I sat down with the plate they prepared for me and told them the whole story, and by the time I was finished, I couldn’t even remember why I was so nervous.
When everyone started trickling out of the office to get the first students of the day, I quickly checked my phone.
Dylan:Everything okay?
Me: Wonderful
Dylan: Knew it would be. Happy for you
The restof the day went just as well. Everyone seemed really happy I was back, even people who I was surprised would notice I was gone at all. There were a few awkward comments, but I barely had time to give them any thought. I was swamped with work, which had the weird effect of making me feel really important and needed as the lead therapist.
There was only one thing on my to-do list I was still nervous about. I had a message from a few days ago that a parent was concerned about her child’s lack of progress in OT. The previous conversations between the mom and therapist hadn’t gone well, so I emailed the mom and offered to meet with her at the end of the day if she could come early for pick up.
A half hour before the end of the day, I was sitting at my desk, reviewing that student’s paperwork and trying to catch up on allthe emails I’d missed, when the security guard called to say she was there for me.
My heart beat loudly in the unusually quiet hallway, with nothing to distract me from my runaway thoughts. I pasted a smile on my face as I approached the front desk.
“Hello, Mrs. Alfonsi?”
“Yes. Ms. Smythe?” Her voice was all business. Angry business. Shit.
“Yes, that’s me. Thank you for coming today.” I impressed myself with how professional I sounded. “I’ll get us set up in a moment and then we can talk.”
I walked carefully to the security desk. “Hi. Can you call Dr. Garcia and ask her to meet us here?” I said to the security guard. He immediately called the principal and a minute later, she was there.Since when do I have that kind of power?
We settled into the conference room and briefly exchanged awkward pleasantries before Dr. Garcia got down to business. “I understand you have a concern with Anthony’s progress in OT?”
“Yes. As in, he’s made none. I get notes saying that he had fun on the scooter or making a craft. But nothing about his writing. He doesn’t need to use a scooter or color a picture. He needs to be able to write.”
“Um, I understand your frustration. I know it looks like he isn’t working on his writing skills, but if you’ll give me a moment, I can show you how he is.”
She nodded tersely, waving her hand in a gesture that looked more dismissive than anything else.
“He can practice writing letters all day, but if he doesn’t have the strength or fine motor coordination to hold the pencil with control, his letter formation won’t improve. That’s why he works with small manipulatives and propels the scooter with his hands. He brought home a tree craft the other day, right? To do that, he drew a circle and a rectangle, then colored themin. Those are prerequisites to writing. Then, he tore the tissue paper, which is good for improving his bilateral coordination and pincer grasp. He rolled each piece into a ball, which improved his in-hand manipulation skills, squeezed glue on the paper, which increased his hand strength, and picked up each little piece to place on the glue, again addressing his grasp. Also, he works on mazes and hidden picture activities, which are great for...”
My voice faltered as it hit me that I’d been barreling along and no one else had said anything in a really long time. I hadn’t even looked at them in a while. Or paused. Shit. I looked at Mrs. Alfonsi, the heat of a blush spreading across my face, dread pooling in my stomach as I prepared myself to meet her blank stare. “Um...”
“What skills do those address?” she asked. Calmly. Interested. With understanding.
I fought back a smile. “Visual motor skills. Those are the skills needed for looking at letters and words and being able to copy them accurately.” I paused for a moment, no longer feeling the need to rush through. “Those foundational skills are the basis for writing. If he improves those fine motor and visual motor skills, writing will come easier when he’s ready.” Another pause. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, I do. How can I work on those foundational skills at home? And can you be Anthony’s OT next year?”
My heart was going to explode. I tried not to grin like a loon, but I don’t know if I succeeded. She understood. More than understood. She learned from me. Respected me as an OT.
I offered a few suggestions for simple activities to do at home, and then I said, “I’d love to work with Anthony, and I can try to arrange that, but I only work with a few students. As lead therapist, I oversee all the therapists, though, so either way, I’ll be involved.”
“I can accept that. It’s great that you can spread your knowledge and positivity to everyone.”
Wow. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. It was so nice to meet you, and I’m so glad I was able to help you feel better about Anthony’s therapy. His OT told me he’s doing great.”
We exchanged some more pleasantries that were actually pleasant this time, shook hands, and then Mrs. Alfonsi left. I was about to follow her out, but Dr. Garcia stopped me.
“Thank you, Juliette. I’ve worked with many OTs over the years, and I’ve never heard it explained so well.”
Oh my God. “Thank you, Dr. Garcia. I’m glad I was able to help.”
I would’ve skipped back to my room and out to my car if my ankle could have handled it. I’d been so nervous for the meeting, and it might’ve been the best thing I’ve ever done as an OT.