A Supervisor’s Love Letter
by Brittany Burch, LCSW-S
There are many treasures in the work of a therapist: seeing a client make a meaningful discovery about themselves; witnessing a couple remember their love for each other; watching group members connect and transform pain into healing.
There isn’t a job I’d rather have – it truly is an honor and my life’s work.
But supervising brand new therapists-in-training and seeing them grow into skilled, thoughtful, clinically minded mental health providers is one of my greatest professional joys. I’ve supervised more than a handful of newly minted Licensed Masters in Social Work (LMSW) and supported them in their progress toward achieving their clinical license (LCSW). That M evolving into a C is more than just a feather in their cap; it’s evidence of discipline, persistence, and hard work well earned.
For two years or more, novice clinicians put in over 3,000 hours of clinical work, and 100+ hours of weekly supervision. I always ask my supervisees to tell me the moments they’re proud of (“my client had a breakthrough!”), and the things they’re afraid to tell me (“I said something insensitive to my client, how do I repair it?”). They get a lot of support and encouragement, and sometimes some tough love. Those tough love moments sting, but I try to soften it with antidotes of my own missteps along the imperfect road of being a therapist. It’s hard work and not for the faint of heart: it takes courage, endurance, vulnerability and persistence.
I take my role as a supervisor very seriously. My license is on the line when I supervise someone; I’m accountable to the licensing board of the State of Texas. Supervisors are gatekeepers to the profession, and I expect the highest level of professionalism. By the time I sign off on the supervision paperwork, I’m giving my “stamp of approval” that this once-novice clinician has learned enough, asked enough good questions, presented cases with enough clinical mindedness and demonstrated good clinical judgment that I trust them to go out on their own, unsupervised, and give the best quality care to their clients.
To fly the nest.
Today, one of my treasured supervisees, Corey Stork, LCSW, is doing just that. Corey asked me to be their supervisor back in June of 2024. Today we had our 104th - and final - supervision meeting. I have watched Corey grow from being a cautious new therapist to a confident, skilled and insightful clinician. A clinician who knows themself and their passion. They’ve managed challenging clients, taken risks in applying new skills (EMDR with trauma clients) and dove into the ever-challenging practice of couples therapy.
It’s a bittersweet day – I’m so proud of Corey, and I’m so sad to see them go. Corey is launching their own private practice, Moon Meadow Counseling, and opening their own office in Montrose. I haven’t a thread of doubt that Corey will build a thriving practice and continue to provide the best quality care to their clients. I’m sad that we won’t share a few unexpected moments in the office between sessions or see them sitting in the back patio waiting for their next client. I’ll even miss coming into the office, unaware that they’ve already arrived, and causing me an unintentional jump scare. I hate being scared, but I’ll even miss those.
Corey, you’ve worked hard to get here. And you have all the tools you need to take this next leap. You are going to fly and I’m so proud to watch you soar. Your clients are lucky to work with you. Your community is lucky to have you. And I’m lucky to know you.
I know this is not goodbye. It’s goodbye to my supervisee, and hello to my colleague, peer and friend. I value the perspective you have given me, your courage to nudge me into new, fresher ways to think through things, and your diligence in crossing your t’s and dotting your i’s. I am excited to come see your new office, and to celebrate the launch of Moon Meadow Counseling. While Autumn Counseling won’t be the same without you, our social work community is enhanced because of you.
Congratulations Corey, and bravo!
You got this.