Passion For Social Work

I write poetry more than essays. I care about emotions more than academics. But my passion for social work defies all of these instincts. It overrides all of my emotions, breaks all of my routines. I am willing to write ten page papers and stay up past midnight because of this passion. This passion comes from what I have seen in my 17 years of living. I have seen kids that are sexually abused at 5 years old, who know the meaning of the worst swear words by the age of 4, and have had tramline bruises by 3. I know kids that cut and flap and cry and hit. I have seen all of this from only going to public schools and volunteering at summer camps. Seeing that these things happen in broad daylight and in every learning setting I’ve been in means there are

I have realized this importance many times. Like this past summer, when volunteering at a summer camp, I had to help an eight year old girl who showed up with bruises in the shape of hands around her arms. Another girl at this same camp wore the same three outfits for three weeks, each with pants that looked more like capris and shirts that barely covered her belly button. More personally, I realized this importance when I saw my friends hurting. Cutting, punching walls, leaving their homes. I also saw the need for social workers in myself. Although I needed help, I was quiet, I didn’t want to hurt anyone or make anyone angry, but I was hurting and ashamed for years. I am thankful that I finally got help when I tried to end my life, but I want to make life or death situations less likely. I do also want to help those that have been screaming for years. Not only have I dealt with childhood trauma myself, but I have seen many other children who are in pain, and who need support, but have no one willing to help them. I want to be their shoulder to cry on, their voice when they need one. This is the only thing I want to