Wanda Baker

Between my junior and senior years of college, I met Ms. Wanda Baker. She was a social service caseworker, and I was assigned to her as part of my social work internship. Before I met Ms. Baker, the Social Service Executive Director warned me that she was different. Ms. Baker rarely followed the agency's protocol handbook. She had her own approach to working with clients, often to the dismay of her colleagues. So be warned. I quickly learned that different was a euphemism for unprofessional and wacky, but everyone agreed that she has a special connection with her clients.

I vividly remember first meeting Ms. Baker. She was a small, slender woman wearing a simple printed cotton dress reminiscent of those I recall my great-grandmother wearing in old black-and-white photos and sensible black laced block-heel shoes—older Catholics need only imagine "nun shoes." Her brown hair was pulled back and rolled into a tight bun. 

Everything about Ms. Baker's appearance was plain and unadorned, except for her eyes. She had large, captivating brown eyes that drew me in. It felt as though she could see inside me—which she did.

Ms. Baker and I connected immediately. It was a powerful experience that has stayed with me to this day, and she has become one of the most significant influences in my life and work.

From that first meeting, Wanda became my teacher. Over the next six months, she opened my mind to a deeper understanding and appreciation for the people struggling with day-to-day life and just managing to get by—individuals in pain, hurting themselves and others close to them. A mother strung out on drugs for days, while her baby lay unattended in a crib with soiled diapers filled with maggots. Neglect, horrible neglect; fortunately, the child was discovered and removed from the home. I was there with Ms. Baker.

As the authorities were leaving the home with the child, you could see the disgust on their faces and hear them muttering ugly words about the mother. But not Ms. Baker; she looked at me, shook her head, and said, "It's never that simple," implying that the mother has a darker story. No judgment. Ms. Baker was the one who immediately picked up the soiled child and held her to her chest without any hesitation. That was Wanda Baker. 

More stories about Wanda Baker and other exceptional teachers will be featured in an upcoming article in our Stories Worth Sharing (WnW Talent Community).