Walking across campus this afternoon, I noticed everyone was dressed a little more formally—in suits and dresses and, in one case, a kilt. I was confused until I saw a group of new grads taking selfies, decked out in their caps and gowns. It was Fall Convocation.
I don’t know about you, but I love a good ceremony. The happiest of disruptions, a celebration of effort and achievement. The excitement of official endings and new beginnings. Also, bagpipes.
Of course, watching giddy students take goofy photos in their academic regalia took me back to my own convocation more than 20 years ago, when I graduated with a B.A. in English and a Bachelor of Education. Is it obnoxious to add “with distinction” to both? No apologies.
I was always a good student, thriving in most educational settings. But by the end of my undergrad, I was 100% ready to stop going to school. I’d had enough of essay assignments, group projects and exams. And I was tired of having no money—I just wanted to get paid.
A child of immigrants and the first in my family to attend university, I had been pragmatic, choosing to add an extra year to my studies and get a teaching degree because, as my friend John’s dad noted, “Where are you going to work with an English degree? The English store?”
I was hired right away by the Calgary Board of Education. What I didn’t realize, though, was how much I would hate teaching. I loved my students (and I think they liked me too), but I was tired all the time. People didn’t talk about introversion back then, but I can see now why I felt so drained: I had to be “on” all day at school (extra-on, really, since I was teaching junior high) and then go home and do my marking and lesson planning at night. I hadn’t even really begun my career, but I was already desperate to get out.
Before bailing completely, I decided to interview for an ESL position at a different school, thinking maybe I just needed a change in scenery. The principal and vice-principal seemed kind and the interview went extremely well. But at the end, when they asked if I had anything else to add, I blurted out the truth. “I don’t know if I want to be a teacher,” I said. “There are so many teachers who don’t want to be here, and it’s not fair to the kids. I think if I’m going to be in the classroom, my whole heart should be in it.”
They called me a few hours later and offered me the job anyway—and asked me to wait three days before I gave my final answer.
The answer was no.
Luckily, I still lived at home, and I had made it through university without taking out a student loan. So I worked part-time in the U of C’s English department computer lab (just down the hall from my current office) and began the most random job hunt ever, applying for anything I might be halfway qualified for. I felt so lost.
I desperately wanted someone to tell me what to do, to point me in the right direction—or any direction—but that someone never showed up. Instead, I just kept printing out my meagre resume onto “Classic Linen” paper (lol), mailing applications, going on interviews, getting rejected, and starting the process all over again. Seven months and about 100 applications later, I landed an intern job in PR, the tiniest baby step towards a new career.
I’ve been thinking about those days as I flounder a bit now, asking myself repeatedly, “Where am I going? What am I doing?” Even though I have the very best job at the moment (A writer-in-residence? Seriously??), I long for someone to tell me what to do, how to make the most of my time and effort, how to move forward. I’m still pretty lost most of the time.
Being in school was so much simpler: teachers told you what was important to know and then they gave you well-defined tasks with clear objectives and deadlines. Same with corporate life—always someone eager to tell you what to do there.
On your own, though, it’s easy to drift. So I’m forcing myself to be my own teacher, focusing on short assignments, à la Anne Lamott, coaxing each page of my manuscript out of my brain (heart? soul?) with patience and care—and trying to determine how I measure success. Back to basics. Surprisingly, I’m beginning to see results. Thirty pages drafted. Not a book yet, but not nothing, either.
I guess it shouldn’t be such a surprise. I am a trained educator after all.
:) Teresa
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I can so relate to the wanting someone to tell me what to do. And now I am a freelance writer with myself as my boss 😆so I figure it out as I go. Also, I got two degrees in engineering and then figured out after seven years I didn’t really like engineering as a career. Why we get this message that we should have our life path figured out in our twenties is beyond me.