After three LONG years of grueling coursework and several moments (days? months? ...years?) of wondering if grad school was worth it, I can officially say I’m working as a school psychologist. Ok, ok, so I’m not actually a school psychologist yet. I’m an intern. I owe one more year of school before I can call myself anything “officially”, but can you blame me for getting ahead of myself? It’s been a long time coming. Anyway, I started said internship on August 2nd at a high school in Colorado. Everyday I come home with another exciting/depressing/motivating story that I feel interweb-worthy, but everyday I am so utterly exhausted that formulating sentences to speak (much less write) sounds terrible. Instead, I turn on Criminal Minds, pour myself a glass of wine, and promise I’ll start a blog tomorrow.
I am really no more inclined to start that blog now, but know that if one of those “tomorrows” doesn’t become “today” these thoughts will all vanish into my memory and never be told. Personally, I find my job fascinating (the kids, their stories, and their resiliency) and would prefer that I share what I learn as I learn it, more for personal record than for anything else.
Since the list of stories I've wanted to remember is quickly growing, I'll just list a few of the events of my internship that have affected me most (thus far).
- Pointless Power Struggles. When a kid is on food stamps, I don’t think his primary concern should be buying a specific type of cereal so he can make a project for class with its box. I’d be more understanding if the teacher didn’t scream at him for it. When he skips your class from here on out, let’s not pretend to be surprised.
- Gang Violence. This weekend one student shot another student and nicked his femoral artery. He nearly bled out, but survived. Though my experiences with gang violence are growing (27 weeks in violence-afflicted schools = 3 kids in the hospital), it still breaks my heart and is one of the most foreboding things about working with the population I do. Not a single kid I’ve talked to wants to stay in their gang, but there’s no way out unless you move to another state. Little kids are handed deadly weapons and expected to play with the big boys. They have no idea what they’re doing. It needs to stop.
- Seizure disorders that lead to Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBIs). I can’t express this one in words. But to look into the eyes of a boy who was bright, motivated, and going places one year ago, and now see a young man who can’t even speak is one of the most heart-wrenching things I’ve done. He remembers who he used to be, and what he used to be capable of, but after multiple seizures a day and a resulting TBI, this kiddo has had to change his view of what the future holds.
- Parental abuse that leads to TBIs. This one speaks for itself. And makes you think Dexter chose the wrong profession.
- Starfish parable. While these stories can certainly hit a nerve, I rarely cry at work (I’d say never, but I also don’t want to rule anything out. There’s the distinct possibility that it could happen). That being said, we’re human after all, and humans with the capacity to love are humans with the capacity to hurt. Sometimes these stories can become too much, and the feeling that there are too many kids with too many needs and there’s no way to help them all can become overwhelming and make you want to run. My supervisor shared this with me last week, and it’s a parable every school psychologist, every social worker, and every person who’s ever helped anyone should know:
One day an old man was walking along the beach. It was low tide, and the sand was littered with thousands of stranded starfish that the water had carried in and then left behind.
Soon, the man came upon a small child on the beach who was frantically throwing one starfish after another back into the sea. The old man stopped and asked the child, "What are you doing?"
"I'm saving the starfish," the child replied.
"Why waste your time?... There are so many you can't save them all so why does it matter?", asked the man.
Without hesitation, the child picked up another starfish and tossed the starfish back into the water... "It matters to this one," the child said.
