I Finally Figured it Out

I'll be honest with you, sometimes it's tempting to be satisfied with mediocrity and to let myself meander toward whatever meaningless job I can find in an effort to "move forward" and stand on my own two feet again. But after a moment of serious consideration, I usually sigh and shake my head because I know that will never do. I know I won't let myself live with that kind of dissatisfaction. How do I know? Simple. Because there is not one moment in which I have ever found myself regretting a) going to Italy or b) quitting La Belle. In a way, that life was a form of mediocrity. It was a plateau and I was unwilling to endure it another moment.

So here I am, living out of a bag for my 13th month, sleeping on couches, guest beds and futons, living on the generosity of family and friends with no real job, no real prospects, and absolutely no excitement about finding a job. It was this last one that really made me stop and think, "What am I even moving toward? What am I doing?"

I had made a promise to myself the summer after college when Becky and I lived in Spokane. During a several week long temp assignment at the Home Loan Center of a large bank during the mortgage re-financing fiasco of the century, I learned what it was to hate a job. I woke up each morning filled with dread. I had to bribe myself with rewards just to get up, to get dressed, to walk to the car....I counted down the days; the hours. I promised myself then I would never let myself keep a job I hated. It simply wasn't worth it. The money, the stability, the safety - it wasn't enough. As I left La Belle and Bellingham behind and headed for Italy, I felt I had kept that promise to myself. I certainly didn't dread or even really dislike my life as it was. But I knew if I stayed, I would. By leaving it was certainly a giant risk, but I had allowed myself to keep an important promise.

But after a year of joblessness and a constant state of impermanence, I still had no answer to the question, "Where was I going?" Like all things profound, the answer came to me unexpectedly and when I wasn't looking for it. After watching a documentary called American Teen (a real life version of The Breakfast Club wherein they follow a prom queen, a jock, a band geek, and a weird girl through their senior year of high school in Warsaw, Indiana) with my mom, we were having a great conversation about the difficulties of being a high school student and how important positive role models are. I was shocked by the lack of impact teachers had made on these students and found myself reflecting on how many teachers had influenced me (though I hadn't realized it at the time). The more I talked about it, the more impassioned I became. It would be so easy for me to connect with high schoolers; so simple to make a positive impact! As a joke I said to my mom, "I should be a teacher." And almost as soon as it was out of my mouth, something within me clicked into place. I should be a teacher.

I was tempted to dismiss the idea immediately...but instead, I took a portion of my new-found-Italy-sojourn courage and tested the idea out on my mom. As any good mother would, she smiled and told me I'd be great. And of course, I believed her.

From there the seed of this idea only grew as I began to both internally process the idea and to test it out on people I knew and trusted. If they thought I could do it...maybe I really could. Each time I bashfully shared my idea, I continued to receive positive and enthusiastic feedback. Everyone seemed to be saying to me, "Well, duh!" Slowly I grew enough confidence to finally be able to say, "I want to be a teacher when I grow up*."

Now when I share this news, most people assume I will be a math teacher, either because they know that is precisely what my brother does (and let me tell you - when I told him my intention to be a teacher, the pride in his voice nearly melted my heart) or because they know I have a secret love affair with number crunching and Excel, I don't know. But instead I have chosen English as my intended course of study. Usually this results in several nods of understanding, something akin to "Ah, yes - I should've known."

So now I'm pointing my footsteps toward the long path of graduate school and a master's degree. I find myself telling people something I had never, even the slightest intention of ever saying: "Actually, I've decided to go back to school..."

I won't tell you that some days aren't still filled with frustration as I lack any and all control over my current circumstances, or that I don't miss the independence of "the old days," or that I'm not sick of wearing the same limited wardrobe, but at the end of the day I know this chapter of displacement will be worth it. I finally know where I'm going and for the first time, I'm excited to get there. And I figure that's a good thing. "The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step**," so my plan is to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

*Unless of course the Mariners offer me a job other than peanut concessions; then I'll do that instead.

**Lao Tzu