Leaving places

When you move away from somewhere, you aren't just moving away from one place, but from dozens--the neighborhood coffee shop, your favorite restaurant, your backyard, a spot under your favorite tree, etc.

Even though T and I aren't moving away from Maryland for a few months, next week I'll take my leave of a place here that I've become surprisingly attached to--the residential school for "exceptional children" where I've been interning since mid-May.

I'm almost ashamed to admit now how I felt about interning there when I was first trying to line things up for myself. I had picked the school because I had a vague sense that it would be a unique experience and would be "good for me." But I was also being practical; I had some personal connections that I hoped might help get me in.

Really, I was kind of terrified at the thought of actually getting an internship there. I figured interning there would be very, very difficult and that I would do a generally terrible job of working with the students.

In order to protect their privacy, I can't write about individual kids, but I can give you a general sense of the population. They range in age from early teens to 21. Multiple disabilities appear almost to be the norm. Many have Autism Spectrum Disorder, but I've also heard diagnoses or labels like obsessive compulsive disorder, schizophrenia, epilepsy, Down Syndrome, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, cerebral palsy, severe allergies, digestive problems, heart problems, hearing impairments, vision impairments...and I think it would be rare for a student's file to list only one diagnosis. Many are nonverbal. Many can be very, very violent, to themselves or others.

I make this school sound like a potentially dangerous and depressing place to work, don't I? But I didn't understand how happy and joyful people in these students' situations can be. I had no idea that I would quickly develop a deep attachment to and, yes, love for many of them.

I've learned a great deal about myself from working there, too. I've learned that I can be okay in very new situations, that I can learn from my mistakes without being devastated by them.

I've learned that I might actually be capable of working with a population I never knew I could effectively interact with. More than that--I may have an actual passion for working with this population.

And now that I've discovered all of this, I'll be moving away from a unique location in the country where I could potentially have a job working with a unique population that I love working with.

But that's okay. One thing I'm really learning as I get older is that I cannot guess what the future will bring. Even in a small town on an island in Kodiak, there may be people in some way similar to these kids--people I might be able to help in the future.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my final week at the school. I'll just have to remember to keep a lot of tissues on hand. I doubt I'll make it through the week tear-free.