This is my uniform for the foreseeable future. These are the only precautions that can be put in place in my line of work—an essential job that goes largely unrecognized because it’s not well known. I’m a special education teacher working in a 24/7 residential care facility with clients who have intellectual disabilities or autism spectrum disorders.
Tonight, I have a lump in my throat as I write these words. During an activity with a young person, it hit me! I saw the confusion in his eyes when I smiled at him from beneath my mask. A mask I have to wear to protect him. But he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know or understand all the preventive procedures I have to follow when I arrive for my shift to keep him healthy. Unfortunately, the mask and scrubs take away any chance for the residents to feel like they’re in a family home—it feels more like a specialized unit.
Tonight, I feel judged because people walking down the street pointed at the residence and our parked cars. It’s no party at this residence—far from it! We’re dealing with twice as many crises because our residents can no longer go out for their activities and outings. For some, it’s school; for others, it’s a drive.
Tonight, I’m sad to hear, for the hundredth time, a young person ask me if he has school tomorrow—even though I know the resident is just echolaling. For most of these people, the little they have is what they hold onto. They don’t always have the ability to understand the danger of this invisible threat.
Tonight, on my way home, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of bringing the virus home to my family. Community transmission is on the rise. I’m afraid because I’m putting my family’s health at risk to care for people who have nowhere to go or no one to turn to.
So, if you see us on the street with a set of pictograms and that distinctive outfit, please, don’t call the police to report us. Our clients already deal with enough anxiety and staff turnover. We don’t need the police showing up. Some essential services work behind the scenes. I’m not taking anything away from those mentioned in the news, but to you—an unsung hero in an essential service—keep up the great work! We’ll get through this.