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Jennifer L Duke Scholarship Essay...
**Thank you to Mr. Sauer, Aimee Gerdes and Pastor Mark for some awesome reference letters for this scholarship!**
Too tired to change into my pajamas I collapsed into my unmade bed and felt the heavy weight of exhaustion lift from my worn out body. I took a deep breath from the hot summer air of our un-air-conditioned cabin and heard the deliberate speech-impeded voice of one of my campers call “G’ Night Aa-bby!” to me from the other side of the cabin. “Good Night!” I called back, thus allowing a chorus of good nights from those of my campers who had the capability to speak. I smiled while recognizing each distinct voice of the 20 to 30 year old men who were campers in my cabin that week and wished them each good night in turn. I drifted off to sleep remembering the activities of the day and the faces and words of the truly special men I had spent the day with.
At the age of 14 I
began to volunteer at
With a hand on each button of the scoreboard, I watched the Special Olympics athletes run up and down the basketball court, some with more difficulty than others. I smiled as one athlete, who had a perfect chance to run up and attempt the shot herself, instead handed the ball to a teammate with a lower ability level and guarded her all the way to the basket so she, too could have a chance to shoot. A thunderous cheer filled the small court when she made her first-ever basket and threw her hands up, exclaiming “I did it!” with a sense of accomplishment that made us all feel it with her. Once again, I knew I was where I belong.
Just after graduation, I began working at Globestar, an agency for respite care of individuals with disabilities. I worked this and another, less significant job as a restaurant hostess, through the summer, earning as much as I could in order to minimize the amount of student loans I would have to take. Most of my time working for Globestar was spent as the caregiver for a 17 year old young woman with profound mental disability and autism, whom I developed quite a bond with.
“NO!” was her frantic, upset scream. “I wan’ go home! I See Mom ‘a Dad!”
She rasped before throwing her glasses off her face and watching them skid across the concrete floor of the parking garage and crossing her arms across her chest in defiance. Before long, she was lying on the filthy, cold concrete and voicing her anger at being required to go to speech therapy. The behavior of this 17-year-old girl had spun out of control in the past few weeks, and I wasn’t sure how else to curb these extreme tantrums. Sitting down next to her in total exasperation all I could say was “Please? I know you don’t want to go to speech today but I have to take you, so will you please come into the building with me?” After a little while of this calm talking, she reluctantly agreed to go to speech and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. By the end of the summer, the tantrums had stopped and she began to ask about me on days I as not scheduled to work with her. We had become friends.
My ambition now is to open
and run a group home for adults with disabilities. To achieve this goal, I
attended Indiana University Bloomington in the Fall 2003 semester, and have been
attending