Something I Learned in OT School

 

It’s hard for me to believe but I often hear how hard it is currently to get into OT programs; that there can be 1,000 or more applicants for a class of 30 students. When I applied to occupational therapy programs in five states and got on the waiting lists for two of them I thought I was doing pretty well, considering my meager track record in school. In 1975 OT was a fairly unknown program amongst my peers and I had no clue what to expect when I sent off my applications.

Within the first week of the program I realized how smart my classmates were and how competitive the classes were going to be. There was no mandate to cut any of us to reduce class size (twenty) but the quizzes and exams were brutal. Despite the pressure to do well I loved what we were learning—how the body is put together and works. It was pure delight to see how we are wonderfully made.

Several of the students lived together and studied together so I was not surprised when Jen approached me about joining up to review notes. She said she was having a hard time and could use a study buddy. So, we got together several times a week and she mainly wanted me to explain the material to her. A win-win, right?

Well, no. I thought reviewing the material with Jen would be a good reinforcer for me and we’d both do well on the quizzes and tests. Half true. She got A’s and I got C’s, D’s and F’s. How could I make such poor grades when I loved the subject and studied all the time? I went to my professor and asked.

He told me to memorize everything. Understanding was great but I needed to memorize. I did what he said, pulled up my grades and passed the course with a “C.” I stopped studying with Jen, too. She wasn’t manipulative, she just needed reassurance. Even without me she continued to get “A’s.”

Is there anyone in your life you’re helping who doesn’t need it? It’s nice to be needed but can the person become independent if you help them less, then even less, then hardly at all?

One of these cherubs is an OT 2B

The job of parents is to push their kids out of the nest. The job of kids is to drive parents so crazy they can push them out of the nest. The job of friends is to help each other in bad times and enjoy each other as equals the rest of the time. The job of husbands and wives is to love and care for one another but still promote independence and competence in the other person.

To develop skills in another person so they can stand on their own two feet, without you, is to value and love them. Sometimes I need to busy myself somewhere else while the person I love flops about in the bottom of the boat. To give them time to figure things out, for themselves.

A Tribute to My Peds Professor, Eleanor V. Wolfe

In a very unexpected way I found out that my peds professor and friend, Ms. Wolfe, had died last November.  Her friendship was a major force in my life.  I hope you have a friend like her, who is a real encourager and steady example of a well-lived life.

It was a modest-sized office, yet still intimidating, and each square inch was filled with the personality of its gray-haired professor. On that fall day in 1976 I had been called in for an appointment with the faculty member who would become my research adviser. I was just thankful for summer to be over because I had narrowly passed the daunting Human Anatomy and Physiology class with Dr. Jeffries. Yes, thankful, because halfway through the class I had been failing.




The professor discussed my classwork and progress to date, then took a dramatic pause before remarking, “I see that you earned a ‘C’ in your A & P class.” Another pause. Ms. Wolfe looked at me straight on, then set me on the path to enlightenment, “You won’t be earning any more ‘C’ grades, will you?”




She remained an inquirer throughout her life, even with people who were not her assigned pupils. One night I returned home from a meeting and my husband passed along the message that Ms. Wolfe had called. He told her I was at an “SI” study group and she asked him if he knew what “SI” meant. Like any long-suffering spouse of a pediatric occupational therapist, yes, he was very familiar with the term “Sensory Integration.”




Ms. Wolfe and I kept up our snail mail correspondence for many years and, although her messages were brief, she frequently included responses to my previous notes that encouraged me to try new ideas, consider novel activities and to increase my depth of knowledge of subjects we both enjoyed. I might pen a breezy description of my sitting outside on summer evenings, watching the birds, and she would write back with the name of a suggested birding journal, one with a more objective, scientific slant than the glossy ones I might usually flip through. In a very positive way I felt like she saw me as a person who was capable of becoming a better student of life, one who would never lose the potential for learning and growth.




To have her as a friend felt like you had someone who not only cared about you but a fellow traveler who was by your side, lightly supporting your elbow to encourage you to keep going, to imagine and try new adventures of all kinds. Each time I collected the mail and saw her striking block print on the envelope I knew I was in for a treat, first with her lovely watercolor sketch of a bird and then in reading her message inside. Isn’t it amazing that a person can do this by simply writing a letter to someone, that caring can be perceived by holding a small, hand-painted card and reading words that start in the heart, take form in the brain and are scribed by our hands?




I’m thankful that Ms. Wolfe--my friend, Eleanor--was my mentor for life as an OT. For her part in teaching so many of us the skills we needed for the job of living.

Statue from campus of the Medical College of Virginia, now Virginia Commonwealth University.