Speech Language Pathologist Research Paper

Having a career as a speech-language pathologist is the most rewarding experience I have ever known. The joy I feel from helping others, especially young children is exhilarating. I live alone and have no children of my own so coming to work everyday makes me feel like I have a true purpose in this world. As a specialist in my career it’s important for me to pay full attention to my cases so I choose to be alone. Normally my day’s are simple, I go through about 2 or 3 children. Max Wallace is a special case, he is a timid, 6 year old brought to me by the state of Florida. His teachers became concerned about 3 months ago when he began to get constant headaches until he suddenly lost all ability to speak, read and write. They sent him to the
D-d-doing s-s-something bad! Very bad! O-ouch!!” his grasp from my hand was quickly released as he was trying to shield his eyes from whatever it was that he was seeing. He began screaming loudly and kicking his legs in hysterics. I knew at that moment that the cause of his loss of ability to speak was severe emotional distress. “Wake up, wake up. It’s okay honey.” He crawled into my arms and I wiped his tears away. “I’m sorry I had to do that. But it’s the only way I can help you.” After our session is over, the members from the state’s social services pick him up and take him home, as his father has no method of transportation. A few days pass and I decide to do a house visit to make sure that the child is living in a healthy environment. I pull up to a small orange house with one window and one door. I stepped onto the porch and the boards beneath my feet began to crackle. The pieces of wood it was made out of had been torn apart by termites. I knock on the door and it creaks open. “Hello, Mr. Wallace? Is anybody home? Is everything okay?” I peak inside and the entire house is filthy. There are flies seeping through the pores of the walls. Their buzzing and the white nose from a tv in the distance were the only sounds I could hear flowing through the house. “Hello?! It’s Dr. Wargo. I’m your son’s speech therapist. May I come in?” I said
“D-dad hurt mommy,” he whispered hesitantly. “Very very bad, d-daddy hurt me too. I try to h-help my mo-m-my by screaming no and hitting dad with my hands but he gets more mad everyday. Every-t-t-time I talk he smacks my mouth. It hurts. So I stop talking,” tears fill up his eyes and he runs into my arms. “T-t-hank you-u for taking away my monster from my house.” His nose sniffles as he wipes the tears from his eyes. Normally, my days at work are simple. I never knew it would be so