Paradise- noun- a place of extreme beauty, happiness, or delight.
With a contented sigh, I stretched out as best I could. Complete relaxation came quickly as my head rested in my intertwined hands and my legs crossed at my ankles. I'd had a pretty decent day at work, my dinner was delicious, the dog and I had gone on a pleasant walk, and with tonight's bike ride I was beginning to notice the positive effects of daily cycling. At this moment, I was relishing in the near perfection of the day and felt like I was floating on air.
As I stared up into the sky, I watched the moon transition from a mere shadow partly obscured by clouds to a bright shape that heralded the coming dusk.
The few wispy clouds that were making their way across the sky allowed me to see a "caramel-colored sunset sky." Golden-brown in color, I couldn't believe I had never before seen clouds quite that color.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the breeze was picking up and I watched the American flag begin to wave ever so slightly. I watched as that same breeze moved the trees from their staunch position and caused the branches to sway ever so rhythmically.
By now the clouds had moved on to the east, leaving nothing but clear blue sky above me. It made for a striking backdrop as a flock of pure white seabirds flew overhead.
I closed my eyes again and relished the moment. With a deep breath I took in the slight scent of the privet hedge blossoms, a not-too-distant barbecue, the blooming magnolias, and just a whiff of chlorine from the pool.
Yes, floating in the pool that evening proved to be wonderful. But the best moment of the night came as a small voice from behind caused me to stir from my trance: "Mommy, why do I have to go?" "Because it's almost bedtime sweetie." "But if I have to go to bed, why doesn't she?!" I never heard the mom's reply because I was chuckling quite a bit as I thought to myself, "Because I'm an adult and I don't have to go inside and go to bed until I want to!" That moment felt like a childhood wish had been fulfilled and it made my night. Pure delight and happiness right there.
Well, it is just about time to head out to the pool again. Such a hard life I lead, I know. Have a fun, safe, and happy week everyone, and join me in enjoying the fact that a full moon happened over the weekend, and not while I was in clinic with my clients.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
O.A.R.S.
O.A.R.S.- Open-ended questions, affirmation, reflection, summary.
Meetings. Love them or hate them, they're a part of the business world, and WIC is no exception. Several times per year, the entire region shuts down and we head to training sessions that cover various topics, all in the hopes that we'll continually improve as workers and make the world a better place.
We had another meeting today, and among the topics was O.A.R.S. In a WIC certification (getting a person on the WIC program), we are supposed to converse with the client, find out what they want to talk about, what their concerns are, and then help them come up with their own goals and solutions to their problems. In all seriousness, it is actually a helpful tool and can make the entire process much more pleasant for everyone involved. But when I get distracted in a meeting and am no longer paying attention to the next topic on the list (which we've covered quite a few times), I use O.A.R.S. as a source of amusement.
The correct way to use O.A.R.S:
Me: What concerns do you have for your child today? (open-ended question)
Client: He eats all of his foods except meat, and I don't want him to lose out on any nutrients.
Me: That's great that you're concerned about his nutrition. (affirmation)
Client: Yes, I want him to be healthy.
Me: So you want your child to be healthy, and you want to make sure he's getting enough protein in his diet.
(reflection)
Client: Yes.
<we talk for a few minutes about sources of protein...>
Me: So you were concerned about your child not eating meat, but you think he would like some of these other sources of protein, and that will make you feel better about his nutrition? (summary)
Client: Yes. Thank you. You're the best WIC nutritionist ever! (All example dialogue for these meetings is ridiculously cheesy. Why not write some cheesy dialogue that benefits my ego?)
The incorrect way to use O.A.R.S., or "if I had used O.A.R.S. with other people I encountered today":
Me: Why did you think it was important to pull out right in front of me this morning? (question!)
Me: That's great that you wanted to save time and get to that McDonald's down the road faster than if you had waited ten seconds for me to pass. (affirmation)
Me: So, you had to pull out in front of me just then so you could both get coffee and make it to work on time. (reflection)
Me: You were running late but still wanted your coffee and you had faith that I was paying attention to you and would stop in time, which I did. (summary)
Over the next half hour, I thought a lot about O.A.R.S. and how fun it can be if used in the right way, with the right sense of humor. I may have to break this out at family reunions. Well, I'm falling asleep at my keyboard, so I should probably move on to some other activity. TTFN!
Meetings. Love them or hate them, they're a part of the business world, and WIC is no exception. Several times per year, the entire region shuts down and we head to training sessions that cover various topics, all in the hopes that we'll continually improve as workers and make the world a better place.
We had another meeting today, and among the topics was O.A.R.S. In a WIC certification (getting a person on the WIC program), we are supposed to converse with the client, find out what they want to talk about, what their concerns are, and then help them come up with their own goals and solutions to their problems. In all seriousness, it is actually a helpful tool and can make the entire process much more pleasant for everyone involved. But when I get distracted in a meeting and am no longer paying attention to the next topic on the list (which we've covered quite a few times), I use O.A.R.S. as a source of amusement.
The correct way to use O.A.R.S:
Me: What concerns do you have for your child today? (open-ended question)
Client: He eats all of his foods except meat, and I don't want him to lose out on any nutrients.
Me: That's great that you're concerned about his nutrition. (affirmation)
Client: Yes, I want him to be healthy.
Me: So you want your child to be healthy, and you want to make sure he's getting enough protein in his diet.
(reflection)
Client: Yes.
<we talk for a few minutes about sources of protein...>
Me: So you were concerned about your child not eating meat, but you think he would like some of these other sources of protein, and that will make you feel better about his nutrition? (summary)
Client: Yes. Thank you. You're the best WIC nutritionist ever! (All example dialogue for these meetings is ridiculously cheesy. Why not write some cheesy dialogue that benefits my ego?)
The incorrect way to use O.A.R.S., or "if I had used O.A.R.S. with other people I encountered today":
Me: Why did you think it was important to pull out right in front of me this morning? (question!)
Me: That's great that you wanted to save time and get to that McDonald's down the road faster than if you had waited ten seconds for me to pass. (affirmation)
Me: So, you had to pull out in front of me just then so you could both get coffee and make it to work on time. (reflection)
Me: You were running late but still wanted your coffee and you had faith that I was paying attention to you and would stop in time, which I did. (summary)
Over the next half hour, I thought a lot about O.A.R.S. and how fun it can be if used in the right way, with the right sense of humor. I may have to break this out at family reunions. Well, I'm falling asleep at my keyboard, so I should probably move on to some other activity. TTFN!
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Noxious
Noxious- adj- harmful, poisonous, or very unpleasant.
A couple of weeks ago, the regional director of the Department of Health came to Summerville. The purpose of his visit that day was to inspect the office and make sure everything was in order before the new state director came to tour our facility. Halfway through his tour, he came to my office and noticed the terrific job the inmates from the local detention center had done painting my office. (They painted AROUND my desk and a 2’ x 3’ poster that has since been removed from my office). As he left the office, he talked about the need to paint the entire health department, but then laughed as he said, “and as soon as I do that, I’ll get twenty complaints about the smell of the paint.”
After he left, I was thinking about what he said and decided it was a little ridiculous that we would complain that much about a positive change, particularly after we had complained so much about the terrible paint job in the past. So when we found out we were getting new flooring put in the office, I decided I would not complain about any noxious smells involved with the new flooring.
Thursday after lunch, we began the cleaning process. Everything in our offices had to be removed- every last piece of paper, every random toy we had for the kids, and all the furniture. As you can imagine, there was dust everywhere. To combat the dust, there were no less than four cans of generic Pledge floating around the office, and the sound of aerosol spray being released was constant for those several hours we spent cleaning. But I was not going to complain about the migraine-inducing lemon and orange vapor cloud that was hanging in the hallway like everyone else was.
Friday morning, the first thing the workers did was tear up the old carpeting. Ten years of dirty shoes, spilled juice, and infant bowel movements and spit-up (its happened more than once) were in that carpet, so it certainly didn’t smell the best. But I was just happy the carpet was leaving, so I wasn’t going to complain.
Apparently there were a few spots that needed to be leveled out, so some kind of weird cement-like compound was mixed and placed on the floor. It smelled like limestone and they carried the open container of the mixture through the office for a good half hour. I was good though, I ignored my co-workers comments about the smell and kept on working.
The worst part of the process for a lot of my co-workers was the adhesive that was used for the tiles. I’ll admit, it wasn’t that pleasant, but since we were now less than one hour away from having new, clean flooring, I wasn’t saying a word to detract from this great joy.
All day long, everyone who stopped by my office had something to say about the smell. It was just like talking about the weather: “Hey, did you see they got the carpet out of Sharon’s room? But that smell is overpowering.” “Wow, Wynne’s room looks a lot brighter with that new flooring. I hope that smell goes away by Monday” It’s just what we said as we made our way through the day.
Finally, about four, my co-worker came around with my last client’s chart. “Aren’t you bothered by that smell? I can’t stand it! Why couldn’t they do it on Saturday? I’m going outside to get some fresh air before I get sick.” As I took a breath and opened my mouth to start my speech about being happy that we were getting new floors and not complaining about the smell, I choked on the heavy floral scent of her hand lotion.
After my brief coughing fit ended, we ended up staring at each other for a few seconds while she waited for my response to her statement. Several different thoughts ran through my mind, including the original speech about not complaining and a different speech about her hand lotion. Finally, upon realizing the absurdity of complaining about smells to a woman complaining about smells, I smiled my best smile and said, “Why don’t we walk outside and get some fresh air?”
All’s well that ends well- the new floors are all in and there’s no sign of any painting in the near future, so we’re not likely to encounter any noxious smells anytime soon, save for some dirty diapers here and there.
Well, it’s ninety degrees outside right now and I want to go swim, so that is what I’m off to do! Have a wonderful week. Good luck to my friends who have finals coming up, Happy Birthday to my Grandpa Henry, and to everyone else- have a fun Monday at work!
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Misery
Misery- noun- pain, physical or mental.
I laid there, eyes wide open, contemplating my next move. If I moved to the right, I "knew" I would suffocate. If I moved to the left, the pain of a thousand knives stabbing my flesh would flood my body. I cried out, only to hear a low croak emitting from my mouth. This wasn't a nightmare, this was reality.
Twenty-four hours later, I lay on a table, doing my best to breath evenly as a third vein in my arm was being punctured. This time, my throat felt like it was closing up on me and I was experiencing that pain of a thousand knives again. Again, this was reality.
So what the heck was going on? What kind of craziness was I getting myself into? Honestly, it was nothing more than me just being a very over dramatic sick person.
It all started off with a sore throat. While I've had increased run-ins with colds and whatnot since I've moved here, whatever malady comes my way usually resolves itself within a day or so and I'm only sad and unhappy for a short time. But this sore throat/cold had plagued me for several days (of course while my family was visiting and we were going to all kind of beautiful places!) and finally got worse. Friday night, if I tried to lay on my stomach (moving to the right from my side sleeping position!), the congestion would quickly become so bad that I would have to move again if I wanted to continue breathing. Twenty-four hours later, my tonsils were so swollen that if felt like they were overtaking my entire mouth.
As for those thousand knives, those are all my fault. Friday was beach day, so we took a trip to beautiful Beachwalker County Park on Kiawah Island. Being an intelligent adult, I applied sunscreen before we got to the beach. Being unintelligent, I waded in the water with my aunt, took turns trying out my body board with my cousin, and then laid in the sun while I read an entire magazine, all without ever reapplying sunscreen. By the time we left, I was a little annoyed at what I thought was saltwater stinging my legs. As it turns out, it wasn't saltwater as much as it was serious burns on the backs of my leg and my upper back. That night, to turn left from my side sleeping position would cause ridiculous amounts of pain as my body protested the feeling of sheets against my legs.
The low croak was probably the best part of the story. Anymore, I lose my voice so quickly when I get sick. So even though I wanted to cry out in pain that night, all that came out was a sound that could probably be described as "effeminate Wookie." The best moment was when my dog ran by me, full of enthusiasm, only to strike me with his very, very strong tail. I full-out screamed in pain, but all that came out was a short, pathetic, "ugh." I started laughing at myself, only to find that now, no sound was coming out at all. I probably stood there for thirty seconds, looking like I was stroking out as my body shook with silent laughter.
The official diagnosis today at the doctor's was, "Your strep test came back negative, but you have all the symptoms, so here's a z-pack, go have some antibiotics." After the initial strep test came back negative, they wanted to rule out mono, so new Medical Assistant tried unsuccessfully, twice, to get blood out of me. Finally the more experienced tech came in and was successful in obtaining a testing sample, so I only have three holes in my arms right now.
So here I am, sitting on my couch on this fine Sunday afternoon, still unhappy with the situation and cursing my decision to not buy Popsicles and chicken noodle soup when I was at the store. I demand that someone come to my house and take care of me until I no longer feel sick. I don't care if you have to drive 700 miles to get here, I just need you to come here and cook, clean, and entertain for the next five days until I am no longer in misery. Thank you in advance for your sacrifice.
In all seriousness though, I am hopefully on the mend. I am hoping my double dose of antibiotics works some magic here in the next several hours (remember that episode of the Magic School Bus where they learn about viruses and whatnot? I am envisioning that!) Have a wonderful Sunday evening, and remember your sunscreen. Always remember your sunscreen!
I laid there, eyes wide open, contemplating my next move. If I moved to the right, I "knew" I would suffocate. If I moved to the left, the pain of a thousand knives stabbing my flesh would flood my body. I cried out, only to hear a low croak emitting from my mouth. This wasn't a nightmare, this was reality.
Twenty-four hours later, I lay on a table, doing my best to breath evenly as a third vein in my arm was being punctured. This time, my throat felt like it was closing up on me and I was experiencing that pain of a thousand knives again. Again, this was reality.
So what the heck was going on? What kind of craziness was I getting myself into? Honestly, it was nothing more than me just being a very over dramatic sick person.
It all started off with a sore throat. While I've had increased run-ins with colds and whatnot since I've moved here, whatever malady comes my way usually resolves itself within a day or so and I'm only sad and unhappy for a short time. But this sore throat/cold had plagued me for several days (of course while my family was visiting and we were going to all kind of beautiful places!) and finally got worse. Friday night, if I tried to lay on my stomach (moving to the right from my side sleeping position!), the congestion would quickly become so bad that I would have to move again if I wanted to continue breathing. Twenty-four hours later, my tonsils were so swollen that if felt like they were overtaking my entire mouth.
As for those thousand knives, those are all my fault. Friday was beach day, so we took a trip to beautiful Beachwalker County Park on Kiawah Island. Being an intelligent adult, I applied sunscreen before we got to the beach. Being unintelligent, I waded in the water with my aunt, took turns trying out my body board with my cousin, and then laid in the sun while I read an entire magazine, all without ever reapplying sunscreen. By the time we left, I was a little annoyed at what I thought was saltwater stinging my legs. As it turns out, it wasn't saltwater as much as it was serious burns on the backs of my leg and my upper back. That night, to turn left from my side sleeping position would cause ridiculous amounts of pain as my body protested the feeling of sheets against my legs.
The low croak was probably the best part of the story. Anymore, I lose my voice so quickly when I get sick. So even though I wanted to cry out in pain that night, all that came out was a sound that could probably be described as "effeminate Wookie." The best moment was when my dog ran by me, full of enthusiasm, only to strike me with his very, very strong tail. I full-out screamed in pain, but all that came out was a short, pathetic, "ugh." I started laughing at myself, only to find that now, no sound was coming out at all. I probably stood there for thirty seconds, looking like I was stroking out as my body shook with silent laughter.
The official diagnosis today at the doctor's was, "Your strep test came back negative, but you have all the symptoms, so here's a z-pack, go have some antibiotics." After the initial strep test came back negative, they wanted to rule out mono, so new Medical Assistant tried unsuccessfully, twice, to get blood out of me. Finally the more experienced tech came in and was successful in obtaining a testing sample, so I only have three holes in my arms right now.
So here I am, sitting on my couch on this fine Sunday afternoon, still unhappy with the situation and cursing my decision to not buy Popsicles and chicken noodle soup when I was at the store. I demand that someone come to my house and take care of me until I no longer feel sick. I don't care if you have to drive 700 miles to get here, I just need you to come here and cook, clean, and entertain for the next five days until I am no longer in misery. Thank you in advance for your sacrifice.
In all seriousness though, I am hopefully on the mend. I am hoping my double dose of antibiotics works some magic here in the next several hours (remember that episode of the Magic School Bus where they learn about viruses and whatnot? I am envisioning that!) Have a wonderful Sunday evening, and remember your sunscreen. Always remember your sunscreen!
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Lizard
Lizard- noun- any of numerous reptiles of the suborder Sauria or Lacertilia, characteristically having a scaly, elongated body, movable eyelids, four legs, and a tapering tale.
There I stood, mid-thigh deep in the Edisto River. Cooper was on his leash, splashing around and just generally acting like this was the best day of his life. I had come to this place for a change of pace for the weekend, and it was wonderful. Peace and happiness would be mine for the remainder of this moment.
We had taken a mini-road trip (it's not a road trip unless it's at least an hour away) to a local state park. I wanted to go hiking, and I knew Cooper would appreciate a long walk AND a car ride. So I packed a lunch and we piled into the car, and half an hour later we were at the foot of the nature trail, ready to head out.
The trail was small and not the most well-marked path I had ever been on, so half of my attention was focused on where I was going. Also, I have yet to buy bug spray, so the rest of my attention was on the mosquitoes swarming around my uncovered, unprotected arms. Suddenly, my focus shifted as the dog bolted ahead, then jumped to the side, and finally ended up behind my legs, pushing me forward.
Let me just say, there are a million creepy crawlies in this state that I am unfamiliar with, and I consider them all venomous until proven innocent. Whenever I'm somewhere new, I'm always fearful that they are hiding nearby, waiting to strike. So upon watching my normally "chill" dog flip out, a number of thoughts raced through my mind. Included among these thoughts were: "Don't scream, there's no reason to panic. Wait, maybe I should scream, so when the snake bites me, someone will have come running to my rescue and we can get to the hospital faster. Where is it? What is it? Why did my dog push ME towards the killer boa constrictor, aren't dogs supposed to be man's best friend and protect me?!" Yeah. I'm all about panicking for no reason.
Finally I spotted the little offender. It was a green anole whose sunbathing we had interrupted, and Wonder Dog had been startled by the little guy's acrobatic leaps from stair to tree to nearby log. Seeing this, I was thankful, because anoles are pretty harmless little guys. In fact, just this morning I watched one crawl across my patio, drink some standing water, and then show off his little red throat fan. I actually will go so far as to call them cute. So with an annoyed sigh, I summoned my questionably faithful companion (who was now urinating on a tree) and continued on down the path.
About an hour later we finished our hike with the only additional wildlife encounter being a bright red cardinal who was picking the forest floor for something. Upon finding out that there was a river nearby (my geographical knowledge of this state is pitiful), I took Cooper on down toward the bank so we could relax in the shade. It turned out to be the best idea of the day, as I got to sit and eat lunch while watching a Hispanic church have their Easter service right there by the river, baptizing a few members and singing beautiful songs I didn't understand except for the word "Hallelujah." It was quite wonderful.
This brings us back to the beginning of this story. After the church group headed towards their picnic area, several of us who had been hanging back waded into the river. I was enthralled with the soft sand under my feet and the beautiful scenery around me, and Cooper was literally diving into the water after leaves. It was even more amusing when he realized his feet couldn't touch the bottom anymore, because rather than dog paddle back towards shore, he did a wave motion jump to try and move around.
A couple of younger girls were wading nearby and came over to pet Cooper. Through the course of conversation, I mentioned that we had never visited this particular park before. One of the girls and her mother started pointing out the various features of the park. The next words out of the girl's mouth ended these peaceful moments I've been describing. As we stood there, enjoying the water, the girl said, "And look, there's ONE of the alligators."
I don't know about you, but I do not swim with alligators. Immediately I dragged Cooper out of the water, covering the ten feet to shore in record time. The girl and her mom both laughed at my alarm, but were kind enough to take me to a safe viewing area and point out the beast. "Don't worry, they don't bother us, but I wouldn't let your dog around him." As I was clearly still concerned, the mom's reassuring words were, "Just give it a little space and think of it as nothing more than a big lizard, and you'll be just as comfortable swimming here as the rest of us."
I gave a pleasant thank you and good-bye and headed back towards the car. On the way back, I kept thinking about my "lizard" encounters for the day, laughed at the outrageous scenarios of each one, and decided that I will take anoles over alligators any day.
Now, safely back on dry land, it's time to go make some "Easter dinner" foods and make some preparations for my visiting relatives who will be here soon. Yay! Have a wonderful week, and be thankful that there are no alligators in River Styx.
There I stood, mid-thigh deep in the Edisto River. Cooper was on his leash, splashing around and just generally acting like this was the best day of his life. I had come to this place for a change of pace for the weekend, and it was wonderful. Peace and happiness would be mine for the remainder of this moment.
We had taken a mini-road trip (it's not a road trip unless it's at least an hour away) to a local state park. I wanted to go hiking, and I knew Cooper would appreciate a long walk AND a car ride. So I packed a lunch and we piled into the car, and half an hour later we were at the foot of the nature trail, ready to head out.
The trail was small and not the most well-marked path I had ever been on, so half of my attention was focused on where I was going. Also, I have yet to buy bug spray, so the rest of my attention was on the mosquitoes swarming around my uncovered, unprotected arms. Suddenly, my focus shifted as the dog bolted ahead, then jumped to the side, and finally ended up behind my legs, pushing me forward.
Let me just say, there are a million creepy crawlies in this state that I am unfamiliar with, and I consider them all venomous until proven innocent. Whenever I'm somewhere new, I'm always fearful that they are hiding nearby, waiting to strike. So upon watching my normally "chill" dog flip out, a number of thoughts raced through my mind. Included among these thoughts were: "Don't scream, there's no reason to panic. Wait, maybe I should scream, so when the snake bites me, someone will have come running to my rescue and we can get to the hospital faster. Where is it? What is it? Why did my dog push ME towards the killer boa constrictor, aren't dogs supposed to be man's best friend and protect me?!" Yeah. I'm all about panicking for no reason.
Finally I spotted the little offender. It was a green anole whose sunbathing we had interrupted, and Wonder Dog had been startled by the little guy's acrobatic leaps from stair to tree to nearby log. Seeing this, I was thankful, because anoles are pretty harmless little guys. In fact, just this morning I watched one crawl across my patio, drink some standing water, and then show off his little red throat fan. I actually will go so far as to call them cute. So with an annoyed sigh, I summoned my questionably faithful companion (who was now urinating on a tree) and continued on down the path.
About an hour later we finished our hike with the only additional wildlife encounter being a bright red cardinal who was picking the forest floor for something. Upon finding out that there was a river nearby (my geographical knowledge of this state is pitiful), I took Cooper on down toward the bank so we could relax in the shade. It turned out to be the best idea of the day, as I got to sit and eat lunch while watching a Hispanic church have their Easter service right there by the river, baptizing a few members and singing beautiful songs I didn't understand except for the word "Hallelujah." It was quite wonderful.
This brings us back to the beginning of this story. After the church group headed towards their picnic area, several of us who had been hanging back waded into the river. I was enthralled with the soft sand under my feet and the beautiful scenery around me, and Cooper was literally diving into the water after leaves. It was even more amusing when he realized his feet couldn't touch the bottom anymore, because rather than dog paddle back towards shore, he did a wave motion jump to try and move around.
A couple of younger girls were wading nearby and came over to pet Cooper. Through the course of conversation, I mentioned that we had never visited this particular park before. One of the girls and her mother started pointing out the various features of the park. The next words out of the girl's mouth ended these peaceful moments I've been describing. As we stood there, enjoying the water, the girl said, "And look, there's ONE of the alligators."
I don't know about you, but I do not swim with alligators. Immediately I dragged Cooper out of the water, covering the ten feet to shore in record time. The girl and her mom both laughed at my alarm, but were kind enough to take me to a safe viewing area and point out the beast. "Don't worry, they don't bother us, but I wouldn't let your dog around him." As I was clearly still concerned, the mom's reassuring words were, "Just give it a little space and think of it as nothing more than a big lizard, and you'll be just as comfortable swimming here as the rest of us."
I gave a pleasant thank you and good-bye and headed back towards the car. On the way back, I kept thinking about my "lizard" encounters for the day, laughed at the outrageous scenarios of each one, and decided that I will take anoles over alligators any day.
Now, safely back on dry land, it's time to go make some "Easter dinner" foods and make some preparations for my visiting relatives who will be here soon. Yay! Have a wonderful week, and be thankful that there are no alligators in River Styx.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
KSA
KSA- noun- an acronym that stands for Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities. This term can describe a candidate for employment, a current employee, or a job position.
KSA's. I swear they never covered these in my professional development class in college. Granted, we were more focused on begging for internship spots and applying for grad school, but with the prevalence of this term on job applications and the like, you'd think there would have at least been a paragraph or two for us.
The government seems to like KSAs a lot. Of all the jobs I applied for right out of college, only the government jobs asked for this. The first few times, I struggled while writing my statements. After all, wasn't the point of the cover letter, the resume, and my references supposed to cover this? And didn't someone tell me that I shouldn't repeat the same information over and over again? How else can I present this? Maybe I'll write a paragraph or two of prose to cover that information...
Eventually, I became proficient on writing my KSA statements. They really just became one more instance where I could spin the same mundane terms into ridiculously technical celebrations of my very minor accomplishments as a college student. Ultimately, I got my job here at DHEC and totally forgot about KSAs. That is, I forgot about them until last month.
Living in a hurricane-prone area, you can imagine that there is quite a lot of preparation for a natural disaster that might never happen. We have several trainings each year, refresher e-learning courses, and a gosh-awful eight-hour educational nightmare courtesy of FEMA. New to me this year was a KSA questionnaire that more or less asked us what we could help out with after a hurricane. By far, this was the most interesting KSA I've ever had the pleasure of completing.
First we had to sign off that we understood the following terms that we would use to rate our proficiency in the various fields listed. For example: "Experts" could successfully complete a task in a given subject area and lead others. "Skilled" individuals would be able to successfully complete a project with no supervision. "Novices" would know what they were doing, but would need supervision. The state would assume anyone who checked "no" would not know anything about the given field.
Some of my co-workers gave great and careful thought to their answers. They checked "novice" in a number of areas and used the comment box like crazy, explaining things like, "Yes, I can speak basic Spanish and would be able to provide basic instructions to a Hispanic client, but I'm not fluent," or "I probably could direct traffic, but I would want someone else with me." Then there was me- I decided that if I didn't want to be put in a situation where I would be more of a hindrance than a help, I wasn't clicking anything but "no."
The KSA was VERY through. There were questions about specific fields like engineering and biology, questions about training we had received, professional licenses we held, etc.. My favorite part though was the assortment of questions related to completely random topics. With these questions, we were asked to rate our ability on things like forklift operating, graphic art design, and public speaking. I felt fairly confident in a few of these areas, so as of last month the state knows that in addition to my normal, boring, everyday job-specific skills, I am proficient with most of the Microsoft Office suite, I can copy write, I am health educator extraordinaire, and I can take care of farm animals.
It's the little things that provide amusement. While just a minor bit of paperwork, this project provided my clinic with a few hours of excitement. And this year, if there is a hurricane, I might just be taking care of some cows. Which actually, wouldn't be bad, because I have this really random dream to show cows at the fair, and taking care of cows would be, like, one step below that. On a more normal note- enjoy the nice weather, get a tan, and for all of you thinking about working for the government: get familiar with KSAs.
KSA's. I swear they never covered these in my professional development class in college. Granted, we were more focused on begging for internship spots and applying for grad school, but with the prevalence of this term on job applications and the like, you'd think there would have at least been a paragraph or two for us.
The government seems to like KSAs a lot. Of all the jobs I applied for right out of college, only the government jobs asked for this. The first few times, I struggled while writing my statements. After all, wasn't the point of the cover letter, the resume, and my references supposed to cover this? And didn't someone tell me that I shouldn't repeat the same information over and over again? How else can I present this? Maybe I'll write a paragraph or two of prose to cover that information...
Eventually, I became proficient on writing my KSA statements. They really just became one more instance where I could spin the same mundane terms into ridiculously technical celebrations of my very minor accomplishments as a college student. Ultimately, I got my job here at DHEC and totally forgot about KSAs. That is, I forgot about them until last month.
Living in a hurricane-prone area, you can imagine that there is quite a lot of preparation for a natural disaster that might never happen. We have several trainings each year, refresher e-learning courses, and a gosh-awful eight-hour educational nightmare courtesy of FEMA. New to me this year was a KSA questionnaire that more or less asked us what we could help out with after a hurricane. By far, this was the most interesting KSA I've ever had the pleasure of completing.
First we had to sign off that we understood the following terms that we would use to rate our proficiency in the various fields listed. For example: "Experts" could successfully complete a task in a given subject area and lead others. "Skilled" individuals would be able to successfully complete a project with no supervision. "Novices" would know what they were doing, but would need supervision. The state would assume anyone who checked "no" would not know anything about the given field.
Some of my co-workers gave great and careful thought to their answers. They checked "novice" in a number of areas and used the comment box like crazy, explaining things like, "Yes, I can speak basic Spanish and would be able to provide basic instructions to a Hispanic client, but I'm not fluent," or "I probably could direct traffic, but I would want someone else with me." Then there was me- I decided that if I didn't want to be put in a situation where I would be more of a hindrance than a help, I wasn't clicking anything but "no."
The KSA was VERY through. There were questions about specific fields like engineering and biology, questions about training we had received, professional licenses we held, etc.. My favorite part though was the assortment of questions related to completely random topics. With these questions, we were asked to rate our ability on things like forklift operating, graphic art design, and public speaking. I felt fairly confident in a few of these areas, so as of last month the state knows that in addition to my normal, boring, everyday job-specific skills, I am proficient with most of the Microsoft Office suite, I can copy write, I am health educator extraordinaire, and I can take care of farm animals.
It's the little things that provide amusement. While just a minor bit of paperwork, this project provided my clinic with a few hours of excitement. And this year, if there is a hurricane, I might just be taking care of some cows. Which actually, wouldn't be bad, because I have this really random dream to show cows at the fair, and taking care of cows would be, like, one step below that. On a more normal note- enjoy the nice weather, get a tan, and for all of you thinking about working for the government: get familiar with KSAs.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Joggle
Joggle-verb- move or cause to move with repeated small bobs or jerks.
Ten days after I moved here, and only my third day as a DHEC employee, I went to my first staff meeting. Not really knowing what to expect, I imagined it would be a long, drawn out event, where we discussed many important things relating to the office. In my mind, everyone would report on various things happening in their respective departments, and the meeting would take a good hour or so.
Not so. In a format that's been recreated 17 times since I've started working here, we had a brief meeting, followed by a minor report from another co-worker, and then we broke out to have department meetings. That first department meeting is where I first heard the word "joggle."
All of the WIC people had filed into the break room, and we started with introductions, seeing as how I knew no one. Before long, we were talking about various personal hobbies, and not long after that, someone brought up the topic of my supervisor's business, which she runs with her husband. Together, they build and sell joggling boards. I forget how she initially presented the concept of the business to us, but more than a few of us had a confused look on our face. After a few moments of purposely throwing around some business-related lingo to confuse us a little more for her amusement, she took a little time to explain what exactly she and her husband create. It's actually a pretty interesting lesson in history, so joggling boards will be today's topic. Enjoy your Southern trivia for the day!
First of all, let me describe a joggling board. Traditionally, they are made out of pine, which is a more pliant type of board. This is important, as the main function of the board is to move...a lot. The vertical ends of the boards have rockers on the bottom, allowing the board to move side to side, and are topped with decorative finials. The main part of the board itself can be somewhere between ten and sixteen feet, and is traditionally painted "Charleston green."
The history of the joggling board in the U.S. starts in Stateburg, South Carolina, at the Acton plantation. The owner of the plantation was a widowed man who, after the death of his wife, invited his sister to come live with him and take care of the house. The sister suffered from rheumatism, and wrote to some of her Scottish cousins about the toll the disease was taking on her body. According to popular lore, upon hearing that the previously active lady's only source of exercise was to ride around the plantation in a modified carriage that could accommodate her chair, her cousins sent her a model of a joggling board, hoping it would allow her to get some exercise that wouldn't exacerbate her condition.
It must have worked, or at least been interesting enough, because joggling boards soon became popular and started popping up all over the "Lowcountry" and remained popular until World War II, when the price of the materials used for the boards became prohibitive. Historians also like to point out that during the height of their popularity, joggling boards played a part in the courtship of many young Southern couples. According to historians, the man would sit on one end of the board and the woman on the opposite side, and through "joggling," they would eventually end up sitting together in the middle of the board.
So, by now you're either laughing at the word joggling, or just getting over laughing at the word. I purposely didn't try to define the term, other than what's at the beginning of the post, because I've found that I can't really do it justice. So rather than search for words I don't have, I'll leave you with this YouTube link. This is actually a joggling board my supervisor, Kristi, and her husband made and displayed at a local home show last year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G43yIxuB8lo
I hope you've enjoyed this tiny peak into another part of Southern life. Happy Sunday!
Ten days after I moved here, and only my third day as a DHEC employee, I went to my first staff meeting. Not really knowing what to expect, I imagined it would be a long, drawn out event, where we discussed many important things relating to the office. In my mind, everyone would report on various things happening in their respective departments, and the meeting would take a good hour or so.
Not so. In a format that's been recreated 17 times since I've started working here, we had a brief meeting, followed by a minor report from another co-worker, and then we broke out to have department meetings. That first department meeting is where I first heard the word "joggle."
All of the WIC people had filed into the break room, and we started with introductions, seeing as how I knew no one. Before long, we were talking about various personal hobbies, and not long after that, someone brought up the topic of my supervisor's business, which she runs with her husband. Together, they build and sell joggling boards. I forget how she initially presented the concept of the business to us, but more than a few of us had a confused look on our face. After a few moments of purposely throwing around some business-related lingo to confuse us a little more for her amusement, she took a little time to explain what exactly she and her husband create. It's actually a pretty interesting lesson in history, so joggling boards will be today's topic. Enjoy your Southern trivia for the day!
First of all, let me describe a joggling board. Traditionally, they are made out of pine, which is a more pliant type of board. This is important, as the main function of the board is to move...a lot. The vertical ends of the boards have rockers on the bottom, allowing the board to move side to side, and are topped with decorative finials. The main part of the board itself can be somewhere between ten and sixteen feet, and is traditionally painted "Charleston green."
The history of the joggling board in the U.S. starts in Stateburg, South Carolina, at the Acton plantation. The owner of the plantation was a widowed man who, after the death of his wife, invited his sister to come live with him and take care of the house. The sister suffered from rheumatism, and wrote to some of her Scottish cousins about the toll the disease was taking on her body. According to popular lore, upon hearing that the previously active lady's only source of exercise was to ride around the plantation in a modified carriage that could accommodate her chair, her cousins sent her a model of a joggling board, hoping it would allow her to get some exercise that wouldn't exacerbate her condition.
It must have worked, or at least been interesting enough, because joggling boards soon became popular and started popping up all over the "Lowcountry" and remained popular until World War II, when the price of the materials used for the boards became prohibitive. Historians also like to point out that during the height of their popularity, joggling boards played a part in the courtship of many young Southern couples. According to historians, the man would sit on one end of the board and the woman on the opposite side, and through "joggling," they would eventually end up sitting together in the middle of the board.
So, by now you're either laughing at the word joggling, or just getting over laughing at the word. I purposely didn't try to define the term, other than what's at the beginning of the post, because I've found that I can't really do it justice. So rather than search for words I don't have, I'll leave you with this YouTube link. This is actually a joggling board my supervisor, Kristi, and her husband made and displayed at a local home show last year:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G43yIxuB8lo
I hope you've enjoyed this tiny peak into another part of Southern life. Happy Sunday!
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