She made a difference.

Tonight, I went to a visitation at a funeral home for someone I've known basically my entire life. My mom has known her since elementary school, and her niece and I were best friends growing up. About two years ago, she was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer, and after going through treatment and finally into remission, doctors found a brain tumor. She passed away Sunday morning, surrounded by her family, and I'm convinced she's now on Jesus's official welcoming committee. I always thought she was one of those people that everybody loved...but I apparently had no idea.

The visitation tonight was from 6-8pm. You've all been to one...you go more out of obligation than anything, to sign the book and hug the family then leave as quickly as possible. Usually it's a quick in-and-out thing. My mom and grandmother and I went around 7 and planned to stay no more than 15 or 20 minutes; I had even made dinner plans for afterwards. When we got to the funeral home, there was a line of people wrapped halfway around the outside of the building waiting to go inside. We stood in line for almost 45 minutes before we even got close to the front of the line. It was incredible. We even joked about it..."Too bad Linda Sue didn't have any friends".

Imagine having such an impact on people that it takes almost an hour to get into your wake. Imagine touching so many lives that for over two solid hours, hundreds of people take time out of their routines to express to your family how much you mean to them. I can think of several people right now who have made that kind of impact in my life: my awesome friend Amy who is finishing up cancer treatments and isn't afraid to rock her fabulous hairdo in public :-); Tracey, who is the kind of mom I want to be someday and lets me join in the wonderful chaos of her life whenever I need a fix; Amanda ,who commiserates with me via text messages almost daily and helps make my work a little more bearable, and who is always quick to offer a movie and pitcher of sangria when I really need it; Amanda, whose story is so incredible and inspiring and who is one of the strongest and bravest women I've ever known; and sweet Lindsay, who is one of the most encouraging people I know even though her husband is in the army and was just sent to Germany for two years. All of these women have shown Jesus to me, just like Linda Sue showed Jesus to every single person she met. I am encouraged by her, and I hope you are too, to be that to someone else. And besides that, let someone you love know it, before you have to wait an hour to get into their wake. I know I definitely need to do more of that.

And when you get to heaven, look for Linda Sue. She'll be the one with the great big smile and the ready hug, welcoming you right on in.

Nothing to Say

...Except that I'm tired and I need a vacation which I won't get because I finish working at an autism camp on the 7th and start my real job on the 10th, and my kids at the camp are making me about ready to pull out my hair and scream like a crazy woman, and I really want a Reese's peanut butter cup because I've been on the South Beach diet for a month and a half and I haven't had anything white or refined and I'm LOSING MY MIND.

That is all. Carry on.

Good things come when other things are lousy.

So, just when I get all whiny about how awful my job is, something cool happened today. I'm pretty sure it's God's little way of saying "Suck it up, sister, you're here for a reason". I get it, I get it.

This morning, while attempting to remove B from every table top/high surface in the room and listening to him scream in protest (for three. hours. straight.), I forgot that Mondays are Art Days. Two very patient women from the Art Center come to camp and let the kids paint to their little hearts' content. Some of them want no part of it, but some love it. My group usually isn't too keen on the whole sitting in a chair and following directions thing, so I didn't think we'd be there long. Little did I know...

Last week, J smacked the art lady in the face within 30 seconds of sitting down. Today, she sat in a chair for eight minutes and let an assistant help her paint a picture of a rainbow. HUGE for this girl. I was sitting by D1, who loves to write and draw, and he was a little hesitant at first. I helped him paint a happy face with hair and ears....then he took off. It was like a lightbulb turned on somewhere in his little mind. He painted an elephant with two people riding on its back, a big bright rainbow, and a house under the rainbow with trees beside it. We could see him thinking about what to paint next. The coolest part was when he picked up the orange paintbrush and wrote "orange", then used the red paint to write "red". Why was this so cool, you ask? Why did the art ladies and I tear up a little at the sight of those two simple words? Because those were the two first words D1 has ever written. Ever. He writes groups of letters that resemble words all the time, but never an actual word. We didn't ask him to write those words, and we didn't spell them for him. Painting somehow stimulated a part of my sweet little guy's brain that said "Hey, we've seen these words a thousand times, let's make these wimpy teachers cry".

Needless to say, I won't forget Art Day next week.

Why do I get myself into these things?

Some of you might find this shocking (ha), but I have trouble saying no when people ask me to do things, especially when kids are involved. I'll probably babysit for you even if I have work at 7am the next morning (unless I don't like your kids, then I make up an excuse...don't worry Amanda, I've never done that to you :-) ), and I'll most likely work at XYZ event for free in the scorching heat to support the Organization for Kids with Eleven Toes or whatever. Which is why I've found myself in my current predicament.
Way back in April, I applied for a part-time job as the director of a summer day camp for kids with mental retardation and autism. I figured that, being a director, I wouldn't have to directly care for the kids, but mainly just supervise. I thought my interview went well...and then the current director called. They decided to restructure the camp a little this year, and would I be interested in being a teacher with two assistants in one of the classes? He put me on the spot...what could I say other than, "Um, sure, that sounds great". Dummy.
Now, approximately four weeks into the Camp that Never Ends, I'd like to introduce you to my hellians kiddos. Here's info about my 8 little autistic darlings:

A, aka "The Charmer": 5 years old, nonverbal, in diapers, only eats baby food. Cute as a bug, looks much younger than he is. Usually sweet and cuddly, but can throw a mean tantrum when he doesn't want to do his work. Favorite activity is throwing things up in the air. Quite possibly one of the most spoiled kids ever...his parents and (overbearing) grandparents pulled him out after the second week because he "wasn't getting enough individual attention". Whatever.

B, aka "The Climber": 5 years old, nonverbal, in diapers, never stops moving, leaves a trail of destruction everywhere he goes. Likes to bang his head on the floor when he's mad, and has been known to strip from the waist down and swing his diaper in the air like a lasso. The kid climbs on everything and tries to steal the other kids' lunch. His two-nanosecond attention span seems to be increasing....slooooowly.

D1, aka "The Cutie": 5 years old, potty trained (hallelujah), semi-verbal, relatively high functioning. Sweet boy, likes to cuddle, LOVES to write letters and numbers. He knows the names of everyone in the class, and often asks where so-and-so is. Has a crazy internal clock and knows exactly when it's time for lunch or to go home. Brother to D2, and occasionally imitates his behaviors.

E, aka "The Flasher": 6 years old, nonverbal, in diapers, one of the most severely autistic kids in the class. Loves to have his belly and arms rubbed, but can scratch without warning (I have scars). When he's happy, he has a sweet giggle. When he's mad, he pulls his pants down. Loves to walk the hallways, but throws a fit when he has to come back in the classroom. His favorite thing in the world is Dora the Explorer, which is the only way I can get him to work in the mornings.

D2, aka "The Runner": 7 years old, nonverbal, in diapers, brother to D1. He does NOT like to work, but will if you promise to take him for a walk down the hallways. Will run out of the classroom/playground/building if you look away, and boyfriend is FAST. Also has an obsession with flushing the toilet and climbing up on the cabinets to rewind E's Dora video.

C, aka "The Bottomless Pit": 7 years old, nonverbal, in diapers, will eat anything and everything that is edible. The kid is a toothpick, but never stops eating. Loves borrowing shoes from the other kids and lining them up, and freaks out if you disturb his lines. Likes playing in the dirt on the playground, and has been known to push another kid out of the way in order to sit in a teacher's lap.

J, aka "The Hitter": 8 years old, nonverbal, in diapers, severe autism. J is a mystery to me. She doesn't seem to have any interests other than beating the crap out of me when I'm not paying attention. She's got a mean backhand and uses it often. I'm learning to catch the fist before it connects with my face, but this chick's quick. I'm considering buying her a pair of boxing gloves.

K, aka "The Princess": 8 years old, verbal, potty trained, very high functioning. Likes to do what she wants, when she wants, and throws a royal tantrum if that doesn't happen. She's learning quickly that I can handle her outbursts, so we're working on taking turns and not getting our way rightthissecond. Can be a very sweet girl...when she wants to be.

Z-man: 8 years old, semi-verbal, potty trained, only comes three days each week for half a day. He loves making spaceships out of pattern blocks, and is usually pretty low-maintenance. Loves the playground, hates bowling, and would rather eat Cheez-Its over anything else in the world.

I love these little monsters, but it's been a rough four weeks. Thankfully, I have two fabulous full-time assistants, and two other helpers work with B, J, and Z three days a week. Still, though...I need a vacation from my summer vacation. Seriously.

I have a big girl job!

One question I have grown to dread over the past few weeks is "So, what are your plans for next year?" It's a very well-meaning question, and I ask it occasionally of other people. But when you have NO FREAKING CLUE what your plans are for next year, it gets old. I've had a few leads on jobs, but nothing had panned out.

Until...today. Well, really Monday, but close enough.

As of this August, I will officially have a real job. Not a practicum experience, not an internship, but a real big-girl job. Cool, huh? And weird. I've been a college student for 7 years. I'm not sure I'm going to know what to do with myself without spending at least 3 nights a week in Draper 139. Very, very weird.

What is this new job, you ask? Well, it's kind of complicated, which is why I'm explaining it here and hoping people will read it. My graduate degree is in School Psychology. A person with that degree (and a license, which I am currently applying for and which costs about a bajillion dollars to obtain) is called a Licensed Specialist in School Psychology, or LSSP. I will be an LSSP for Gatesville Intermediate and High schools. My main job will be to create and implement a curriculum in the campuses' behavior classrooms (basically, rooms where kids get sent if they can't handle regular classrooms/get in trouble/piss off the principal) that turns them into less of a prison and more of a rehabilitative situation. My goal is to create some kind of system where kids who are sent to the behavior units can work on improving their coping and behavior management skills and eventually work their way back into regular classrooms. I'll also be having weekly or twice weekly group counseling sessions with the kids to work on controlling their own behavior.

It's going to be a tough job, but I like a challenge. I also like working independently, which is good since I will be pretty much on my own with this. I'm hoping that I can find a program that works and then take it to other schools with similar issues.

I really miss teaching. A lot. I even applied for a few teaching jobs this year. However....I can always be a teacher. I felt like this opportunity was too good to pass up, and I can move on to other things whenever I want. I'm pretty excited about it. Mainly, I'm excited to have a job and know that the rent will get paid. But I think this will a good experience for me...and hopefully it won't cause me to lose every little bit of sanity that I have left.

For the record...

...I think comprehensive exams are a huge and pointless waste of time. Seriously, if the department chair wants to know that I know what I'm doing, he should ask me. Rather than make me answer stupid questions like "What does the United States Constitution have to say about the importance of public education in a representative form of government based on democratic principles?" (huh? and, nothing), or "Briefly explain validity in the context of the Stanford-Binet: Fifth Edition" (who even effing cares). I can look these things up if I ever really need to know them. Ask me a real question, like what to do with a kid who gets written up once a week for rudeness, talking back to teachers, and "grabbing the principal's bottom" (that's a direct quote). At least those answers would be much more entertaining for the grader.

Totally Worth It.

So, I was trying to think of something witty to post, seeing as I haven't written anything in a while (not that anyone actually cares, but whatever)...and then I came across something that made me completely change what I wanted to write. This article is in today's newspaper. Why is that important, you ask? Well, I'm about to tell you.

Since January of 2007, I have been a volunteer with the Advocacy Center for Crime Victims and Children as a Crisis Intervention Advocate. Advocates carry a cell phone and answer the 24-hour crisis hotline, and also go to one of the two area hospitals whenever they register a survivor of sexual assault. We stay with the survivor during the police interview, physical forensic exam, and while they get medication in the ER. Much of my work with the ACCVC has involved having hour-long conversations at 3am with a regular caller who likes me because I remind her of her daughter, referring another regular to the sex offender hotline at least three times each weekend, and spending lots of late nights/early mornings in the ER. It's hard work, very emotionally draining....but it can also be very, very rewarding. Which is why I linked to that article.

I was in the ER with the little girl in the article for 6 hours on a Sunday morning, from 1am until 7am. I remember that her mom was so upset that she brought all 3 of her kids without shoes on, and the little one wasn't wearing a shirt (two amazing ER nurses found them shoes and a shirt, bought the boys breakfast, and gave them toys to play with while they waited). The police officer working the case was wonderful. While we were waiting for the exam to begin, we heard on the police radio that the perpetrator had been arrested. That very rarely happens, and the little girl and I got to check the "arrest made" box on my ACCVC paperwork. We even drew a smiley face next to it.

What also stands out about that case is that, unlike most of the child abusers we deal with, this one didn't try to hide what he did. He did something to her physically that was outwardly visible...something she no doubt would have to explain to curious classmates for a while. The fact that he marked her like that made me SO EFFING MAD. Many of the advocates do what we do because we've "been there", and this case hit very close to home for me. That, combined with how he marked her pretty little face, made me want to hunt down the @#!%^&^ myself.

In my opinion, 20 years is NOT enough for what happened to that little girl, or any little girl (or boy/woman/man), for that matter. But I find comfort in the fact that, for the next 20 years, that sweet girl can finally sleep at night. We're not technically allowed to check up on our clients, but the last I heard, she's thriving. I hope that one day, she'll be able to look him in the eyes and show him how what he did DIDN'T ruin her life, but made her a stronger, more resilient woman.