SCI week two
“You don’t really want to do this, do you?”
We were walking to German class, which was the last period of the day. I had just shared my exciting news with two of my friends. I was nearly jumping for joy, but of course, one of them had to attempt to darken the moment.
“Of course I want to. I’ve been dreaming of this for as long as I can remember. I’ve been praying for it for months now.”
“Do you think they’ll even let you? I mean, you’re in high school.”
Only a few minutes ago, I had received the news I had been waiting for: I was accepted into a June class at Guiding Eyes for the Blind. I was going to get a guide dog!
At the time, I did not understand the risk involved. I did not realize that it truly was a big deal to fly across the country, leave my home for a month, and attain something that would change my life forever. Instead of worrying about the risk involved, my mind swirled with images of that dog, and confidence took the reins from anxiety.
The last month of junior year flashed by quickly. I dimly remember studying furiously for my precalc final and telling everyone at church that I would be leaving for a month to get a guide dog. Teachers allowed me to keep my cell phone on during the day because that was the only time when the school could reach me to work out plans. For once, I didn’t care about grades or tests; I had one thought in mind.
When I flew to New York, the reality of what I was doing seemed to hit me. I was flying with people I did not know, off to somewhere I had never been, to work in an environment I did not yet understand. I had always been an adventurous person. Before this trip to New York, I had flown by myself a couple times, but this seemed different.
And guide dog school was definitely a new environment for me. They would not serve us soda at meals because they were into healthy eating. We had to wake up at six in the morning for who knows what crazy reason. I had to get to know around ten different people, all with their own quirks and habits, and before long, these people became a kind of family to me. We teased each other, creating our own inside jokes that no one else should or could understand. As the youngest, I was teased by far the most, but I was used to it.
The best and scariest thing of all came to me on my third day at guide dog school: my guide dog.
“Her name is the name of a French cheese, which is normally baked.”
We played a guessing game to determine the names of our dogs. To be honest, I had no idea what they were talking about. I was disheartened by the fact that I could not even guess my own dog’s name, but when I heard that she was a female yellow lab, I became excited once again.
I waited in my room. First I emailed everyone I could think of to tell them what I knew about my dog, and then I paced the room, played some music, and checked my email over and over again. I was nervous, but I felt stuck. When the trainer brought her in, the scene was rather anticlimactic. The dog wasn’t even interested in me. After giving me a curious sniff, she left me alone and tried to follow the trainer out of the room. For two hours, I sat with her while she stayed by my door, her ears cocked, listening for the trainer to come back. Sometimes when the trainer walked by, she would whimper a bit.
At dinner, she was a nightmare. Our job, as new guide dog handlers, was to keep the dog lying down throughout the meal. I don’t think I ate more than two bites of food. My dog would not stay down, and she refused to listen to me. At one point I even threw my fork onto the floor because I was trying to correct her and eat at the same time.
Over the next three weeks, I faced many challenges with my dog. She dove after food, instigated illegal play sessions with the other dogs during lectures, and refused to sit still. It was as though she knew I didn’t know how to handle her properly. What had I done to receive the most troublesome dog?
I can’t pretend I didn’t struggle. This dog was not going to allow me to command her without a fight, but she did her work well, and eventually, I learned how to handle her. I can’t remember when exactly, but one morning I knew she and I were going to work as a team. At night, my dog laid on a blanket on the floor next to my bed. She was tied to the wall with what is called a tie-down, which did not allow her to move beyond a certain point in my room. It wasn’t long enough that she could get tangled, but apparently, it was long enough for her to reach my bed. I woke to find a furry blob sleeping beside me.
At graduation, she remained by my side as I sang in the ceremony. My mom had flown down for the event, and she was impressed with my ability to keep my new dog under control. I can’t say that every day with my dog has been perfect, but I do think the risk I took three and a half years ago was worth it. Sometimes the best risks are those we don’t even realize are risks.
* * *
This has been my entry for week two of second chance idol. Thank you for reading!
We were walking to German class, which was the last period of the day. I had just shared my exciting news with two of my friends. I was nearly jumping for joy, but of course, one of them had to attempt to darken the moment.
“Of course I want to. I’ve been dreaming of this for as long as I can remember. I’ve been praying for it for months now.”
“Do you think they’ll even let you? I mean, you’re in high school.”
Only a few minutes ago, I had received the news I had been waiting for: I was accepted into a June class at Guiding Eyes for the Blind. I was going to get a guide dog!
At the time, I did not understand the risk involved. I did not realize that it truly was a big deal to fly across the country, leave my home for a month, and attain something that would change my life forever. Instead of worrying about the risk involved, my mind swirled with images of that dog, and confidence took the reins from anxiety.
The last month of junior year flashed by quickly. I dimly remember studying furiously for my precalc final and telling everyone at church that I would be leaving for a month to get a guide dog. Teachers allowed me to keep my cell phone on during the day because that was the only time when the school could reach me to work out plans. For once, I didn’t care about grades or tests; I had one thought in mind.
When I flew to New York, the reality of what I was doing seemed to hit me. I was flying with people I did not know, off to somewhere I had never been, to work in an environment I did not yet understand. I had always been an adventurous person. Before this trip to New York, I had flown by myself a couple times, but this seemed different.
And guide dog school was definitely a new environment for me. They would not serve us soda at meals because they were into healthy eating. We had to wake up at six in the morning for who knows what crazy reason. I had to get to know around ten different people, all with their own quirks and habits, and before long, these people became a kind of family to me. We teased each other, creating our own inside jokes that no one else should or could understand. As the youngest, I was teased by far the most, but I was used to it.
The best and scariest thing of all came to me on my third day at guide dog school: my guide dog.
“Her name is the name of a French cheese, which is normally baked.”
We played a guessing game to determine the names of our dogs. To be honest, I had no idea what they were talking about. I was disheartened by the fact that I could not even guess my own dog’s name, but when I heard that she was a female yellow lab, I became excited once again.
I waited in my room. First I emailed everyone I could think of to tell them what I knew about my dog, and then I paced the room, played some music, and checked my email over and over again. I was nervous, but I felt stuck. When the trainer brought her in, the scene was rather anticlimactic. The dog wasn’t even interested in me. After giving me a curious sniff, she left me alone and tried to follow the trainer out of the room. For two hours, I sat with her while she stayed by my door, her ears cocked, listening for the trainer to come back. Sometimes when the trainer walked by, she would whimper a bit.
At dinner, she was a nightmare. Our job, as new guide dog handlers, was to keep the dog lying down throughout the meal. I don’t think I ate more than two bites of food. My dog would not stay down, and she refused to listen to me. At one point I even threw my fork onto the floor because I was trying to correct her and eat at the same time.
Over the next three weeks, I faced many challenges with my dog. She dove after food, instigated illegal play sessions with the other dogs during lectures, and refused to sit still. It was as though she knew I didn’t know how to handle her properly. What had I done to receive the most troublesome dog?
I can’t pretend I didn’t struggle. This dog was not going to allow me to command her without a fight, but she did her work well, and eventually, I learned how to handle her. I can’t remember when exactly, but one morning I knew she and I were going to work as a team. At night, my dog laid on a blanket on the floor next to my bed. She was tied to the wall with what is called a tie-down, which did not allow her to move beyond a certain point in my room. It wasn’t long enough that she could get tangled, but apparently, it was long enough for her to reach my bed. I woke to find a furry blob sleeping beside me.
At graduation, she remained by my side as I sang in the ceremony. My mom had flown down for the event, and she was impressed with my ability to keep my new dog under control. I can’t say that every day with my dog has been perfect, but I do think the risk I took three and a half years ago was worth it. Sometimes the best risks are those we don’t even realize are risks.
* * *
This has been my entry for week two of second chance idol. Thank you for reading!