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Health & Fitness

Medicina

Being a school principal at an alternative school–-within a public school system--gave me the freedom to try new things.  Running a counseling center for children and teens at the same time gave me even more opportunity to go beyond the limitations of the regular schooling design.

Madison, my cocker spaniel, loved children and they loved him. Who could not love this face?

I brought Madison daily to the counseling center. The children who came there–- many who had experienced trauma–-couldn’t get enough of him. I kept him in my office, with the door open, until a child asked to see him. Then I would take him into the outer waiting room. Invariably, the child would smile, run hands through his soft fur and ask what his name was.

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One morning a little second-grader came into the office and asked me in Spanish what my dog was called. I answered, “Madison.”

She looked at me with a puzzled look and then asked excitedly, “Medicina?”

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I smiled and thought for a minute and said, “Yes, he is medicina.”

Medicina—medicine in Spanish—became Madison’s nickname.

 

I traveled regularly to schools to meet children and teens that were having difficulties. Our two-city wide school system had 14 schools. I brought Madison with me on my visitations. At first, I left him in the car because dogs aren’t allowed on school grounds. But I learned from watching the kids at our center and the teenagers at our alternative community day school, that having Madison as my partner helped me establish a trusting relationship more quickly. I started bringing the kids I was counseling to my car in the school parking lot to see my dog. It was a way of making me more human than the title “Principal” did.

Madison didn’t care what the child’s grades were. He didn’t care if he or she was different or got in trouble in school. He just loved them. He also helped me with the important work at hand. I’d let the kids put him on his leash and we’d go for a “walk and talk” around the front of the school. It was a sign of trust from me and a sign of trust and love from Madison. It also gave the child status with the other kids and adults. “Wow, you got to walk him?”

As I became more brazen, I started bringing Madison into school offices with me. The principals, my compatriots, would smile knowing that I liked to play with senseless rules. Who could deny the impact he had on the children—and the school staff? 

One day a parent came over and asked me, “Is he a therapy dog?”

“Yes,” I answered, without hesitation.

“Where and when was he trained?”

“Where? That’s hard to say,” I offered.

“When? Just prior to birth.”

You can read more of Ron Veronda's thoughts at www.educationforyourlife.org and www.educationforyourlife.org/blog.

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