Lessons in Compassion and Inclusion

Recently, I had the opportunity to reflect on one of the experiences that shaped my journey to social work while applying for a School of Social Work scholarship. The application asked:

“Social work is a profession dedicated to creating meaningful change in the lives of individuals, families, and communities. Describe a time when you made a positive impact on someone or in your community. What did you learn from this experience, and how will you use these lessons to guide your future work as a social worker? (No more than 500 words.)”

In response, I submitted the following:

We all come to social work carrying unique stories of adversity, resilience, and the lived experiences that fuel our pursuit of this profession. My own journey was shaped by mental health challenges in high school. At the time, I was a competitive trumpet player and section leader for my marching band, a role that unexpectedly introduced me to my first experience with someone who was autistic and non-verbal. His name was Josh.

When Josh joined as a freshman, my band director nervously encouraged me to be mindful in how I interacted with him. I brushed off the warning and simply resolved to treat him as I would anyone else. That first practice, Josh froze as the band paired off for partner stretches. Without hesitation, I asked if he wanted to stretch with me. He followed my lead silently. I tried small talk about his day, about trumpet, and received no response. I began talking about my own day instead, and he remained quiet. At breaks and games, others avoided him after awkward first attempts at conversation. But I kept sitting with him, telling him I appreciated the quiet.

Weeks passed. We developed unspoken routines: stretching together, sitting side by side on the bus with matching noise-canceling headphones. Then one day, when I asked the usual “How was your day?” Josh broke his silence with a single, assertive word: “Shit.” The entire band erupted in laughter and applause, not mocking but celebratory. That was the turning point. Slowly, Josh opened up. He started speaking more, socializing with others, and blossoming into a vibrant, talkative peer.

Though our only marching season together was cut short by the pandemic, Josh stayed in touch. By his senior year, he proudly updated me about his new band and growing circle of friends. When I attended his senior night, his parents, tearful and grateful, told me how much I had impacted him. They said he often talked about me, crediting our friendship as a spark for the confident, social young man he had become. What they didn’t know was that at that same point in my life, I also needed nothing more than a friend. Josh gave me that gift too.

Looking back, I realize that before I even had the language of the profession, I was practicing the core values of social work. I honored Josh’s dignity and worth by believing in his potential. I built a relationship rooted in trust, which became the vehicle for his growth. I served without expectation of reward, acted with compassion and integrity, and witnessed the transformative power of human connection.

This experience continues to guide me. It reminds me that every person, no matter their starting point, has inherent value and untapped strength. As I grow in skill and education, these values remain my foundation. Social work is about building relationships that spark change, sometimes for entire communities and sometimes for one person at a time. Josh taught me that both kinds of impact matter.