So, it's been about two months since my last post about my first year as a school psychologist. It's hard to believe how quickly the school year is going by.
Things I have learned so far:
Kids are awesome.
Testing isn't so bad--I have done 9 evals!
I could get used to the built in breaks and vacations :)
That being said, this is a challenging time of year in a school setting--this stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas is an interesting time. There is a unique energy and excitement buzzing throughout each of the buildings I am in.
Today I am attending the 4th of 5 sessions on special education processes--today's topic how disability affects involvement and process in general education. As someone who is a person with a disability, I am uniquely tuned into how my experiences may impact this discussion.
Had you told me a year ago that today I would be working as a School Psychologist at both a high school AND a middle school--I would have laughed at you. At that point, I believed that my internship was complete, I would be returning in some capacity to my role at the CMHC, that had been my employer since I left grad school (the first time).
By New Year's, I was going to be returning to my roots in higher education. Sending out cover letters and CVs all over New England, I was certain I would find my niche in College and University Counseling. Some would even say, I turned down the offer of a life time, to work at the University of Notre Dame (yes, the Notre Dame). But, something didn't feel right.
Then of course, there was the brief period of time in which I thought I was going into the private practice realm, first full time, and then part-time with a part-time University job. It would be the best of both worlds, right? Yet again, when asked by the program director of the academic program I was about to begin teaching in as adjunct faculty--I couldn't seem to bring myself to fill out the APA CV listing those two roles. It was as if I was in denial of the reality I had created for myself. I just couldn't envision myself working in private practice, yet I was willfully about to be doing just that.
Until I received that email. It had been forwarded to me by my program director--a school job, with the name of a contact person I recognized. So, I called...emailed back and forth with my PD and was encouraged to apply. Letters of recommendation were requested and revised, I was interviewed and hired. In a whirlwind of less than a week, I quit both the private practice and university positions and began. And now, just shy of a month in--I have no regrets. I find myself smiling at times for no reason, as I walk down the halls. Students stop in to see me, just because. I learn something new everyday (I'll do an entry sometime just on acronyms in education...oy!). The district took a risk in hiring me, just as I took a risk in jumping out of the safety of the familiar--but think both are finding it was worth it.
My friend Karen used to post a sketch or a narrative during her first year as a middle school art teacher--I would look forward to them each day. And while I cannot promise that I will be as prolific or interesting as what she would submit, I intend to catalog my adventures here.
“Security is mostly a superstition. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” — Helen Keller
Carpe Diem
I bought this for myself about a year ago. It typically sits on the base of my computer monitor in my office at KSC (but that created a less appealing photo). On the wall to my right, by the door to exit my office hangs a framed poster of a Buddha quote "Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." I received this as a gift a few months later as I struggled to accept the loss of relationship with the person who had been my best friend for several years.
One of the challenges of that friendship was that for much of it, I lived in the fear of losing it. Yet, this loss came after I'd accepted it was without end. Even now, as I reflect on that relationship my eyes fill with tears and I am forced to clear my throat.
Live in the moment.
Take risks. Love unconditionally; even when the conditions do not suit you.
I went into my internship year with the intention of refining my clinical skills. I was to be in this place a year, no sense in connecting with those around me to only say goodbye a few months later. But this is not what transpired. Instead, I was surrounded by people intent on pushing and challenging me to face my fear of vulnerability and reconnect with emotion and those around me--because that, as was said by my director, would be the difference between my being a great clinician and an exceptional one. In order for me to be successful here, I would need to take risks--ones that would make me break down in front of a room full of colleagues while also learning that I am okay without needing to produce or hit a certain productivity percentage. Sure, there are 5 evaluation periods throughout the year (1 more to go!). But, my goals were centered around authenticity and developing a more interpersonal style as opposed to the more detached and restricted one I had been operating from.
It's possible that in order for me to engage in the transformation that has occurred over the last 11 months, I had to let go of that part of myself--step out of the shadow. Only one or two people from my former employer even really talk to me now--and while there are certainly times this bothers me a great deal, I push forward. I am not the person or clinician I was while there.
I also do not know if that friend and I will ever sit together again. If so, we will need to get to know each other as we are now and in that moment.
I've been thinking about writing for a long time. Hard to believe nearly a year has past since I last shared my thoughts in this space. I suppose there are many reasons for this, as I have in some ways become rather reclusive in my private moments. Yet, as I reflect on the vast number of changes that have occurred over the last 10 or so months dozens of things that went unsaid swirl through my head.
This has been a period of great loss and also a period of tremendous gain, perhaps because of said losses. In the time since my last post, I have once again learned that love is in fact, conditional and that "I'll always be here for you" is relative. But, perhaps more importantly because of this I have learned to stand on my own two feet (with God at my side).
I am not the same person I was in July of 2016. I have since that time, allowed myself to be vulnerable in multiple arenas and pushed myself personally, professionally, and spiritually in ways I did not previously think I was capable. This journey has not been easy. There have been countless tears--of grief, anguish, depression, joy, pride, and love along the way.
I have made mistakes.
And come out the other side stronger, wiser, and more wholly myself than I was before.
Over the last few weeks and months, I have repeatedly tried to reconcile the violence and division that has been tearing at the fabric of our country through repeated acts of hatred because of differences in race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, and (dis)ability. And I can't. And nor should you. Perhaps it is human nature, to look for someone else to blame and admittedly my preference was to point to a certain presumptive presidential nominee for repeatedly spreading a rhetoric of division and separation. And yet, it has become increasingly clear to me over the course of the last year that said individual's rise in the political arena is due in large part to the undercurrent of American society. Is it possible that in our attempts to be politically correct we have merely masked our nation's propensity towards fear and bigotry? Thereby stifling the very conversations that may have lessened the current level of separation among these groups? I recently attended a training that was conducted by two best friends, one African American and the other Caucasian as they shared their research and personal experiences of racism over the last 30 years. And I must admit that I was humbled by my level of oblivion to the continued racial divide in this country--such that at the end of the day, as we went around the room and shared our take-away message--I was tearful in my apology for my own lack of awareness. Because while it is true, that when I look at a person, I do not see color--this is due in part to the reality that I have always lived in predominately white areas of the country. A consequence of which is that I have no close friends of color and with those individuals I do know, the discussion of their experiences of racial inequality are not discussed. However, I have come to understand the concept of "White Privilege" in a new way--in the things I take for granted as normal occurrences (or more accurately those things that do not happen to me because of the color of my skin). Part of this process of awakening, if you will, has also caused me to look at my life because of the minority groups to which I do belong. I have and do experience prejudice as a member of the disabled, gay, and Christian communities (particularly due to the clash between the latter two)--and yet, what do I do about this? Not a whole hell of a lot. I may sputter about it from time to time to a close and openminded friend, but thus far I have done little in terms of advocacy or activism. Due to the disparity between Christian beliefs about homosexuality, I veered away from religion when strongly affiliated with gay culture and then as a Christian, I have shied away from this group in an effort to align more with my faith. Granted, this has also been paired with adjustments in my understanding of where I fall on the Kinsley Scale as it has moved more towards the middle. And yet, this remains dialectic that I experience where both can be true. In an effort to fall within the guise of "correctness" I opt not to discuss one when in the company of the other--makes total sense, right? And I have done the same with my disability. I have fought for years to not be seen as disabled and yet have no problem parking in a handicapped spot. And this was further perpetuated by a lack of acceptance by both sides--not able-bodied enough and yet not disabled enough to fit in with either group. It has been said that the previously mentioned presumptive presidential nominee is merely "saying what the American people are really thinking". And sadly, based on the events of the last several weeks, there is likely truth to this. Said individual has built a campaign based on separation and division, fear, intolerance, and bigotry. Where am I going with all of this you may be wondering (and at the moment, so am I...)? If we are going to stand up for change, we must stand up for ourselves and one another. We must create an environment in which individuals feel safe sharing their experiences of separation and division, where differences are celebrated and explored--not brushed aside because they make us uncomfortable. And no, we will not agree on everything--but we must love. We are called to love and love one another 365 times in the Bible--this is not by accident. Instead of building walls and casting out, the bible calls us to build relationships and be in community with one another--only then will the violence, suffering, and pain cease to exist.
It is perhaps a little known fact that I love musicals. I still recall the excitement of being in middle school and seeing my first one--and while I have not actually *seen* all too many, I know several soundtracks by heart. Though, perhaps my all-time favorite thus far is Wicked. And it is a song from that musical that sparks my entry for today.
Today marked my 8th anniversary with my current employer. It is the place I have worked the longest and also the place that I will be leaving in just two weeks. And while my departure is becoming somewhat amorphous with the opportunity to remain on part time for an undefined amount of time, I am grateful for the countless opportunities that have been afford me there.
Over the past two weeks, I have spent a little time each day going through my office things and seeing what could be discarded. Years of files, articles, handouts, training documents--cards from past clients--things that at the time seemed so important to hold onto. And now, I realize that much of it must stay behind in this place as memories.
I've been reminded through several conversations and instances lately of the fragility of life--that all things eventually come to an end, this side of eternity. Things and people that once seemed as though they were fixtures eventually are taken down or move on--and as was said today, we are all replaceable. Interestingly, the person who said this, was the same individual who sadly had to spend the first half of our relationship trying to convince me that to her I was not replaceable. And yet, today, I was able to matter-of-factly respond--"Yes, I know I am replaceable". And indeed I am--to an extent. Yet, there will never be another just like you or just like me...
So yes, eventually there will be someone complete the tasks that I once managed...as it should be, but they will not be me. I have learned to separate my worth from what it is that I do.
I've heard it said, That people come into our lives For a reason Bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those Who help us most to grow if we let them. And we help them in return. Well, I don't know if I believe that's true But I know I'm who I am today Because I knew you.
Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes a sun, Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better But because I knew you. I have been changed for good.
It is without question, that I am no longer the same person as I was when I started there eight years ago and I have met people who have most certainly changed my life "for the good".
I heard this song for the first time about a month
ago and from that moment it became one of my new favorites. On several
occasions, I have listened to it on repeat as I drove home.
What would I tell myself? What would I
change?
As the song says "Do
I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life. Or do I go
deep and try to change the choices that you'll make cuz they're choices
that made me?"
I can't decide.
But, as I consider the issues still
facing the current me--I would say, remember to breathe. To love.
To not be afraid to let go. To continually trust that God has you.
"Even though I love this crazy
life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother
ride"
I am in the midst of a major transition. About to start over in a
new (albeit temporary) place where no one knows me or who I used to be.
And I've come to realize that one of the "problems" with
attachment is that it's painful. No longer can I just walk away and not
look back. So, I have to trust--trust in the relationships that I risked
to build. And I have to let go and let God do His thing. Things
will change. And it will be as it is supposed to be.
