The Clinical Supervisor I Hope to Be

I recently completed the Advanced Clinical Supervision training with The Bouverie Centre at La Trobe University.

During one of the structured supervision exercises, I volunteered to take the role of supervisee. Instead of using a hypothetical case, I brought a real case that I had been struggling with. I wanted to experience the process for myself—not only as someone learning to supervise, but as a therapist sitting with genuine uncertainty.

What stayed with me was the trainer's humanity with deep care and respect.

Although we came from different therapeutic modalities and approaches, she remained fully present to what I needed from the supervision. She regularly checked whether we were spending the time on what felt most important and useful to me. I realized these are not simple questions to answer.

She did not impose her interpretation or tell me what I should do. Through the questions she asked, I had room to reflect on my hesitation, doubt, consider the case from different perspectives and arrive at my own clinical judgement.

We didn't rush toward the next intervention. We slowed down on what I'd already tried—what helped, and just as usefully, what hadn't in both therapy and supervision. The case was explored through seven lenses—from the therapeutic relationship itself to my own countertransference to the client's wider systemic context—each one slowing me down rather than pushing toward a quick fix.

Even though it was a role-play, the struggle I brought was real. The experience reminded me how vulnerable it can feel to sit in the supervisee's chair and to speak honestly about the parts of our work where we feel stuck, uncertain or less confident. We are looking at the "mistake", things we did or didn't do and at times with shame and guilt especially for those who have had many years of experiences in practice.

For me, supervision has remained one of the most valuable investments in my development as a therapist—not just for sharpening technique, but for understanding my own responses, assumptions and blind spots in the room. That value doesn't disappear after graduation, even though the structure around it often does. Clinical supervision often becomes less regular once therapists leave their master's programmes—no longer required, harder to budget for, competing with a full caseload.

Different supervisors bring different strengths and styles. Through being supervised by different people, I am also becoming clearer about the kind of supervisor who I learn better from and also I aspire to be.

I hope to provide enough structure to support the supervisee without taking away their voice or judgement. I want to remain curious about what has helped them, what has not, what they have already attempted and what they may find difficult to speak about.

Another important takeaway from this training was the responsibility that comes with the power and privilege of being a supervisor, especially when working with supervisees from different cultural and social backgrounds. It is not enough to wait for a supervisee to raise concerns about feeling unsafe, stereotyped or discriminated against. Sometimes, the supervisor needs to name what may be happening, invite the conversation and take an active position against practices that silence or marginalise the supervisee.

In a Malaysian context, where hierarchy and indirectness can make it harder for a supervisee to voice discomfort, that responsibility feels even more pointed—the supervisor often has to open the door first.

I am glad that I have continued to invest in supervision training. Each experience deepens the way I understand both therapy and supervision. My hope is to bring this learning into my own supervisory work, adapted thoughtfully to our Malaysian cultural and learning context. I want to help build a space where therapists can think openly, question themselves honestly, be critical without feeling guilty and shameful and keep developing their own clinical voice. Warmly, Cheryl Chin Certified Clinical Supervisor