It is the hardest job in government: caseworker for a child welfare agency.

That's the assessment of Marc Cherna, director of the Allegheny County Department of Human Services. He has supervised caseworkers here and in New Jersey for two decades.

Allegheny County caseworkers are under tremendous pressure because they're responsible for 30 families, which often means assisting as many as 100 children — too many to know the names that go with all the little faces. The Child Welfare League of America recommends a worker carry an average of 15 families. Very few states meet that standard. Pennsylvania allows 30, and in Allegheny County, virtually all caseworkers have that many.

For the high stress, there's little compensation. Allegheny County pays its caseworkers $20,076 to start. Applicants must have a bachelor's degree and their own car. The salary here is particularly low. But it's not high anywhere. The average nationwide is $28,874 for caseworkers with a bachelor's and $34,968 for those with a master's. Allegheny County doesn't pay more for the higher degree.

Many caseworkers suffer for their dedication. One worried so much about the children on his caseload here that he'd be sick at his stomach several mornings a week before work. His boss advised him to leave for his own health. And that's what happens. Many of the most dedicated quickly quit. A third of Allegheny County's 233 caseworkers resigned last year.

Agencies are constantly searching for new workers and training them. As soon as they have a little experience, as soon as they understand what's really expected — many quit.

The Post-Gazette asked some of those who have left to talk about what the job was like. Their stories follow, mostly in their own words:

William Fong, 49

Education: Bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering, master's in divinity, master's in counseling education

At CYS: from 1991 to 1996

Earned: $21,000 a year

Now: a caseworker at county Department of Aging

"The biggest problem is keeping workers . . . No company could be successful with that kind of turnover."

"New workers wouldn't hang around long enough to become good caseworkers. They'd find better jobs where they were appreciated."

"You start off hopeful and idealistic and in two to three years you are cynical and burned out. The families lie to you. There are not enough services for them. You are creamed by administrators who don't support you. Judges ask unreasonable things. After a while you lose hope. Then it is time to move on."

"When we lose, it is not a profit. We lose personally, something inside us, if a child is hurt."

Kirsten Culler, 49

Education: Bachelor's degree in philosophy, master's in social work

At CYS: from 1988 to 1994

Earned: $21,000 a year

Now: directs an alternative school for Lutheran Youth and Family Services in Zelienople.

"At the highest, I had 35 cases, which was a lot. I had a fairly substantial caseload fairly early on. I could not do the work to meet my own standards, no."

"I became a senior caseworker fairly quickly because of the turnover. And so when new caseworkers would come in, I would say within earshot of my supervisor, ‘Never let your paperwork interfere with your work with families.' But often times it would conflict."

"Of all the jobs I have had, CYS had the best training and orientation program for new employees . . . There is a very, very good opportunity to understand the mission and the purpose of the agency and one's individual responsibility."

Virginia Kaufer, 61

Education: Bachelor's degree in business, master's in administration of justice

At CYS: from 1988 to 1989 and from 1992 to 1993.

Earned: $18,000 when she left

Now: works as a family therapist at Auberle Residential Treatment Center in McKeesport.

"I loved being a caseworker. I did not love the pay. There is not enough money. You can't hire qualified people. The qualified people leave. I can't live on a caseworker's salary. I would be there if they had raised the pay to a decent level.

"The court system was very difficult. I would remove kids from a family where there was an obvious risk. I went through the proper channels, and the judge would say I couldn't do it because nothing had happened to the children yet. They could be locked in an attic for three weeks and still be released back to their parents. And then we would be called out again.

"Or a mother would have adhered to her family service plan [to reform herself] and the judge still would not return the children. We would have to prove there was a personality clash between the mother and the judge before she could get her kids back."

"The second time I went to work for CYS I was much more interested in making the home visits and arranging psychological assessments and taking the kids to their appointments than in the paperwork. I would bring home a lot of work. I would write a lot of addendums at home."

Charissa Liller, 28

Education: Bachelor's in psychology

At CYS: from 1992 to 1995

Earned: $19,000 when she left

Now: a third-year law student at University of Pittsburgh

"At first I wanted to do it [be a caseworker] because I thought I would have a chance to help people, to change people's lives. After a year, I realized I wouldn't be able to do that in most cases. A lot of people didn't want to change. It wasn't like people were coming to us saying, ‘I want to change. I want help.' I was getting fed up with it."

"I had nightmares, toward the end more. I began to feel like I couldn't do anything. I was afraid the kids weren't safe, that a kid would die because of a mistake. I dreamed I got loaded down with too many cases and I couldn't get out to a house and when I got out there, the kid would be in the hospital."

"I did make my visits as often as I had to. That's why they threw me too many cases. Some workers did not visit [families] in a year. I was appalled, so they gave it to me."

"There was a lot of red tape and hassle. There is not much money out there for the child welfare agencies. That has to do with the fact that children don't vote. So they get the leftover scraps of tax money."

David Smith, 24

Education: Bachelor's in administration of justice

At CYS: from June 1996 to November 1996

Earned: $20,000

Now: a juvenile probation officer in Juvenile Court.

"I did not like CYS at all. On one of my first cases a baby died. From then on, I knew I couldn't do that job. The stepmother was just convicted of shaking that baby to death."

"I didn't have as much authority as I do as a probation officer. Caseworkers' hands are tied. If a parent is a bad parent . . . you go to court and the worst thing that can happen to them is they take their kids, and some people don't care."

"I despised getting up in the morning and going out to talk to people who didn't want to talk to you and hated to see you and didn't want you to tell them how to raise their children."

"My biggest complaint about CYS is they'll take a degree in anything. So there is no expertise in the field of child abuse."

Jay Hershey, 52

Education: Bachelor's in American civilization

At CYS: from 1989 to 1994

Earned: $23,000 when he left

Now: a Zen monk

Hershey had worked in drug and alcohol recovery programs and a psychiatric hospital in Los Angeles. He returned to Pittsburgh to help care for his mother who had Alzheimer's disease.

"I needed a job and CYS was hiring."

"With all of the frustrations that come with being a CYS caseworker, I kind of enjoyed the job. I felt like I fit into the milieu of the clients. I was sort of sympathetic to their situations. And my academic background allowed me to handle the paperwork problems, although it is absurd in its redundancy."

"You would have 30 families, virtually all on the verge of falling apart, maybe 15 semi-stable, another 15 when any phone call could be the kids have run away or were abused again. . . . I had a way of assessing families . . . I had a feeling for whether people really cared about kids. So I was able to know which families to spend more time with and look out for and which I could overlook in a sense. You did not have to check in on them month after month."