Internship’s Really Hard; You Wouldn’t Make It
I hear it in my head when I’m not thinking of other things. It’s like waking up from a nightmare where you can only remember the last thing that happened? But then you go on to hear or see that last thing over and over throughout the rest of your morning, until something else finally takes its place.
A month ago, someone else on the listserv that I belong to told me something that has haunted me in much the same way as the comment in the title of this post. They told me that my blog’s content was no more than the whiny dribblings of a student . . . here, let me quote it exactly:
“Your blog is about nothing but the whinings of a student.”
“You . . . don’t give a crap about the lives of autistic people.”
This person also accused me of sitting back and taking it easy while the real advocates went out and did the dirty work.
They, like so many others in my life, attacked me by invalidating my inexperiences. I told s/he that thanks to those words, s/he had joined the vast crowd of others who had done that exact thing to me all throughout my life. S/he waved it off, saying that s/he had lived much longer than I; as though that were yet another reason why I shouldn’t bother talking about my problems when theirs had started long before mine.
I know that this person invalidated me through their words. You likely know it as well.
But in the secret world of doubts inside my mind, I can still “hear” hir words, alongside the words of those who have said similar things to me throughout my entire life. They say it because I’m younger than they are. They say it because the scars aren’t visual.
I’ve started a new semester this past week. New teachers, minus a couple of very specific music classes (piano lessons and gamelan ensemble – both things I would miss dearly). I’ve only met 2 of the 3 new teachers, because the 3rd doesn’t meet for the first time until next Saturday.
One of the new profs said something in class about how we as counselors strive to see people as equal. We’re supposed to be more open minded. We’re supposed to be able to believe that people can reach their full potential with the right help . . . or something like that.
And I’m sitting there, and I’m thinking, “Really? All people? Or just everyone except me?”
One of my textbooks says the same sort of stuff. Here . . . *goes off and digs the textbook out of the pile*
Foregoing the joys of APA citing rules, I’ll just tell you that it’s called “Culturally Alert Counseling: A Comprehensive Introduction”, and it’s by Garrett McAuliffe and Associates (2008).
In the first chapter, there are two lines that really got stuck in my head; enough to get me stuck then in return:
Counselors embrace a world of possibility . . . a moral vision of human solidarity.
Really? I suppose that the good ones strive to do just that, but where do I fit into that picture?
Am I just going to meet with the same thought pattern that I believe I did in my other major? It’s okay to treat and help people like me, but that doesn’t mean that I can possibly think of going out and doing the same thing with other folks. It’s okay to help you, but you can’t help me. It’s okay to treat you, but you don’t have what it takes to ever be my peer.
And yet in my last practicum setting (a nursing/rehab center), a 96 year-old, nonverbal woman spoke to me. A staff member there told me, my practicum partner, and my supervisor that we were the best MT group that had ever worked with the patients there. A client there told me that I was the only one, other than herself, that could make another client smile/laugh.
My supervisor told me that I did better than some of the interns that she’s supervised in the past.
Internship’s really hard; you wouldn’t make it.
The person who said that never bothered to observe me in action, so to speak. She threw all of the above in the trash and punted it out to right field (figuratively speaking).
It also became evident from that statement that she had never bothered to get to know me.
How could she hurt me so badly? I thought of her as a mentor; she thought of me as a nuisance.
Texas Woman’s University’s Music Therapy program is a sham. Their 90% placement rate is bull. They kick anyone out of the program that they have any doubts about whatsoever. If your personality isn’t 100% dead-on in-line with theirs, then you’re out.
If you’re not someone’s favorite, then you’re out.
I’ll watch for that this time.
She said that she’d had doubts about me for some time and this was it.
It might have helped if I had known about these doubts. But since she didn’t choose to include me in her thought processes, I’ll never know what might have been.
Instead, they sided on the side of a professor whom they had only known for less than 5 months. A professor who probably got the most number of bad evaluations out of the entire department. They chose to side with that prof over the grad student whom they had known for nearly a year and a half. I know for a fact that at least 90% of my grad class wrote bad evals about him. One girl even asked for more paper – not me, I just wrote in the margins after I ran outta room.
Yeah, I made a mistake. It was a really stupid mistake. But in the pages of my official written history with the school, it should not have warranted this response. I’m a grad student in good academic standing. I’ve had two semesters of good practicum experiences (thus according to each of my supervisors). I had made significant improvements in all areas.
Internship’s really hard . . .
You wouldn’t make it.
~ by lastcrazyhorn on January 25, 2009.
Posted in abuse, anxiety, aspies, autism, autism stereoypes, Autistic Spectrum Particulars, bigotry, blogs, bullying, communication, disabilities, discrimination, distress, education, empathy, Excessive fury, fear, Figuring stuff out, listening, music therapy, music therapy professors, music therapy students, pain, Politics, professors, really pissed off, social justice, stress, stupidity
Tags: betrayal, deceit, exclusion, falsehood, invalidation, lies, loss, music therapy, music therapy hoax, reputation fake, sadness, sham, texas woman's university