Pride: It fills my heart.

I cannot write, sing, say, interpretive dance, text, or smoke signal enough how proud I am of my family. My sister is a full time pre-school teacher, helping young people begin a life long journey of learning. My mom is a fourth grade teacher at a parochial school who has been teaching for as long as I can remember. My dad is a superintendent for a school district in southern Maine and has helped shaped the landscape of public education in Maine throughout his career. Each day I am reminded of how each member of my family serves the public. It is what we do. I am reminded of how proud I am of each member of my family each and every day. As the youngest member of my family, I sometimes encounter anxiety and fear that I won't live up to the standards that have been set for me.

Last week I started my first week of classes at Boston College. I had the opportunity to take classes at a satellite campus closer to Providence, but I wanted to be immersed in the culture of Boston College. I wanted to feel the energy at "the Heights". After last week, I feel I have made the right decision. Each time I step on the campus, I can't help but look up at the vast, regal stone buildings and wonder: "how did I get here?". I feel so overwhelmed with gratitude that I am able to study at such am amazing school. The building that houses the Graduate School of Social Work is directly across from the Lynch School of Education, where my dad earned his doctorate degree of education. Each day I go to classes and look over at the building, perhaps saying a silent prayer or reflection of hopes that I can accomplish something as great as he has. Indeed, if I can impact my community half as much as my dad, mom, and sister has, I will consider my life's work complete.

Last week, amidst the opening class questions of "why did you choose social work?" "where have you studied?" and "what type of social work are concentrating on?" I began to reflect on something I experienced over the summer.

I was fortunate enough to attend the wedding of a family friend in Maine, and was happy to see so many of my family members and close friends. My dad, in my opinion, is about as close to selfless as you can get without being considered some type of a Buddhist monk. He prefers to let the actions of his children and wife speak for themselves. My mom, on the other hand, pounces on the opportunity to speak about her children and husband that is akin to a cheetah taking down a gazelle. It is really a beautiful sight. At this particular wedding, my mom was able to bring up my upcoming studies at Boston College. This particular family friend's eyebrows raised toward her head of hair. "Oh wow. What's he studying?" "Social work." my mom responded.

No sooner did those two words come out of my mom's mouth did this lady's facial expression turn into some type of contorted look of disgust that one would get while watching a baby spit up for the first time. Of course, her next comment was how in her particular line of work she sees how social workers struggle and never make any money.

Money. The big word. The five letter word that churns our culture and divides so much of our world. I know this is a long post, but stay with me.

During this past year as a case manager, I was able to experience many situations that social workers encounter. One such occasion was when one of my clients came to me with a strong desire to cut her wrists. Now, you can peddle stocks on Wall Street. You can strike a big deal for your client in court. You can increase your company's profits for the 4th quarter. You will never, in any of these types of jobs, feel the sudden rush of adrenaline that comes when someone walks up to you and tells you they want to kill themselves. A long story short, I was able to counsel this particular client into using coping skills to manage their thoughts of self harm. They did not engage in this type of self injurious behavior. Driving home after work that day, I got the same feeling I felt last week while at Boston College for my first classes: social work changes lives, and it is what I should be doing.

I will say, that after my first week at Boston College and after starting my internship at the Met school as a social work intern, I can't imagine doing anything else with my life right now. Last year, after taxes I made just over 18,000 dollars for twelve months of work as a residential case manager. I made every student loan, car, and rent payment. I ate well and was even able to enjoy the occasional craft ale and day of skiing with my incredibly beautiful girlfriend. In short, I was not saving buckets of money, but I was able to live quite comfortably without overwhelming assistance from my parents.

I felt sad and angry that night after the wedding. This poor woman is so overwhelmed by the idea of money that she neglects to realize the truly beautiful contributions that social workers can make in this world. I felt as though I was receiving her sympathy for my choice of a career, which did not jive well with my sense of pride. I'm sure she meant no harm by what she said. I can't say that I blame her because she focuses too much on what people make and has no idea what it means to touch someone's life and help them change in a way that brings sustained peace in their life. She does not know what it means to encounter a crisis and help someone navigate the troubled waters of mental illness. These are intangibles. You can't get them at the office party, or at the water fountain during a break. These are the types of experiences I live for- where I can help someone who has serious trouble in their life and help them reach a point of happiness. As far as I'm concerned, these types of experiences are worth every cent of a paycheck, no matter how much it is for.

As my classes begin and I become more and more entrenched in the world of academia, I will never for a second forget how proud I am of my family. They have each found their passion for serving, and in social work, I feel I have found mine. I hope that some day I will be able to contribute as much as they have.

Good Bye Cortland

I awoke this morning to windows wide open, a crisp breeze flowing in my bedroom, and an apartment which has a temperature below 85 degrees for the first time in months. This brought to me a renewed sense of excitement- Fall is on the way! Along with Fall comes a new chapter in my life- graduate school at Boston College.

A few weeks ago, on Friday August 20, I worked my final shift as a residential case manager at Cortland Group Home. Immediately following my departure, I travelled to Maine for a wedding and spent the next week in Maine with time split between my family's camp in Lake View and my hometown in South Portland. During this time I was able to process my feelings of leaving the group home. What did I learn? What could I have done better? How will I take my experiences and use them to become a better clinician in the future? While working at the group home I witnessed truly horrific events in the lives of people who are affected by severe mental illness. Along with this, I was able to witness small gains in these same people's lives as they learned to advocate for themselves and develop empowerment. Learning to wash their dishes, operate the laundry machine, and complete their personal hygiene were all major achievements.

As a newly graduated twentysomething with a degree in psychology and no experience, I was excited to change people's lives and get them back on their own two feet. I was ready to rid their lives of severe mental illness forever. Sadly, it did not take long for me to realize just how naive I was. Instead, I focused on the small advancements in these people's lives, such as doing their own laundry and completing their personal hygiene, and realized they were small miracles.

As I begin a new chapter at Boston College this week, I continue to think about my clients at the group home and wonder how they are doing. It did not take long for me to realize after leaving the group home that to some extent, I needed my clients much more then they needed me. I think this level of dependency between humans is a beautiful concept that promotes peace and unity among all people.