The end of an era

About 20 years ago, not too long after I moved to Seattle, I began to work with an organization which puts on trainings for people all over the world whose work includes intense, high-stakes interactions.  Actors are used to portray people in different situations/crises/emotional states, etc. in order to give trainees a chance to practice their communication skills in a simulation.

The training which is conducted in Seattle is a program for journalism students, designed to give them their first chance to interview people going through a traumatic event.  Thousands of UW journalism students have taken this training, and the teaching staff have reported back how many of the students mention this training as the most impactful event of their educational careers.

Fourteen years ago I was asked to take over leading this program once a quarter, since the current leader was moving away.  I had really enjoyed being one of the emotional characters in the program's simulations, and I knew that to lead would mean giving that up.  Still, I was so flattered at being asked, I said yes immediately.  (It has occurred to me that I've done a lot of things I didn't want to do because I was flattered to be asked.  Certainly a lot of boyfriends entered my life that way.)  It's not that I didn't want to do this, because it is honorable, challenging, meaningful work.  But I was terrified.  Easy to brush it off as Imposter Syndrome, which I suffer from even though I know I'm smart and capable and committed to excellence, and have the power to win people over (not everyone, mind you). Still, I was always anxious that the students have fantastic time, and what if they don't engage or don't like me or are snotty or don't get the benefits of this amazing training? 

Recently I decided to retire from leading this program, but not without qualms.  There is no one trained to take over leading.  This program is much too valuable to be allowed to disappear.  I felt a bit trapped.  However, the man who created this and all the other training programs was so gracious and appreciative for my service that he eased my qualms and assured me another way would be found for the trauma training to continue.

The day of my last session, last Wednesday, the teaching staff gifted me and the training's four actors with mugs, and handed me an enormous bouquet in a ceramic vase.  So very thoughtful (although I had taken the light rail that morning and ended up having to call Sweet Hubby to pick me up, since the flowers and gift bag and my own personal effects were too much to handle getting to and on and off the train.  Sometimes people give you a gift, sometimes a problem).

It was an emotional day for me, and not just because it was my last time to conduct the program.  Journalism and journalists are currently under assault in this country; it take more courage now to become a journalist than it used to.  Without being overtly political, I impressed this as much as I could upon the students, these fresh-faced young adults who are the future of the world.  It's their turn now to make of their lives and this country what they will.  I hope I've helped, even a little.