Now we resume normal chapter numbering as I think I have filled in the necessary blanks.
I began training for the new position as an ABA Therapist in July. This transition was both wonderfully exciting and very sad for me. Sad because it meant that I had to give up my position as Charlie's nanny and exciting because of the nature of the job. ABA Therapy, basically stated, is a positive reenforcement training method for developmentally disabled (usually children with Autism Spectrum Disorder, or Asperger Syndrome). The basic idea is that you teach Children by making them happy to do what is socially acceptable through some sort of external reward system. In my training, the most important aspect of this reward system was being personally loudly and energetically encouraging. That meant that when my student did something correctly, I needed to be jump-up-and-down, louder-than-a-4-year-old's-birthday-party, hooray-for-you affirming. While it has been clear to me ever since it occurred to me to figure out my own personality that I am not remotely a bubbly happy person, I had thought that I am generally encouraging and caring in that quiet way. Well, it turns out the quiet way is not what I was being paid for. So I began (with the help of those 5-hour energy boosters) to train myself in the ways of loudness. It was beyond exhausting. Mentally, and physically, I was stretching myself far beyond what I had imagined I could ever do. Naturally, this began taking its toll.
A couple of months after my training was completed the educational situation of my student was rapidly altered, and my position, to my relief, became obsolete.
As I had spent the past several months driving 45+ mins. to work each day, and had tired of the hated Summer Bay Bridge Traffic, I decided to look at a map and see if there were any towns worth mentioning a bit closer to me where I would be able to find a job. And so I found Easton.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
To facilitate living so far from where I worked it became necessary to purchase a car. As luck would have it, Jon had a spare sporty thing just waiting for me to swoop in and buy. For people how have seen my DVD collection and realize that I own the new "Italian Job" it's perhaps not too surprising that I like driving quick little cars faster than is strictly legal and that my turns are rather sharper than necessary. So it will be unsurprising when I describe the car as a sliver 2-door with rims and darkly tinted front windows that rode only a couple of inches off the asphalt. Jon and I affectionately called it the go-cart because you really did feel as though you were in nothing more than a turbo-charged cart just built for those drive-under-the-semi-stunts.
It seems I have fallen out of chronology. Before I quit my coffee job my oldest cousin and his wife moved to the Eastern Shore of Maryland which is about a half-hour away from Annapolis. Because they have the world's most adorable two-year-old, and because they had twin girls on the way, and because their generous nature involves taking in homeless family members, I decided to move outta town.