Come Over for a Cuppa...

"A cuppa..." an aspect of British life I have come to adore.  Routinely, my phone buzzes with a text from my neighbor..."Come over for a cuppa?" Moments later I am often sitting at her table catching up on the weekly happenings over a cup of tea or coffee.  We relay the victories of week, the funny occurrences, or just the little things that feel big at the moment.  So...if I were to have a cuppa with you today, I would tell you...

Absolute delight over passing our practical driving test on April 29th!

AJ and I passed our British driving exams on the first try.  The thought of the practical driving test has kept me up more nights than I care to admit.  Horror stories from Brits and Americans alike swirled in my head in the weeks leading up to the test.  AJ and I booked our test for the same time slot, so neither of us had to nervously wait for the other.  We had been advised to book the earliest time as the routes tend to be less congested, so we did.  I was looking for any advantage I could get!  After about four lessons, my driving instructor felt I was ready and could pass as long as I "didn't get a rush of blood" as he often told me!  With sweaty palms and butterflies in my stomach, I started the driving test with examiner.  I mixed up my left and right about three times, but with a bit of humor, it seemed fine.  I followed his directions, checked my mirror incessantly, and did not go a mile over the speed limit.  For months, I have practiced the maneuvers that could be on the exam...parallel parking, reversing into a bay, and reversing around a corner...to become confident that I could perform each to the standard of the British driving agency while extremely nervous!  I have conquered roundabouts...well...at least the ones that could have been on the driving routes.  At the end of the 40 minutes as I pulled into the bay at the driving center, I have never felt so victorious or relieved as when the examiner congratulated me on passing.  A fellow American asked if we felt like we had just earned our doctorate...YES...I did!

Official registration as a British SALT.

I have received my British registration as a qualified British speech and language therapist (SALT).  After ten months of bureaucracy, extensive documentation, quite a few headaches, and a healthy dose of perseverance, I met the standard to call myself a SALT (Speech and Language Therapist)!  While six years of schooling, hundreds of clinical hours, undergraduate and graduate theses, and certification exams are no small achievement, I felt becoming a British SALT was harder than all of that combined!  When my registration arrived, I felt as though a bit of my identity had been returned to me.  Being an SLP or a SALT truly makes my heart happy.  Knowing that I did not have to abandon that for three years has helped me enjoy this adventure just a little bit more.  I only see four children for services through a private charity, but it is enough to make my heart smile when I see a child communicate for the first time and remind me why I love my profession.  Through this work, I have gained a true appreciation for my former work settings in the States.  My eyes have been opened to different approaches and perspectives, which I believe will further shape my clinical practice and philosophy. 

As we celebrate our accomplishments, stop on over for a cuppa, and remember the lights are always on!

~W