College Students Should Consider Degrees in Social Work

Posted on June 29, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

The Internet has improved higher education significantly. Busy adults can find the time to complete advanced programs and earn degrees by studying online. Long distance education is now available to anyone who has Internet access and a little bit of free time in between work and other personal responsibilities. Degrees that do not require any laboratory courses can be completed online without ever having to visit the campus of the institution that is offering the classes.

A degree in social work can be attained fully through online programs. Students may be able to receive a bachelor’s and even a master’s degree in this important field of study. A social worker needs to study various topics in history, economics, healthcare and cultural studies in order to become certified. It is also important to understand the psychology of various people when working in social services. The real world presents plenty of social issues for diverse demographics. Social work requires an understanding of the problems that different individuals face in U.S. society. Immigration is also an important issue that is dealt with by social workers throughout North America.

A traditional degree in social work involves a core curriculum that teaches students about the history of social services in the United States of America. Students must understand the foundations that led to the development of programs like medicaid, medicare and social security. Eventually, social work studies also cover advanced topics about all of the various government departments that provide funding for human services on a municipal, state and federal level.

Social workers also need to have compassion and empathy in order to help other people that are in need. It’s always a good idea to get some experience in the field by volunteering in the local community. The diverse demographics of the United States creates a need for social workers who are fluent in multiple languages. For example, many social service departments in the U.S. are seeking employees that speak Spanish to accommodate the increasing Latino population in the country.

A university like UNE is an example of a higher education institution that offers online degrees in social work. Real world practice is vital to the successful completion of a degree for social workers. There are clinical courses that require students to actually work in local social service departments. Students may also major in specific concentrations, such as family and immigration issues.

Dear readers, are any of you social workers? What would you recommend to college students? Note: I received compensation for this post.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Past and Present

Posted on June 27, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

There was a day, not so long ago. It was a warm, sunny day, full of expectation and hope. It felt like the start of something special.

She dressed that day not to impress, but to reflect her personality. First impressions count. She willfully chose a powder blue sundress, daisies embroidered on the bodice, tied in the back. It skimmed her knees. Her only adornment, a red friendship bracelet, stayed knotted around her little wrist. She tied her hair in her favorite ‘half-up/half-down’ style, slung her stiff new backpack over her bony shoulders for the first time, and walked out the door.

They wore matching shoes at the time, clunky brown sandals with huge,thick-treaded soles perfect for running and climbing in the hot valley September weather. He wanted everything to be like her; he looked up to his big sister in every way imaginable. She was everything. Squirming, he allowed me to dress him – unusual for his two-year-old sense of style. Generally he preferred the least amount of clothing possible. Anything with a dog on it would do, so we slipped the soft red long sleeve t-shirt over his rather large head, tugged elastic shorts around his waist and Velcroed his sandals tight enough to chase after sister. I inhaled his soft golden brown hair as he dashed out the front door.

There was a day, not so long ago, but 4,000 days after the first. It was a warm, sunny day, full of expectation and hope. It felt like the end of something special, and the start of something unknown.

She dressed that day alone in her room, Pandora softly playing from her phone. I think she did her hair first; minutes clicked by as she wound her long, golden brown strands around the hot iron. Ringlets fell in place, not quite half-up, half-down. She slipped her favorite sundress over her strong, muscular shoulders – it skimmed her knees, and clasped her sterling silver “L” around her neck. I think there was a bit of black mascara highlighting her bright blue eyes. Leather and yarn bracelets from friends around the world dangle from her little wrist. Her brown leather flip-flops softly slapped the wood floors as she grabbed her backpack and ran for the door.

“Wait,” I shouted. This is really happening.

He stumbled out the door behind her, his curly, golden brown hair damp under his Detroit Tigers hat. Dark blue POC t-shirt, black athletic shorts and barefoot cover his long, lanky body as if an afterthought – or whatever was clean. His brown eyes sparkled as he grabbed her hand. She looks down at him now, I thought. When did he get so huge? Her arm tilted up as she hugged him. They smiled. “Hurry up,” she moaned. “My ride will be here any second.” I snapped as quickly as I could through the tears. This is really happening. This moment, this strange and simultaneous replay and fast forward of time is really happening.

And just like that, she was gone.

Dear readers, how has the past and present juxtaposed in your life? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic.

This post was inspired the prompt ‘past and present’ found on writealm.com . #writealm @writealm

Jennifer Wolfe

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In Times of Challenge

Posted on June 26, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.

– Martin Luther King, Jr. –

In the big picture, my life is pretty awesome. I live in a country where I have access to everything I need. I experience equal rights as a woman and a voting citizen. I have a family who brings me happiness. I have my health, a house to live in, plenty of food – fresh, wholesome food at that – electricity to keep me cool in the hot valley summer days, friends, and a job that provides me with enough money to make ends meet.

So when I find myself in times of challenge, holding a pity-party-for one, I need to take a serious reality check. Does this ever happen to you?

I’ve written extensively in the last few months about the angst I feel with my daughter graduating and leaving for college. The pain is real. The emotions are, at times, excruciating. I feel like part of my world has been ripped up, tossed around, and thrown back onto the ground in shards and pieces that do not resemble anything that I have experience with.

Life is very different for me right now.

Life is very quiet. I’m certainly not used to that.

These are most certainly my times of challenge.

Graduation is over. The graduation party happened. I managed to take her shopping, help her pack, and then leave for the weekend – not the timing I would have planned, but it certainly helped to rip the metaphorical band-aid off quickly.

When I came back home, she was gone. She took her gear, her skis, some sunscreen and hopefully a wide brimmed hat, and headed off to work at Mt. Hood, Oregon for the rest of the summer. She left her room in its typical state-towels draped across a chair, dirty clothes strewn about, faded flowers in a vase, bed unmade and makeup on the dresser.

The tears trickled down my cheeks at the sight of it all.

I tried to pull all my mantras together to remind myself that it’s not that bad. That this is what we prepared her for – what we prepared ourselves for. It’s her time in life to head out and tackle one adventure after another. It’s times of challenge that create our stories.

And then the dishwasher started leaking. I tried to ignore it – maybe someone spilled some water on the floor. Maybe it was the dog…but as the water seeped up from the linoleum in a continuous stream, I knew we had a problem. And when the plumber couldn’t fix it right away, and when the dishwasher was in the middle of the kitchen floor, and the fans were going full bore to dry everything out asap – that’s when my pity party began. All my feel-good self talk about times of challenge came out in foul language as I lugged wet, stinky rags to the laundry room.

Oh wait-did I mention that’s when my son got strep and an allergic reaction to his meds?

And the AC couldn’t keep up with the smell of 60-year-old wet floorboard? And the replacement part sprung a hole? And the linoleum started peeling up?

So I did what any 21st century mom would do – I popped a cold IPA, lit a candle, and wrapped myself up in my own pity-party-of-one.

And in a moment of quiet, my reality check came to call. First world problems, she whispered. She reminded me of gratitude, and perspective. She reminded me of my friends in Nicaragua who avoid these challenges by simply having a dirt floor and no indoor plumbing. She reminded me of myself at 18, a woman no where near as capable or confident as the one who lives – or lived- down the hall. She reminded me of my 14-year-old summer, the one that I can’t actually remember much about besides how important my friends were.

And then the message came that no one wants to hear: one of my former students, while celebrating his college graduation, had tragically died. He was a quiet, sweet boy I remember well. His death wasn’t due to reckless behavior,but the shock tipped me over and consumed my thoughts. His parents, his siblings…his friends. His life, on the brink of a new chapter. Like an overloaded circuit, I shut down. I was angry at myself, at the universe…at a world that can so quickly pull our center out from under us in a cruel, gritty display of reality. At a universe that would so painfully remind me of my own life.

Reality check. Oh yes, she reminded me, I have comfort and convenience in my life. I have many blessings and I have two children I can touch and hold and cherish and watch as they tackle life’s challenges. I have deep gratitude for all that I have been given, and all that I have worked to create. Shut down that pity party, she screamed.

So I tossed the empty IPA bottle in the recycle, blew out the candle, kissed my boy goodnight , texted my girl I loved her, and listened to the mockingbird singing outside my window. It is dark. Tomorrow will come. The pity-party has ended. Times of challenge will ebb and flow – they’re our ultimate measure of gratitude, after all.

And you, dear reader? How do you pull yourself back to reality in times of challenge? I’d love to hear from you.

The Words Get Stuck (jenniferwolfe.net)

Jennifer Wolfe

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Deep Gratitude

Posted on June 17, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

There was deep gratitude in our garden Sunday night. All the people who love her were there to celebrate. Never quite sure who was coming, each time the front door opened, a new face of someone who played an enormous role in one aspect of her life entered into our space of celebration. There were spirits who helped her through her education, her athletics, or just those who helped her grow into a fabulous young woman. The common thread? Smiles. There were smiles everywhere, and with each I felt a shudder of deep gratitude run down my spine. I realized how the creation of a life of meaning takes so many of us, so many spirits contributing to molding, nurturing, and forming the young woman we are celebrating.

There was deep gratitude as I remembered the hours of planning and preparation by my family to celebrate her graduation. The menu was thought out well in advance, created to please her with all her favorite flavors. The house was cleaned, the decorations purchased, and the garden tidied. The young boys strung twinkle lights, raked leaves, and scrubbed garden chairs. My sister arranged patio furniture and hung hand made balloon masterpieces. My niece and her boyfriend clipped endless snapshots to jute string to decorate a blank wall. Her best friend gracefully decorated vanilla cupcakes with the precision of a trained baker. My mom, in command of it all, moved from garden to kitchen without forgetting the smallest of details.

I was there, too, scan ning my memories, fighting back tears of joy and sadness. Maps of important places were juxtaposed amidst adventure quotes to decorate the tables. I thought about all the journeys we’ve taken together since her birth, and the adventures she will have without us. Deep gratitude rose up as her girlfriends asked for Sharpies to calculate the miles that would separate them in college, their scribbles of loyalty became manifestation of the changes soon to come.

As darkness fell and the kids gathered around the fire pit, there was deep gratitude, again, for friendships. Children I’ve watched for a dozen years are now ready to take their life lessons to task. Friendships of women who have helped me navigate the challenges of motherhood. Families who have enveloped her with love and shown her that it isn’t only blood that ties us together. Friendships of those last to leave, relaxed into their chairs, faces lit by candlelight, and recalling the deep gratitude for girls who survived the crises of adolescence together as we sipped champagne and cherished the last moments, knowing it could be years before we all gather again.

My dear friend Dawn Wink writes of her life’s journey as searching for a ‘rainbow between storms‘, and as I think about my own travels through motherhood, I find solace in her metaphor. Graduation, growing up, and going away to college are the rainbows all parents hope for, but they don’t come without a bit of struggle. But it is the deep, deep gratitude that I feel now more than anything – gratitude for her life, for friends and family, for achievements, and for possibilities yet to come.

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Jennifer Wolfe

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The Words Get Stuck

Posted on June 5, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

I keep thinking about how I should sit and write this all down

about how there must be a poem or some sort of way to

explain,

express,

or at least remember what I’m feeling right now

these moments that are slipping away

But they don’t come

I’m still frozen in place

pen poised, heart full,

but still

the words get stuck in my mind

Every morning I wake early

pour my coffee, pick up my favorite pen

open my journal

and stare at the page

immobilized

the birds outside my window attempt to rouse me with their song

the moments thunder through my mind

but the words get stuck

It’s all in there, I know

the feelings and memories and hopes

but still, I just stare

maybe afraid that if I write it down

it really is real

you’re really growing up

graduating

and beginning the next chapter of your life

without us

Sometimes you wake up right in the middle of it

the staring momentarily interrupted as you pad down the hall

your hair tousled from sleep

you’re quiet, and mumble ‘I’m tired”

we hug and I kiss your forehead

as you quietly pour coffee

and head back to your room

Sometimes just that is enough

to make me weep

to remind me of what I’ll miss

your spirit

your eyes, cerulean against your freckled skin

but, still, I stare

the words stuck in my heart

I’ve even tried writing at night

convinced the melody of that country music song will drift down the hall

and trigger something

help me make this moment something tangible

determined that the words are there

waiting

But still, I just stare at the page

hopeless

helpless

afraid

that it really is real

Sometimes you walk in mid-thought

the pen poised, the words on the brink of explosion

you’re breathless from track practice

your smile spreading across your face

you’re happy

you tell me about your day

you show me something on Instagram

and hiccup

and head down to your room

Sometimes I tell myself this will be the day

the words for this indescribable, exhilarating, devastating feeling will come

even if the tears fall alongside the page

even if it reminds me that yes,

this moment, like so many others

is real

and fleeting

and powerful

I tell myself this will be the day

I will make it happen

I will create words to look back on

to mark this moment, to revive all the moments

you’ve been here

you’ve been my baby

you’ve been my girl

I’ll mark this moment forever, I think

so that next year, when the quiet surrounds me

and your bed stays neatly made

I’ll hear your hiccup

and smile.

Santa Cruz Beach

Jennifer Wolfe

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