Introducing an exciting new initiative between COR and SAI: Our First Ever Caregiver Exchange! Interested Supports are encouraged to contact Melanie or Jim for more details!
The relationships and communication I maintain with the individuals I support have helped me establish a gentle, secure and caring presence within the homes of these individuals. By taking the time to get to know these people, I have learned how some of life’s little problems can build into a bad day. By being consistent, enthusiastic and a positive support, I have been able to help small problems stay small!
Sometimes, a little space and time to think is all that is needed to bring someone back to their personal best. It could be a trigger that can be removed from the environment, or even small talk about the Roughriders or Regina Pats. Knowing each of the people I support has taught me to truly consider how the world is uniquely different from everyone’s perspective and just because a problem may not seem like a big deal from my view point, it may be a crucial crutch in these people’s world view.
When I enter the homes of the individuals I support, I bring a friendly and supportive person into their lives. I have a lot in common with each person I support; these connections have helped build our relationship. It has been a wonderful experience to learn from these people and it continues to provide me with the opportunity to help someone see that there are a lot of great things in life and hopefully I can help make it a good day!
Mickey, COR Support
History. Everyone has one, yet most of the time they are hidden like little secrets that blow in the wind. When you meet a person it isn’t the first thing that typically comes to mind.
If I was to meet a stranger on the side of the road (because that’s my normal hangout spot 🙂 they would most likely notice that I am a pretty outgoing guy, I like to smile and find joy in the small things and hopefully notice that I am kind in spirit. At first glance you wouldn’t know that I’ve moved half a dozen times in my life, travelled as a musician for year or had an eating disorder in my teenage years. You wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not my parents were married or divorced and what my relationship with them is like. You wouldn’t be able to tell that art is soothing to my soul, or that my wife was the second woman I had ever dated and the only one to capture my attention and keep. You wouldn’t be able to tell that over the past three years mild health problems have led to intense bouts of anxiety. You wouldn’t be able to tell that I have been in six car accidents and have a perpetual fear of sitting in the passenger seat. And you wouldn’t be able to tell that one of those car accidents was because of a grasshopper that latched itself to my eye—this has caused a lasting fear of insects like grasshoppers and lady-bugs.
Contrary to popular belief my goal is not to expose my soul to the eyes and ears of our internet readers: rather to challenge our ideas of “history” and how it effects the way that we communicate and relate with each other. If a person knew that I had an eating disorder as a teenager, the likelihood of them teasing me about being overweight, fat or “chunky like a monkey” most likely wouldn’t happen. Why? Because when you know a person, your response changes. The person becomes less of a stranger; they have shared the intimacy of their life with you—they reach out with open hands asking you to be careful as they seek to trust you in relationship.
As we know, not everyone is willing to share freely about their life and its past events—this makes our job as a people difficult because regardless of who you are and where you came from, you have a history—stories upon stories that have come to shape your life, beliefs and character. Our job, though difficult, is exciting! Learning to approach people with unconditional love which knocks on the door of their lives asking to be part of their story, in true and honest relationship in a manner in which we are constantly learning about who they are as people, and not who they are on paper.
Ben, Director of Culture and Mentorship
As a support person at COR, I have been privileged with the opportunity to support six incredible individuals so far. The way I try to create/maintain a culture of gentleness is by being patient, empathetic and having high energy. I’ve found that no matter how bad my day has been, any time I’m supporting I am much happier. Staying patient with the individuals I support has gone a long way for me in building trust and a relationship with them.
Because these individuals have been through so much in their lives, I try to empathize with them when they are having a rough day, rather than look down on them. This method has helped me as a support, but also as a person outside of COR. I find being patient and empathetic to everyone has great value and has made me a better person, friend, teammate, support and leader. Being high energy is important because many of the people I’ve supported feed off of that energy and it makes them happy or wanting to do something with me because they know I will be engaged and putting my full energy into supporting them.
Caleb, COR Support
I know that it is a strange question and if you chose to stop reading here I would likely understand. But I promise you, I’m on to something. Now I am not talking about the physicality of your walk: do hips sway with a hoola-hoop like action, or is one leg shorter than the other causing a noticeable limp. More so, when you walk with a friend or companion, do you walk as if it is the end of the world and speed to wherever your destination may be or do you walk intentionally taking in your surroundings and the conversation that you may be having.
For the past three years I have been married to the love of my life. It has been an incredible adventure and we have enjoyed every minute of it: including the bountiful walks that we have taken. However one of the things that I noticed early on into our marriage is that my wife walks as if she is an Olympian speed walker–it eventually got to the point where I had to tenderly grab her hand and ask her to slow down. To ally my naysayers out there, it wasn’t because I couldn’t keep up to her, rather I didn’t like the feeling of being rushed in moments where I felt like I could relax.
I have been thinking about this idea of “pace” for a long time and it finally struck me: the way we pace ourselves not only determines when we finish the proverbial race, but also how we finish it. As supports, friends, family and others associated with COR and the Gentle Teaching movement has this idea fully penetrated our hearts and minds, thus being embodied in our words and actions? I ask this because I was convicted about it in my own heart, when I began noticing the young man that I support was always a few steps behind me. At first I didn’t think much of it, but as time passed I was frustrated: not at him, but myself. I had become the ‘Olympian’, though accomplishing much, missing the view.
So do me a favor, after reading this blog: stop whatever you are doing and ask yourself a few questions:
a)Loving Eyes/Gaze
b) Hands
c) Loving Words
d) Loving Presence
Ben, COR Support
“Gentle Teaching has evolved into a dyadic process; it encompasses an approach in which the caregiver is transformed, as well as the brokenhearted person. The transformation process has to start with the caregiver, but reaches outward to the broken hearted person. It is not an approach that presents fixed and immutable answers that caregivers follow in a lock step manner. It is one that asks caregivers to interact within a broad framework based on the prevention of harm and the expression of unconditional love. Harm’s prevention often initially involves giving the person what he/she wants, as long as it is not harmful, so that the caregiver can enter the person’s space and begin to teach
It is not an approach that centers itself on behavioral change. It is an approach that beckons spiritual or internal change. Just to make it clear, this internal change can be translated into concrete and measurable behaviours, yet we must recognize that their origin is spiritual and moral in nature.”
John J. McGee
In celebrating our fifth anniversary, COR’s Board of Director’s and Management Team took time to reflect on our efforts to forge out meaningful opportunities for people experiencing disability in Regina, SK. If you have ever wondered what COR’s Vision, Mission and Values Statements are, look no further!
COR will foster a culture of gentleness by nurturing authentic relationships, embracing diversity and supporting people to live the life they choose.
COR develops innovative support that facilitates opportunities for personally meaningful growth and interdependent relationships where people feel safe and valued.
Gentle Teaching is grounded in the whole person and who the person is. A key assumption, especially when supporting those who are extremely violent toward others or harmful to themselves, is the understanding that behaviors have their origin in moral development—how human beings throughout their lives are in the process of learning how to interact with others and how each of us sees ourself and others. This moral development is inside of us and encompasses the memories that have been formed from the first moments of life to the present moment.
Moral memories are how we spiritually interact with the world. When these memories are sad and disorienting, they reside like haunting ghosts in the hidden corners of our being and, in a sense, whisper to us what clinicians will later call behaviors. Behaviors are the visible part of toxic weeds; memories are the roots. They are deep, often not known, and not intellectual, but moral memories. The use of behavioral techniques is like pulling out the surface of weeds but leaving the roots intact. Gentle Teaching goes for the creation of new moral memories that eventually lead the person to feel safe and loved and then “behaviors” begin to fade away.
John J. McGee
I began supporting with COR in April 2014. Being close to completing my Social Work degree and having years of previous experience in working with those with different abilities, I thought I had a good expectation and understanding of what this job would entail. Little did I realize that being a support for COR would not only change how I viewed working in this field, but also shape who I am as a human being.
I love working at COR because those we support are given so many opportunities to achieve, succeed, and feel proud of themselves in many areas of their life and community. Often people with exceptionalities have limits placed on them given their physical state or cognitive functioning, but rather than focusing on a ‘disability’, COR focus on the abilities that a person has and realizes their potential for achievement and fulfillment. I love that we are not ‘working with people with disabilities’, we are being a friend and extending support.
Working at COR has been very rewarding, but there have also been challenging moments. However, these challenging moments have always turned out to be entirely beneficial in the end because they have taught me more about myself then I could have ever imagined. COR is different than any other place I have worked because the philosophy is not centered around changing those we support – it is about accepting and loving them for who they are, and instead changing ourselves to better understand and care for those we support. Supporting at COR has taught me that although a person may be shaped by their past and their history, expressing unconditional kindness and acceptance has the potential to turn a person’s day and even their life around. The lessons I have learned at COR have transferred into my personal life, my professional perspective, and my overall understanding of human interaction.
Those I have met through COR and the philosophy and culture of gentleness that I have learned to practice will stay with me forever. Through supporting at COR I have learned what it truly means to be a friend, a caring professional, and part of the community.
Kasey, COR Support
