My mother always knew I was different. When all the other children were learning to
crawl, I decided the most efficient mode of transportation was to "slither" like a snake.
However, even in that endeavor, I had to do things differently, so I would slither
backwards until I reached whatever object behind me that had initially attracted my
attention. My mother bought me a book called "Leo The Late Bloomer" about a lion who was
late in maturing and read it to me every night, hoping that one day, I too would "bloom".
During kindergarten, I had a great time playing dress up with my friends and loved
making macaroni art but was not very passionate about writing out my letters or reciting
my alphabet. Unlike the other children who spelled their names with much panache, I was
too happy drawing flowers and hearts to bother with mundane symbols like the letters of my
name. At the end of kindergarten, after much speculation and concern, I was finally given
permission to enroll in first grade for the following September. My kindergarten
teacher's final words to my mother were "Well, she FINALLY learned to spell her name...."
When I was six years old, my mother enrolled me in an intramural soccer program on
Saturdays. All my friends and I showed up in our matching shorts and nylon tops with shin
guards and brand new sneakers to run up and down the grassy field. I was filled with
excitement as the game started and the ball was kicked up the field. However, I shortly
discovered the beauty of the dandelions lining the sidelines. I was so busy making a crown
of flowers that I never even noticed the ball rolling my way until it had hit me in the
head and knocked the wind out of me. After several minutes of crying, my parents took me
home to go play with my barbie dolls, again acknowledging that their daughter was
"different".
In college, I did the traditional flip/flop from one major to another, fascinated by
everything but not truly passionate about any one thing. I graduated with a major in
developmental psychology and somehow landed a job working on nursing home health policy.
Twelve years, one husband, one dog, one child, and two graduate degrees later, I find each
day exciting and challenging. When I tell people that my goal in life is to one day make
all nursing homes wonderful places to live, they often give me a funny look. You know that
face, halfway between a smirk and a scowl. I call it the smowl! Let them call themselves a
lawyer, a doctor, or an accountant. What we do is different because it makes a difference.
I love what I do and know that I am making a difference. A little different can be a
wonderful thing!
Yael Harris is Senior Policy Advisor and in charge of the national Quality
Improvement Organization work in nursing homes. Beginning in August 2005, all QIOs will be
required to work with a subset of nursing homes in their state or territory to assist the
nursing homes in embracing culture change.
