bite of my burger. “Not yet. So how about you?” I ask. “How’d you get into teaching this class?”
“I’m actually a supervisor for an agency called St. Anne’s Services,” he says. “Have you heard of it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you know about ACS, right? The Administration for Children’s Services?”
“The foster system?”
“Right. But some kids with special needs get referred out to various other agencies, like St. Anne’s or New Alternatives for Children. We have programs in place to help meet the needs of both mentally and physically challenged kids. I specialize in working with the deaf and hard-of-hearing kids who come to St. Anne’s.”
“So you just teach the class on the side?”
He nods. “Seemed like something fun to do. This is only my second time teaching it. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re a natural,” I tell him honestly. “Did you grow up knowing sign language?”
His smile falters for a split second. “My little brother was born hard of hearing,” he says. “When he started learning ASL, my parents taught it to me too. I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t know it.” He pauses, his expression softening. “It was kind of like this secret language we knew that no one else was in on.”
“Cool.”
He winks. “I told you, I’m incredibly awesome. But enough about me. How did you get into music therapy?”
“Long story.” I don’t want to talk about Patrick. “Let’s just say that someone I love reminded me how important it was to pursue the thing I was most passionate about.”
He nods. “I’ve always said that life’s too short not to follow your dreams.”
I swallow hard. “That’s exactly what he used to say.”
“Sounds like a pretty great dude.”
I smile sadly. “He was.”
“So,” Andrew says after an awkward pause. He clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I eat a few fries and push my plate away. I’m starting to feel queasy, and I’m not sure whether it’s because of the huge burger or because being reminded of Patrick is making me sad.
“Look, I’m going to be blunt here, and feel free to say no. But I have a few hard-of-hearing and deaf kids at St. Anne’s I’d love to try something new with. Real sweet kids. I can’t offer to pay you right away—I’ve maxed out the budget this year on cochlear implants for two of our kids—but if you’re interested in working with the deaf population, maybe this could be a good place to get your feet wet.”
“Um,” I reply, trying to figure out how to decline politely.
“Actually, okay, let me backtrack here,” Andrew adds. “Am I being crazy? It’s just that I’m always trying to come up with new ways to reach them, you know? And here you are. But maybe they’re not the right fit for the kind of work you do.”
I hesitate. “I think it depends on the kids and what kind of help they need,” I finally say. “Although music therapy can be used in a lot of different contexts.”
He smiles. “Ah, like a secret superpower.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Okay. I’ve clearly been spending too much time with children if I’m making you out to be a comic book hero with, like, a power pan flute.”
I laugh. “Sadly, I have no idea how to play a pan flute.”
“You’re crushing my dreams, Kate. I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t wear a cape, either?”
“Only on special occasions,” I deadpan, and he laughs. I take a deep breath and plunge in. “So do you want to tell me about these kids? What were you thinking I could do with them?”
“Well, two of the three have received cochlear implants in the last few years, so they’re still developing their comfort levels with speaking and processing speech. Of course cochlear implants impact the way in which people hear music, but from what I understand, it can still be really enjoyable. Do you think maybe music therapy could help a bit with their speech and
“I’m actually a supervisor for an agency called St. Anne’s Services,” he says. “Have you heard of it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you know about ACS, right? The Administration for Children’s Services?”
“The foster system?”
“Right. But some kids with special needs get referred out to various other agencies, like St. Anne’s or New Alternatives for Children. We have programs in place to help meet the needs of both mentally and physically challenged kids. I specialize in working with the deaf and hard-of-hearing kids who come to St. Anne’s.”
“So you just teach the class on the side?”
He nods. “Seemed like something fun to do. This is only my second time teaching it. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re a natural,” I tell him honestly. “Did you grow up knowing sign language?”
His smile falters for a split second. “My little brother was born hard of hearing,” he says. “When he started learning ASL, my parents taught it to me too. I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t know it.” He pauses, his expression softening. “It was kind of like this secret language we knew that no one else was in on.”
“Cool.”
He winks. “I told you, I’m incredibly awesome. But enough about me. How did you get into music therapy?”
“Long story.” I don’t want to talk about Patrick. “Let’s just say that someone I love reminded me how important it was to pursue the thing I was most passionate about.”
He nods. “I’ve always said that life’s too short not to follow your dreams.”
I swallow hard. “That’s exactly what he used to say.”
“Sounds like a pretty great dude.”
I smile sadly. “He was.”
“So,” Andrew says after an awkward pause. He clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I eat a few fries and push my plate away. I’m starting to feel queasy, and I’m not sure whether it’s because of the huge burger or because being reminded of Patrick is making me sad.
“Look, I’m going to be blunt here, and feel free to say no. But I have a few hard-of-hearing and deaf kids at St. Anne’s I’d love to try something new with. Real sweet kids. I can’t offer to pay you right away—I’ve maxed out the budget this year on cochlear implants for two of our kids—but if you’re interested in working with the deaf population, maybe this could be a good place to get your feet wet.”
“Um,” I reply, trying to figure out how to decline politely.
“Actually, okay, let me backtrack here,” Andrew adds. “Am I being crazy? It’s just that I’m always trying to come up with new ways to reach them, you know? And here you are. But maybe they’re not the right fit for the kind of work you do.”
I hesitate. “I think it depends on the kids and what kind of help they need,” I finally say. “Although music therapy can be used in a lot of different contexts.”
He smiles. “Ah, like a secret superpower.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Okay. I’ve clearly been spending too much time with children if I’m making you out to be a comic book hero with, like, a power pan flute.”
I laugh. “Sadly, I have no idea how to play a pan flute.”
“You’re crushing my dreams, Kate. I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t wear a cape, either?”
“Only on special occasions,” I deadpan, and he laughs. I take a deep breath and plunge in. “So do you want to tell me about these kids? What were you thinking I could do with them?”
“Well, two of the three have received cochlear implants in the last few years, so they’re still developing their comfort levels with speaking and processing speech. Of course cochlear implants impact the way in which people hear music, but from what I understand, it can still be really enjoyable. Do you think maybe music therapy could help a bit with their speech and
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