The moment I walked into the brightly lit room, I witnessed diverting eyes, the pungent stench of pandemic-regulated hand sanitizer and “Life is a Highway” ringing in my ears. As an English major with a specialization in creative writing, my plan growing up was always to write and did not necessarily require me to converse with many people. Talking was simply never my strong suit. The pandemic changed everything. Internships were hard enough to find during those fully masked times but finding one that paid and got you credits for school was extremely rare. When I came across this human services internship in the summer of 2021 while browsing every and any job search platform I could think of, I simply could not pass it up. I had never been exposed to the human services field, nor did I even truly understand what it was in the first place; I simply knew that any sort of experience was beneficial at this point in my educational journey. I, along with the three other interns, had to complete a week of training, including sign language lessons, first aid and CPR training, lectures from the different specialists at the day habilitation center, and immersion (what would you do when) training. Every Wednesday throughout the 8-week-long internship required us to attend a class at Middlesex Community College focusing on disability education. On the last day of our training, we were each assigned to two different rooms at the day habilitation center. Our job was to act as the developmental specialists’ extra set of hands as they act as the glue that puts everything together every day. Little did I know at the time, my job would become so much more important than that.
“What’s your name?”
“What car do you have?”
“What store did you get your water bottle from?”
“What did you bring for lunch?”
“Can we play ‘Life is a Highway’ on the big screen?”
I could barely get out my responses before he asked his next one. Jared, let’s call him, was one of the individuals in the room I was placed in. After my initial anxiety-filled entrance on the first day, led by most individuals’ gazes diverting from my own, I was welcomed with Jared’s observant eyes and this rapid-fire questionnaire. This interaction made me extremely unsure of this internship and of myself— unsure of my capability to be verbal with these individuals day in and day out and unsure of my qualifications to work with them in the first place. Yet, every day, without fail, Jared would ask me these same questions. Jared, along with all of the adults in the rooms, has a developmental disability. Jared, through his lessons about communication, grew a fixation on asking questions as a way to communicate with those around him.
As the weeks went by, some of Jared’s questions started to slowly change. On one nice day, I was assigned to take some of the individuals on a walk outside. After persistent begging on Jared’s part, our walk had ended up as a sightseeing of my ash grey Subaru Crosstrek. Jared no longer asked me what car I had, but instead he would ask “Did you take the highway to get here today?” Once he learned my name, he began to ask what my family members names were. I called out sick one day, and the day I came in next, Jared asked where I was and if I would be there tomorrow still. The one question that had never faltered was if “Life is a Highway” could be played on the big screen; that song is etched in my brain forever. I began to value our little routine questioning because I began to recognize this as how Jared grew close to people, and I was able to see his progression on a day-to-day basis based on how his questions were formulated. Every day for the last three weeks of my internship, Jared would ask me to flash my lights on my way out for the day so that he could see it through the window. I would do it every time for him.
Josie, let’s call her, was another individual in one of my rooms. She was extremely quiet until someone said something to her that she didn't like, or her schedule was slightly skewed; this is when she would start screaming and throwing things. One day, the Development Specialist I worked under, Laura, assigned me to sit with Josie for the day. You would not believe the nerves rising in my chest due to the worry of whether I would do or say something not in accordance with her treatment plan— something that might set her off. Yet, everything turned out okay by the time transport rolled around. Josie absolutely loved art, and she was great at it! I soon learned that all I really needed to do for Josie was be with her and create art with her and simply be her friend. For an hour a day, I would sit with Josie and draw with her. At lunch, I would get her salad chopped up and ready and sneak a little piece of candy from the cabinet for her to have for dessert. She loved sweets and this, without fail, would make her smile. Eventually, Josie would always want me to dance with her when we put music on the tv (her dancing skills were truly notable), serve her lunch, and assist her in the bathroom when she needed to go. By the end of the 8 weeks, I had developed a way of communicating with Josie that was tailored towards her and her further progression within her treatment plan.
Another individual I worked with, let’s call Eric, had severe behavioral issues. He would mumble under his breath insults about Josie, he would stare at people with an angry look on his face, and he was known throughout the day hab as being the one who would occasionally pull the fire alarm. It was extremely difficult to calm Eric down once he felt his anger bubbling up and Laura had told me that I didn't have to work with him as much, simply because he had a history of hurting people. One day, when Laura was at lunch and it was just me and one other worker in the room, Josie and Eric got into a fight. Josie was throwing things all around and Eric bolted from the room to, one can only assume, dart down the hallway and pull that big red lever. The one worker was trying to calm Josie down, leaving me to run after Eric and attempt to calm him down. Once I caught up to him, I tried to talk to him, figuring out why he was upset. As I observed him, I noticed that he was huffing and gruffing, unable to calm himself down.
“Do you have a girlfriend,” I asked Eric. I saw a smile creep onto his face as he giggled.
“Yeah, Nikki Minaj is my girlfriend,” he responded.
Eric was madly in love with Ms. Minaj and would sport a printout of her face on the front of his shirt at all times. As we walked the halls of the day hab, talking about Nikki Minaj’s best fashion moments, I had come to realize that Eric just needed someone to pull him out of himself and allow his narrowed vision to broaden to more than just what was angering him. Throughout the weeks after this, I allowed myself to grow closer to Eric, constantly taking interest into his life, recognizing his need to focus on the good parts of his day, even on the worst ones.
I found myself developing true relationships with all twelve individuals that I worked with, typically looking forward to coming into work. I had come to find a sense of calmness in the punctuality and schedule-based days spent with everyone in the day hab rooms. Despite my previous lack of skill in communication, I found myself discovering new forms of communication every moment possible by just spending time with each individual. One rainy summer day, I came into work to find that Laura had called out sick. This was the first time something like this had happened and I wasn’t entirely sure the protocol about who would run the day’s schedule and take charge of the rooms. When the other workers came into the rooms, they all looked to me. Something about the responsibility felt off to me initially, but once we assisted all the individuals during transport and the rooms filled up, I fell into the role naturally. Over the weeks, I had watched Laura; I saw how she interacted with each individual, approached each problem, and initiated each activity throughout the day. I never saw human services as a field that I would go into, it had always been writing, but it felt amazing to know that I could, and if I did, I would genuinely enjoy it. I learned invaluable lessons from the individuals, exercised advocacy for adults with developmental disabilities and discovered a passion that I will take with me on whichever path in life that I decide to walk. On my last day of the internship, Laura shed a few tears, hugged me, and said with complete honesty and transparency, “Jared will be asking where you’ve gone every single day. I think it will be a while till they get over this one.”
“What’s your name?”
“What car do you have?”
“What store did you get your water bottle from?”
“What did you bring for lunch?”
“Can we play ‘Life is a Highway’ on the big screen?”
I could barely get out my responses before he asked his next one. Jared, let’s call him, was one of the individuals in the room I was placed in. After my initial anxiety-filled entrance on the first day, led by most individuals’ gazes diverting from my own, I was welcomed with Jared’s observant eyes and this rapid-fire questionnaire. This interaction made me extremely unsure of this internship and of myself— unsure of my capability to be verbal with these individuals day in and day out and unsure of my qualifications to work with them in the first place. Yet, every day, without fail, Jared would ask me these same questions. Jared, along with all of the adults in the rooms, has a developmental disability. Jared, through his lessons about communication, grew a fixation on asking questions as a way to communicate with those around him.
As the weeks went by, some of Jared’s questions started to slowly change. On one nice day, I was assigned to take some of the individuals on a walk outside. After persistent begging on Jared’s part, our walk had ended up as a sightseeing of my ash grey Subaru Crosstrek. Jared no longer asked me what car I had, but instead he would ask “Did you take the highway to get here today?” Once he learned my name, he began to ask what my family members names were. I called out sick one day, and the day I came in next, Jared asked where I was and if I would be there tomorrow still. The one question that had never faltered was if “Life is a Highway” could be played on the big screen; that song is etched in my brain forever. I began to value our little routine questioning because I began to recognize this as how Jared grew close to people, and I was able to see his progression on a day-to-day basis based on how his questions were formulated. Every day for the last three weeks of my internship, Jared would ask me to flash my lights on my way out for the day so that he could see it through the window. I would do it every time for him.
Josie, let’s call her, was another individual in one of my rooms. She was extremely quiet until someone said something to her that she didn't like, or her schedule was slightly skewed; this is when she would start screaming and throwing things. One day, the Development Specialist I worked under, Laura, assigned me to sit with Josie for the day. You would not believe the nerves rising in my chest due to the worry of whether I would do or say something not in accordance with her treatment plan— something that might set her off. Yet, everything turned out okay by the time transport rolled around. Josie absolutely loved art, and she was great at it! I soon learned that all I really needed to do for Josie was be with her and create art with her and simply be her friend. For an hour a day, I would sit with Josie and draw with her. At lunch, I would get her salad chopped up and ready and sneak a little piece of candy from the cabinet for her to have for dessert. She loved sweets and this, without fail, would make her smile. Eventually, Josie would always want me to dance with her when we put music on the tv (her dancing skills were truly notable), serve her lunch, and assist her in the bathroom when she needed to go. By the end of the 8 weeks, I had developed a way of communicating with Josie that was tailored towards her and her further progression within her treatment plan.
Another individual I worked with, let’s call Eric, had severe behavioral issues. He would mumble under his breath insults about Josie, he would stare at people with an angry look on his face, and he was known throughout the day hab as being the one who would occasionally pull the fire alarm. It was extremely difficult to calm Eric down once he felt his anger bubbling up and Laura had told me that I didn't have to work with him as much, simply because he had a history of hurting people. One day, when Laura was at lunch and it was just me and one other worker in the room, Josie and Eric got into a fight. Josie was throwing things all around and Eric bolted from the room to, one can only assume, dart down the hallway and pull that big red lever. The one worker was trying to calm Josie down, leaving me to run after Eric and attempt to calm him down. Once I caught up to him, I tried to talk to him, figuring out why he was upset. As I observed him, I noticed that he was huffing and gruffing, unable to calm himself down.
“Do you have a girlfriend,” I asked Eric. I saw a smile creep onto his face as he giggled.
“Yeah, Nikki Minaj is my girlfriend,” he responded.
Eric was madly in love with Ms. Minaj and would sport a printout of her face on the front of his shirt at all times. As we walked the halls of the day hab, talking about Nikki Minaj’s best fashion moments, I had come to realize that Eric just needed someone to pull him out of himself and allow his narrowed vision to broaden to more than just what was angering him. Throughout the weeks after this, I allowed myself to grow closer to Eric, constantly taking interest into his life, recognizing his need to focus on the good parts of his day, even on the worst ones.
I found myself developing true relationships with all twelve individuals that I worked with, typically looking forward to coming into work. I had come to find a sense of calmness in the punctuality and schedule-based days spent with everyone in the day hab rooms. Despite my previous lack of skill in communication, I found myself discovering new forms of communication every moment possible by just spending time with each individual. One rainy summer day, I came into work to find that Laura had called out sick. This was the first time something like this had happened and I wasn’t entirely sure the protocol about who would run the day’s schedule and take charge of the rooms. When the other workers came into the rooms, they all looked to me. Something about the responsibility felt off to me initially, but once we assisted all the individuals during transport and the rooms filled up, I fell into the role naturally. Over the weeks, I had watched Laura; I saw how she interacted with each individual, approached each problem, and initiated each activity throughout the day. I never saw human services as a field that I would go into, it had always been writing, but it felt amazing to know that I could, and if I did, I would genuinely enjoy it. I learned invaluable lessons from the individuals, exercised advocacy for adults with developmental disabilities and discovered a passion that I will take with me on whichever path in life that I decide to walk. On my last day of the internship, Laura shed a few tears, hugged me, and said with complete honesty and transparency, “Jared will be asking where you’ve gone every single day. I think it will be a while till they get over this one.”