This piece of work asks me to talk about one social activity I helped with during my time on placement in an elderly care home. The idea is to show how we planned it, how it actually went on the day, and what I learned from it after. I’ll be tying parts of it back to the HIQA Standards from 2016 and the HSE Person-Centred Care Framework from 2018. Those two really shape how we look after older people — not just with care routines, but with simple respect and a bit of heart in what we do. It’s really about showing that care isn’t only tasks and routines — it’s people, moments, and small actions that make someone’s day feel worth it.
When I first started in the nursing home, I thought social activities were just little breaks from care. But after a few weeks, I saw they meant much more. A social activity, in simple words, is anything that helps residents connect — maybe a chat, a quiz, or singing an old tune together. It’s what gives shape to the day. Without it, time just drifts.
Older people, especially those away from home, need more than meals and medication. They need laughter, belonging, and small chances to share stories. The HIQA Standards for Residential Care (2016) call this out clearly — dignity and respect must live in daily life, not just in paperwork. The HSE Person-Centred Care Framework (2018) says care should build relationships and treat each person as unique. Keeping that in mind, this essay looks at how we planned, carried out, and later reviewed one simple social event in an Irish care home. To be fair, it wasn’t perfect, but it brought heart back into the room.
Social activities are the small human moments that break routine. They can be a group crossword, a gentle walk in the garden, or a bit of music in the lounge. In the Galway nursing home where I trained, Fridays were storytelling afternoons. Residents would sit around with tea, and someone would start a story — maybe about the old fairs or turf-cutting near Loughrea. Before long, everyone joined in.
In practice, the difference was clear. People who were quiet all week began to talk. One lady who barely spoke started laughing when she heard a song from her youth. Physically, even a few claps or a small dance helped loosen stiff joints. Psychologically, the memory work was powerful — remembering names, places, smells. Emotionally, you could see pride returning.
These simple things tie in with Ireland’s Positive Ageing Strategy (2013), which sees participation as a right. It also echoes the Aistear and Síolta ideas from early learning — mind, body, and emotions developing together through connection. Life doesn’t stop teaching us just because we grow old.
All the same, social care isn’t always easy. Some days, residents are tired, or staff are short. But when it works, it changes everything. The room feels lighter. People smile more. It reminds everyone why we’re there — to care, not just to provide care.
We decided on a storytelling and music afternoon because nearly everyone loved old songs and memories. The planning took a bit of teamwork, a few mistakes, and lots of tea breaks in between.
First, we asked residents what they’d enjoy. Not through a survey, just small chats. “Would you fancy a sing-along?” “What songs do you miss?” Families helped too; they brought photos and ideas. One gent said, half-joking, that he’d only join if we played “The Fields of Athenry.” That settled the playlist straight away.
We didn’t want anything complicated — just to get people talking, laughing, and maybe singing. The goals were simple:
Bring isolated residents into a shared space.
Spark memory and conversation through music.
Encourage warm connections between residents and staff.
The nurse manager booked the quiet lounge near the garden. I helped arrange chairs in a circle and made sure walking frames had space. Another staff member found an old speaker. The kitchen promised scones and tea. Nothing fancy, but it already felt cosy.
We looked for fall hazards, made sure there was good lighting, and timed it for mid-afternoon — after meds, before fatigue hit. HIQA expects that level of safety planning, and rightly so.
A short outline kept us on track:
| Step | Action | Responsible Person | Timeline |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Ask residents/families for ideas | Activity Coordinator | Week 1 |
| 2 | Prepare room, playlist, refreshments | Nurse Manager | Week 2 |
| 3 | Host music & storytelling afternoon | Care Team | Week 3 |
Every role mattered. The night staff helped set up, day staff managed attendance, and one carer took photos for the noticeboard. We added notes to the handover sheet so everyone knew who might need extra support getting to the lounge.
Under the HSE Person-Centred Care approach, we gave residents choice. Some picked the first song; others read poems. That bit of control made a big difference. One man who rarely joined anything offered to play his old tin whistle. So it turned out, the plan became theirs more than ours — and that’s exactly how it should be.
By the time planning finished, the excitement was real. Residents kept asking when “music day” was happening. Staff joked about who’d sing first. It already felt like a success before it began. Still, I knew the next stage — actually running the session — would test everything we’d prepared. But sure, that’s the nature of care work: plans on paper only come alive through people.
The day of the event came faster than I thought it would. I won’t lie — I was half-excited, half-nervous. You can plan every detail, but once the room fills, it’s a different story. Around two o’clock, the lounge started to buzz. Some residents arrived early, curious; a few dressed up a bit, which was lovely to see. One gent had polished shoes for the first time in weeks.
We had the chairs in a circle, soft light coming through the window. Tea trolley ready, music speaker on standby. When the first tune started — The Galway Shawl — something shifted. You could see it in their faces, that mix of surprise and recognition. People started humming before anyone said a word.
The activity coordinator gave a small welcome, nothing formal. Then we invited stories. At first, it was quiet, but once one lady mentioned dances in Connemara, the room opened up. Stories poured out — of fairs, neighbours, laughter. To be fair, the noise level got high at times, but it was a happy kind of noise.
Not everything went smoothly. One man grew emotional remembering his late wife. I sat beside him and just listened. No clever words needed. Another resident couldn’t focus for long and drifted in and out. That was okay too — she smiled each time a new song began. In practice, that’s the thing about social activities: you meet people where they are, not where the plan says they should be.
Safety stayed in the background but never left my mind. Chairs spaced properly, walking aids close, drinks steady on trays. One nurse quietly kept an eye on fatigue signs. Everyone had given consent beforehand, so we were free to take a few photos for the board.
The last song was The Fields of Athenry. The same gent who’d requested it sang every word, voice trembling but strong. Staff joined softly. The room felt lighter — calmer somehow. After the music, we shared tea and scones. No one rushed off. Some lingered, chatting about songs from their youth. That’s when I realised — it wasn’t about performance. It was about belonging. So it turned out, the day had done exactly what it needed to.
We sat down a few days later to look back. No big formal meeting, just the team with notebooks and tea again. We talked about what worked and what didn’t.
Here’s the short summary we pulled together:
| Evaluation Aspect | Observation | Outcome |
|---|---|---|
| Resident engagement | 10 of 12 joined in or responded positively | Good |
| Mood during/after | Smiles, eye contact, and laughter were noted | Very positive |
| Staff feedback | Felt more connected to residents | Excellent |
Still, lists never tell the full story. One resident who hadn’t joined any group for months asked when the next one was. Another who usually refused activities said she “might try again.” You don’t get better feedback than that.
During the debrief, staff said they enjoyed it too. The event broke down that invisible line between “carer” and “cared for.” We all felt human again. There were lessons, though. The session ran a bit long — nearly an hour and a half. Some were tired near the end, so next time we’ll keep it shorter, maybe forty-five minutes tops.
We also talked about having a rotation of themes — maybe a poetry day, or a simple baking afternoon. Anything that keeps interest alive without pushing too hard. The HIQA Standards call for meaningful occupation, and that’s what this turned into — something that gave people purpose, not just a pastime.
Reflecting afterward, I noticed my own learning too. I’d spent so long worrying about doing everything “right” that I’d forgotten how natural connection works. You can’t script care. It has to breathe a bit. That’s something the HSE Person-Centred Framework reminds us — care happens with people, not to them.
So it turned out, evaluation wasn’t about grading success. It was about listening again — just like during the activity itself.
Looking back, this small social activity showed me what person-centred care really looks like in practice. It’s not about fancy resources or grand plans. It’s about listening, respecting, and sharing time in a way that makes people feel alive again.
The planning built teamwork. The activity brought laughter. The reflection helped learning. Together, they made something gentle but powerful. Each stage is tied to the next, shaping a full circle of care.
In the end, it wasn’t just about storytelling or music. It was about community. About dignity. About the idea that care can be joyful as well as safe.
All the same, it’s those simple shared moments — a song half-remembered, a laugh at the wrong lyric, a quiet nod across the room — that stay with you long after the chairs are stacked away.
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Aoife Kelly is a skilled academic writer and subject expert at IrelandAssignmentHelper.ie, contributing since 2015. She holds a Master’s degree in Health and Social Care Management from Dublin City University and brings over a decade of experience in healthcare and social sciences. Aoife specializes in supporting students across a range of disciplines, including Healthcare, Childcare, Nursing, Psychology, and Elder Care. Her practical understanding of these fields, combined with strong academic writing expertise, helps students craft well-researched essays, reports, case studies, and dissertations that meet Irish academic standards.
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