That moment when your throat and tonsils are so incredibly swollen that you are eating what looks like a hospital container of applesauce because it's all you can manage, and you subsequently self-identity several dysphagia symptoms and plan compensatory strategies accordingly... all before you realize what's just happened.
Those moments in French class when you teacher is writing phonetic symbols (that were disregarded in SLP school because you all speak English, not French) to help you, she's trying to give your class different cues to improve articulation while grown adults contort their mouths to try and reproduce the foreign sounds, and you can't stop giggling because of the striking similarity to an everyday "articulation group" in an elementary school... and then suddenly you have an entirely new level of empathy for your former articulation clients/students/patients.
Those moments when I look at my linguist husband and say things like, "Our daughter definitely has MLU of at least 4," and it means something to both of you.
Those moments in French class when you teacher is writing phonetic symbols (that were disregarded in SLP school because you all speak English, not French) to help you, she's trying to give your class different cues to improve articulation while grown adults contort their mouths to try and reproduce the foreign sounds, and you can't stop giggling because of the striking similarity to an everyday "articulation group" in an elementary school... and then suddenly you have an entirely new level of empathy for your former articulation clients/students/patients.
Those moments when I look at my linguist husband and say things like, "Our daughter definitely has MLU of at least 4," and it means something to both of you.
SLP life. It sticks with you.
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