., acute psychiatric) may be more likely to have a policy in place, perhaps because of the frequency of suicide. However, even agencies less likely to experience client suicide would benefit from a pre-planned agency response policy.
Although organizations and supervisors may have informal responses to counselor survivors and clinical teams, researchers (e.g., Michel, 1997; Ting et al., 2006) have argued that a formal policy can have some beneficial effects. Postvention is an organized response that provides “psychological support, crisis intervention and other forms of assistance” to survivors of suicide (Higher Education Mental Health Alliance, 2018, p. 6). Based on our findings, helpful formal postvention policies include debriefing of the counselor survivor’s emotional experience, suggested time off for self-care and personal counseling, and recommended follow-up trainings for handling future suicidality in clients.
Larger mental health treatment teams such as community mental health agencies or university counseling centers may develop a postvention team that creates a hierarchy and communication chain for informing appropriate parties (including the counselor survivor) in a timely and sensitive manner. Michel (1997) suggested this postvention should include tiered plans specific to staff levels (e.g., therapists, supervisors, administration) that take into consideration confidentiality and the professional closeness of the employee to the client. Thus, responses to those who work closely with the client (e.g., counselor survivors) may be different than to those who are more removed from the client (e.g., administration).
Beyond simply having an action plan, based on our findings and our literature review (e.g., Dransart et al., 2017), we believe that agencies should specifically focus on trainings conducted as preventative measures. Some trainings should include information on how to recognize factors that increase suicide risk among clients. Additional needed trainings may address how to respond to high-risk clients and clients who report suicidal ideations or intent.
Limitations and Future Research
Our study was a cross-sectional survey study; as such, we were only able to examine one point in time. We asked participants to reflect on their experiences of client suicide and how it impacted them at the time, as well as how they currently experienced the impact. The passage of time likely influenced participants’ memories of their traumatic experience and might have impacted our results. Because of these limitations, future longitudinal examination of the experience of client suicide may be warranted. Our low response rate, though acceptable based on the niche population (Dillman et al., 2014), and our use of convenience sampling inherently reduces the generalizability of our findings. We cannot claim that the counselors we found through this method are representative of all counselor survivors. As such, future research that can reach a more representative sample of counselors who have experienced a client suicide could be valuable in reproducing our findings.
There also may be some limitations with our scales. The IES-R scale was originally created to account for the impact of events as perceived within the last 7 days (Weiss & Marmar, 1997) and our use of the IES for recalling past experiences has limited supporting evidence. In addition, the SPOS scale may have been focused more on the organizational structure as opposed to the immediate working environment the counselor survivors faced. Although our findings are generally consistent with previous researchers (e.g., Ellis & Patel, 2012; Michel, 1997), they should be considered in light of these limitations.
Summary and Implications for Counseling
Our findings highlight client suicide as a traumatic event for counselor survivors and their subsequent desire for emotional support in the aftermath. Our results inform counselors and mental health agencies of ways they can provide an active and emotionally aware response that recognizes the impact of the event and the myriad of emotions the counselor survivor might be experiencing. Our findings especially indicate the need for counselors to receive supportive supervision (e.g., that supervisors are approachable, respectful, non-judgmental, and collaborative; Cliffe et al., 2016), as this seems to impact counselor survivors’ experience of client suicide. Our findings support the need for counselors to continue to take care of themselves, find support from others, and pursue their own counseling.
For community agencies, administrators, and supervisors, having an action plan detailing how the agency will respond to crises such as client suicide may increase the thoroughness of agency responses to affected individuals including the counselor survivor. The development of a crisis plan increases sensitivity and awareness, and contributes to the development of an institutional culture in which postvention after a client suicide is common practice. Considering the potential benefits of having an action plan, the number of respondents who suggested the agency where they are employed has no protocol or plan in place in the event of a client suicide is concerning. Recommended agency policies may include encouraging the counselor survivor to engage in personal counseling or take time off, or facilitating empathic debriefings and future suicide prevention trainings.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest
or funding contributions for the development
of this manuscript.
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Nathaniel J. Wagner, PhD, LMHC, is an assistant professor at Indiana State University. Colleen M. L. Grunhaus, PhD, NCC, ACS, LPC, is an assistant professor at the University of the Cumberlands. Victor E. Tuazon, PhD, NCC, LPC, is an assistant professor at New Jersey City University. Correspondence may be addressed to Nathaniel Wagner, 401 N. 7th Street, Terre Haute, IN 47809, nathaniel.wagner@indstate.edu.