SOCIAL WORKERS STEP IN WHEN KIDS ARE IN DANGER.

Byline: Douglas Haberman Staff Writer

In the shade of a tree at a San Fernando Valley elementary school, Tammy Moots is talking to an 8-year-old boy whom his teacher reported may have been sexually abused.

Moots, a child social worker in the North Hollywood office of the county Department of Children and Family Services, is trying to determine if someone is, in fact, molesting the boy. If she feels he is in danger, she will have him removed from his home.

Moots' type of work is called ``emergency response'' - she makes the first direct contact with children and families once the department receives an allegation of abuse or neglect through its hot line.

She interviews people, she looks at whether homes are clean and safe, she keeps an eye out for bruises and burns on children.

One of the most important changes the county could make in the Department of Children and Family Services, according to reformers and outside observers, would be to find ways to give social workers more time to visit and get to know the families they deal with.

Paperwork leaves too little time for social work, they say.

``I think we need a smaller caseload and the ability to do our work with less paperwork,'' said child social worker Daphne Cohen, who works out of the department's North Hollywood office.

The department's emergency response child social workers make 150,000 visits a year countywide.

``I love being out there, hopefully making a difference,'' Moots said. At times, she said, she's felt she's saving a child's life.

But the job creates enemies if she does take a child from his or her parents - and if she doesn't, she said. ``Somebody is always upset with us.''

In a brief meeting with the boy's teacher outside her classroom, Moots learns his strange behavior stopped recently, since he started taking Ritalin. But the teacher says she isn't sure the boy is getting all the help he needs.

As Moots sits on a bench and gently asks the boy questions, he paces under the tree with his hands in the pockets of his knee-length shorts. He turns in slow circles, not meeting Moots' eyes.

With her blue jeans and tennis shoes and braces on her teeth, Moots looks young enough to be his older sister. But she's a 10-year veteran of the department and worked four years doing the same thing in Ohio before coming to Los Angeles.

The boy finally sits down next to her and answers her questions.

Moots decides there isn't cause to take the boy from his parents, but she has to visit them anyway. She drives nearby to the apartment complex they live in, but no one answers her loud knocks and doorbell rings. She will have to return.

On the same day, child social worker Bonnie Wolf visits at least three different apartment complexes to investigate allegations of physical or sexual abuse. No one is home at the first place, the second apartment is vacant, and at the third apartment the family speaks Spanish only. Wolf speaks no Spanish, so she calls the office and tells them to send a Spanish-speaking social worker.

Despite such frustrations, Wolf said she likes the emergency response work - making the quick assessments and moving on to the next case. ``It's kind of like triage,'' she said.

Every case is different, Wolf said, but ``I haven't met one parent yet that didn't care'' when the department took a child away.

Moots, on the other hand, has run across parents who lacked the feelings toward their children everyone expects. ``Sometimes I've had a mom tell me, I've just never liked that child,'' she said.

But for almost all parents, a visit from Moots, Wolf or any of their colleagues throughout the county is not an occasion for rejoicing, said Mary Longmire, a supervisor in the department's North Hollywood office.

``It's a horrible thing,'' she said, ``when we knock on your door.''