Picturing Perfect (3 page)

"May I help you?" she asked as I read her nametag.

"Yes, hi Natasha," I said, my voice cracking a little. My nerves were getting the best of me. "I have an interview with Pamela Rodriguez. My name is Hadley Foster."

"Ahh, Hadley," a voice said from down the hall. A petite woman with jet-black hair and dimples walked quickly to where I was standing.

"I'm Pamela, it's a pleasure to meet you. Come with me," she said, leading me down a long hallway with several glass doors. She opened one of them and gestured for me to walk into her office.

Taking a seat in a simple navy blue chair, I placed my portfolio on her desk. Pamela slid into her leather chair and linked her hands together, with a large smile on her face.

"I'm very excited to meet you, Hadley. Your application was impressive."

"Thank you." I nodded nervously.

Pamela looked down at my resume.

"I see you have your teaching certificate. May I ask why you're not pursuing a job with the school system?"

"Sure. Well, I came down with pneumonia and I'm not quite ready to start a school year, but I want to use my skills. When I saw your ad, I thought it was a great opportunity."

"Oh," she paused, "as you can imagine, it takes a special person to work with this community. I hope that you aren't looking at this as a temporary position until the semester ends."

"No, I'm not."

She didn't look convinced. "Let me tell you about the position," she said.

"Great," I replied.

"You will be pulling clients throughout the day from their work areas to teach them life skills: telling time, counting money, exercise, cooking. You'll also take groups on field trips to the library, coffee shops, out for ice cream." She looked at me expectantly.

"That sounds wonderful," I replied.

"How do you feel about music?"

"It's one of my passions."

"Oh good, because part of the job is to spearhead the big musical performance our clients perform every year. It's a huge fundraiser for the facility. Basically, it's a lot of skits, plus lip-synching to their favorite songs. We perform it here in the gymnasium and we pack the house."

"Wow, that sounds exciting," I said, marveling at how much fun this job seemed to be.

"Well, Rhonda, the woman who held this position before you, wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as we would've liked. The show was basically the same thing every year. We'd like to have this year's performance stand out. Something new, something exciting to get our clients excited again. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely." I nodded.

"Great. Now, before I get to know you better, let's take a tour of the place, and you can see what we're all about." We walked out of the office, turning once again down the long hallway. It led to three large work areas. Groups of adults sat in clusters, busy working on individual projects.

"We have three areas: A, B and C. They're easy to remember." She chuckles. "As you can see, we have many clients at Sunnyside. We have about eighty-six clients who currently attend every day. You'll be able to interact with most of them."

Pamela led me to the area marked "B." Two small conveyor belts stretched across the middle of the room. Several clients sat to the side of each belt, assembling small pieces of cardboard. Pamela introduced me to the older woman seated at a desk, overseeing all of the work.

"This is Sharon. Sharon is in charge of Area B. Our clients in Area B are our highest functioning clients, and they are able to handle the most complicated of tasks. Here, they're assembling cardboard cutouts for a local hardware store's packaging."

"Do you have a lot of contracts from local businesses?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes, we do. There are days where we run out of jobs for them, but that gives us an excuse to have an impromptu party or movie." Sharon gave me a small wave as I followed Pamela through areas A and C. These rooms were similar to Area B. More conveyors, more Sunnyside employees assisting clients with their projects. There was quite a bit of smiles and laughter. It really seemed like a welcoming place.

Pamela and I returned to her office once we'd toured the entire building. She waited until we were seated once again before continuing, "As I'm sure you were able to see, we have a variety of different clients who come to us each day. Some are in their twenties and live with their parents. Some are older and live in group facilities. They come here to earn a paycheck, but they also need to build their skills in other areas, and that's where you'd come in."

"I understand." I nodded.

"Now, Hadley, why don't you tell me more about yourself, and we can get this ball rolling," Pamela said with a big smile. I took a deep breath, relaxed and sold myself as best I could.

Sunnyside Association was just that—sunny. It was sunny and friendly and full of smiles. I'd surprised even myself with how much I looked forward to coming to work every weekday. I loved my job. I freaking
loved
my job. Each morning, my co-worker Ellie and I waited outside the building, clipboards in hand, marking attendance as our clients arrived. Some were escorted by their parents; others arrived with their roommates, or a worker from their group home drove them in a bus or mini-van.

A large blue and white bus arrived bright and early on a cool October morning. The first off the bus was Bryce. Not a big surprise. He hated buses and cars and practically bounced out of his seat when they arrived each morning. Bryce usually had his iPod clipped to his t-shirt, his earbuds dangling from his ears. He's a music junkie - one of my favorite things about him. The music was something his group home had encouraged to distract him from the ride. Pretty soon Bryce had memorized an entire catalog of Cat Stevens songs, his very first obsession, and was making his way through the rest of the 1970s. I kept hoping he'd reach the 80s, my very favorite decade for music…and movies…and pretty much everything in pop culture. I'm kind of an 80s junkie.

"Who are we listening to this morning?" I asked as Bryce pulled one earbud from his pink ear.

"ABBA," he smiled wide, knowing I despised ABBA. Little stinker. Bryce knew how to make me laugh and did it frequently. He had cerebral palsy and it affected his speech and facial gestures. He had decreased muscle tone and needed, many times, to use a walker when he was having a difficult day. He was a hard worker, though, and sometimes a bit of a busybody. He liked to spread the gossip like crazy and always had crushes on girls. I adored him.

"I'm telling you, I'm going to burn an 80s disc on iTunes for you and you'll be hooked." I said this to him practically every morning. But, he just shook his head, holding his hand up in front of his face as if begging me to stop. I still hadn't made that mix for him. His birthday was coming up in a few short weeks and I'd be able to surprise him then.

As always, Ellie and I pretended to fight over Warren, our favorite client (even though we weren't supposed to have favorites—or at least not advertise them). Warren had Down Syndrome, like a lot of our other clients. He was twenty-four and lived at home with his mom. He had bright blue eyes and golden blond hair, just like me. And he had to be the biggest flirt on the planet. Each morning, he planted kisses on my cheek as well as Ellie's, just to hear us laugh and to spur the argument over which one of us Warren adored the most. His smile was bright and wide each and every day. Some mornings, I lived for that smile.

"Morning, beautiful," Warren said, greeting me with my morning peck.

"Thanks, handsome," I replied, rubbing his elbow gently as he walked towards Ellie, his lips already puckered. Ellie laughed and joked with him as I helped another client. Shirley's walker was stuck on several rocks on the sidewalk and she was starting to get angry.

The last few clients trickled off the bus as Ellie and I greeted them, checking them off on our attendance sheets.

"Did you watch Grey's last night?" Ellie asked, running her fingers through her hair.

"You know I never miss that show. I love me some McDreamy." I laughed, fanning myself.

"You're only in love with him because he was in that 80s movie. I swear you're obsessed with that decade!" She laughed. She was right, though.
Can't Buy Me Love
was one of my favorite movies. And I've had a soft spot for Patrick Dempsey ever since he rode Cindy Mancini away on his lawn mower.

"How can you not be obsessed with that decade? It was totally awesome to the max," I said in my best Valley Girl voice, flipping my hair behind me. Ellie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Ells." I heard a deep voice coming from inside the building.

"Yeah, babe," Ellie said, whipping her head around to face her husband and co-worker, Nick.

"You're needed in Area B. Mindy is asking for you."

"Ah," Ellie said with an understanding nod.

"I got this, go check on her," I reassured her as she hurried towards Nick. Mindy had been struggling lately and her attachment to Ellie became extreme when she was upset. Some days, she'd go hours without a problem, but today didn't seem to be one of those days. In the six weeks I'd worked there, I'd witnessed Ellie in action and was impressed at her selflessness and easygoing personality. She was doing the work she was born to do.

Unlike me, she didn't have a different plan. Ellie Miller always wanted to work with those with special needs. When school districts in the area didn't have the need for more special ed. teachers, Ellie pursued working with adults. She and her husband, Nick, fell in love instantly the day Ellie started working at Sunnyside. They married one year later. Both of the Millers took me under their wing, giving me guidance with the clients and encouraging me in all aspects of my job. I felt lucky to have them as my co-workers.

"Hadley, did you sign out Bus #3 for this afternoon?" Nick asked, walking outside.

"Yeah, I'm taking a few clients to Starbucks for a coffee break. It's field trip day."

"Crap. I was going to take a group to Target for shopping and Carl said Bus #2 is in the shop. I guess I'll reschedule."

"Don't be silly. Isn't there a small cafe in the same strip mall as Target?"

Nick looked a little confused, but nodded. "So?"

"So, instead of Starbucks, I'll take my clients there. We can share the bus. When you finish shopping with your group, we'll meet back up at the bus."

"Wow, awesome. Thanks. Rose really needs to get out of this place, even if only for an hour," Nick said, shaking his head slightly as his eyes widen.

Nick was right about Rose. Rose was profoundly autistic and was overwhelmed easily. We'd all noticed her anxiety had been at an all-time high as of late. The workload in Area C had been slow and it was making her really uneasy. She liked noise and craved a little bit of chaos at all times. Target was one of her favorite places in the world. When she was in a loud, busy environment, she lit up.

"All right, I'll grab the keys for the bus around 2:00 and we'll head over to the mall."

"Awesome, thanks so much." Nick gave me a brief nod before walking back into the building.

Quickly, I checked my watch to see how much time I had before my money class began. Ten minutes. Perfect. I had plenty of time to drop by my office and gather my teaching materials before collecting my clients from their work areas. Every week, I met with three clients and we practiced counting coins. It was my job to review the coins with them, helping them to count basic change independently. The goal was for them to pay for snacks from the snack cart or purchase something from the vending machines on their own.

Ten minutes later, Lucy was studying the quarters and nickels in front of her. Her brow was furrowed as she twisted her jet-black hair in between her fingers and I knew she was about to break down. Whenever her fingers moved towards her curly hair, I did my best to keep her from losing it because when she got frustrated, I lost her for the rest of the lesson. She would tune me out and many times asked to return to her work area.

But, I was determined to help Lucy. I was determined to watch her buy a can of Coke all by herself. I knew she'd be proud. I knew she'd probably jump up and down, hugging the person standing closest to her. I wanted that so bad for her; I could feel it in my bones.

"Take a deep breath, Luce," I said, the rise and fall of my chest deep and controlled, hoping she'd follow my lead. She did.

"That's good," I continued, "now, let's take a look at these two coins. Which one is bigger?"

"I don't know," Lucy said, her eyes staring at the wall.

"Lucy," I said. She ignored me.

I took another deep breath. "I love Lucy? Look at me, please" I said, my voice gentle. She giggled. She loved that nickname, even though she liked to pretend she despised it. Lucy loved attention.

"Don't call me that," she said, prolonging the game.

"Fine, I won't." I shrugged. "Please look at the coins."

Lucy let out an enormous sigh, before leaning her chin on her open hand and staring down at the coins in front of her.

"It's too hard," she whined.

"You can do this. Show me which one is bigger."