I adored my forty-four-year career as a speech-language pathologist. For thirty of those years, I thrived in my private practice, focused on the communication issues of toddlers. People used to say, “You must be so patient,” to deal with the ‘terrible two’ tantrummers, but the truth was somewhat different.
Working with people who are highly frustrated with their inability to express their wants and needs – at any age – requires rapid, precision problem-solving skills. I needed to be able to break words like “want” and “more” into discreet bits of sound that a kid could imitate and then praise him/her effusively. I needed to entice the kids to take a risk, to not have an extreme fear of failure – which had already set in by age two or three. I got to be wonderful each workday. I ‘gave for a living.’
I used to proselytize speech-language pathology as a career choice. Wouldn’t anyone want to be wonderful every day? My efforts to evangelize about the field intensified when my peers, now ensconced in college programs around the country, reported that fewer freshmen were enrolling to become specialists in communication disorders.
Oh no! People afflicted by an inability to speak need services. To be able to communicate is a core life skill!
I spoke with everyone willing to engage – even a furniture salesman. I convinced one young relative, but another declined. Friends’ teenagers, too, including our pastor’s granddaughter.
I talked, encouraged, and hyped the field constantly. I convinced the young PT assistant (who’d been unable to get into PT school) to give it a go, not knowing that the standard for entering my field had an even higher bar.
The young woman was rejected by each of our several proximate colleges. The recommendation letter that I’d offered to write to support her application was disallowed. She was dejected, cut to the core.
I no longer evangelize.
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