Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy, Vol. 2, No. 1, 20.docx

Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy, Vol. 2, No. 1,
2002, pp. 223--238
Home Street Home: The Interpersonal Dimensions
of Adolescent Homelessness
Matthew Paradise∗
University of North Carolina Greensboro
Ana Mari Cauce
University of Washington
This paper draws on the available literature, as well as
unpublished data, to
reconstruct the often chaotic early childhood experiences of
homeless adoles-
cents and to describe the problematic ways of relating that may
result from these
troubled life histories. We also examine the processes by which
homeless youth
become separated from their families, and we make connections
between socio-
emotional problems on the street and early neglect and abuse at
home. The risk-
amplification model is offered as a theoretically compelling
explanation of the
adolescent homeless experience, high rates of victimization on
the streets, and
mental health problems that arise out of these circumstances.
Finally, we present a
promising approach for intervening with homeless youth, one
that explicitly targets

this cycle of ineffective interpersonal relationships.
It is one of life’s true injustices that the children who are most
at risk for social,
emotional, and behavioral problems so often come from equally
vulnerable parents.
Young people with the greatest needs frequently grow up in
those families least
able to meet them, and this scenario has been played out in the
early years of many,
if not most, youth who end up on the street. It makes sense,
then, that Bowlby’s
(1944) earliest formulations about how family members relate to
one another, and
the problems that might result when these relationships were
unsuccessful, arose
out of observations and interviews with young people in trouble
with the law, a
population that shares many qualities with homeless and
runaway youth.
∗ Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed
to: Matthew Paradise, Department of
Psychology, Box 26164, UNCG, Greensboro, NC 27402-6164.
[e-mail: matthew [email protected]].
This work was supported by grant R01AA10253 to Professor
Cauce from the National Institute
on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism.
223
C© 2002 The Society for the Psychological Study of Social
Issues

224 Paradise and Cauce
There have been surprisingly few studies focusing specifically
on the so-
cial lives of homeless young people, but the high prevalence of
mental health
problems in this population has been well documented (see
Cauce, Paradise,
Embry, Ryan, Lohr, Theofilis, Sy, Morgan, & Wagner, 1998;
Robertson & Toro,
1999, for more complete reviews). Put simply, the research
suggests that emo-
tional disorders, conduct problems, and suicidal ideation are
widespread among
homeless adolescents (Feitel, Margetson, Chamas, & Lipman,
1992; Yoder, 1999;
Yoder, Hoyt & Whitbeck 1998). For example, Cauce and her
colleagues (1994)
looked at street-involved youth using structured diagnostic
interviews and found
that approximately two-thirds met criteria for at least one DSM
III-R diagno-
sis. Among these, conduct disorder was most prevalent, present
in close to half
the sample. Attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder and
depression were also
common and about a fifth of all youth met criteria for at least
one of these
disorders. In this same project, participants’ responses to items
from the Child
Behavior Checklist (Achenbach, 1991) supported these trends.
About half of
the homeless youth scored above “borderline” or “clinical
concern” cutoffs (the
95th and 98th percentiles in normative samples) for

externalizing or internalizing
disorders.
In the present effort, we argue that the emotional and behavioral
problems that
characterize so many homeless youth result from an interaction
between individual
vulnerability and environmental risk. We also believe that
family is central here,
and that a young person’s leaving home is frequently part of a
process of familial
disintegration that begins in early childhood. The link between
vulnerability and
risk becomes concretized early on in a pattern of negative
interactions between
parent and child. The resulting difficulties in family
relationships persist into ado-
lescence and eventually manifest in the young person’s leaving
or being expelled
from home. As Rothman notes, “runaway behavior is a complex,
multifaceted
phenomenon, that at its heart, implicates a failure in the family
relational system”
(1989). Consequently, the phenomenon of teen homelessness
sheds light on what
can happen when this central relationship, the bond between the
individual and his
or her family, breaks down.
To this end, we have drawn upon the available research to
reconstruct the
often chaotic early childhood experiences of these youth, and
we follow with a
description of some of the problematic ways of relating that
may result from these
life experiences. We then examine the processes by which youth

become sepa-
rated from their families, an event that typically leaves them
vulnerable to further
exploitation and abuse. Finally, we present a model that
connects an individual
youth’s troubled familial relationship with problematic
relationships on the street
and with mental health problems more generally. We conclude
with a discus-
sion of a promising approach for breaking this cycle of
ineffective interpersonal
relationships.
Interpersonal Dimensions of Adolescent Homelessness 225
Prevalence and Types of Homeless/Runaway Youth
In the last decade, there has been an increased appreciation
among researchers,
policy makers, and the general public that teenagers are leaving
home with alarming
frequency. Reliable estimates of the prevalence of adolescent
homelessness have
been difficult to obtain, but the most recent and rigorous
attempt, drawn from a
nationally representative sample of nearly 6,500 youth aged 12
to 17, indicated that
about 5%—or more than a million youth nationwide—were, at
some point, home-
less during a 12-month period (Ringwalt, Greene, Robertson,
and McPheeters,
1998). This included adolescents who had stayed in shelters, but
not those who
had stayed in other places commonly associated with

homelessness, such as public
parks, bus stations, or a friend’s or acquaintance’s residence.
Consequently, this
number likely underestimates the true magnitude of the
problem. Less conservative
estimates put the number at 1.5 million or more (National
Network of Runaway
and Youth Services, Inc., 1985; U.S. Department of Health and
Human Services,
1986).
Nonetheless, the research base on homeless and runaway youth
is quite lim-
ited, and street youth are the least understood group within a
broader homeless
population that is itself understudied (Rotheram-Borus,
Koopman & Ehrhardt,
1991). The bulk of this literature describes the various problems
associated with
the homeless experience itself, and studies that examine the
quality of homeless-
youth relationships, on or off the streets, are scarce. Efforts
aimed at tying
these factors into a theoretical perspective are even more rare.
Thus, in addition
to drawing upon published research, in this article we
frequently draw
upon unpublished data in two studies we have conducted in
recent
years.
The first, the Seattle Homeless Adolescent Research Project
(SHARP), was
conducted at the University of Washington in conjunction with
the Washington
State Department of Mental Health and with YouthCare, Inc., a

provider of ser-
vices to homeless youth (Cauce et al., 1994, 1998). SHARP
sought to provide
a better understanding of the background characteristics and
mental health sta-
tus of homeless teens and to evaluate the effectiveness of two
strategies for case
management with these youth. Some 354 homeless youth drawn
from local social
service agencies were included in this effort. The second study,
the Seattle Home-
less Adolescent Research and Education Study (SHARE), a
follow-up to the first
study, looked more closely at youth victimization, substance
use, and the relation-
ship between family history and life on the streets. Three
hundred seventy-two
young people participated in the second study, many of them
recruited directly off
the streets or from areas frequented by street youth. Both
studies were short-term
longitudinal, with youths interviewed every 3 or 4 months for
between 12 and
18 months.
Early Childhood: Vulnerability Meets Insufficiency
Whether caused by genetic predisposition, poor prenatal care, or
complica-
tions during birth, there is a growing body of evidence that
many homeless youth
enter childhood “hard-wired” for behavior and attention

problems. A yearlong ef-
fort, arising out of the SHARP study, provided psychological
testing for homeless
adolescents in YouthCare’s school program. While the total
number of youths as-
sessed was small, a few shy of 30, nearly every participant
demonstrated some sort
of learning disability, as evidenced by unusual performance
patterns on standard
IQ tests. The results implicated difficulties sustaining attention
and controlling
impulses, as well as gaps in previous learning, as primary
deficits, but other more
subtle difficulties were present as well. Youths themselves often
reported having
trouble at school for as long as they could remember. Parents of
homeless teens
concur, noting that their children had problems paying
attention, sitting still, or
regulating their emotions from earliest childhood.
Given the many factors that might contribute to such deficits,
the evidence
that these problems, or their underlying causes, were present at
birth or in early
childhood is far from conclusive. Still, homeless adolescents’
developmental histo-
ries typically reveal emotional instability and substance use
problems remarkably
similar to those described in the literature on families where
mothers and infants
did not receive adequate levels of pre-natal care or were
medically compromised in
some other way. Infants from these kinds of families are
characterized by irritable
temperaments and go on to have more difficulty eliciting the

type of nurturance
necessary for optimal bonding and attachment (Moffitt, 1993).
Because parents’
own emotional responding is, at least in part, contingent on
their child’s ability
to reciprocate affection, it can be hard for a parent to develop
warm and loving
feelings towards a difficult infant. Cuddly babies, by definition,
elicit cuddling.
Fussy babies make for frustrated parents. When caretakers are
already stressed,
frustration can readily turn to anger or detachment, feeding the
cycle of negativity
and conflict that characterizes the path to adolescent
homelessness.
For children who enter the world without such innate
vulnerabilities, sim-
ilar deficits may be engendered by an early family life
characterized by vari-
ous combinations of conflict and violence, parental instability
and substance use,
and overly harsh parenting or neglect. The bulk of early
literature on homeless
youth, based on surveys of social service providers and youth in
shelters (e.g.,
Greenblatt & Robertson, 1993), suggested that many homeless
teens come from
exactly these types of homes (Janus, McCormack, Burgess, &
Hartman, 1987;
National Network, 1985; Rothman & Davis, 1985; Shaffer &
Caton, 1984). More
recent studies—including the SHARP and SHARE projects,
which have recruited
young people directly off the streets as well as from social
service agencies—

reinforce these early findings and demonstrate that chaotic
family histories char-
acterize homeless youth on the street as well.
Over half of SHARP participants report that their parents had
substance abuse
problems, and about three-quarters report that either their
mother or father had
experienced problems with the law. The reported rates of both
substance abuse
and legal problems were higher for mothers than for fathers,
although this is likely
the product of homeless youth having more contact with
mothers, since fewer than
half of these young people report living with fathers past the
first six years of
life (Cauce et al., 1998). From a relational standpoint, however,
the difficulties
experienced by mothers is especially meaningful because of the
central role that
mother-infant bonding plays in the formation of secure
attachment.
In the follow-up to the SHARP study, a similar pattern of
impaired parent-
child relationships was apparent. About a third of participants
from the SHARE
project indicated that their home was unstable during the first
six years of their
life. A comparable number of respondents indicated that their
primary caregiver—
the person who took care of them most often while growing

up—had abused
alcohol or drugs, or had been arrested at least once. Many also
reported that
this primary caregiver had spent time in jail or prison. Such
parental problems
frequently translate into poor parenting, emotional distance, and
a lack of support.
More than a third of SHARE youth indicated that their primary
caregiver rarely
talked with them about what was going on in their lives and was
too busy to
do things with them. Not surprisingly, then, a large number of
youth reported that
their primary caregiver often didn’t even know when they were
away from home.
Just over half of SHARE youth indicated that their caregiver
was unhappy with
the things that he or she did. And, perhaps most tellingly, half
of the respondents
indicated that their parent or caregiver didn’t understand them
or where they were
coming from. It is clear that instead of feeling supported or
cared for, youth headed
for homelessness report alienation, apathy, and neglect from the
very adults who
were supposed to be responsible for them.
The corrosive nature of parent-child relationships in the homes
of many home-
less teens is best described by two recent studies that are
notable for their method-
ological rigor. The first compared the family environments of
homeless youth
recruited through shelters in Detroit with a comparison group of
housed youth.
Despite the close match on a variety of background and

demographic variables,
homeless youth were found to differ from the housed group on
virtually every
measure of family functioning examined. The nature of the
difference was, as
expected, always in the direction that suggested more
dysfunction and instability
and less warmth and support. More specifically, reports from
homeless adoles-
cents indicated that, compared to controls, their parents were
less affectionate
toward them, they were more often victims of parental
maltreatment, and their
parents were more violent toward each other (Wolfe, Toro, &
McCaskill, 1999;
McCaskill, Toro, & Wolfe, 1998).
An even more detailed look at family dysfunction is outlined in
the work of
Whitbeck and colleagues (Whitbeck, Hoyt, & Ackley, 1997a,
1997b; Whitbeck &
Hoyt, 1999). In a series of studies including more than 500
runaway and homeless
youth from small, medium, and large cities in the country’s
heartland, Whitbeck and
his associates found that most youth felt their caretakers had
neglected them. More
disturbingly, many youth also reported that these caregivers
threw things at them,
pushed or grabbed them, slapped them, or even hit them with an
object. Youth and

caretaker responses to standardized questionnaires assessing
rejection, warmth,
support, and parenting underscore the dysfunction that so often
characterizes these
homes. Homeless youth and their caretakers scored higher on
measures of rejection
than matched samples of youth and parents. Parents and
caretakers of homeless
youth in this study also scored lower on measures of
monitoring, suggesting that
they did not keep track of where their children were or set clear
limits on their
behavior. Finally, homeless and runaway youth noted lower
levels of warmth and
support than housed youth, and reports from caretakers were in
line with these
trends as well (Whitbeck & Hoyt, 1999).
Perhaps most compelling is the fact that the powerful
relationship between
adolescent homelessness and family dysfunction in Whitbeck’s
research was evi-
dent in both youth and caretaker reports. This cross-informant
agreement indicates
that deficits in parenting and home life do not exist simply in
the eyes of the young
people. Rather, the convergence between reports from homeless
young people and
their parents speaks to the extent and pervasiveness of the
problems experienced
by many of these families (Whitbeck et al. 1997b; Whitbeck &
Hoyt, 1999). The
absence of parental accounts of family environment had been a
potential source of
bias and a significant methodological weakness in previous
studies of homeless

youth, and this work represents an important step forward in
understanding the
role of family environment in a young person’s leaving home.
Whitbeck’s research also provides the best insight so far on the
dynamics that
characterize these families, and it establishes a clear link
between substance use,
conflict, and violence. Approximately half the youth in one
study stated that a
parent’s alcohol or drug use led directly to arguments between
themselves and the
caretaker, which then resulted in violence directed toward them.
A similar per-
centage of caretakers reported that their substance use resulted
in more arguments
with their children and in their children witnessing more violent
confrontations.
Almost a quarter of the caretakers admitted that their substance
use led to violence
directed specifically toward the youth (Whitbeck & Hoyt,
1999).
Leaving Home: The Family Disintegrates
Adolescent homelessness is frequently depicted in books,
movies, and tele-
vision as having resulted from a single explosive confrontation,
a conflict about
house rules, drugs, or sexual behavior. And, in some cases, a
young person’s leaving
home is sparked by a specific fight. Nonetheless, the typical
path into homeless-
ness, while often punctuated by violence and conflict, is far
more often marked

by a heterogeneous dissolution process, one that involves a
variety of factors and
that typically occurs over an extended period of time.
Several authors have attempted to create a typology of youth
based on the
reasons they left home and, most recently, Rothman (1989,
1991) outlined five
dynamics that fuel adolescent homelessness. These include: (1)
a desire to “find
oneself ” (Adams & Munro, 1979); (2) conflict with parents
(Adams & Munro,
1979; Blood & D’Angelo, 1974; Gullotta, 1978); (3) a response
to detrimental
home conditions and a need for control over their lives
(Brennan, Huizinga, &
Elliott, 1978); (4) the search for a more compatible value
system and a search for
meaning (Adams & Munro, 1979; Reilly, 1978); and (5)
psychopathology (Reilly,
1978; Kratcoski, 1974).
Although typologies such as these have proven clinically useful
over the years,
the actual number of homeless young people who fall into each
of these categories
has been in dispute. For instance, current research offers scant
evidence that any
substantial number of youth leave home out of the kind of
search for meaning
suggested by Rothman (1989). To the contrary, there is a great
deal of evidence

that the bulk of today’s homeless youth have left home due to
familial conflict,
crisis, or inadequate support in the home.
Across a number of recent studies, the most frequent reasons
youth give for
leaving home are family disagreement and conflict. More
specifically, parental
drug and alcohol use, family violence, neglect, and abuse are
frequently cited by
homeless young people as reasons for their departure
(Robertson & Toro, 1999).
One of the most methodologically rigorous examinations of this
topic analyzed
the actual antecedents to running away. Results indicated that
an unstable family
environment, specifically one characterized by abrupt changes
in family structure,
neglect, or sexual abuse, was especially predictive of a young
person’s running
away from home (Yoder, Whitbeck, & Hoyt, 1999).
It is important to note, however, that because researchers most
often ask youths
why they left home, this does not mean the decision to do so
was in fact their
own. Data gathered from homeless adolescent populations in
cities as diverse as
Detroit, San Francisco, Des Moines, Lincoln, Neb., and
Seattle—with samples that
included youth in shelters as well as on the street—demonstrate
that between a
quarter and two-thirds of homeless youth do not make the
decision alone (Kennedy,
1991; Robertson & Toro, 1999). In the SHARP study, for
instance, only one-third

of all youths indicated that the decision to leave home was their
own. Another
third said they had been kicked out of the home by their parents
or caretakers, and
about one-fifth reported that authorities had removed them. The
remainder were
either abandoned or had left as a result of a mutual decision
between themselves
and their parents (MacLean, Embry, & Cauce, 1999).
Moreover, a young person’s running away rarely marks the final
disintegration
of the family, functional or otherwise. To the contrary, the bulk
of youth who run
away from home return within a week and do not become
homeless or spend
significant amounts of time on their own. Even hardened street
youth, those who
have spent months or even years on their own, often attempt to
reunite, sometimes
successfully, with the families they left. In the SHARE study,
for instance, a
small (about 5%) but meaningful group of young people was
clearly identified
as homeless (i.e., no stable residence), but had spent some part
of the week prior
to their research interview living with their parents. Over three-
quarters of the
sample had previously left home and returned at least once, and
close to one-
third had cycled between home and the streets six or more

separate times. Young
people on their own appear to maintain a surprising amount of
contact with their
adult caregivers, and for many of them, hitting the streets is a
way to manage or
moderate, rather than terminate, a troubled relationship with
their family.
Life on the Streets: From the Frying Pan into the Fire
Most accounts of life on the streets for young people quickly
overwhelm ro-
mantic notions about freedom, independence, and the runaway
experience. Instead
of broadening their horizons and exploring the country by
hitchhiking or jumping
trains, runaway and homeless youth typically remain close to
home, quite often
living in the same city as their parents or guardians. When they
do roam, it is
more often in search of a safe place to stay than out of a sense
of adventure. Data
from the SHARP study revealed that, on average, youth changed
their permanent
“residence” every 45 days (Cauce et al., 1998), but that most
homeless youth cycle
more rapidly among a few recurring living situations. Although
reports vary from
study to study, the most common places for homeless youth to
stay include shelters
or hostels, friends’ or relatives’ homes, squats in abandoned
buildings, or on the
street itself (Cauce et al., 1998; McCarthy & Hagan, 1992).
There has yet to be a close examination of specific patterns of
shelter-seeking

among street youth, but observations from SHARP and SHARE
suggest that in
many cases, youth attempt to stay with relatives or friends first,
but eventually
exhaust already tenuous support networks and overstay their
welcome. For the most
troubled adolescents, this may happen quite quickly. Young
males seem to deplete
these resources most rapidly because the kinds of externalizing
behaviors in which
they are likely to engage appear to take the greatest toll on
fragile relationships.
As these support networks break down, life on the streets
becomes increasingly
likely for these troubled youth.
For many young people, the pattern of troubled relationships,
abuse, and
exploitation that precipitated their homelessness is only made
worse by leaving
home. Homeless adolescents are ready targets for exploitation
from both adults
and peers, and the literature makes clear that street youth are
frequently victims
of physical and sexual assault (Cauce et al., 1998; Greenblatt &
Robertson, 1993;
Whitbeck et al., 1997a; Yates et al. 1998). Approximately half
of the street youth
interviewed in a Los Angeles study said they feared being
sexually or physically
assaulted, shot, or stabbed (Kipke, Montgomery, Simon, &

Unger, 1997). In a sam-
ple of New York street youth, about a fifth had been robbed,
physically assaulted,
or sexually assaulted within their first 100 days on the street
(Rotheram-Borus,
Rosario, & Koopman, 1991). In another survey of homeless
youth in the Midwest,
between one-fifth and one-third said they had been beaten up,
robbed, or propo-
sitioned for sexual favors since living on their own, and more
than 10% of the
girls reported that they had been raped (Whitbeck & Hoyt,
1999). The dangers
associated with adolescent street life are both substantial and
widespread.
There is some evidence that early victimization at home may
actually play
an important role in priming a youth for abuse and exploitation
on the streets.
Whitbeck and Hoyt (1999) found, for example, that young
women who had been
sexually abused by a caretaker at home were twice as likely to
be sexually revic-
timized on the streets than homeless young women who had not
been abused. Still,
Whitbeck maintains that a young person’s current living
situation plays a key role
in translating this risk into reality and that such situational
factors are, in fact, the
more proximal cause of abuse and exploitation.
In a multisite study of almost 1,000 street youth and including
SHARE par-
ticipants (Whitbeck, Hoyt, Yoder, Cauce & Paradise, 1999),
participation in non-

sexual-deviant subsistence strategies, such as dealing drugs,
was found to more
than double the likelihood of physical victimization even after
controlling for fac-
tors like sexual or physical maltreatment at home. On the other
hand, participating
in subsistence strategies of a sexual nature, like trading sex for
money or food, in-
creased the likelihood of sexual victimization almost fourfold.
Again, behavior on
the streets appears to be the conduit through which the risks
associated with early
maltreatment are conveyed. This is especially problematic given
that homeless
youth have few options for self-support using conventional
means.
In today’s society, where youth and sexuality have become
virtual commodi-
ties, many homeless teens find that their bodies are their most
serviceable assets.
Whether they are looking for food, money, drugs, or simply a
place to stay for the
night, an unfortunate number of street youths trade sexual
favors in order to sustain
themselves (Silbert & Pines, 1981). In studies of street youth in
New York City and
Los Angeles, for example, between a third and a half reported
trading sex to meet
at least one of their basic needs (Rotheram-Borus, Meyer-
Bahlburg, Koopman,
Rosario, Exner, Henderson, Matthieu, & Gruen, 1992; Kipke et
al, 1997). Be-
tween a quarter and a third of the clients at a Hollywood health
clinic that served
street youth reported engaging in this kind of subsistence sex

(Yates et al, 1988)
and a third of a Toronto street youth sample admitted to
prostitution (McCarthy &
Hagan, 1992). Sex, it seems, is often simply a way for a
homeless youth to get by.
Even larger numbers of homeless teens engage in deviant
subsistence strate-
gies that don’t involve sex. In one sample of street youth from
the Midwest, about
a third of the young men admitted to stealing, with a quarter
reporting they had
broken into a house or store to do so. Almost half of these
homeless young men sold
drugs, as did almost a third of the young women (Whitbeck &
Hoyt, 1999). Close
to three-quarters of street youth in a Toronto study reported that
they had com-
mitted at least one serious theft since leaving home (McCarthy
& Hagan, 1992).
Again, this kind of delinquency appears to be disturbingly
widespread among
young people who leave home.
Subsistence, simply finding a place to stay or food to eat, does
appear to be a
key motivating factor in theft and similar activities. Whitbeck
(1999) reports that
homeless youth are more likely to steal food when they are
hungry or to engage in
other kinds of theft when they don’t have a place to stay, and

youth who can not
find other jobs are more likely to engage in prostitution.
Nonetheless, adolescents
who have experienced problems at home or were part of
delinquent peer groups
before leaving home, are substantially more likely to be
involved in theft while on
the streets than those who come from less troubled backgrounds.
In the end, the nature of homeless youths’ involvement in
illegal activities is
best explained when past experience and current life
circumstances are brought
together. McCarthy and Hagan note, “A key to this integration
is a focus on aver-
sive conditions at home and in school because taking to the
street and subsequent
criminal activity are often responses to successive and causally
linked aversive
conditions, for example, when parental abuse and neglect at
home lead to youths’
taking to the streets” (1992, p. 624). Indeed, many of the factors
that best predict
ending up on the streets, such as harsh parental discipline, are
also highly predictive
of falling into the kind of situations that put a youth at risk for
criminal activity
after leaving home.
Putting the Pieces Together: A Risk Amplification Model
As we have noted repeatedly, the last two decades have given
rise to increas-
ingly sophisticated descriptions of the homeless youth
experience. We suspect that
these young people often enter the world with innate

vulnerabilities, and we know
that they frequently grow up in troubled families, where
parental substance abuse,
family conflict, and violence are common. Regardless of
whether they chose to
leave, were kicked out by parents, or were removed by the state,
many of these
young people were abused at home, either physically, sexually,
or both. Once on
the streets, homeless youth make ends meet by a variety of
means that, for many,
include illegal activities. We also know that they experience a
myriad of mental
health problems both prior to leaving and while on their own.
Still, theory that
pieces together these disparate parts has, to this point, remained
elusive.
Whitbeck and colleagues (Whitbeck et al., 1997a; Whitbeck,
Hoyt, & Yoder,
1999) offer one especially noteworthy exception in recent work.
Drawing from
research in developmental psychology and sociology, as well as
from their exten-
sive observations of runaway and homeless youth in the
Midwest and Northwest,
they have developed a theoretically rich model that ties together
early family
environment, subsequent participation in deviant behavior,
victimization on the
streets, and psychopathology. Their risk-amplification model is,

at its heart, a
narrative effort that traces the path between family problems,
homelessness, psy-
chopathology and risky behavior. The various problems that
characterize the early
family lives of so many homeless youth, namely high levels of
family conflict
and parental substance use, result in violence and abuse. These,
in turn, result
in a youth making his or her way, whether by choice or
expulsion, to the street
and, more importantly, result in his or her remaining there. In
the same way,
the scarce interpersonal resources that often characterize young
people who end
up on the street make them likely to fall in with a deviant peer
group once
there.
In an early version the model, Whitbeck and Simons (1990)
argued that physi-
cal and sexual abuse at home predisposes an individual youth to
both homelessness
and subsequent victimization. Here, the link between childhood
abuse and later
exploitation is magnified by homelessness. Abuse, leaving
home, and other neg-
ative life events propel an individual further along a trajectory
of increasing risk.
Each step along this trajectory makes subsequent victimization
more likely. More
recently, Whitbeck and Hoyt (1999) traced developmental
trajectories in the lives
of homeless youth more directly, describing a cycle that begins
with parental prob-
lems and ends with elevated rates of internalizing, including

symptoms associated
with depression and post traumatic stress disorder.
This model has received empirical support both cross-
sectionally (Whitbeck,
Hoyt, & Yoder, 1999; Whitbeck & Hoyt, 1999) and
prospectively on samples of
youth from the Midwest and from the SHARP effort described
above (Whitbeck,
Hoyt, Yoder, Cauce & Paradise, 1999). The path to adolescent
homelessness out-
lined in this model makes clear that leaving home is rarely an
individual pursuit.
Rather, the developmental histories of many homeless youth
make it evident that
family problems (e.g., poor parenting or familial abuse),
difficulties forming re-
lationships, and involvement with deviant peers are central, if
not essential, to a
young person’s ending up on his or her own.
The End Product: Social Networks
Surprisingly little empirical work has been done on the social
lives of street
youth, but it is evident that once on the street, youth congregate
in groups that are
differentiated by degrees of involvement in deviant activities
(Kipke, Montgomery,
Simon, & Unger, 1997). Although affiliation with deviant peer
groups on the street
is often a simple continuation of the types of association that a
young person
had before leaving home (Hagan & McCarthy, 1997), these
groups often exert
tremendous pressure on a youth to engage in unsafe activities,

including substance
use and unprotected sex, that may be especially dangerous on
the streets (Ennett,
Bailey, & Federman, 1999; Kipke et al., 1997). Unchecked by
parental control or
adult supervision, this pressure is particularly intense for a
young person living on
his or her own.
It is important, however, to acknowledge that peers on the street
often play a
dual role in the life of a homeless adolescent. They are
undoubtedly sources of risk,
but can also supply nurturance and support. Individuals who
provide services to
homeless youth describe close networks or “street families” that
provide physical
and emotional assistance as well as protection from the many
dangers that accom-
pany street life. In describing these networks, youth often refer
to street-siblings
or street-parents as the people they are most likely to count on
during times of
need (Hagan & McCarthy, 1997; Whitbeck & Hoyt, 1999). In
the course of inter-
views with street youth in the SHARP and SHARE projects,
research staff heard
countless stories about the ways in which homeless youth
shared food, money, and
whatever else they had with members of these street families.
The importance of

sharing seems to be one of the most fundamental values of
people who live on the
street.
The paradoxical effect of peer involvement on the street was
well illustrated in
a recent study that looked at the role of social support networks
in the development
of depressive symptoms among homeless and runaway youth. In
this effort, overall
availability of peer social networks was associated with
instrumental and emotional
support and, in turn, with decreased depressive affect.
Nonetheless, youth who were
involved specifically with a deviant peer group, perhaps the
same one that provided
material support, evidenced increased depressive symptoms
(Bao, Whitbeck, &
Hoyt, 1999). Friendship on the streets can be a double-edged
sword; the very same
peers a homeless young person might rely on in times of need
are also those most
apt to expose the youth to risk and victimization.
A Look Toward the Future: What We Can Do to Help
The magnitude and variety of the problems associated with
adolescent home-
lessness are undeniable, yet relatively little is known about the
long-term prospects
for a person who ends up living on his or her own as a teenager.
Robertson and
Toro (1999) offer a brief overview of the research on this topic,
but acknowledge
that the literature on this topic is especially thin. While
methodological rigor is the

exception rather than the rule here, the available evidence
indicates that there is a
strong association between adolescent homelessness and
problems in adulthood.
These include increased involvement in the justice system,
employment problems,
and social isolation (Hagan & McCarthy, 1997).
It makes sense, given that these youths’ histories are so often
marked by
failed relationships in the family, that the only empirically
validated intervention
to address mental health problems in homeless youth hinges on
the development
of another relationship. More specifically, case-management
services, provided
by a supportive and interested adult, appear to make a real
difference in the
day-to-day functioning of these young people. Moreover, those
homeless adoles-
cents who received intensive and targeted case management in
the SHARP study,
in contrast to youth who received case-management services
already offered in
the community, evidenced better rates of improvement over a
three-month period
(Cauce et al., 1994).
The specific components of this approach are described
elsewhere (Cauce
et al., 1994; Cauce, Paradise, Ginzler, Embry, Morgan, Lohr, &

Theofolis, 2000),
but the program emphasizes a close, guardian-like relationship
between the case
manager and the homeless youth. A year after becoming
involved in the study,
participants in the intensive case-management condition showed
improvements
over baseline on measures of both mental health and behavioral
functioning. Girls
receiving intensive case management did particularly well and
showed lower rates
of re-victimization on the streets than those receiving case
management as usual
(Ryan, Kilmer, Cauce & Hoyt, in press). The effectiveness of
this approach speaks
to the protective nature of a concerned and committed adult for
these young people,
and when such relationships occur in the context of a sensitive
intervention, they
appear to serve a protective function and afford the potential to
break the cycle of
victimization that is so prevalent among kids on the street.
Despite the promise of case management as an effective tool for
helping
these young people, it would be insincere to end on an
optimistic note. The lives
of many street youth are so impoverished, so unhappy, and so
dangerous that
those who study or work with them are almost inevitably
affected emotionally.
Although SHARP and SHARE interviewers reported that they
enjoyed their work
and appreciated the many strengths in these youths, the work
was, at times, difficult
and distressing (Cauce & Lohr, 1997). With few exceptions,

these are youth who
have had little respite from the trouble and chaos outlined in
this article. For
many, homelessness is simply the most recent stop on a
tremendously difficult
ride through life.
A great deal of attention has been paid to the impact of extra-
familial influences
on adolescent development in recent years. It has been argued
that cultural factors
like movies, music, or video games may play a greater role than
family life or
parenting in the initiation of adolescent problem behaviors. Our
experience with
homeless teens suggests that those who dispute the critical role
of parents in the
lives of adolescents (e.g., Harris, 1995) have likely not spent
much time with
young people who have become physically and emotionally
disconnected from
their parents. A legacy of family violence, conflict, and neglect
is not readily
escaped, even by leaving home.
It is imperative to recognize, then, that adolescent homelessness
represents a
failure of our society on multiple levels—social, political, and
economic. Young
people who end up living on their own also represent a profound
moral breakdown:
a collective inability to understand that we are unconditionally
responsible for our
youth and, through them, for our families. The failure may, in
most cases, begin

with parents, but it ends with all of us. The growing trend in
America toward
making young people more accountable for their actions (e.g.,
the rapid erosion
of a separate and rehabilitative system of juvenile justice) has
not been matched
by a similar push to make society accountable for its
disenfranchised youth. It is
time to acknowledge, then, that adults are key players in the
genesis of adolescent
homelessness, and it will be adults who must learn to
effectively intervene.
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Paradise, M. (1999). Deviant behavior
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comparison of homeless and matched housed
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MATTHEW PARADISE is an Assistant Professor in the
Department of Psychol-
ogy at the University of North Carolina Greensboro and also
serves on the faculty
of the Center for Developmental Science at UNC Chapel Hill.
Dr. Paradise fo-
cuses his research on adolescents and young adults at-risk for
psychopathology,
as well as on the connection between mental health and
substance use across time.
He is also concerned with the roles of family and community in
the genesis of

maladaptive behavior and with community-based strategies for
intervention.
ANA MARI CAUCE is presently the Earl R. Carlson Professor
in the Department
of Psychology at the University of Washington. She has a joint
appointment in
the Department of American Ethnic Studies and is also director
of the University
of Washington Honors Program. Dr. Cauce is particularly
interested in normative
and non-normative development in ethnic minority youth and in
at-risk youth in
general.
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Corrections in the Community.
© 2011, Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. 197
C h a p t e r 7
… A parole officer can be seen going off to his/her appointed
rounds

with Freud in one hand and a .38 Smith and Wesson in the other
hand.
It is by no means clear that Freud is as helpful as the .38 in
most areas
where parole officers venture … Is Freud backup to the .38? Or
is the
.38 carried to support Freud?
—David Fogel
As Fogel (McCleary, 1978) succinctly indicates, the role of the
probation or
parole officer (PO)1 has traditionally been viewed as a
dichotomy (American
Correctional Association, 1995). The supervision role involves
maintain-
ing surveillance (societal protection) over as well as helping or
treating the
offender (counseling, rehabilitation, reintegration). Community
supervi-
sion officers are often left to their own devices with regard to
which role
would be most appropriate in supervising their caseloads
(Figure 7.1). This
dilemma is likely to remain with us even though calls from
several quarters
of the criminal justice system point toward impending changes
in the role
Roles of Probation and Parole Officers
conditions of probation
investigation
proactive supervision
protective officer

restorative justice
surveillance
welfare officer
punitive officer
Key terms
1Throughout this chapter, when the abbreviation PO is utilized,
it is meant to designate both
probation and parole officers. Their views with regard to their
role, as well as the dilemmas that they
face, are related so intimately that this abbreviation will not
misrepresent the opinions, findings, and
conclusions of the various authors.
F
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6
9
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S
C h a p t e r 7 : roles of probation and parole Officers198
of the supervising officer (Bonta, Rugge, Scott, Bourgon, &
Yessine, 2008;
Reinventing Probation Council, 2001; Taxman & Byrne, 2001;
Trotter, 1999).
This chapter describes and outlines the boundaries of this role
conflict as it
has developed over time, the problems associated with it, and
the responsi-
bilities of probation and parole agencies.
respONsIBILItIes OF prOBatION aND parOLe
aGeNCIes
To begin, it is necessary to examine what duties and
responsibilities are held
in common by probation and parole agencies. O’Leary (1974)
has argued
that parole resembles probation in several ways. With both,
information is
gathered and presented to a decision-making authority (either a
judge or a
parole board). This authority has the power to release (parole)
or suspend
the sentence (probation) of the offender. In turn, the liberty that
the offender
enjoys is subject to certain conditions that are imposed by the
decision-making
authority. If these conditions are not obeyed, the offender may
be sentenced,
or returned, to prison.

However, parole differs from probation in distinct ways. The
offender on
parole has served a portion of his or her sentence in a
correctional facility. The
decision to release the offender from prison is usually an
administrative one,
made by the parole board. The decision to grant probation lies
entirely with
the court. As Wallace (1974:950) has written, “Probation is
more than a pro-
cess; it connotes an organization, basically a service agency,
designed to assist
the court and to perform particular functions in the
administration of criminal
justice.”
Figure 7.1
Average caseload for probation and parole agencies. Source:
Camp and Camp (2003) and American
Correctional Association (2008).
0
20
40
60
80
100
120
140
160
180
1990 1992 1994 1996 1999 2001 2007
Parole Probation Probation & Parole

F
O
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1
6
9
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199Responsibilities of Probation and Parole Agencies
Despite these differences, probation and parole agencies share
one particular
and significant function: They provide supervision of offenders
in the com-
munity. The basic question remains: What is the purpose of
supervision? To
Wallace, the function of supervision, drawn from the social
work field, is
based on the casework model. Supervision is the basis of a

treatment program.
The officer uses all information available about the offender to
make diag-
nosis of that person’s needs and to design a treatment plan. One
example of
a treatment plan for probationers, emphasizing the need for
reintegration,
was first suggested by the President’s Commission on Law
Enforcement and
Administration of Justice (1967:30):
… developing the offender’s effective participation in the major
social
institutions of the school, business and church … which offer
access to
a successful career.
However, providing treatment is only one aspect of supervision.
In addition,
the PO is expected to maintain surveillance of those offenders
who make up
the caseload.
A classic definition of surveillance was provided by the
National Conference of
Parole (Studt, 1978:65):
Surveillance is that activity of the parole officer which utilizes
watchfulness, checking, and verification of certain behavior of a
parolee
without contributing to a helping relationship with him.
Although these statements indicate that the treatment and
surveillance roles
of the probation/parole officer are almost diametrically
opposed, several

authors have indicated that they coexist as a part of the
agency’s mission. In
fact, Carlson and Parks (1979:155–157) have listed four major
responsibilities
of a probation or parole agency:
n Surveillance: While the term “surveillance” usually means
simply “watching”
in a police sense, it should be pointed out that a helping purpose
is also
intended. When surveillance is carried out properly, the client is
continually
sensitized to the possible results of a course of action that has
made him
vulnerable in the past. Just as an alcoholic or narcotics addict
who is trying
to change his life derives support from frequent contact with
others who
have conquered their problems successfully, so also can many
clients derive
beneficial results from frequent meetings with the probation
officer.
n Investigation: The investigation function includes reporting
violative
behavior, or actual violation on the part of probationers, and
gathering
facts about arrests and reporting suspicions to supervisors.
n Concrete Needs Counseling: This type of counseling includes
the
following areas: employment, education, training, housing,
clothing,
financial, medical, dental, legal, and transportation.
F

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n Emotional Needs Counseling: The services that a probation
officer
provides depend on the needs of clientele they serve. These
needs can
include marital/family relationships, companions, emotional
stability,
alcohol and drug usage, mental ability, and sexual behavior.
rOLe typOLOGIes
In one of the first studies of types of officers, Ohlin, Piven, and
Pappenfort

(1956:211–225) developed the following typology of PO styles:
n The punitive officer, who perceives himself as the guardian of
middle-
class morality; he attempts to coerce the offender into
conforming by
means of threats and punishment and emphasizes control, the
protection
of the community against the offender, and the systematic
suspicion of
those under supervision.
n The protective officer, who vacillates literally between
protecting the offender
and protecting the community. His tools are direct assistance,
lecturing, and,
alternately, praise and blame. He is perceived as ambivalent in
his emotional
involvement with the offender and others in the community as
he shifts
back and forth in taking sides with one against the other.
n The welfare officer, who has as his ultimate goal the
improved welfare of
the client, achieved by aiding him in his individual adjustment
within
limits imposed by the client’s capacity. Such an officer believes
that the
only genuine guarantee of community protection lies in the
client’s
personal adjustment, as external conformity will only be
temporary
and, in the long run, may make a successful adjustment more
difficult.
Emotional neutrality permeates his relationship. The diagnostic
categories

and treatment skills that he employs stem from an objective and
theoretically based assessment of the client’s needs and
capacities.
Glaser (1969) later extended this typology to include, as a
fourth category, the
passive officer, who sees his job as a sinecure, requiring only
minimum effort.
For example, Erickson (1977:37) has satirically offered the
following gambit to
officers who wish to “fake it” and have an “ideal, trouble-free
caseload”:
“I’m just so busy—never seem to have enough time.” A truly
professional execution of this ploy does require some
preparation. Make
sure that your desktop is always inundated with a potpourri of
case
files, messages, memos, unopened mail, and professional
literature
… Have your secretary hold all your calls for a few days and
schedule
several appointments for the same time. When, after a lengthy
wait, the
probationer is finally ushered into your presence, impress him
(or her)
with the volume of your business … Always write while
conversing
F
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201Role Typologies
with the subject, and continue to make and receive telephone
calls.
Interrupt your dialogue with him to attend to other important
matters,
such as obtaining the daily grocery list from your wife or
arranging
to have your car waxed. Apologize repeatedly and profusely for
these
necessary interruptions and appear to be distracted, weary, and
slightly insane. Having experienced the full treatment, it is
unlikely that
the probationer will subsequently try to discuss with you any
matters
of overwhelming concern. He could even feel sorrier for you
than he
does for himself. You should henceforth be able to deal with
him on an

impersonal basis, if indeed he tries to report anymore at all.
The complete typology is presented in tabular form in Figure
7.2. The key
distinction in this figure is the manner in which the supervising
officer per-
sonally views the purpose of the job of supervision. Personal
preference and
motivations of the PO will often determine the style of
supervision that is
followed.
A similar typology was developed by Klockars (1972), based on
the working
philosophy of the officer. The first style that he presented is
that of the “law
enforcer.” Such officers are motivated primarily by (1) the court
order and
obtaining offender compliance with it, (2) the authority and
decision-making
power of the PO, (3) officer responsibility for public safety, and
(4) police
work—the PO as police officer of the agency.
The second category is that of the “time server.” This individual
feels that the
job has certain requirements to be fulfilled until retirement—“I
don’t make the
rules; I just work here.” The third type is the “therapeutic
agent,” a supervising
officer who accepts the role of administrator of a form of
treatment (usually
casework-oriented) to help the offender.
Finally, the “synthetic officer” attempts to blend treatment and
law enforce-

ment components by “combining the paternal, authoritarian, and
judg-
mental with the therapeutic.” The synthetic officer attempts to
solve what
Emphasis on Control
HIGH LOW
Emphasis on
Assistance
HIGH Protective Officer Welfare Officer
LOW Punitive Officer Passive Officer
Figure 7.2
Typology of PO supervision styles. Source: Jordan and Sasfy
(1974).
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Miles (1965a) terms criminal justice (offender is wrong but
responsible for
own behavior) with treatment (casework, offender is sick)
goals. In sum,
Klockars’s typology rounds out the original scheme developed
by Ohlin et al.
(1956) by providing an example through which the PO can
integrate the best
of each possible role.2
Czajkoski (1973) expanded on the law enforcement role of the
officer’s job by
outlining the quasi-judicial role of the probation officer. He
develops his thesis
on five lines of functional analysis. The first line examines the
plea bargaining;
Czajkoski cites Blumberg’s (1974) argument that the probation
officer serves
to “cool the mark” in the confidence game of plea bargaining by
assuring the
defendant of how wise it was to plead guilty. In this fusion, the
PO certifies the
plea bargaining process—a task that can significantly
undermine the helping/
counseling role of the PO.

The second line of quasi-judicial functioning by the probation
officer occurs at
the intake level. For example, at the juvenile level, the officer is
often asked which
cases are appropriate for judicial processing. Like the
prosecutor, this function
permits the probation officer to have some control over the
intake of the court.
The third quasi-judicial function of the probation officer
concerns setting the
conditions of probation, a power the judge often gives the
probation officer.
This often leads to discretionary abuses, as indefinite conditions
(often mor-
alistic or vague in terms of the offender’s behavior) can become
a vehicle for
maintaining the moral status quo as interpreted by the probation
officer. In
addition, probation conditions can become substitutions for, or
even usurp,
certain formal judicial processes. For example, the monetary
obligations3 of
the probationer (such as supporting dependents) can be enforced
by the pro-
bation officer rather than by a court that is designed specifically
to handle such
matters (Schneider, Griffith, & Schneider, 1982).
The fourth quasi-judicial role is concerned with probation
violation procedures.
Czajkoski contends that such procedures are highly
discretionary, especially in
view of the vague and all-encompassing nature of the probation
conditions,
which are usually not enforced until the officer has reason to

believe that the pro-
bationer is engaged in criminal activity. Petersilia and Turner
(1993) noted that
increased surveillance increases the incidence of technical
violations (Marciniak,
2000), jail terms, and incarceration rates, as well as program
and court costs.
2Nowhere is the dichotomy of rehabilitation–casework versus
surveillance–control more evident than
between juvenile and adult probation officers. Juvenile officers
support the former by a wide margin,
but felony probation officers, particularly males, are more
likely to endorse law enforcement strategies.
See Sluder and Reddington (1993) and Brown and pratt (2000).
3Most probationers satisfy financial obligations as ordered by
the court Allen and Treger (1994).
For fines levied on corporations, see Clarkson (2000).
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203Role Typologies
The final quasi-judicial role of the probation officer concerns
the ability to
administer punishment. Because the officer may restrict the
liberty of his or
her charge in several ways, this is tantamount to punishment. In
this fashion,
Czajkoski highlights some of the actions officers take that
relate to his or her
function as a quasi-judicial official and illustrates more ways in
which the PO
uses discretionary power in judicial-like ways.
Tomaino (1975) also attempts to reveal some of the hidden
functions of pro-
bation officers. Figure 7.3 summarizes the Tomaino typology.
Once again,
concern for control is contrasted with concern for rehabilitation.
To Tomaino,
Probationers will want to keep the
rules once they get insight about
themselves. The PO should be
supportive, warm, and nonjudg-
mental in his relations with them.
Probationers will keep the rules
when it is credible to do so

because this better meets their
needs. The PO should be open but
firm, and focus on the content of
his relations with probationer.
The 1/9 Face
Help-Him-Understand
The 9/9 Face
Have-It-Make-Sense
Probationers should know exactly
what they have to do, what
happens if they don’t do it, and it
is up to them to perform.
Probationers will keep the rules
only if you take a hard line, exert
very close supervision, and stay
completely objective in your
relations with them.
The 1/1 Face
It’s-Up-To-Him
The 9/1 Face
Make-Him-Do-It
Probationers will keep the rules if
they like their PO and identify with
him and his values. The PO must
work out solid compromises in his
relations with the probations.
The 5/5 Face
Let-Him-Identify

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
Figure 7.3
The five faces of probation supervision. Source: Tomaino
(1975:43).
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the key probation officer role is the “Have It Make Sense” face.
This role
attempts to integrate the often-conflicting concerns of societal
protection and
offender rehabilitation. Accordingly, Tomaino recommends that
the officer
stress goals, not offender personality traits, to “… organize
legitimate choices
through a collaborative relationship which induces the client to
act in accord
with prosocial expectations.” Perhaps, as Lindner (1975)
suggests, the proba-
tion officer can create a learning situation for the offender and
induce a desire
for change.
In sum, these authors indicate that the supervising officer has a
range of choices
concerning the style of supervision to be followed and the
ultimate goal of the
entire probation/parole process. There is a strong emphasis here

upon blend-
ing the need for control with the need for counseling. The
officer must choose
which style to adopt based on the individual client (severity of
the offense,
amenability to treatment) and the nature of the situation.
Supervising officers
clearly have the discretionary power to either enforce the law
(i.e., conditions
of supervision) or offer help and treatment. No doubt, the world
view of the
PO also plays a crucial role in this decision.
CharaCterIstICs OF eFFeCtIVe ChaNGe
aGeNts
What are the characteristics of effective probation and parole
officers? Research
by Gendreau and Andrews (2001), as well as others, suggests
that the most effec-
tive change agents possess several characteristics. First, they
are able to develop
a strong collaborative relationship with offenders. Warmth,
genuineness, and
flexibility characterize such relationships. Second, effective
change agents are
firm but fair, have a sense of humor, and believe that offenders
can change.
Third, they are able to model behavior in concrete and vivid
ways. Fourth,
they are a source of not simply punishment, but of
reinforcement for positive
behavior. Finally, an effective change agent discourages
negative attitudes and
behaviors with strong, emphatic statements of disagreement.
Unfortunately,
as Shichor (1978:37) points out, such characteristics often stand

in sharp con-
trast to current probation and parole practices that are more
oriented toward
“people processing” than “people changing.” Research has also
confirmed that
the vast majority of officers do not target major criminogenic
needs (such as
antisocial attitudes and social supports for crime) and do not
commonly use
skills (such as prosocial modeling and effective reinforcement)
to influence
long-term behavioral change in offenders (see Bonta et al.,
2008).
Most recently, training curricula designed to teach community
supervision offi-
cers how to apply core correctional practices in their face-to-
face interactions
with offenders have been piloted in several jurisdictions (see
Bonta et al., 2008;
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205The Self-image of Probation and Parole Officers
Smith & Latessa, 2010; Trotter, 1999). Preliminary results from
several sites in
Canada suggest that trained officers achieve greater reductions
in caseload recid-
ivism when compared to untrained officers (Bonta et al., 2008).
Additional
research on this topic is forthcoming and will undoubtedly
contribute to our
understanding of how parole and probation officers can be
better used as agents
of change.
the seLF-ImaGe OF prOBatION aND parOLe
OFFICers
How do probation and parole officers see themselves and their
work? Over the
years several studies have focused on agents to secure their
views concerning
what the appropriate goals of supervision should be and, within
the criminal
justice system, where such agents primarily identify with their
allegiance.
In an early study, Miles (1965b) surveyed all 116 probation and
parole officers

on duty in Wisconsin on a single day. In addition, 48 officers
were interviewed
and accompanied into the field by the researchers. On the basis
of these data,
Miles discovered that a majority of these officers basically
identified with the
field of corrections (61.5%). The clear majority of individuals
identified them-
selves as probation officers when dealing with judges (81%),
social agencies
(69%), and potential client employers (79%). These officers
emphasized their
identification with correctional work and did not wish to have
this primary
link absorbed by another area (e.g., social work). The survey
also uncovered
what is considered to be the basic dilemma of probation in
terms of its pri-
mary goal: offender rehabilitation versus societal protection.
In a study of job tasks, Colley, Culbertson, and Latessa (1987)
surveyed
70 juvenile probation officers in Illinois. Table 7.1 illustrates
the tasks per-
formed by at least 40 percent of the sample. While most studies
of probation
officers have been conducted in urban areas, it is important to
note what
appear to be differences in the roles and tasks performed
between urban
and rural probation officers. Rural officers perform a wider
range of tasks
than urban officers and are less specialized (Colley, Culbertson,
& Latessa,
1986).

For larger probation departments, specialization has become
more common. There are presen-
tence investigation units, assessment units, fugitive and warrant
units, surveillance officers,
and specialized caseload units. In rural departments it is still
common to have every probation
officer perform all of these tasks.
BOx 7.1 aLL thINGs tO aLL peOpLe
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Overall, the studies examined reveal that POs are aware of the
surveil-
lance/treatment dichotomy that exists with regard to style of
supervision.
A number of factors (age, education, years of job experience)
are related
to or influence the PO’s style and method of supervision. Yet,
in general,
there is a distinct lack of consensus over which style of
supervision should
dominate.
social Work or Law enforcement?
The split between treatment and surveillance has attracted a
great deal of
attention, but very little in terms of empirical studies. Most
authors seem to
interpret role conflict as somehow tragic, intractable, and
overwhelming. The
most common solution has been to advocate that one orientation
must be
table 7.1 Tasks Performed by at Least 40 Percent of
Respondents on a
Weekly or Daily Basis
Skills Percent
COURT
Attends court hearings with client 58.6
Takes court notes on court proceedings of clients 47.2
Confers with State’s Attorney about cases 64.2
SUPERVISION—CASELOAD MANAGEMENT
Meets with minor in office, home, and at school 57.1

Listens to complaints and problems 72.9
Asks minors about any general problems
and disturbances
56.5
Inquires about police contacts 44.3
Consults teachers, therapists, significant others,
community services agencies
44.3
Intervenes in crisis situations 42.9
Counsels parents 47.8
Confers with dean of students or school counselors 47.8
CASE NOTING
Accounts for the entire history of the case 65.7
MONTHLY STATISTICS
Documents all intakes, transfers, terminations, etc. 44.9
STAFFINGS
Confers with other staff on informal basis about cases 60.8
Source: Colley, Culbertson, and Latessa (1987:5).
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207The Self-image of Probation and Parole Officers
emphasized over all others (Gettinger, 1981). Simply put, is it
the role of the
probation or parole officer or that of the helper or the cop?4
The roots of role conflict often are attributed to inconsistencies
that exist in
the three main functions of supervision: to enforce the legal
requirements of
supervision (the “law enforcement” role), to assist the offender
in establishing
a successful community adjustment (the “social worker” role),
and to carry out
the policies of the supervision agency (the “bureaucrat” role).
The existence of
this role conflict has been seen as a major source of staff
burnout (Lindquist &
Whitehead, 1986; Whitehead, 1989). Others have recommended
aban-
doning one of the roles, either social work (Barkdull, 1976) or

law enforce-
ment (Stanley, 1976). Interestingly, no one seems to believe
seriously that
the bureaucratic role can ever be eliminated (Lipsky, 1980;
Rosecrance, 1987;
Takagi, 1967).
One critic of surveillance is Conrad (1979:21), who writes:
We can hardly justify parole services on the basis of the
surveillance
model. What the parole officer can do, if it should be done at
all, can
better be done by the police. The pushing of doorbells, the
recording
of “contacts,” and the requirement of monthly reports all add up
to
expensive pseudoservices. At best they constitute a costly but
useless
frenzy of activity. But more often than not, I suspect, they
harass and
humiliate the parolee without gaining even the illusion of
control.
Clear and Latessa (1993:442) believe that role conflict is
common to most
professions.
College professors face the age-old conflict of research and
teaching;
lawyers confront the conflicting demands of client advocacy and
case
management; even ministers must consider whether they
represent
the interest of deities to the world or the needs of lost souls
(and

requisite bodies) in the world.
Certainly, probation or parole officers have no monopoly on
role conflict.
Many feel that the true “professional” finds a way of integrating
various role
expectations, balancing them and weighing the appropriateness
of various
expressions of the roles. There is even some evidence that the
roles of “social
worker” and “law enforcer” are not incompatible and that
organizational pol-
icy can have a direct impact on the attitudes and behavior of
probation and
parole officers (Clear & Latessa, 1993).
4For a discussion of law enforcement officers as agents of
reintegrative surveillance. See Guarino-
Ghezzi (1994).
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A recent development in PO work is the increased level of
assault by clients,
leading to demand for arming of, or increased firepower (or
both) for, POs
(North Carolina Department of Corrections News, 1999). The
exact number of
critical incidents is unknown, as there is no state of federal
bank that tracks the
dangers faced by probation, parole, and even pretrial persons.
However, a survey
of probation & parole officers in Minnesota (Arola & Lawrence,
1999) found
that 19 percent reported one or more physical assaults during
their career, and
74 percent reported being threatened verbally or physically at
least once. A sim-
ilar study in Florida in 1999 found one in 20 probation and
parole officers
were battered each year (Florida Corrections Commission,
2000). With the
emerging emphasis on supervision and surveillance within
community correc-
tions, the potential for crisis will increase. Another study of the
extent of seri-
ous assault on community correctional personnel (Bigger, 1993)
found 1818

incidents since 1980, probably only the tip of the iceberg. Camp
and Camp
(2003) reported more than 16,400 assaults by inmates on prison
correctional
staff in 2002; about one in four required medical attention. A
national study
concluded that 14 percent of juvenile justice institutional staff
were assaulted in
1998 (Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention,
1998).
Not only is there a need for a central information bank that
would track critical
incidents, there is a need for in-service training and orientation
that would lessen
the incipient danger. Brown (1993) suggested that PO safety
could be enhanced
by physical training, as well as learning skills to respond to
such crises, including
deescalation techniques, understanding the continuum of force,
and how to make
effective use of authority. Perhaps there is “no farewell to
arms” in the offing, and
administrators might implement training sessions to reduce
liability and protect
workers (Janes, 1993; Chavaria, 1993; & National Institute of
Corrections, 2001).
eDUCatION aND traINING OF prOBatION
aND parOLe OFFICers
During the past 30 years, several national commissions and
studies have rec-
ommended formal education as a means of significantly
improving the deliv-
ery of justice in this country (American Bar Association, 1970;
National Advisory

Commission, 1973a; National Manpower Survey of the Criminal
Justice System,
Recently, many probation departments have begun training
officers on motivational interview-
ing. First developed by Miller and Rollnick (1991) and based on
Prochaska and DiClemente’s
(1983) stages of change, motivational interviewing is a
technique designed to help prepare
offenders to change their lifestyles. Officers are taught skills
that can be used to overcome
resistance to treatment and encourage offenders to think about
the benefits of changing nega-
tive attitudes and behaviors.
BOx 7.2 mOtIVatING OFFeNDers
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209Summary
1978; President’s Commission on Law Enforcement and
Administration of Justice
1967; Sherman, 1978). Graduate-level education and frequent
in-service training
for probation and parole officers have also been advocated for
many years. The
emerging philosophy now requires undergraduate degree
education as a prereq-
uisite for quality probation and parole service, and continuous
in-service train-
ing as a means of maintaining and improving both service and
skills (Loughery,
1975; National Advisory Commission, 1973b; President’s
Commission on Law
Enforcement and Administration of Justice, 1967; Senna, 1976).
Since 1959, the National Probation and Parole Association has
recommended
that all probation and parole officers should hold at least a
bachelor’s degree, sup-
plemented by at least 1 year of graduate study or full-time field
experience. This
recommendation reflects the assumption that an educated officer
is more com-
petent and mature and thus is in a better position to perform the
varied functions
of probation and parole efficiently. However, it was not until
the 1967 President’s
Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice

Task Force
Report, which led to the Law Enforcement Education Program,
that federal funds
were made available for higher education of justice system
personnel, including
a college education for probation and parole officers. In 1970,
the American Bar
Association (1970) reaffirmed the National Probation and
Parole Association’s
minimum standards and suggested that probation and parole
officers should
hold a master’s degree. It is also important to note that the
American Correctional
Association Accreditation Guidelines for Probation and Parole
(1981) require
entry-level probation and parole officers to possess a minimum
of a bachelor’s
degree. They consider this an important guideline for
accreditation.
The vast majority of jurisdictions in this country now require at
least a bach-
elor’s degree for initial employment of probation and parole
officers. In
addition, many jurisdictions require specific areas of college
study, as well as
various levels of training and experience. While there is some
consensus as
to the level of education needed (bachelor’s degree), however,
the exact con-
tent of undergraduate study is still a matter of some debate.
Generally speak-
ing, however, aspiring probation and parole personnel would
better prepare
themselves for agency entry by enrolling in various criminal
justice, soci-

ology, counseling, social work, and psychology courses. There
is also some
evidence that a comprehensive approach to training and
development can
effectively instill in officers the supervision attitudes that are
most conducive
to promoting offender change (Stichman, Fulton, Travis, &
Latessa, 1997).
sUmmary
In summary, the conflict between counseling and surveillance is
simply part of
the job of the PO and a duality that makes his or her position in
the criminal jus-
tice system vital, unique, and necessary. While some see role
conflict as a reason
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for eviscerating some of the less salient tasks, others believe
that the profession
can find a way of integrating and balancing various role
expectations.
The roles of probation and parole agencies are varied and range
from investi-
gating violations to assisting offenders in obtaining
employment. Accordingly,
the skills and education required of probation officers are often
considerable.
The need for college-educated staff has been advocated for
many years and is
becoming a reality. There has come to be a general acceptance
of formal educa-
tion as a prerequisite of quality probation and parole service
and of in-service
development as a means of maintaining and improving that
service. This need
has been identified and encouraged by several national
commissions and orga-
nizations, as well as by numerous individual writers and
researchers. A decade
from now, the entry-level educational requirement may be a
master’s degree.
Finally, although in many ways probation and parole officers
perform the same
basic duties that they did when the profession first began, there

are many who
argue that a change is in order. Restorative justice and the
broken windows
models represent new paradigms for the field.
reVIeW QUestIONs
1. What are the four primary responsibilities of a probation or
parole agency?
2. What are the quasijudicial roles of probation officers?
3. How does a probation/parole officer serve a law enforcement
role? A
social work role?
4. List those tasks that a probation or parole officer can
undertake to assist
an offender and those to control an offender.
5. List the seven categories of tasks ranked by probation
officers in the von
Langingham study.
6. According to Andrews, what are the characteristics of
effective agents of
change?
reCOmmeNDeD reaDINGs
Conrad, J. (1979). Who needs a doorbell pusher? The Prison
Journal, 59(1), 17–26. Building
upon his experience as a probation officer, a noted scholar gives
his opinions on the role of
supervision.
Ditton, J., & Ford, R. (1994). The reality of probation: A formal
ethnography of process and practice.

Aldershot, UK: Avebury.
McCleary, R. (1978). Dangerous men: The sociology of parole.
Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Based on par-
ticipant observation, this is an in-depth examination of a parole
agency and the supervision
styles of its officers.
Parent, D., Wentworth, D., & Burke, P. (1994). Responding to
probation and parole violators.
Washington, DC: U.S. National Institute of Justice.
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Vulnerable Children and Youth Studies
Vol. 4, No. 4, December 2009, 346–352
ISSN 1745-0128 print/ISSN 1745-0136 online
© 2009 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/17450120902884068
http://www.informaworld.com
RVCH1745-01281745-0136Vulnerable Children and Youth
Studies, Vol. 1, No. 1, April 2009: pp. 1–16Vulnerable Children
and Youth StudiesTrajectories of risk behaviors and exiting
homelessness among
newly homeless adolescents
Vulnerable Children and Youth StudiesN.G. Milburn et
al.Norweeta G. Milburn*, Li-Jung Liang, Sung-Jae Lee and
Mary Jane Rotheram-Borus
University of California, Los Angeles, Department of
Psychiatry and Biobehavioral Sciences,
Semel Institute for Neuroscience and Human Behavior, Center
for Community Health, Los Angeles,
CA, USA
(Received 22 December 2008; final version received 9 March
2009)
Using cluster analysis techniques, we identified two distinct
clusters of newly
homeless adolescents in Los Angeles (n = 261): those who are
protected and doing
relatively well while out of home with more protective than risk
factors, and those who
are risky with more risk than protective factors. The objective
of this study was to

examine the trajectories of human immunodeficiency virus
(HIV) risk behaviors and
exiting homelessness among protected newly homeless
adolescents, compared to those
who are classified as risky. HIV risk behavior included
unprotected sex, having
multiple sex partners and hard drug use. Logistic regression
mixed-effects models
were used to evaluate the trajectories of HIV risk behaviors and
exiting homelessness
over time. The adolescents in the protected group reported
significantly less unpro-
tected sex ( p = 0.0156), being abstinent or monogamous ( p <
0.0001) and less hard
drug use ( p < 0.0001) compared to the adolescents in the risky
group. In addition, the
protected group reported more “exiting homelessness”,
compared to the risky group
( p = 0.0007). However, the differences in the level of
unprotected sex between the
protected and risky groups decreased over time. Our findings
confirm the notion that
newly homeless adolescents are indeed heterogeneous. Given
that the risk behavior
profiles of protected group merges to the risky group over time,
our findings under-
score the need to mount tailored interventions to be designed
for the protected group
early in the process.
Keywords: homeless adolescents; at-risk youth; risk-behavior
trajectories
Introduction
Current research on homeless adolescents reveals that homeless
adolescents suffer from

poor health status compared to the general adolescent
population (Ensign & Santelli,
1998; Farrow, Deisher, Brown, Kulig, & Kipke, 1992; Sherman,
1992). Homeless adoles-
cents have high rates of sexually transmitted diseases, human
immunodeficiency virus
(HIV), pregnancy, depression and injuries (Forst, 1994; Nelson
& Wright, 1994;
Rotheram-Borus, Koopman, Haignere, & Davies, 1991).
Current research on homeless adolescents suggests that newly
homeless adoles-
cents are distinct from experienced homeless adolescents and
may require different types
of interventions and services (Mallett, Rosenthal, Myers,
Milburn, & Rotheram-Borus,
2004; Milburn, Rosenthal, & Rotheram-Borus, 2005; Milburn,
Rotheram-Borus,
*Corresponding author. Email: [email protected]
mailto:[email protected]
http://www.informaworld.com
Vulnerable Children and Youth Studies 347
Rice, Mallett, & Rosenthal, 2006). For example, newly
homeless adolescents (who
have been homeless for less than 6 months) are more likely to
be younger, attending
school, to not be engaging in high-risk sexual practices (e.g.
unprotected sex), to
not use drugs and to have never attempted suicide than
experienced homeless adoles-
cents (Milburn et al., 2006). They tend to be the homeless

adolescents who are using
services and avoiding high-risk behaviors such as unsafe sex
practices and drug use
(Mallet et al., 2004). Greater understanding of the heterogeneity
of homeless adoles-
cents could enhance services substantially for this population
(Haber & Toro, 2004;
Mallett et al., 2004).
In addition, there is evidence to suggest that newly homeless
adolescents themselves
are not homogeneous and may require tailored interventions and
services (Mallett et al.,
2004; Milburn et al., 2005, 2006). For example, some newly
homeless adolescents are less
likely to engage in high-risk sexual practices and hard drugs
(Milburn et al., 2006). Using
cluster analysis techniques, we identified two distinct clusters
of newly homeless adoles-
cents in Los Angeles: those who are protected and doing
relatively well while out of home
with more protective than risk factors, and those who are risky
with more risk than protec-
tive factors (Milburn et al., 2009). Given the heterogeneous
nature of newly homeless ado-
lescents, HIV interventions should be better tailored to specific
groups of newly homeless
adolescents.
The objective of this study was to examine the trajectories of
risk behaviors among
two distinct clusters of newly homeless adolescents: those
classified as “protected”
compared to those classified as “risky”. Our focus was to
ascertain whether the resilience
of the “protected” group lasts. For instance, we will explore

whether the “protected” group
becomes more similar to those adolescents who are classified as
“risky”. The sustainabil-
ity of their resilience will have significant implications for
when and how to provide tai-
lored interventions to these homeless adolescents.
Method
Background
Overall sample demographics have been reported in the baseline
cluster analysis
(Milburn et al., 2009). The analyses presented here are limited
to adolescents in Los
Angeles who were newly homeless (n = 261). We considered all
the relevant variables
(140) which had less than 15% missing responses characterizing
newly homeless ado-
lescents. First, we performed the iterative algorithm to
determine the cluster member-
ship using the K-means method with the prespecified number of
clusters; secondly, we
examined graphically whether the prespecified number of
clusters, given the set of
selected variables, was separated clearly. These two steps were
performed iteratively to
identify groups of relatively homogeneous participants based on
the selected variables
and the prespecified number of clusters. We started with all the
selected variables as a
completed set, followed by different subsets of selected
variables. Based on the results
found in the Milburn et al. (2009) study, these newly homeless
adolescents were factored
into two clusters: protected versus risky. At baseline, both
groups had statistically simi-
lar female : male ratios and approximately 30% of the

participants experienced physical
or sexual abuse. Compared with the participants in the risky
group [mean = 16.1, stand-
ard deviation (SD) = 1.71], those in the protected group were
younger (mean = 15.0, SD
= 1.82, p < 0.0001).
348 N.G. Milburn et al.
Measures
HIV-related risk behaviors
HIV-related risk behaviors included behaviors such as whether
the participants were hav-
ing unprotected sex, whether they were abstinent or
monogamous and whether they used
any of the hard drugs, and whether they exited homelessness
during the study. These varia-
bles were collected at baseline, 3, 6, 12, 18 and 24 months.
Unprotected sex
Unprotected sex was scored “0” if the participant always used a
condom while having
vaginal/anal/oral sex or if the participant had never had
vaginal/anal/oral sex; or “1” if
they or their partner sometimes or never used a condom.
Abstinent or monogamous
Abstinent or monogamous was constructed by asking the
respondent how many different
vaginal and anal sex partners they had had in the past 3 months.
Hard drug usage
An overall score for hard drug usage, including the use of
lysergic acid diethylamide,

inhalants, stimulants, crack or heroin, was defined as “1” if
participants used at least one
of these drugs over the past 3 months or “0” if they did not use
any of the hard drugs listed.
Exiting homelessness
Exiting homelessness was defined as currently living in familial
housing. Responses to a
21-choice item, “Where are you currently living?”, were
categorized as familial housing
(1) or non-familial housing (0). Familial housing required a
parent or guardian being
present, although for respondents aged 18 years and older an
apartment also constituted
familial housing. Responses that were classified as familial
housing were: birth (biologi-
cal) family home, foster family home, step-family home,
grandparent’s house, relative’s
house, family group home, boarding school, adoptive family
home or own apartment. The
responses classified as non-familial housing were: shelters [e.g.
refuge, single-room occupancy
hotel/motel, early adolescent unit, medium-term
accommodation, secure welfare unit, caravan
park (trailer park)], juvenile detention center/jail, psychiatric
hospital, street/squat/
abandoned building, friend’s house or Job Corps facility.
Adolescents who were currently
living in familial housing were categorized as exiting
homelessness. Adolescents who were
not currently living in familial housing were categorized as not
exiting homelessness.
Data analysis
Logistic regression mixed-effects models were used to evaluate
the trajectories of engag-

ing HIV-related risk behaviors and exiting homelessness over
time. Covariates included
time (measured in months), protected or risky groups and cubic-
spline function of
time × group interaction. Models also included adolescent-level
random effects to account
for the correlation between repeated measures at baseline, every
3 months for the first
half-year and every 6 months thereafter. Due to the dichotomous
nature of the outcomes,
Vulnerable Children and Youth Studies 349
we used an adaptation of mixed-effects regression models that
allows for the specifi-
cation of a binomial error distribution (PROC GLIMMIX). Chi-
square (χ2) and t-tests
were used to compare the differences between groups for
categorical and continuous
variables. All analyses were performed using SAS version 9.1
(SAS Institute Inc.,
Cary, NC, USA).
Results
The sociodemographic profile of newly homeless adolescents (n
= 261) in our study were:
58% female, 23% African American, 43% Latino/Hispanic
American and 20% European
American, with ages ranging from 12 to 20 years (mean = 17.3;
SD = 1.9).
Unprotected sex
Table 1 presents the comparison of protected versus risky
groups regarding their HIV

risk behaviors and exiting homelessness, using the estimated
odds ratios (ORs) with
95% confidence intervals (CIs) from the final logistic
regression mixed-effects models.
Figure 1 shows the estimated probabilities of HIV risk
behaviors and exiting homeless-
ness for protected and risk group at each evaluation time-point.
More than 37% of ado-
lescents in the protected group did not engage in unprotected
sex during the study,
compared to 23% among the adolescents in the risky group (χ2
= 5.8, p = 0.0156). Com-
pared to the adolescents in the risky group, the adolescents in
the protected group were
less likely to engage in any unprotected sex during the study;
the estimated ORs were
lower than 0.39 before 12 months (p < 0.002) and increased
slowly after 12 months
(p = 0.0803 at 24 months). Figure 1(a) suggests that the
difference in the level of unpro-
tected sex between the protected and risky group decreases over
time, indicated by the
overlapping 95% CI.
Table 1. Comparison of protected versus risky group from
mixed effects model: risk behaviors and
exiting homelessness.
n (%)a
Protected Risky Odds ratio (95% CI) p-value
Unprotected sex
Baseline 33 (21.7) 50 (46.7) 0.32 (0.19, 0.55) <0.0001
12 months 34 (26.4) 39 (47.0) 0.39 (0.21, 0.70) 0.0020
24 months 38 (33.9) 36 (52.2) 0.58 (0.31, 1.07) 0.0803

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