‍Part 3 of "Reimagining Youth Justice: A Journey Beyond Walls"

In the evening hours at Diagrama's El Raso centre, I watch a remarkable scene unfold. A young person—frustrated after a difficult phone call home—begins to pace, his body language signalling the rising tide of emotions within. In many facilities, this would trigger an immediate security response: staff closing in, voices hardening with command, the subtle shift toward containment and control.

Instead, I witness something altogether different. A staff member—not a specialised crisis worker but an ordinary social educator—approaches with calm presence. He doesn't raise his voice or issue commands. He simply asks, "Would you like to talk about it, or would you prefer some space?"

This moment, ordinary in its outward appearance yet revolutionary in its approach, crystallises what might be the most transformative aspect of Diagrama's model: the fundamental reimagining of staff roles from controllers to caregivers, from guards to guides.

The Paradigm Shift

In Australia, staff in youth detention facilities are often conceptualised primarily as custodial officers—their core function defined by security, containment, and control. This framing creates a fundamental antagonism: young people become problems to manage rather than humans to develop.

"We understand that security matters," explains Jesús Teruel during my visit. "But security emerges naturally when young people feel seen, valued, and engaged. It is a byproduct of good relationships and meaningful activities, not something imposed through force or fear."

This subtle but profound shift reframes everything. Staff appear relaxed yet attentive, engaged but not controlling. They move among young people with the natural authority that emerges from relationship rather than the artificial authority conferred by uniform or role.

The Educator at Heart

At Diagrama, the primary staff role is that of "social educator"—a concept that deserves deeper exploration in the Australian context. These educators live daily life alongside young people, from morning routines through meals, activities, conflicts, and celebrations.

"Our job is to accompany them through the ordinary moments of life," explains Carmen, who has worked at Diagrama for fifteen years. "In these ordinary moments—making breakfast together, solving a disagreement, celebrating a birthday—we create extraordinary opportunities for growth."

This educative role transcends formal programs or therapy sessions. Every interaction becomes a potential teaching moment—a chance to model conflict resolution, emotional regulation, or healthy communication. The result is a living curriculum of human development, delivered not through workbooks but through authentic presence.

The Unified Team

Another striking element of Diagrama's approach is the absence of rigid role hierarchies. While specialized professionals (psychologists, social workers) provide targeted interventions, they work in seamless coordination with social educators. There is no sense of "my domain" versus "your domain"—simply a unified team working toward shared goals.

"We meet daily to discuss each young person," Carmen explains. "Everyone contributes their observations and insights—from the teacher who noticed a young person's growing confidence in class to the kitchen staff who observed them helping others during meal preparation."

This integration ensures that insights don't remain isolated within professional silos but inform a holistic approach to each young person's development. The psychologist's insights about trauma responses inform how social educators approach conflict; the educator's observations about daily behavior inform the psychologist's therapeutic interventions.

The Internal Journey

Perhaps most radical is the recognition that staff must undertake their own journey of transformation to effectively support young people's growth. Rather than donning a professional mask that separates them from those they serve, staff at Diagrama cultivate self-awareness, emotional literacy, and authentic presence.

"Working here has transformed me as much as it has transformed the young people," Miguel reflects. "I've had to examine my prejudices, manage my triggers, develop greater patience and empathy. You cannot help someone else transform if you are not willing to transform yourself."

This willingness to be changed by the work creates a profound modeling opportunity. Young people witness adults who acknowledge mistakes, manage emotions effectively, and maintain boundaries without dehumanization. For many, this represents the first experience of adults who embody the very qualities they are asked to develop.

The Parenting Paradigm

Jesús offers a compelling framework that encapsulates Diagrama's approach: "Think of good parenting. A good parent maintains clear boundaries while providing unconditional worth. They balance accountability with support, consequences with care. This is our model—not security guard or prison officer, but wise and loving parent."

This parenting paradigm creates space for both structure and nurture, for both accountability and compassion. It acknowledges the developmental reality that adolescents need both freedom to make mistakes and guidance to learn from them.

For young people who have often experienced either harsh control or negligent permissiveness, this balanced approach represents a new possibility—a middle path where they are both held accountable and held in high regard.

The Journey Ahead

As I prepare to leave El Raso, I reflect on the mountain before us in Australia. Reimagining staff roles requires more than new job descriptions or training programs—it demands a fundamental philosophical shift in how we conceptualize youth justice.

This shift begins with a radical premise: that staff in youth justice settings are not primarily guards containing problems but guides nurturing potential. It requires recruiting differently, training differently, and measuring success differently.

The journey ahead will challenge deeply held beliefs about authority, security, and the very purpose of youth detention. It will demand that we reimagine not just our facilities but ourselves—our relationship to young people who offend, our beliefs about transformation, our willingness to be changed by the work of changing others.

But I've witnessed the destination, and it calls us forward. I've seen staff working with the most challenging young people not from a position of fear or control but from a place of genuine care and commitment to growth.

The mountain before us is steep, but the view from the summit—a youth justice system where staff guide rather than guard, nurture rather than neutralize, transform rather than simply contain—is worth every step of the climb.

Together, we journey toward this vision—not just for the young people in our care but for the transformation of our own professional identity and purpose.

Together, we climb.

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