Something great happened today, and while it was a very small thing, I have found that in social work we need to hold on to these small victories and use these victories as fuel to advocate for our less successful youth and power through the obstacles and roadblocks that often stand in our way.
(For privacy purposes I have only included the first letter of all names mentioned.)
After dropping M,a fellow Americorps member, off at work, I continue on to my office downtown jamming to Blind Melon's "Skinned." I notice that the beat of the song jives with the rhythm of the wind-shield wipers swishing back and forth and my fingers begin to snap in sync. And just like every morning, I swing around the bend into the parking lot and wave at the maintenance manager who sits in a golf cart at the entrance. Sometimes, I think he is waving at me to slow down; I ignore this, smile, and wave as if I'm clueless as to what he is trying to tell me. I park in a spot marked "reserved," (this, too, I ignore) and hurriedly gather my things from the backseat because last night's cocktail at the bar with my neighbor has made me late, yet again. I take the elevator up to the third story, brief case in one hand and herbal tea in the other with an eco-friendly shopping bag swung over my right shoulder, to be greeted by our Secretary, S. She just got a new haircut. It's very "Mary Tyler Moore."
I glance at the clock on the wall in my office and realize that I have 5 minutes to spare before a staff meeting at 9:30. Because I chose to put on make-up this morning rather than eat breakfast, I rip open a granola bar with my teeth while skimming the subject lines of ten un-read e-mails in my inbox. Without looking up from my computer screen, I hear a knock at my door.
"Come in," I say, without looking up, figuring it's probably an Independent Living Specialist referring me to another youth.
A young man clears his throat,"Hi Miss."
I stop reading to find D, one of the youth I have been assisting in receiving food stamps and medicaid benefits for the last few weeks, standing in front of my desk with a smile painted from ear to ear. As I stand up to greet him, he walks towards me, gives me a hug and says "Thank you."
I am so taken aback by the gesture of appreciation, one in which the staff members at Vita Nova rarely see, that I think I am going to cry. In just this week alone, I have had two youths miss their tutoring sessions due to a lack of responsibility, one young woman blame me for the rejection of her medicaid application in which she proceeded to deem me "the biggest bitch to ever walk the planet," and a set of twins whose food stamp applications were rejected by the state because of their current citizenship status.
And so during weeks like this, when I feel like I have failed a youth five out of six times, that one youth who has actually succeeded in receiving a benefit is the most important part of my day. Youth like D, while they are few and far between, remind me why I get up for work every morning and encourage me to continue advocating for this particular population. He reminds me to have more patience and compassion for a youth who over sleeps and misses his appointment or out of frustration and loss, takes their anger at the system, out on me. When I think about D, I remember why these youth are sitting in my office. I remember that they are dealing with more stress and trauma than I probably ever will; that their inability to trust anyone takes a toll on the relationships I attempt to form with them; and that in comparison to what I grew up with, these youths have grown up with relatively nothing.
After talking to D about the food stamp benefit he had received, I asked him if he had a meeting with his Independent Living Specialist this morning. He did not. He was simply there to thank me for helping him.
I was beaming.
No comments:
Post a Comment