Each day was different, never the same. Sometimes you would walk into a crisis maybe a mother just got beat up by her boy friend or husband and decided today that was enough. She would show up on the door step looking for a place to stay, or maybe she called before, but decided he won't hit me again believing what he told her over and over. Finally she gathers her children and looks for a safe place to raise them, without fear of her children or her getting hurt again. The hardest part of the job was knowing the fear they lived and seeing the hurt in the eyes of the young children and the mother. This kind of hurt leaves such a scar on their lives. I learned to listen, most the time that's the most important part, just for them to be able to open up and talk or cry what ever they feel like they need to do to get the pain out. Each person deals with pain in different ways.
But then there were the rewards, when maybe mom got the job she needed so badly, or the child passed the Spelling test after we practiced so hard. Or maybe they found an apartment they could get a fresh start in. The smiles, the laughs the hugs, or maybe it was just something as simple as a new backpack filled with all the things that was needed to start a new school that they could take their pick from among the school supplies that had been provided just for them.
working close with the children and mothers, hopefully helping them in some way.
pay being based on grants.