I’ve been mulling over this decision for a long time now. I want to get my Master’s degree. I didn’t go straight into Grad School after my Undergrad because, well, I was getting married. Jessie can only handle so many new things at one time people! After TJ and I got married, I wanted to do something, but I wasn’t absolutely positive I wanted to stay in Speech Pathology because I had been burned pretty bad in my employment options that left me feeling unsure of how stable and happy I would be. Plus, I am the kind of gal who gets bored easily and was feeling like maybe this was the time in my life to explore another interest before nailing myself down to one career move. When I felt it was probably time to do something with myself, my Endometriosis had other plans for me and left me stuck in our little apartment going in and out of a daily Vicodin daze. Grad School was definitely out of the question if I couldn’t even dress myself in the morning.
What about now?
Well, now would be the perfect time for me to begin a Masters in Speech Pathology. Why? Because I know without a doubt that I want to pursue it as a career to fall back on and as a career that can supplement our income on a part time basis easily when we start a family. It is also a profession I can do anywhere we go, and the funny thing is that we have no clue where we will end up when TJ is done with his Th.M.
What stops me?
Ummmm….one word. Money. The Masters I want to go for is not cheap. Funny thing is that even if it was cheap, we would still have the same problem. I’m torn between sacrificing my dreams to elliminate the chance of us having to take out student loans, and just doing it knowing that if I finish, I will make enough to actually pay loan payments when I’m done.
Throw caution to the wind
When I think of the reasons I want to become an SLP, it’s easy. I think of the time I finally got one word out of non-verbal, 2 year old Sean with moderate Autism after working with him for 5 months. I think of Allie and her bright eyes, suffering from hydrocephalus as a baby and helping her learn words she could use to say “hi” and “bye” to her mom and dad. I think of Nikolas hitting me with a golf club, spraying me with Lysol, and then throwing pencils down the toilet and knowing it wasn’t his fault…he just had no other way to communicate his frustration.
I want to help these kids communicate with the world. I want to help give their families hope. I want to use the gifts God gave me and the compassion I feel for this population of people who are in need of someone who can help with the things we take for granted.
Opinions and donations (just kidding) are welcome.