Good evening everyone,
We're about to come upon Memorial Day Weekend 2010. No matter what you think of this as, whether it's the official kick-off to summer, or another reason to introduce yourself to the sun's rays and the local beach near you, it's an undeniable feeling that yes, something special is in the air...and this feeling never gets old.
Last night, as I was watching the 10 O'Clock News on New York's FOX affiliate (WNYW/5), the first topic of discussion on the news was the fact that the brand new Meadowlands Stadium located in the suburban swamplands of New Jersey (more specifically, East Rutherford approximately seven miles west of New York City) was being christened by the local band that has established themselves as real pride for local residents everywhere, Bon Jovi. 90,000 fans came out for the celebration, and I couldn't help but listen intently to fans being interviewed. "I grew up with Bon Jovi to get me through law school, and now he's helping me close it," said one woman. Another man who brought his whole family said how his love of "Living On A Prayer" had been passed down to his sons and daughter.
As I was thinking about this, I couldn't help but focus my sights on another feeling that no matter how hard one can describe it, it's unforgettable. That, of course, is the National Stuttering Association's annual conference. In a little less than one month, myself and 700 people who stutter will meet for four days to share wisdom about stuttering...that goes without saying, but when you really get down to it, it's about life. It's about celebrating our great spirit and knowing we are capable of anything we want to do.
Like a rite of passage, the NSA conference has also become for me a tradition and something that demands required attendance. I don't take a lot of vacations, but for me, this trumps everything else. I don't attend family events because in my eyes, I will always be persona non gratis because of my speech-and the fact that my parents will continue to feel ashamed of it. When I see a family I know, we spend several minutes sharing our memories of previous conferences, and the triumphs and tragedies we all share.
Yet it's the little moments that carry the most impact. I can vividly recall people just standing up and saying "My name is ___________" and even if that's all they can, those four words carry such great weight because it is the start of the rest of their lives. We use the term "first-timers" to describe those who have just found out about the conference, and by the closing banquet, they know they are coming back for the next year. We'll all be together to stand with those who have been teased and alienated. And they'll start the transformation process into a special human being.
My countdown started as soon as I got off the plane from Arizona at MacArthur Airport. In a few weeks, I'll be boarding another one to Ohio. Maybe I'll see you there. Or better yet, at a future conference someday.
Number five (Long Beach, Calif., Atlanta, Parsippany, N.J., Scottsdale, Ariz., and now Cleveland) will be just as special for me. May it be for you too.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
There is no day but today...so make it happen!
Good afternoon everyone,
One of the greatest pleasures I have had the chance to experience is special times when I can get together with my NSA colleagues outside of our annual conferences. I used to think of my fellow NSA members as "teammates," but in many ways, we are more than that. We're teachers, advocates, and friends with unbreakable bonds that no one else can even begin to understand.
This past Saturday, I had a chance to get together with one of my friends from the conference. In all honesty, I didn't even know he was going to be in my "neck of the woods," as the proverbial expression goes. I firmly believe that when the opportunity presents itself, you need to make an effort to reach out and offer to get together-even if it's for dinner or just having drinks at the local bar. My friend was in town for a month to attend an intensive speech therapy program, and it was only via his Facebook page that I found out. I emailed him, and we decided to hang out in New York City. Any time I go into the city, it's a special thing for me. I am a typical suburbanite-whenever someone asks me where I am from, I always say "Long Island" rather than New York. Although sometimes I take it for granted that I can easily have access to the amenities that this city offers me, I'm not usually much for being there. I love the beaches and the much slower pace of life, although when I am in the city, it's usually a good bet you'll find me behind the microphone at a karaoke bar.
I met my friend and our first stop was riding the D line up to the Yankee Stadium/161st Street/River Avenue stop, so we could walk around the stadium. And as we were doing so on what was a glorious day, the topic of conversation turned to one of the themes that usually rears its head throughout our lives, and especially at the conference. And that's the one about taking chances. Matt was telling me how he just completed his Associate's Degree and was deciding on whether or not to go for his Bachelor's degree, or take the entrance exam to be a New York City Police Officer. We happened to be walking past Mullally Park right by the Stadium, approaching the George Washington Bridge exit, and I encouraged him to go for it-especially since the city is always recruiting for police officers. But Matt spoke about how he was worried how his speech might come into play-because it's one thing to be comfortable around another person who stutters, and it's totally different when you need to be in the public eye.
It is no secret that I take so much pride in knowing so many members of the NSA Nation, who have pursued (and are pursuing) their goals in spite of their concerns they may have. Whether it's a teacher or a speech pathologist. One of the articles in our "Letting GO" newsletter was written by a mother of our members who expressed her concerns when her daughter wanted to become a speech pathologist and she had to say her name to other graduate students.
After we hit the Stadium, we did some subway-hopping and walked over the Brooklyn Bridge from Manhattan to the DUMBO (Down Underneath the Manhattan Bridge) with a truly priceless view of the skyline and Statue of Liberty. But another attribute of the National Stuttering Association is that no one cares what your background is or what personal beliefs you have-we all come from various regions-the Northeast, the Florida beaches (like Matt), the Pacific Northwest, and so on. On the bridge, there was a great collection of residents and visitors just being. Just talking, and no one cared about their personal issues.
As we were walking back to the Manhattan side, I couldn't help but pause to see where the Twin Towers once stood. The only thing that was going through my mind was the song "No Day But Today," from the musical "Rent." We all have so much to accomplish, so much to dream, and time to make it happen. Matt pledged to me he will strongly consider taking the exam. No matter what he decides, just the fact that two members of the NSA Nation were able to get together made it a pretty good weekend....don't you think?
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
One of the greatest pleasures I have had the chance to experience is special times when I can get together with my NSA colleagues outside of our annual conferences. I used to think of my fellow NSA members as "teammates," but in many ways, we are more than that. We're teachers, advocates, and friends with unbreakable bonds that no one else can even begin to understand.
This past Saturday, I had a chance to get together with one of my friends from the conference. In all honesty, I didn't even know he was going to be in my "neck of the woods," as the proverbial expression goes. I firmly believe that when the opportunity presents itself, you need to make an effort to reach out and offer to get together-even if it's for dinner or just having drinks at the local bar. My friend was in town for a month to attend an intensive speech therapy program, and it was only via his Facebook page that I found out. I emailed him, and we decided to hang out in New York City. Any time I go into the city, it's a special thing for me. I am a typical suburbanite-whenever someone asks me where I am from, I always say "Long Island" rather than New York. Although sometimes I take it for granted that I can easily have access to the amenities that this city offers me, I'm not usually much for being there. I love the beaches and the much slower pace of life, although when I am in the city, it's usually a good bet you'll find me behind the microphone at a karaoke bar.
I met my friend and our first stop was riding the D line up to the Yankee Stadium/161st Street/River Avenue stop, so we could walk around the stadium. And as we were doing so on what was a glorious day, the topic of conversation turned to one of the themes that usually rears its head throughout our lives, and especially at the conference. And that's the one about taking chances. Matt was telling me how he just completed his Associate's Degree and was deciding on whether or not to go for his Bachelor's degree, or take the entrance exam to be a New York City Police Officer. We happened to be walking past Mullally Park right by the Stadium, approaching the George Washington Bridge exit, and I encouraged him to go for it-especially since the city is always recruiting for police officers. But Matt spoke about how he was worried how his speech might come into play-because it's one thing to be comfortable around another person who stutters, and it's totally different when you need to be in the public eye.
It is no secret that I take so much pride in knowing so many members of the NSA Nation, who have pursued (and are pursuing) their goals in spite of their concerns they may have. Whether it's a teacher or a speech pathologist. One of the articles in our "Letting GO" newsletter was written by a mother of our members who expressed her concerns when her daughter wanted to become a speech pathologist and she had to say her name to other graduate students.
After we hit the Stadium, we did some subway-hopping and walked over the Brooklyn Bridge from Manhattan to the DUMBO (Down Underneath the Manhattan Bridge) with a truly priceless view of the skyline and Statue of Liberty. But another attribute of the National Stuttering Association is that no one cares what your background is or what personal beliefs you have-we all come from various regions-the Northeast, the Florida beaches (like Matt), the Pacific Northwest, and so on. On the bridge, there was a great collection of residents and visitors just being. Just talking, and no one cared about their personal issues.
As we were walking back to the Manhattan side, I couldn't help but pause to see where the Twin Towers once stood. The only thing that was going through my mind was the song "No Day But Today," from the musical "Rent." We all have so much to accomplish, so much to dream, and time to make it happen. Matt pledged to me he will strongly consider taking the exam. No matter what he decides, just the fact that two members of the NSA Nation were able to get together made it a pretty good weekend....don't you think?
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Hello everyone,
Throughout my life, I have often questioned many times why life takes the twists and turns it does. We all have struggled at times with many challenges that life has thrown at us: a new chapter starts and we are unsure what to do about it. A death in our family shatters our normalcy and things never stay the same again. Yet, as the saying goes, "The more things change, the more things stay the same." And what stays the same to me, as a member of the National Stuttering Association, is the unbreakable spirit that a group of collective individuals can agree to unite for something bigger than themselves, and learn about this unique world we live in.
For many travelers around the world, the shattering took place at our local airports. With a volcanic eruption spreading ash over Europe, there was a standstill of shock and then the craziness started. There was nowhere to go, very few people to talk to-or to care about their problems. I was reading the New York Post a few days ago at a diner counter and was shaking my head at some of the responses from those stranded when a reporter asked them how they were managing. One person said (paraphrasing) "We don't deserve to be treated like animals." Another one was angry that in search of a temporary room and shower, some hotels raised the prices every day in hopes one's will would be broken and they'd give in. Yet there are some who despite the most trying of circumstances, make it through the day with a smile and their courage. One family, who seemed amused by the fact that some passengers were photographing them like a paparazzi would celebrities, decided turnabout was fair play and thus photographed those who were photographing them. Some passengers, according to the Post, decided to engage a take-off of "Twenty Questions" in a parlor game supposedly called "I'm Not Beethoven." And one young girl was making some good friends with a French compatriot, even though she didn't know a lick about the language. It brought a smile to my face, knowing that just maybe the human spirit isn't dead as it seems like sometimes it can be.
But as a person who stutters (or even if you support others who do), we have more of those moments, and although we want to give up and declare our lives over, it is unfathomable. When I speak at colleges about the NSA Nation and the transforming effects it has, the one thing I stress is that we all live through each other. We laugh together, and we celebrate all that our speech is and can be. We also cry and empathize when someone's ordeal threatens to bring down all they worked for.One of my colleagues at the NSA who has contributed her blood, sweat, and tears as we all have, was recently given some devastating news. She is a very proud mom of two daughters, one who is an SLP and the other who will be a psychologist and serves in a leadership capacity in my organization. She is a big proponent of education, and found out that after twenty-something years, she was being let go because of budgetary issues in California. My heart dropped after I read that, and as someone who strongly believes that the NSA Nation takes care of its own, I asked her to call me, and we spoke for an hour. Despite this crippling news, she maintained her sunny outlook. Many of us wear their hearts on their sleeve (I do), and when we receive bad news, we tend to immediately feel those clenches of negativity permeate our mind. We begin to ask "Why me? Why couldn't this happen to someone else?" "I don't deserve this." We stew, we complain, we feel the color in our world dying. Yet she, not one time, did any of that. She is truly someone I admire, and the NSA Nation is full of members who feel the same way she does. It really is about attitude!
Maybe I will never find out why life is the way it is. But you know what I have found out? That life is meant to be lived with a smile on your face, and being comfortable with who you are is vital. Adversity really does build character-and I've got a great deal of it. Why don't you start building yours today?My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Throughout my life, I have often questioned many times why life takes the twists and turns it does. We all have struggled at times with many challenges that life has thrown at us: a new chapter starts and we are unsure what to do about it. A death in our family shatters our normalcy and things never stay the same again. Yet, as the saying goes, "The more things change, the more things stay the same." And what stays the same to me, as a member of the National Stuttering Association, is the unbreakable spirit that a group of collective individuals can agree to unite for something bigger than themselves, and learn about this unique world we live in.
For many travelers around the world, the shattering took place at our local airports. With a volcanic eruption spreading ash over Europe, there was a standstill of shock and then the craziness started. There was nowhere to go, very few people to talk to-or to care about their problems. I was reading the New York Post a few days ago at a diner counter and was shaking my head at some of the responses from those stranded when a reporter asked them how they were managing. One person said (paraphrasing) "We don't deserve to be treated like animals." Another one was angry that in search of a temporary room and shower, some hotels raised the prices every day in hopes one's will would be broken and they'd give in. Yet there are some who despite the most trying of circumstances, make it through the day with a smile and their courage. One family, who seemed amused by the fact that some passengers were photographing them like a paparazzi would celebrities, decided turnabout was fair play and thus photographed those who were photographing them. Some passengers, according to the Post, decided to engage a take-off of "Twenty Questions" in a parlor game supposedly called "I'm Not Beethoven." And one young girl was making some good friends with a French compatriot, even though she didn't know a lick about the language. It brought a smile to my face, knowing that just maybe the human spirit isn't dead as it seems like sometimes it can be.
But as a person who stutters (or even if you support others who do), we have more of those moments, and although we want to give up and declare our lives over, it is unfathomable. When I speak at colleges about the NSA Nation and the transforming effects it has, the one thing I stress is that we all live through each other. We laugh together, and we celebrate all that our speech is and can be. We also cry and empathize when someone's ordeal threatens to bring down all they worked for.One of my colleagues at the NSA who has contributed her blood, sweat, and tears as we all have, was recently given some devastating news. She is a very proud mom of two daughters, one who is an SLP and the other who will be a psychologist and serves in a leadership capacity in my organization. She is a big proponent of education, and found out that after twenty-something years, she was being let go because of budgetary issues in California. My heart dropped after I read that, and as someone who strongly believes that the NSA Nation takes care of its own, I asked her to call me, and we spoke for an hour. Despite this crippling news, she maintained her sunny outlook. Many of us wear their hearts on their sleeve (I do), and when we receive bad news, we tend to immediately feel those clenches of negativity permeate our mind. We begin to ask "Why me? Why couldn't this happen to someone else?" "I don't deserve this." We stew, we complain, we feel the color in our world dying. Yet she, not one time, did any of that. She is truly someone I admire, and the NSA Nation is full of members who feel the same way she does. It really is about attitude!
Maybe I will never find out why life is the way it is. But you know what I have found out? That life is meant to be lived with a smile on your face, and being comfortable with who you are is vital. Adversity really does build character-and I've got a great deal of it. Why don't you start building yours today?My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Reflections on a birthday passed.......
Good evening everyone,
Last week I celebrated my birthday. 32 years ago, I entered this world and it would be pretty safe to say it's been a challenge. Jerry Garcia, the legendary singer of the Grateful Dead, coined the phrase "What a long, strange trip it's been," and that could certainly be applied here. But as I was having my birthday cake, I took some time to make a few quiet reflections.
I think growing up, taking a compliment for me was one of the hardest things to do. When I was given a present as a young man, especially in those turbulent adolescent years, I would feel tremendous guilt opening the gift-wrapped box. I never have had a solid relationship with my parents, and their approach was "We're sorry we never listened to you. Hope this makes up for it." How I wished at that very moment I was someone else's son.
In my late twenties, I decided to take a different approach to birthdays. I enjoy shopping for gifts when it comes to those I really, truly care about. But the more I thought about, I realized that what I wanted money couldn't really buy. At my first real job, I saved every cent I earned and would take great pleasure in frequently checking my bank statements and seeing my account grow. But after a while, I began to realize that it was taking the place of something I didn't have. I didn't have positive influences in my life. I had no one I could share my feelings with about stuttering. And as I celebrated future birthdays, I did so going out by myself. I felt there was plain and simple, no other choice. Sinead O' Connor, who gained notoriety for her performance on "Saturday Night Live," had a title of her album that succinctly described my feelings about presents: "I do not what want I have not got."
Yet birthdays can also teach us some valuable lessons too. I grew up in a middle-class-to-somewhat-affluent community on Long Island, which is heavily Jewish. In seventh grade, one of the popular trends was to collect National Hockey League player jerseys and show them off in the manner that if you had one, it was a badge of honor and a source of pride. I wanted to get a Doug Gilmour Toronto Maple Leafs jersey, a white background with the blue and white trim. When I got it, I was the happiest person for a day or so. But I didn't wear it ever again, and eventually it took up a permanent place of residence on my closet. The most sage piece of advice I ever got was be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.
Special occasions are meant to be shared with those who really love and care about you. I wish I had a better relationship with my family. Many times when I go to these NSA conferences, I see this become a very powerful bonding experience for everyone, and I know that I won't ever have that. But the more I think about it, maybe I do. When I blow those candles out, I think of the NSA Nation and everyone I have met. Their contributions to my life can never be erased, because the lessons they have taught me stay in my mind every day.
When I blew those candles out this year, I realized that this year will be different. I thought about the song "Somebody To Love," by Queen, which happens to be one of my favorite songs. It also happens to be a staple on many classic radio stations. The song is a composition of themes such as wondering if love exists, and whether God does as well. Well, I can say emphatically that the answers to those questions is yes: My love is the National Stuttering Association. As far as the other question, I firmly believe there was a driving force that compelled me to spend five days in Long Beach, Calif., that rocked my world in so many ways. And I've never been the same since. I absolutely am so eternally grateful that I did.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Last week I celebrated my birthday. 32 years ago, I entered this world and it would be pretty safe to say it's been a challenge. Jerry Garcia, the legendary singer of the Grateful Dead, coined the phrase "What a long, strange trip it's been," and that could certainly be applied here. But as I was having my birthday cake, I took some time to make a few quiet reflections.
I think growing up, taking a compliment for me was one of the hardest things to do. When I was given a present as a young man, especially in those turbulent adolescent years, I would feel tremendous guilt opening the gift-wrapped box. I never have had a solid relationship with my parents, and their approach was "We're sorry we never listened to you. Hope this makes up for it." How I wished at that very moment I was someone else's son.
In my late twenties, I decided to take a different approach to birthdays. I enjoy shopping for gifts when it comes to those I really, truly care about. But the more I thought about, I realized that what I wanted money couldn't really buy. At my first real job, I saved every cent I earned and would take great pleasure in frequently checking my bank statements and seeing my account grow. But after a while, I began to realize that it was taking the place of something I didn't have. I didn't have positive influences in my life. I had no one I could share my feelings with about stuttering. And as I celebrated future birthdays, I did so going out by myself. I felt there was plain and simple, no other choice. Sinead O' Connor, who gained notoriety for her performance on "Saturday Night Live," had a title of her album that succinctly described my feelings about presents: "I do not what want I have not got."
Yet birthdays can also teach us some valuable lessons too. I grew up in a middle-class-to-somewhat-affluent community on Long Island, which is heavily Jewish. In seventh grade, one of the popular trends was to collect National Hockey League player jerseys and show them off in the manner that if you had one, it was a badge of honor and a source of pride. I wanted to get a Doug Gilmour Toronto Maple Leafs jersey, a white background with the blue and white trim. When I got it, I was the happiest person for a day or so. But I didn't wear it ever again, and eventually it took up a permanent place of residence on my closet. The most sage piece of advice I ever got was be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.
Special occasions are meant to be shared with those who really love and care about you. I wish I had a better relationship with my family. Many times when I go to these NSA conferences, I see this become a very powerful bonding experience for everyone, and I know that I won't ever have that. But the more I think about it, maybe I do. When I blow those candles out, I think of the NSA Nation and everyone I have met. Their contributions to my life can never be erased, because the lessons they have taught me stay in my mind every day.
When I blew those candles out this year, I realized that this year will be different. I thought about the song "Somebody To Love," by Queen, which happens to be one of my favorite songs. It also happens to be a staple on many classic radio stations. The song is a composition of themes such as wondering if love exists, and whether God does as well. Well, I can say emphatically that the answers to those questions is yes: My love is the National Stuttering Association. As far as the other question, I firmly believe there was a driving force that compelled me to spend five days in Long Beach, Calif., that rocked my world in so many ways. And I've never been the same since. I absolutely am so eternally grateful that I did.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Initiate.....do not retaliate!
Good evening everyone,
The great thing about inspiration is that you never know where it will come from. You can be out walking around the neighborhood and all of a sudden, you have that blast of hidden brilliance that reveals itself. Or in my case, it happened to come at 6:02 p.m., as I was intently watching the New Jersey Devils pregame show before they were scheduled to take on their bitter archrivals, the Philadelphia Flyers, at the Wachovia Center. Stan Fischler, the renowned NHL columnist and commentator, was chatting with retired defenseman Ken Daneyko, and "Dano" as he is affectionately known by his colleagues, said these words that immediately jumped out at me: "Initiate. Don't retaliate."
I think it's safe to say that as a person who stutters, we've all experienced a burning desire at one time to get even with someone who teased and bullied us. And when you begin to get consumed by that, you slowly realize that it takes over your whole life and you eventually begin to see things in this way: the only thing that matters is making this person feel the hurt you have to go through. It's such a toxic way of thinking and the consequences far outweigh any short-term pleasant feeling you'll have.
It always seems like there's another challenge we have to face: Someone says we can't do something, a person doesn't want to call you for a job because the position requires "good oral communication skills" and right off the bat your resume shows you stutter, and you're eliminated. If you want to create positive change in your life, follow these words: "Initiate. Don't retaliate."
I couldn't help but think about this as I flashed back to something that took place a few days ago. I am looking to get out and date, and at one time I had an account on the http://www.match.com website. (It's no longer active). There was an advertisement from a woman who piqued my interest, so I wrote to her, and then three days later, this was the response I received: "You should learn how to play for the other team, because no woman will want to go out with a guy who stutters." I have heard so many things over the course of my life: "Spit it out, I don't have time," "Hey, it's Porky Pig!," but I was truly astounded at the depth of ignorance that remark showed.
Now when faced with that situation, how does one decide what to do? Well, let's weigh both sides of the equation here. If I wanted to retaliate, I could have easily written her back and cursed her out. I could have written her a whole essay about the great things that people who stutter have done currently and throughout our great history. But retaliation to me wasn't an option at all. I have come a long way in my life and I no longer want to be the person who loses it at the drop of a hat. I was that throughout high school and college, and those who took pleasure in teasing knew that I would give them a reaction. I decided to initiate, and take a new course of action. I firmly resolved to dedicate myself even more to speech therapy than I do currently, because I need to stay on top of my speech and that gives me great pride when I can do so.
It really doesn't take much to initiate changes in your life. No matter what the circumstances are, every day is another chance to start over. As an advocate for people who stutter, I never forget that each day can bring something new to make my life more enjoyable- a chance to help others and make them know that when you stutter, it doesn't have to mean a death sentence. Far from it.....it means the start of a special journey. Make sure you find out about the National Stuttering Association (http://www.westutter.org) and start today.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
The great thing about inspiration is that you never know where it will come from. You can be out walking around the neighborhood and all of a sudden, you have that blast of hidden brilliance that reveals itself. Or in my case, it happened to come at 6:02 p.m., as I was intently watching the New Jersey Devils pregame show before they were scheduled to take on their bitter archrivals, the Philadelphia Flyers, at the Wachovia Center. Stan Fischler, the renowned NHL columnist and commentator, was chatting with retired defenseman Ken Daneyko, and "Dano" as he is affectionately known by his colleagues, said these words that immediately jumped out at me: "Initiate. Don't retaliate."
I think it's safe to say that as a person who stutters, we've all experienced a burning desire at one time to get even with someone who teased and bullied us. And when you begin to get consumed by that, you slowly realize that it takes over your whole life and you eventually begin to see things in this way: the only thing that matters is making this person feel the hurt you have to go through. It's such a toxic way of thinking and the consequences far outweigh any short-term pleasant feeling you'll have.
It always seems like there's another challenge we have to face: Someone says we can't do something, a person doesn't want to call you for a job because the position requires "good oral communication skills" and right off the bat your resume shows you stutter, and you're eliminated. If you want to create positive change in your life, follow these words: "Initiate. Don't retaliate."
I couldn't help but think about this as I flashed back to something that took place a few days ago. I am looking to get out and date, and at one time I had an account on the http://www.match.com website. (It's no longer active). There was an advertisement from a woman who piqued my interest, so I wrote to her, and then three days later, this was the response I received: "You should learn how to play for the other team, because no woman will want to go out with a guy who stutters." I have heard so many things over the course of my life: "Spit it out, I don't have time," "Hey, it's Porky Pig!," but I was truly astounded at the depth of ignorance that remark showed.
Now when faced with that situation, how does one decide what to do? Well, let's weigh both sides of the equation here. If I wanted to retaliate, I could have easily written her back and cursed her out. I could have written her a whole essay about the great things that people who stutter have done currently and throughout our great history. But retaliation to me wasn't an option at all. I have come a long way in my life and I no longer want to be the person who loses it at the drop of a hat. I was that throughout high school and college, and those who took pleasure in teasing knew that I would give them a reaction. I decided to initiate, and take a new course of action. I firmly resolved to dedicate myself even more to speech therapy than I do currently, because I need to stay on top of my speech and that gives me great pride when I can do so.
It really doesn't take much to initiate changes in your life. No matter what the circumstances are, every day is another chance to start over. As an advocate for people who stutter, I never forget that each day can bring something new to make my life more enjoyable- a chance to help others and make them know that when you stutter, it doesn't have to mean a death sentence. Far from it.....it means the start of a special journey. Make sure you find out about the National Stuttering Association (http://www.westutter.org) and start today.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Good evening everyone! These last few days the world has been buzzing about what may have been one of the greatest basketball games ever played in the college arenas. Even if you don't follow the NCAA Tournament (and I am not someone who is big into the brackets), you couldn't help but notice what was truly a very special game for the championship, which pitted the small school of Butler University from Indiana's Hoosierville against the perennial contenders from Duke University in North Carolina. Although Butler came up two points short, I will guarantee you that they will probably celebrate being number two for a very long time.
Yet for some reason, this country seems to galvanize the fact that only those who earn number one status will also reap the rewards of being remembered. Here's a sampling of what second place means to some: "Second place is the first loser." "No one remembers who came in second." In the book "Tuesdays with Morrie," by Mitch Albom, there's a great line about that: "What's wrong with being number two?"
Being a person who stutters often meant that in my life, I would often be jealous of others because I felt different. In many ways, I would see myself as second in everything. Other students, it seemed, were destined to take the glamorous road: good colleges, a prestigious job after graduation, a good house in the suburbs. Yet unbeknownst to me, I didn't realize it then, but now I am starting to see that being second isn't so bad at all.
We do have to fight for everything we get. Some of us just have to do it more than others. I don't see my stuttering as a disability, yet I see it as the greatest inspiration that shows me I can do great things and not only make my life better, but others as well. When a person who stutters has to go on an interview, they're not just competing against others who want that position. How, you ask? Well, they are competing against themselves too: they want the challenge of seeing that they can do it. And even if we get that dreaded letter of rejection, we know there'll be another day. So we came in second. We did. We tried. That, to me, means more than anything in the world.
As those who read my blog know, I am a big advocate of the National Stuttering Association, which is the greatest love of my life. And when we come together for our annual conference in a few short weeks, we have a special awards ceremony where we recognize the outstanding contributors who have given of themselves. Of course, it's a great thrill to be recognized, but at the same time, being an advocate for me is its own reward. All the members want to win an award, but I am the first person to walk up and congratulate someone if they win. I do not go expecting to win, because all our work speaks for itself.
Some of the best things in life have been number twos: like movie sequels. (Well, a few of them anyway). And if I am number two, I'll gladly take it. Because there's nothing wrong with being number two. Butler isn't, that's for sure.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Yet for some reason, this country seems to galvanize the fact that only those who earn number one status will also reap the rewards of being remembered. Here's a sampling of what second place means to some: "Second place is the first loser." "No one remembers who came in second." In the book "Tuesdays with Morrie," by Mitch Albom, there's a great line about that: "What's wrong with being number two?"
Being a person who stutters often meant that in my life, I would often be jealous of others because I felt different. In many ways, I would see myself as second in everything. Other students, it seemed, were destined to take the glamorous road: good colleges, a prestigious job after graduation, a good house in the suburbs. Yet unbeknownst to me, I didn't realize it then, but now I am starting to see that being second isn't so bad at all.
We do have to fight for everything we get. Some of us just have to do it more than others. I don't see my stuttering as a disability, yet I see it as the greatest inspiration that shows me I can do great things and not only make my life better, but others as well. When a person who stutters has to go on an interview, they're not just competing against others who want that position. How, you ask? Well, they are competing against themselves too: they want the challenge of seeing that they can do it. And even if we get that dreaded letter of rejection, we know there'll be another day. So we came in second. We did. We tried. That, to me, means more than anything in the world.
As those who read my blog know, I am a big advocate of the National Stuttering Association, which is the greatest love of my life. And when we come together for our annual conference in a few short weeks, we have a special awards ceremony where we recognize the outstanding contributors who have given of themselves. Of course, it's a great thrill to be recognized, but at the same time, being an advocate for me is its own reward. All the members want to win an award, but I am the first person to walk up and congratulate someone if they win. I do not go expecting to win, because all our work speaks for itself.
Some of the best things in life have been number twos: like movie sequels. (Well, a few of them anyway). And if I am number two, I'll gladly take it. Because there's nothing wrong with being number two. Butler isn't, that's for sure.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Flying through life in slow motion....yes, it's possible!
Hello everyone,
Have you ever had the chance to experience things in slow motion? In this world we live in, that seems like a pretty interesting concept. There's always places to go, things to do, appointments on the calendar. We always say we'll take time to slow down, but yet we never find the time to do so. Well, maybe when you're sick it seems like we tend to take things easy, and there are some who prefer to go full throttle every chance they can. Yet for me, I had a chance to experience slow motion, and I want you to know that it can really be great.
As those who have read my blog know, I am a very active speaker to local schools that have communication disorders programs. I do have a great appreciation for the academic process, and I realize that the classroom and clinical aspects cannot be ignored. But as an advocate for people who stutter, I feel that it is essential for me to do as many speaking engagements as I can. It is just as rewarding for me as it is for the students to learn all things stuttering. And how far we have come in these last few years! It makes me so excited to think about where the future will take us, and how these SLP students will be on the cutting edge of the technologies around us.
I seem to notice that the more public speaking I do, things tend to be in slow motion. And that to me seems very interesting. There are some people who will tell you that the more nervous you are, the slower things seem to go. I think it's the exact opposite. For some reason, being a person who stutters has shown me how to look at things differently. For that, I give all the glory to the National Stuttering Association. For example, talking on the phone used to be an absolute nightmare. Now I am very good at it-sure, I will always have my days when I block, but now it's an instrument of power instead of one that promotes fear. It's actually the one-to-one conversation that I struggle with, but because of my work with the NSA, I have gotten much better at it, and I'll continue to do so. In some ways, this is a role reversal, because there are many people who stutter who don't mind public speaking, yet would rather do anything to avoid the phone-even root canal three times over might be more suitable.
I am a huge sports fan, and one of the most common themes that I hear mentioned in interviews is the growth process, especially in hockey. Hockey, maybe more so than any other sport, has teens as early as nineteen coming into play professional hockey with the hopes and dreams on the front of the sweater they wear. And as they begin to amass the seasons under their belt, the players speak of the "the game slowing down for them." When they are a rookie, everything comes at you from so many angles-the media, the teammates who may resent you, adjustments to a professional game instead of a junior one. I think in many ways, that's exactly what public speaking comes to for me. When I did my first speaking engagement at Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, I couldn't believe that two hours passed by so quickly with breakneck speed. I was left saying "Wow!" because not only it was so enlightening for me, but time never had passed in such a manner. As I began to speak at more schools, I began to see the experience slow down and it's so great: because when you do that, it enriches you and the students more. There's such a strong rapport in such a short amount of time. If only we could feel like that the rest of the time!
So to all those people who stutter around the world-take some time to see that your life can be good in slow motion! And if you have not done any speaking to graduate classes, there is no better time then the present. You have a story that needs to be told. There are students who need to hear it.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
Have you ever had the chance to experience things in slow motion? In this world we live in, that seems like a pretty interesting concept. There's always places to go, things to do, appointments on the calendar. We always say we'll take time to slow down, but yet we never find the time to do so. Well, maybe when you're sick it seems like we tend to take things easy, and there are some who prefer to go full throttle every chance they can. Yet for me, I had a chance to experience slow motion, and I want you to know that it can really be great.
As those who have read my blog know, I am a very active speaker to local schools that have communication disorders programs. I do have a great appreciation for the academic process, and I realize that the classroom and clinical aspects cannot be ignored. But as an advocate for people who stutter, I feel that it is essential for me to do as many speaking engagements as I can. It is just as rewarding for me as it is for the students to learn all things stuttering. And how far we have come in these last few years! It makes me so excited to think about where the future will take us, and how these SLP students will be on the cutting edge of the technologies around us.
I seem to notice that the more public speaking I do, things tend to be in slow motion. And that to me seems very interesting. There are some people who will tell you that the more nervous you are, the slower things seem to go. I think it's the exact opposite. For some reason, being a person who stutters has shown me how to look at things differently. For that, I give all the glory to the National Stuttering Association. For example, talking on the phone used to be an absolute nightmare. Now I am very good at it-sure, I will always have my days when I block, but now it's an instrument of power instead of one that promotes fear. It's actually the one-to-one conversation that I struggle with, but because of my work with the NSA, I have gotten much better at it, and I'll continue to do so. In some ways, this is a role reversal, because there are many people who stutter who don't mind public speaking, yet would rather do anything to avoid the phone-even root canal three times over might be more suitable.
I am a huge sports fan, and one of the most common themes that I hear mentioned in interviews is the growth process, especially in hockey. Hockey, maybe more so than any other sport, has teens as early as nineteen coming into play professional hockey with the hopes and dreams on the front of the sweater they wear. And as they begin to amass the seasons under their belt, the players speak of the "the game slowing down for them." When they are a rookie, everything comes at you from so many angles-the media, the teammates who may resent you, adjustments to a professional game instead of a junior one. I think in many ways, that's exactly what public speaking comes to for me. When I did my first speaking engagement at Mercy College in Dobbs Ferry, I couldn't believe that two hours passed by so quickly with breakneck speed. I was left saying "Wow!" because not only it was so enlightening for me, but time never had passed in such a manner. As I began to speak at more schools, I began to see the experience slow down and it's so great: because when you do that, it enriches you and the students more. There's such a strong rapport in such a short amount of time. If only we could feel like that the rest of the time!
So to all those people who stutter around the world-take some time to see that your life can be good in slow motion! And if you have not done any speaking to graduate classes, there is no better time then the present. You have a story that needs to be told. There are students who need to hear it.
My name is Steven Kaufman and I am a person who stutters. Until next time, stand up and be counted. Make your voice heard.
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