Two weeks

Three weeks ago I received a phone call from a woman working with United Cerbal Palsy of Orange County. She explained that she was interested in my resume but could not exactly identify where I met the one year of experience requirement. I told where in my "career" I felt I had met that requirement but she informed me that it wasn't enough, that I could volunteer to get that experience, but that I was presently not qualified. I hung up feeling thoroughly disappointed -- I had gotten so close to a job, better yet, a job in my field, and yet I was once again turned down. However, my mind gears were set into motion and I began thinking about my job experience and how I felt it met the requirements. So, after much deliberation, I tried calling her the next morning to state my case. No answer. I tried again later that day but again was met with no answer. I decided to write her an email as I felt it would be the most successful option in reaching her. Plus, emails are a glorious thing -- you can take a much time needed to fully convey your message.


I was concerned that I was being too forward. I was raised to accept and respect rules and standards. If their organization says I need a year of experience that's just how it is. Why should they make an exception for me just because I feel qualified. And yet, another voice was telling me that all too often it is advised to be persistent and diligent in acquiring a job. Essentially it boiled down to this: what could it hurt? If she likes what I have to say, she'll take me in. If not, I never have to speak to her again and the embarrassment of being rejected again will be just another story in my novel about job hunting.


And yet, it worked. The next day I received a phone call from her with the promise of only an interview which I gladly accepted. Now, up to this point I knew very little about the job. The description on the webpage was very limited and when I wrote my email "begging" (ha) for the job I thought, "This is an inappropriate time to say -- Hope you reconsider me for the job! By the way, what exactly is this job?" ...Plus, I figured, "Who doesn't like special needs kids. Not liking special needs kids is like not liking puppies! This job has gotta be right down my alley."


So, the whirlwind began. On Wednesday I had the interview, got the job, and went to get my TB test (yuck) and drug test. Thursday morning I got finger-printed and by Friday I was back at the office for the training. During the training it was mentioned that I would like be paired with a young boy who is one of the  more challenging boys in their program. I was honored -- I climbed victoriously to the top of this mountain, got the job, and now I'm gunna be workin' pro-status! All the was great as I prepared for my first day with my first kid. Granted, I was a little nervous as I weighed how much experience I truly had with how challenging this boy sounded. But I love the idea of being a "betterer" in someone's life and I thought this would be just the opportunity.


Monday morning I was a bag of nerves. All those worries of a first day churned in my stomach. Will he like me? Will I remember all my training? What if I do something wrong? ...Thankfully my supervisor was able to attend with me the first day and demonstrate good interaction with my student. But, of all the disabilities I had worked with, his was not one of them. And so, essentially, even though I had eeked by with my few months of experience to get the job, it was as though I was starting from scratch. Each disability is so different, I had absolutely no preparation to work with this one. The first day was certainly difficult and even though I left feeling positive, I experienced no sense of true desire to go back. In every other job I've had, even though the first day may have been difficult, there has alway been that desire to go at it again the next day and improve myself. Or at least go back to increase my paycheck. But there was something missing in my drive home. And I assured myself all I needed was more time.


The morning of day two I was once again nervous. More nervous than the day before. But naturally so, as I would be with Charlie all by myself. And yet, what bothered my was the presence of anxiety. So much so, that I found myself unable to eat anything... My day with him start out smoothly. And then his hit a wall. Thankfully, we were in an empty room where one of the site leaders was eating her lunch. I attempted to call him, but he became aggressive toward me, hitting me, kicking me, and throwing his shoes at me. In theory, a kindergartner going at you wouldn't seem too scary. Expect for the fact that it is difficult to understand why he is upset in begin with and it is even more challenging to understand what he needs to come down from his outburst. As per my training, I removed myself from the room and the leader inside was able to keep watch over him.


Once I stepped outside, the emotions surged. Even now, I can't exactly identify why. Most likely, I was just shocked. Shocked that a five-year-old, with whom I should be able to minimally reason with and manage their behavior, was exploding like a two-year-old who has the malicious intentions of an angst-filled teenager. I thought this was it, and I was prepared to call my supervisor and quit. Naturally, by the time I got on the phone with her to inform her of the situation, my illogical aspirations had died and I resumed level-headedness. Thankfully, by the time I finished my conversation with my supervisor, he had calmed down and was in his post-tantrum, recovery trance. The remainder of the day went relatively well, although I couldn't help but lay to rest the emotions bubbling under the surface. I believe I cried on the way home.


Wednesday morning, I was a mess again. My anxiety levels were through the roof and I dreaded my day with the kid. This was a great concern for me. I hate the feelings yet, still, could not completely understand them. Praise the Lord, my supervisor attended his site again for part of the day so I was able to once again watch the master at work. When she's around, all is at bay. But only a short while after leaving, he flipped. I kept the tears from flowing, and my adrenaline kicked it allowing me to function smoothly and rationally... but deep down, I was hating every minute. After his one incident, he was a charm. And after another full day, I felt relatively optimistic of the day to come.


By Thursday morning, it was evident the pattern that was taking its toll on me emotionally and mentally. I was a mess. If anyone would have asked me if I wanted my wisdom teeth pulled over going to work, I would have accepted in a heart beat. A fireball of anxiety sat in the pit of my stomach all morning. As I plunged deeper into investigating the cause of all this overwhelming emotion I began to realize a top contender -- the fear of the unknown, unpredictability, and inconsistentsy. I compared it to training a young horse; it is nearly inevitable that, at some point, the green equine will manage to throw you, buck you, or even kick you. And that puts me way on edge. I hate knowing that brewing under the seemingly passive situation is a wild animal ready to unleash hell. My time came and went with the kid and after a day living with extreme anxiety and the feeling of, once again, being unprepared to deal with his array of problems I knew what I had to do. I email my supervisor and insisted we meet.


My intentions were to make it clear: I am not prepared or, perhaps, even have the passion for working with such a child. My supervisor has been beyond generous and understanding in working with me through this time of "self-reflection." Our meeting went great and I felt confident to take on what I presumed to be my last day with the kid. As she had already planned it into her schedule, my supervisor offered to attend with me at the site and give me pointers that would benefit me in working with future children. As if things weren't already confusing enough, the day went beautifully. I hated to admit is since I was so certain I was not a good fit for the kid, but I gained more confidence that day and felt as though I could be successful in this area after all.


After much contemplation and conversation over the weekend I made a decision: it was impossible to tell if perhaps I was making progress or the day was an isolated success and the only way to tell was to continue to support the kid the following week. Monday rolled around and I was nervous, to say the least, but I was prepared and ready to see what a new week held. Unfortunately, the kid had spent the weekend at his father's and came to school dressed in clothes he wasn't used to, without his blanket, and in a general "funk," which quickly evoked physical expressions of his discomfort and anxiety. In the midst of a meltdown, which required me to leave the room, I called my supervisor who informed me she actually en route to the school. I was relieved. And, thankfully, she stayed the whole day.


At the end of the day, after much interaction with him -- some positive, some negative -- she was uncertain of his future with the program. He was exhibiting behaviors that concerned her, and she made her directions to me clear: let's just survive this week. I was to keep my interactions with and commands towards him limited to none. I saw it as an easy task; I would let him do his thing and, ultimately, avoid any aggressive behavior that made me so anxious.


The next day began well. Right around 3:15 p.m. the next day he decided to run off the premises. I retrieved him and told him it was time to play inside since he couldn't stay where he was supposed to be. We very calmly walked back to the portables and upon entering he began hitting, kicking, and throwing things at me. So set the mood for the rest of the day. He proceeded to elope several more times and throw tantrums that would result in aggression towards me. I was over it, tired, beat, wanting to be anywhere but there. I emailed my supervisor that night to give her a run-down of the day. I told her I would finish out the week but I couldn't support him any further after that. Wednesday I showed up for work and thirty minutes later she showed up at the site. She was understanding of my difficulty with him and informed me that I would be switching with another I.F. 


I was relieved, of course, but I realized the implications of this switch. In a sense, I felt as though I had failed. I strive for success but I clearly had missed the mark this time. I understood that certain factors involved were out of my control, yet still, in that moment, even though I wanted nothing else than to walk away from the kid forever, I also felt the desire to turn back around and commit to being the change in his life. But, after a long and tiring week with him, I really was truly ready to take a step back. And I was thankful for the opportunity to support another kid. This was the moment I felt would truly know whether or not this was the direction for my life. 


Throughout my two weeks with the job, I have been confronted with the looming question: is this line of work truly right for me? This question is so imperative because, to me, something like this is not just work. It's the investment of one soul into another. And because of that, an underlying passion needs to be present. When I was offered the job I thought it couldn't have been a more perfect fit. After all, not wanting to work with special needs kids is like saying, I don't like rainbows or puppies. Everyone would love to work with special needs kids given the chance, right? During my first week I was concerned -- what if this isn't something I feel passionate about? What if I don't have a desire to invest time and heart into working with special  needs kids? Does that make me a bad person?


I got to the point where I answered "no" to that last question. Jordan doesn't work with special needs kids and he's not a bad person. And if someone offered him one job engineering and another working with special edies, he would pick the former. Why? Because that is his passion. We were all endowed by our Creator with likes, dislikes, passions, disgusts. So for me to admit that this is not a field of interest for me does not make me an ugly person. 


Of course, I did not want to make any decisions after having only interacted with one kid. So I was excited when I was assigned a different student for the week. I was thankful it would give me the opportunity to experience a different perspective. And I couldn't have gotten further on the opposite end of the spectrum. The girl I was assigned to was as high functioning as they come. Granted, her disabilities still come out in her every day functioning. But I was fortunate to see her in her best state for the three days I spent with her. So, I knew, this was the moment, having seen both the crazy and the calm, that I would be able to determine if this was something that I wanted to continue to pursue.


And after two weeks of a myriad of experiences, I am still confused. Should I try a little harder to invest myself into this? Am I just turned off by the idea of having to work when I would rather play housewife? I love being a contributor as well, but I also love tending to my home and husband. I have thought and contemplated and cried and prayed and conversed about this topic for more hours that I can count. But I'm still left without a final resolution. And today I need to email my supervisor. Because I can't keep living wishy-washy like this. Either I'm in or I'm out. I need to be determined in one or the other. So, here I go, about to email her, hoping the words will just come, still hoping for diving intervention...