Saturday, June 28, 2014

The Independent Study


It was the winter of 1973.  I was a senior at Syracuse University, majoring in Clinical Psychology.  It was a great program and I was learning terrific stuff.  But I was frustrated and disappointed.  I wanted to be a therapist.  In school I was studying learning theory, rat research and B.F. Skinner.  I didn’t think I was learning what I needed to be a therapist!  I went to see the Department Chairman. 
He listened me.  He tried to assure me that I was right where I was supposed to be.  But he felt challenged by my complaints.  He made an offer.   If I would take a telephone crisis counseling program that was occuring off campus, he would give me a 3 credit independent study.  Weekly, I would write up what I was learning in the language of Behavior Modification.  It was a good deal and I took it. 
It was better than a good deal.  The course was incredible.  It taught me basic therapy skills from a Carl Rogers perspective.  I learned about empathy, congruence, respect and genuineness.  It taught me how to give feedback to my clients, letting them know that I was hearing them and understanding them.  To this day I still use these skills.  
  I loved it.  However, all good things come to an end.  As the course wound down, I was asked to sign up for the telephones.  Being the rookie I was given an overnight shift.  
I was scared.  I didn’t know if I could do it.  I set in that little room dreading that the phone would ring.  As the hours rolled by I thought I might be spared talking to someone that night.  Then around 4 AM the phone rang.  I answered it and started talking to a woman who was at the end of her rope.  She wanted to end her life.  
I couldn’t tell you now what we said to each other.  We were on the phone for over two hours.  We both relaxed, got to know each other and had a good talk.  We considered her difficulties and  her options.  I could hear her attitude changing.  She knew I understood what she was feeling and the crisis passed.  She again had hope.  She thanked me profusely.  Somewhat reluctantly, we both ended the phone call.  
When I put the phone down, I felt elated.  She was now safe.  This was what I was meant to do.  Talking to people about their lives was going to be my life.  I was home.  

No comments:

Post a Comment