Am I a Mess?
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Friday, 16 February 07 - 02:39 AM (GMT -05:00) By Andrea S. Stolz in Grad School |
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I've been in grad school for two and a half years now. I started out going for elementary ed and literacy but switched over to elementary ed and special ed. And I love it.
Except for the crying part. I cry in every single freakin class. At least once, sometimes more.
Tonight it was a story of how my prof worked with a class of "emotionally disturbed" fifth graders and encouraged them to create a frontispiece for the school's entryway. At the end of the year the piece--a mosaic full of classic symbols that the students sacrificed weekends and free time to complete--was unveiled at a school gathering and the children were given a standing ovation by the community. Forget it. The way my professor tells the story? Tears. Rolling down my cheeks. And I actually heard the story two years ago when I took him for Psych Foundations of Education so I knew the ending beforehand.
Which just meant that I started crying earlier than I would have normally.
The other night in severe disabilities it was a handout. Parents of a severely autistic 13 year old were able to receive training in new voice technology that would help their daughter to finally communicate. These parents were under the impression that their daughter was also severely mentally retarded. After the therapists had set the young girl up with her new voice technology, they asked her if there was anything she would like to say...
"Yes," the girl typed back, "I want to tell my mother that I love her."
A mess. I almost started laughing at how ridiculous I thought it was to be crying. But could you imagine being that mother? Loving your child but never expecting to hear those words in return? And then hearing them? After 13 years?
Man, this stuff will put you through the wringer.
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