I kinda thought speech pathology was about speech, but apparently it's about Life with a capital L. I've already learned not to spit. I make good choices. And now, thanks to my supervisor, an elevator ride, and a booger-nosed, button-happy boy named Josh, I know the true meaning of maturity:
"Floor 2! Floor 2! I'm going to push it a million times!"
"Don't do that, Josh."
"Why not, Mrs. P?"
"Because the elevator will get stuck."
"Cool."
"NO!! Get away. Not cool....Josh, stand in the corner."
"Awwwww."
"I need you to be mature, Josh."
"What's mature?"
"Mature is when you are quiet."
Hear that? Mature is when you are quiet. Here I've been trying to talk myself into maturity (It's OK someone else took the last cookie, Anne. You don't have to cry.) and all I had to do was SHUT UP! Maturity is mine! I'm gonna be the sharpest cheese around.
Clearly I've been undervaluing speech pathology. I thought it was a paycheck, but maybe it's more. Maybe it's the source of all wisdom. I mean, look at all the valuable Life Lessons speech pathology has to offer:
Figure out what to do with your tongue
Don't eat things that make you choke
Swallowing is harder without an epiglottis
If you can't remember stuff, write it down
Never settle for a wascally wabbit
There's probably more, but I gotta go. My tongue needs figuring out.
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