Amy Baires, BSW student
Field Practicum at Center Moriches and South Country Libraries
I handed her the housing application and noticed her weight shift in her seat. I could imagine underneath her mask that her lips were frowning and behind her hair, her eyebrows furrowed. She took a deep breath and sifted through the pages nervously. “We can fill it out together,” I whispered as I sat down next to her (six feet apart). She looked up at me and sighed, “Oh thank God, I don’t understand any of this and I can hear a voice in my head saying ‘You can’t do this, what were you thinking? This is too hard,” she half-heartedly laughed. I smiled underneath my mask and leaned over to let her know this was new for me too. “You’re actually my very first client and I’ve never filled out a housing application either. So let’s learn this together.” Later that night the security guard of the library approached me to say he was outside making a phone call when my client went out to her bike speaking out loud to herself saying “that was good. ok, it’s gonna be okay,” with a smile on her face. Not three hours before I was nervously sitting in my car, worried that this person would write me off as an imposter; as not being knowledgeable enough or having all the answers. And then there were the new regulations and restrictions brought on by COVID; how could I make sure she knew I was a warm and open resource to her if she doesn’t even know what my face looks like? I feel I’m being trained to be fluent in body language and unspoken cues. To watch shoulders sink and legs shake and knuckles crack and understand these are my literature; these are mine to interpret and assist. And these will help me bridge a six-foot gap I thought would isolate us forever.
