March is Social Work Month, a time to honor the professionals who uplift, defend, and transform lives every day. This year, we’re celebrating by shining a light on the realities practitioners face and offering tools designed to give them something they rarely have; time.
We begin with a feature conversation with Veronica Edwards, Permanency Planning Social Work Supervisor for Mecklenburg County DSS. As we trace the steps of Veronica’s day, we see this year’s theme in action. She uplifts families, defends their needs, and works tirelessly to transform systems, all while navigating an intense time crunch and the invisible work behind the work.
It’s nearly 6:30 p.m. when Veronica finally pulls into her driveway. Her daughter has already decided she’s riding home with Dad, and Veronica sits in her garage for a moment, engine off, keys in hand, trying to breathe the day out of her body before she steps into her home life.
Today wasn’t supposed to be chaotic. But in child welfare, “supposed to” rarely counts for much.
8:00 a.m.: The Day Starts Without Warning
Before she even reaches the office, Veronica’s day tilts sideways. A court hearing unexpectedly pulls her into two hours of testimony and waiting. Traffic from an accident adds another hour. By the time she returns to her desk, the work she planned for the morning is already lost.
“I was supposed to staff cases with one of my social workers at 10,” she explains. “But I didn’t get back until 12:30. And by then a court summary was late, a child was out of placement, and everything had shifted.”
Court summaries aren’t just documents, they translate a child’s lived experience into clear, accurate information the court relies on to make decisions. They must be correct. Respectful. Professional. And on time. She takes this part of her job very seriously. She knows what it means for children and families. So, Veronica does what supervisors quietly do every day: she steps in.
Her social worker is out with a child in crisis, so Veronica completes the corrections and edits herself. It’s filed by 3:00 p.m.
The Invisible Work Behind the Work
There is the official job description and then there is the job.
There’s the unplanned transportation.
The foster parent who can’t leave work.
The school calling because a child is sick or suspended.
The endless phone calls, the coaching, the missing information you don’t know is missing until you’re staffing a case with a worker and find yourself in coach mode; encouraging them to ask the questions you learned were important from your experiences in the field:
Who are the foster parents’ supports?
Does their employer know they foster?
Can they pick a child up from school?
If this youth is aging out, who do they spend holidays with?
Which teachers or coaches are in their corner?
These aren’t questions you’ll find in a policy manual. They’re the invisible work that keeps children safe and stable. The uncredited mental load carried by social workers and supervisors everywhere.
The Weight of Leadership
Becoming a supervisor didn’t come quickly for Veronica. She applied for years, eventually stepping into leadership in 2024, after becoming a mother.
“They say everything happens for a reason. Maybe I didn’t get the job earlier because I wasn’t ready,” she says, laughing softly. “I think I needed to learn the patience motherhood forces you to develop.”
Now she’s the youngest supervisor in her department.
Leading a mostly new team.
Learning leadership while teaching it, simultaneously can be tough.
She’s still figuring out how to motivate, how to support, how to celebrate, how to coach through heartbreaks like disrupted placements or children sleeping in offices. Leadership, she’s learned, is not about having all the answers but about holding the space to explore solutions together.
The Personal Impact: Finding Oxygen in a Job That Requires Your Whole Self
Her commute is only eight minutes. Convenient, yes. But it also means something unexpected:
“I didn’t realize how much I depended on that car time to decompress until I didn’t have it,” she admits.
The Frozen soundtrack plays as she drives her daughter to daycare. Then she’s immediately at work; no transition, no buffer. In the evenings, the same. Straight from crisis management to pickup time, from policy decisions to princess dresses and snacks.
“I’m starting to feel the effects of the stress,” she admits. “I’m trying to find hobbies again. I’m taking time off for my birthday. I know I need space to breathe.”
She laughs when she says it, but the truth is palpable. The work is heavy. The responsibility is real. And she keeps showing up anyway; for her team and for the families and children.
Defining a “Good” Day
A good day isn’t glamorous. It’s not groundbreaking.
“A good day is when my whole wish list gets checked off,” she says.
Not a checklist, a wish list.
When nothing unexpected happens.
When things go according to the calendar.
When she gets to leave work at 4:30 or 5:00.
When dinner is already made.
When one of her favorite shows comes on.
Working in child welfare, stability…even for just one day is a gift.
The Why Behind the Work
When asked why she chose this profession, Veronica pauses. She has been asking herself that same question lately.
But then she remembers:
Her stepmother was a councilwoman and social worker.
Her mother has been a foster parent for years.
She grew up around service, advocacy, and caring for vulnerable people.
She’s lobbied on Capitol Hill, stood up for families, and always gravitated toward the voices that needed defending.
“This is the work I’ve always wanted to do,” she says quietly.
Even on days like this one.
Even on the days she questions it.
What Recognition Really Means
During Social Work Month, we talk a lot about appreciation. But Veronica says something deeper matters:
“I want to hear: I see you.
Not just ‘good job.’ But real recognition, specifically for the work people do that others don’t see.”
She practices this with her own team now, acknowledging each worker in the way that resonates with them individually.
“We celebrate everyone the same way, but not everyone feels celebrated the same way,” she explains. “Our staff deserve to feel seen.”
Uplift. Defend. Transform.
This year’s theme captures what social workers do every day, often quietly, often without witnesses:
They uplift children and families.
They defend the vulnerable.
They transform lives through persistence, advocacy, and compassion, one unexpected moment at a time.
Veronica’s story is one voice among thousands.
But it reflects the heart of an entire profession.
The work is demanding.
The days are unpredictable.
The stakes are high.
And still, social workers show up.
Every day.
For children.
For families.
For one another.
For us.