Something odd happened to me the other day, and looking back on it, I suppose it could be chalked up among the other affirming things that have happened to me since returning to school.
After more than a decade pissing my life away in hotels and factories, I decided to return to school this past January in order to finally work my way toward a degree in social work. There is nothing so humbling as going back to school as an older person (I'm in my 30's) and realizing exactly how much you don't know. In time however, you do catch up and I did.
And how. In one week, two of my teachers asked if they could keep assignments of mine for use as teaching aids for future classes. For a Spanish class, I came up with skits that involved, in one, aliens discussing why it would be a good idea to invade Puerto Rico, and in another, Sesame Street-esque sock puppets getting into a fight. The teacher loved them, as she did a family tree I did that traced the blood lineage of various Castlevania characters. In short, I've discovered that I actually am rather intelligent, and that I actually do have a wellspring of creativity somewhere inside, and that I love to use it.
This brings me to the strange occurrence. One of those classes in which the instructor wanted to keep an assignment is a computer class. As we go along through the course, we've been adding onto a semester-long project. The latest portion was Excel, and I had to make a detailed spreadsheet and charts. I couldn't get the program to do what I wanted it to do, though, and I went in to ask the teacher what I had done wrong or if I had actually pushed the program to its limits.
We went over the program, and she looked at the spreadsheet and charts, which I had done my best to make look pretty. Then she made a snap decision, told me that she really wanted me "on our side," asked if I really, truly wanted to go into human services, and then marched me around to every other teacher in the computers department giving me the hard sell. She went on about my talent to the other teachers, and that I was several levels ahead of most of her other students.
She wants me to consider a career in graphic design. Now, I've never considered this before, but as I said, I've discovered that I can be creative if I try. I like that, and I like using that creativity. On the other hand, I have a very well-developed sense of justice and my ultimate goal is to work with victims of crime and abuse. To a person, however, I've been told by actual social workers not to bother. Apparently, the entire social work field exists to push papers, mark time, and go home having not helped a soul and not caring in the least. That, and everyone lies, the bureaucracy is against you, and, invariably, the bad guy wins and the child or the wife or whoever will most certainly be returned to their clutches to be beaten to death in due course. You won't win, you won't change anything, and while you're figuring this out, you'll get to experience the joy of listening to a father justify giving his toddler an STD, and having a drunken middle-aged daughter ask for a cup of coffee in a bored voice upon learning that her elderly mother drank drain cleaner in an attempt to escape her (the daughter's) brother's relentless sexual advances.
Is this a world I really want to work in? Are social workers truly as useless as they all claim to be? I can look at the things that people do to one another (or that they do to themselves to escape other things that people are doing to them) without screaming, and I've always figured that if you can do that, you have a duty to do it. On the other hand... I seem to have some talent. Should I use it instead?
I don't know. Thoughts?
After more than a decade pissing my life away in hotels and factories, I decided to return to school this past January in order to finally work my way toward a degree in social work. There is nothing so humbling as going back to school as an older person (I'm in my 30's) and realizing exactly how much you don't know. In time however, you do catch up and I did.
And how. In one week, two of my teachers asked if they could keep assignments of mine for use as teaching aids for future classes. For a Spanish class, I came up with skits that involved, in one, aliens discussing why it would be a good idea to invade Puerto Rico, and in another, Sesame Street-esque sock puppets getting into a fight. The teacher loved them, as she did a family tree I did that traced the blood lineage of various Castlevania characters. In short, I've discovered that I actually am rather intelligent, and that I actually do have a wellspring of creativity somewhere inside, and that I love to use it.
This brings me to the strange occurrence. One of those classes in which the instructor wanted to keep an assignment is a computer class. As we go along through the course, we've been adding onto a semester-long project. The latest portion was Excel, and I had to make a detailed spreadsheet and charts. I couldn't get the program to do what I wanted it to do, though, and I went in to ask the teacher what I had done wrong or if I had actually pushed the program to its limits.
We went over the program, and she looked at the spreadsheet and charts, which I had done my best to make look pretty. Then she made a snap decision, told me that she really wanted me "on our side," asked if I really, truly wanted to go into human services, and then marched me around to every other teacher in the computers department giving me the hard sell. She went on about my talent to the other teachers, and that I was several levels ahead of most of her other students.
She wants me to consider a career in graphic design. Now, I've never considered this before, but as I said, I've discovered that I can be creative if I try. I like that, and I like using that creativity. On the other hand, I have a very well-developed sense of justice and my ultimate goal is to work with victims of crime and abuse. To a person, however, I've been told by actual social workers not to bother. Apparently, the entire social work field exists to push papers, mark time, and go home having not helped a soul and not caring in the least. That, and everyone lies, the bureaucracy is against you, and, invariably, the bad guy wins and the child or the wife or whoever will most certainly be returned to their clutches to be beaten to death in due course. You won't win, you won't change anything, and while you're figuring this out, you'll get to experience the joy of listening to a father justify giving his toddler an STD, and having a drunken middle-aged daughter ask for a cup of coffee in a bored voice upon learning that her elderly mother drank drain cleaner in an attempt to escape her (the daughter's) brother's relentless sexual advances.
Is this a world I really want to work in? Are social workers truly as useless as they all claim to be? I can look at the things that people do to one another (or that they do to themselves to escape other things that people are doing to them) without screaming, and I've always figured that if you can do that, you have a duty to do it. On the other hand... I seem to have some talent. Should I use it instead?
I don't know. Thoughts?
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