You Say Pica, I Say Psychosis

Last week was the orientation. Beside being incredibly overwhelmed with information, I was struck by the new language of my new profession. What I mean by that is I love the way people in a given field or occupation communicate with one another. And I love the way we learn the language when we're new to the field. I remember being an undergrad learning to use "pica," "word count," "masthead" and "stylebook" in everyday conversation and having everyone around me know what I was talking about. Now, sentences like "By familiarizing yourself with the nomenclature, you will be prepared for the E triple Ps" are beginning to make sense.

Orientation brought up other points of interest. One, in particular, addressed the importance of outward appearance. We had a lecture on professional attire. We were told to be aware that we are in a small community and will probably run into clients when we're not working. We were reminded that we will be working with the mentally ill, many of whom have boundary issues and an inability to read physcial cues. We were reminded of the powerful combination of exposed cleavage and empathy. Guess that means no halter tops and mini skirts. :)

The upperclass students talked to us about how people will react differently toward us now that we are "psychologists in training." The funny thing is I had a real-life example of this today. Maddie and I went to the park to play after school. There was one other parent and child at the park - a single dad and his daughter. Maddie and the little girl played together so, of course, the dad and I started talking. When I mentioned that I am a grad student studying psychology, he asked if I was able to counsel outside of school. I'm guessing that the split from his baby's momma was anything but fun, not to mention it sounded like he was having job issues (as in he doesn't have one). I explained that it was illegal and unethical for me to provide private professional counsel without a license (or training for that matter). He proceeded to ask me out three times. :)

In case you couldn't guess - my answer was no. And before I get any shit from any of you - the guy was a 22-year-old unemployed barely high school graduate who occassionally sees his kid. Somehow, I don't think we're a match.