When I was five, all I really wanted to be was a big sister.
But by the time I was seven, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up: a TRUCK DRIVER. I mean, who wouldn’t want to travel the country, the object of every kid’s admiration and horn-honking gestures?
By the time I was nine, I knew I wanted to be an archaeologist. My class had gone to a dig site (and even simulated our own!) and it sounded like the most exciting job on the planet.
Until I was ten. By the time I was ten, I wanted to be an architect, because we did a unit on architecture and I thought it was cool what people could design.
And then a storyteller. And then a lawyer. And then an entomologist.
You’re seeing a pattern here, aren’t you? I’m guessing these tendencies laid the foundation for my lifelong career as a serial hobbyist.
And then junior high and high school hit. Honestly, I didn’t want to do anything with my life, really, other than survive it.
By the time senior year of high school came around, and it was time to look at colleges, I decided I wanted to be a high school English teacher so I could do for other kids what Ms. Stelmach did for me. (She needs to be the subject of her own post.)
Cut to summer after freshman year of college. I was a secondary education major working a job at a sleep-away summer camp. I told someone my major, and they responded, “Oh. I thought I pegged you for working with the younger kids.”
I had never thought about that. It set my wheels in motion.
And by that fall, I switched my major to elementary education. I haven’t looked back since. I’m a public school lifer, and I’m proud of it.
And what’s next? That’s still several years yet, but my guess is I’ll return somewhat to my younger inclinations: do something cool, get good at it, than do something else cool. Lather, rinse, repeat.
There are worse things…
Thanks, as always, for the Two Writing Teachers March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Check ’em out!
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 