It took me forever to be able to post this stuff, because I had to get permission from kids, parents, supervisors, etc… identifying information has been changed, details have been switched around, but you’ll get the idea.
Most of the kids we were working were survivors of some kind of violent crime, usually within the household. Beginning in the second month, I spent half my time training shelter staff, teachers, and my supervisor how to facilitate coping exercises with these kids, and the other half of my time doing actual clinical work with them.
Like mentioned in previous posts, my supervisor was welcoming and eager to learn from me as much as I was hoping to learn from her. We were able to trade knowledge and skills—she taught me about family therapy and cultural differences in Belize, autism, schizophrenia and behavioral issues, and I taught her everything I knew about PTSD and grief and trauma.
About a month ago, the kids really started to open up and grasp the skills we were trying to teach them, and it was encouraging to see them progress. But at the same time it was sad to know that termination (for me, at least) was just around the corner. I felt like a big bad needle popping all these cute trusting little balloons of positive coping skills. We worked hard at making the transition to Arlette seamless and positive, so I’m sure the kids will continue to grow, and Arlette couldn’t thank me (and Tulane) enough for passing off this specific model to her. Here’s an example of how sessions sometimes went and were used as teaching tools between us:
We were seeing a little 5 year-old who had witnessed a stabbing and was waking up at night rubbing his mom’s scars saying: It’s okay, it’s okay… He was referred to Arlette after pinning a teacher to the wall by her neck (although the teacher had hit him), and after finding out his history, Arlette called me in to help with the trauma piece.
During the assessment, she asked the boy to tell us about when the stabbing happened, but he couldn’t really give us any kind of coherent narrative, so I asked Arlette if it was okay for me to try some things. I had him draw a picture of that night and asked him to explain the picture. The whole story came tumbling out chronologically- exactly the same story we’d gotten from his mom (he and his sister were in the kitchen, a guy broke in through the back and stabbed his mom almost to death). After he explained his picture he put his head down on the desk and seemed to be taking a little break, really upset, but not crying or anything. I asked him how he felt after drawing that picture, and he said he felt really bad. So I taught him—and, in the process, Arlette—some deep breathing and muscle relaxation exercises, which he loved, and it calmed him down. I asked him how he felt then, and he said really good. I asked if he wanted to keep going or stop, and he wanted to keep going. So then we got him to name his support people, things he likes to do for fun, etc. and the session ended really positively. His teacher says he comes to the office every day to see if we’re there, which is sad cause we only come about once every 2 weeks…
After he went back to class, Arlette and I talked about what she would do for the next 2-3 sessions after I leave, and we went through the Project LAST model together focusing on positive coping skills and anger management (normalizing how okay it is that he’s scared and angry all the time) and whether or not to use the traumatic narrative component. Arlette thanked me on the way back for being able to come and go through some sessions with her and giving her a chance to watch—which I wouldn’t have been able to do had Children’s Bureau not taught me—so thanks deferred to CBNO and Tulane. She has had a hard time convincing the Ministry of Ed that it’s important to address the trauma as a precursor to fixing the behavior issues. (Duh, Ministry.)
She also invited me to see this 12 year-old girl who the school sent to the psych nurse for being suicidal. She tried to take her grandma’s blood pressure medication, but that didn’t work, so she tried to hang her self, but the rope broke and that didn’t work, so everyone just thought she was crazy. But then it turned out her mom had been murdered in the home—decapitated, so she was sent to live with her aunt. Soon after, her aunt was murdered in the same way, decapitated, and so she was sent to live with her grandma. Her grandma is Salvadorian, though, and this little girl is black, so the grandma didn’t want her. But since there was no one else to care for the girl, the grandma took her in. Now she calls the girl a whore and all kinds of names and beats the girl and tells her how much she hates her. Even to Arlette, in front of the girl herself, when Areltte asked what she liked about the girl, the grandma said there is nothing good about her, and nothing to like. When Arlette got the girl by herself, the girl was all hunched over and wouldn’t lift her head up to look at Arlette. Arlette said to her, “I don’t believe any thing your grandma says. You can look me in the eye, because I think you’re a good girl, and a pretty girl, and pure” So the girl looked up at Arlette and started crying. Arlette’s compassion was just heartbreaking, especially in a culture where all rights belong to the adults. The case haunted me for weeks, but at least the girl knows that for one hour every week an adult will value and listen and care about her.
There are about 50 other stories I could tell, but I’ll just give you one really great one. There were two little boys I was seeing separately, but they were in the same class. Both had been through Mary Open Doors about a year apart, but didn’t know it. They were in trouble for fighting in class. What I didn’t know was that they were fighting with each other, and worse—for talking about each other’s mothers! When the teacher told me this, I asked the boys if they wanted to have a session together (which wasn’t unusual—sometimes I saw the kids in groups—and they agreed). When we started playing the thoughts and feelings game, they found out they had a lot in common. Every time one of the kids answered a questions, the other would say: Hey, I’m the oldest too… I have sisters too… my dad was like that too… me too! Me too! Me too! Playing dumb, I said, “Wow. You guys seem like you could be really good friends! You really have a lot in common…” Throughout the session, they physically got closer and closer together, and by the end of the group, they had their arms around each other. Before they left, I said, “I really want you two to look out for each other. If you see someone trying to fight with your friend, stand up for him—okay?” They nodded and walked off side-by-side. Every week thereafter they asked if they could have their sessions together, and the teacher told me they have been inseparable every since. I asked if I could share their picture as new friends, and they happily agreed:
Teacher workshop
Just to keep things real, when I was trying to write this last post, I’d already left the village (I’m in Dallas now, after spending a week in San Pedro with my Dad & Kathy), and I just felt like I had nothing to report. I had read everyone’s international posts and felt like my cultural experiences, organizational challenges, work-related activities, new skills and lessons learned were just less impactful and shiny as everyone else’s. I actually said, the other night, when Jeff asked what was wrong: “Kim’s cooler”.
He asked if it was because of her gold medal, but I told him it was because she was doing AIDS stuff in Kenya, and Karen was interviewing child heads of households in Rwanda, and everyone’s work was just so international, really important and meaningful in the big picture. My niche was small, and the impact was limited to this little village in this tiny country. (But I actually re-read Karen’s post and caught the part about her feeling lackluster and tedius…)
I think I’m just emotional about leaving and evaluating. Its hard when things end, even if good things are coming.
At the very least, I finally developed a macro interest when I realized you can address issues forever at the individual level or you could go after the origin on a community level. I think I’ve walked away with a new (renewed) interest in public health and development, which I came to Tulane with but hadn’t really understood. We’ll see what happens.
For more pics on life and work in San Ignacio, click here
For pics of goodbye parties & time in San Pedro, click here
November 24, 2009 at 10:37 pm |
All I can say is WOW.
December 2, 2009 at 12:21 am |
I can understand how you feel- it can be dangerous to measure ourselves against others- but, if you hadn’t been there, at that God-appointed time, part of that divinely ordained design, in that very country, in that very village, with those very children…those lives would not have been uniquely touched like you touched them; those children would not have been uniquely loved like you loved them; Arlette would not have been uniquely taught as you taught her. There is the actual touch, and then there is the ripple that will radiate. It is possible that your influence, by the grace of God, may change one child… one family, one generation, one teacher, one village, one country…at a time. Well done, good and faithful servant!