However imperfectly they treated Rosemary, the fact that they publicly acknowledged her existence made it less shameful for other families to acknowledge their own developmentally disabled children - making it less the done thing to simply send them away to institutions where they would be badly raised by strangers.
Very much yes. I read the article that Eunice wrote in the Saturday Evening Post, and in that writing she's working really hard just to convince people that the developmentally disabled can be taught to do things like mow lawns. The conditions at the institutions she describes are horrible. She also worked to put a lot of money and people toward research.
(Although it did take them a while to acknowledge her publicly. After she was institutionalized, they explained her disappearance by saying that she'd gone to be a teacher, or joined a convent, or a few other stories, until 1962, after a few reporters had found out the truth.)
I read the article that Eunice wrote in the Saturday Evening Post, and in that writing she's working really hard just to convince people that the developmentally disabled can be taught to do things like mow lawns. The conditions at the institutions she describes are horrible.
It's why I love my work so much. That now the goal is to bring each and every one of these people up to whatever their highest possible levels of skills are, is what makes this something that feeds my soul, rather than being an endless drain. The homes I work at, are homes - modest number of people living there, comfortable, ordinary furniture, decorations on the walls, stuff taped to the fridge. There's gentle squabbling over the bathroom, kind gestures from one resident to another and sometimes to staff, card games played, the occasional argument, housework done together, crafts, hobbies, books to read, meals discussed and planned at least sometimes by the residents. The most powerful behavior management tool I have at my disposal is humor. I will never touch a fire hose, or lock someone in a room for hours, alone in the dark.
I know nothing of Rosemary Kennedy's story, but reading some of it here has reminded me why I'm committed to disability rights and the Independent Living Movement.
Talking of which, I'm interviewing potential personal care assistants today and tomorrow. That should be fun. I've spent all week weeding out the crazies from the application e-mails (usually including people who want to be my friend, or have said how very sorry they are that I'm disabled - heh). Now I get to see if I chose interview candidates well...
[Wrong thread, you didn't see me, I was never here.]
Post-exam.
I maybe, just maybe passed it. I hope so.
Yay, Shir! And here I was about to offer you some ~ma.
Hey, the "please let me pass it!"~ma is still necessary!
Will yay or get desperate after I'll know the grade.
Anything above 60 (or 56 - I'm not sure what the pass grade is) goes.
Sometimes I have ruled people out because the dog didn't like them, Seska. Gavin de Becker says she is just picking up my vibes, but either way, it has worked.
