“So, Ellen, what are your plans for after graduation?” a nosy, albeit well meaning, great-aunt asks. I stare into her intent, keen expression as it bores into me. She is leant forward, on the edge of the armchair, facing me, while maintaining her friendly demeanor in tone, her expression remains unreadable. Her sudden undivided attention shines a bright spotlight on me and I know she is hanging on to every breath I take, before I even speak. The couch becomes a stage. However I saw this coming and had been rehearsing my act. I gush with enthusiasm and confidence as I exclaim that I am going to SCF at the next possible summer term and I am going to be an elementary school teacher. “Well that’s good! I’m glad. You know school is important.” She
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Universities kept sending me advertisements and teachers kept preaching about the importance of the almighty SATs. There were no other options. I hated being told what to do so I just shut out all the –what I thought to be—irrelevant nagging. My English II teacher was the epitome of school’s use of the one-size-fits-all college education encouragement. I can still hear his words from several occasions echoing every time I see a school campus: “If you don’t go to college, you are going to be nothing but a loser.” As a high school sophomore I didn’t think much of this. I told myself I’d figure it out later and lots of people I’d met didn’t go. I’d be fine. I was so naïve. Upon becoming a senior it had finally hit me how expensive being an adult could be and I knew I needed to find a job that paid more than minimum wage in order to someday be independent. I was not destined to be a loser and I won’t be living with my parents forever. A “loser”? Is that how others would perceive me, even if I did manage to make ends meet and pay my own bills? Not only did that label hurt to potentially have slapped on me, but also that simply wasn’t the life I desired. I didn’t want the threat of living paycheck to paycheck and not being able to afford health insurance that my teachers projected to me. I set my sights on a career I could enjoy and take pride in, as well as one that paid adequately. There was only one problem; I had no idea what I wanted to do with my
Universities kept sending me advertisements and teachers kept preaching about the importance of the almighty SATs. There were no other options. I hated being told what to do so I just shut out all the –what I thought to be—irrelevant nagging. My English II teacher was the epitome of school’s use of the one-size-fits-all college education encouragement. I can still hear his words from several occasions echoing every time I see a school campus: “If you don’t go to college, you are going to be nothing but a loser.” As a high school sophomore I didn’t think much of this. I told myself I’d figure it out later and lots of people I’d met didn’t go. I’d be fine. I was so naïve. Upon becoming a senior it had finally hit me how expensive being an adult could be and I knew I needed to find a job that paid more than minimum wage in order to someday be independent. I was not destined to be a loser and I won’t be living with my parents forever. A “loser”? Is that how others would perceive me, even if I did manage to make ends meet and pay my own bills? Not only did that label hurt to potentially have slapped on me, but also that simply wasn’t the life I desired. I didn’t want the threat of living paycheck to paycheck and not being able to afford health insurance that my teachers projected to me. I set my sights on a career I could enjoy and take pride in, as well as one that paid adequately. There was only one problem; I had no idea what I wanted to do with my