Pamela Dennen
The Future Can be Changed With a Click of a Button
It was a simple action—in fact it was just a click of a mouse button. But that simple action turned possibility into reality, as it opened up a whole new path to my future. I felt that potential. I felt energized, excited, and more than a little nervous. I know where I want to go, and that little click of the button bought me my golden ticket towards the future I have envisioned. What did I click this morning? I clicked the I Accept button for the Ph.D. program in Early Childhood Education through Walden University.
When I first graduated college, many years ago, the idea of a future really only concerned me as far as my weekend plans. I certainly had no idea that I would end up as a teacher of young children with special needs. If anybody asks how I came into the field, I always tell them it was a career that found me.
I was first hired into a classroom of young children with sever and profound delays when I was twenty-three years old. I had never had a single education course and had no idea what I did not know. Perhaps it was because I truly did not understand (at that point) what the labels given to those children meant, or perhaps it was because these children simply needed an adult with whom to connect, but I knew I had found my calling. I connected to my children in a deep way. They changed me. They needed me.
I knew that I needed to build my knowledge-base in order to meet their individual needs. In those pre-Internet days, it was very difficult to access the resources I needed. I started taking classes, attending workshops, and visiting the library. Over the next several years I grew as a professional. I proudly watched the children in my class meet their goals an often exceed what some others expected of them.
The school was located in the inner-city of Washington D.C. At the time, Washington, D.C. was the murder capital of the country. Children who attended our school came from many different social situations, too often involving poverty and illegal substances. They were with us from 8:00 in the morning (often getting on the bus as early as 7:00 a.m.) and stayed with us until 3:30 in the afternoon. The bus would drop the last child off by 5:00 in the evening.
That same inner sense that saw past the labels assigned to the children rang out in alarm. As much as I cared about these children, they were not mine. The parents were missing from the equation. The family support, the education and advocacy pieces that should have been built were put by the wayside. It was simply Us As Professionals who were doing to/telling to Them As Families. As I came to grips with this emerging awareness that this was not the way it should be, I realized that I was forming an idea for my future. And while I loved being a teacher in the classroom, I thought I could do greater good as a teacher of teachers. I wanted to blur the line between Us and Them.
It was not something I was planning on making a switch to immediately; but it was the goal that somehow felt right. Policy on the federal level was starting to change to better support young learners. Families were starting to be considered to be more of an important component to the planning process for young children. It was slow work. The Us versus Them mentality is hard to erase.
After a painful self-debate, and almost seven years, I moved from the Washingon, D.C. program to join a progressive early intervention program in nearby Virginia. This program was years ahead of many others in the country in terms of serving children in their natural environments, and recruiting parents to be an equal part of their childs intervention plan. I wanted to be a part of that model.
I also returned to school, eventually earning a Master's degree in Early childhood and special education. My future was on-track and on the way.
And then I found out that I was about to become a mother. As it turned out I was to become a single mother.
My daughter, who is now five—(and three-quarters) years—old, was my first Ph.D. in early childhood education. There are families I have worked with who I want to call now and say O.K. now I get it!. I know what it means to be tired, almost beyond endurance. I know what it means to have your heart live outside of your body in a tiny little person, leaving you highly vulnerable. I know joy in the small things and commitment that truly can extend across generations.
Unfortunately, I have also learned what some of the pragmatics of single parenthood entail. I have learned how the costs of child care can make working outside the home impossible. I have learned how poverty can become deeply ingrained and snowball quickly. I have learned that getting back on-track, when you have gotten off the train, can be so very difficult.
After her birth, I moved with my daughter back to Rhode Island, where my family is close by. When I tried to find some type of a parenting publication I could not find any in print here. So I started one, which allowed me to work from home for the first three years of my childs life. And while it was not a huge financial gain (I have not made more than $25,000 in any year since her birth), there were no costs of child care and I was able to be with her for those formative years. This was invaluable.
The summer of her third birthday was an exciting one for us. I was approached to take in a foster child, who was fifteen at the time. It made perfect sense to me. She was a child who needed a home, and we had a home with enough room for another child. This involved a bit more belt tightening, but we were rewarded with a teenager who loves her sister and has brought music into the home.
I also sold the magazine that year in order to open up a pre-school in our neighborhood. I thought this was an important way to contribute to our community, and it allowed me to have a strong hand in my younger daughters introduction to formal schooling.
This past winter I was offered a job in the public school in my town. The pre-school was given to parents of children who still attend, and I enrolled my daughter into all-day kindergarten. I was ready to move back onto my own path. I went back into the classroom serving young children with special needs. The week after I was hired I was told that because the school system is closing three schools in my town, my position would be laid off, effective September of 2008.
I am not discouraged. It might be a slow start, but I am moving forward again. This morning, I clicked a button. I bought a ticket back onto that train.
An online university, such as Walden University, allows me to work around my schedule (and my daughters) in a way that a brick and mortar school cannot. It grants me the most invaluable commodity a mother needs—time. It grants me stability so that whatever working options might present to me, I can continue to work towards my academic goals.
Before I accepted, I called some area universities. I asked them how they would view a Ph.D. from an online university. I asked if they would hire teaching staff and professors who had earned a degree in such a way I was asked about accreditation. I checked and learned Walden is fully accredited. I was told that they would view this Ph.D. in the same positive light that they would view more traditional university degrees. I was told to absolutely go for it.
And so I did. This morning I bought my golden ticket when I clicked that mouse button.