A long time ago, a very wise person told me that I would soon find a way to turn something I do every day, into an occupation.
Actually, it wasn't that long ago; it was last Thursday. And it wasn't really a person; it was my horoscope. But still, I reacted to the prediction with optimism, since my parents were due to arrive at Dartmouth the next day. The topic of my life after college is always a fun foray; at least I could reassure them that the planets are gearing up to align into a job for me.
How do I say this? OK, I'll go for frank: I have no idea what I'm going to do after I leave Dartmouth. Since I'm surrounded by all of these people who have such clear and definite direction, that's a really hard thing to say. I don't have direction, I have vicinity.
I will use a traveling metaphor: If I got into a car to go on a trip, and someone asked where I was going, I wouldn't be able to say "Canada." I would have to say, "Uh...I'm going north."
Eventually, I would probably end up getting to Canada, but it would have taken me twice as long, and I would have driven about 300 unnecessary miles.
Most people, as I understand it, don't travel this way.
But here's another thing: I'm perfectly content traveling like that --really, I am. A planned road trip is wonderful, but those 300 extra miles have such potential.
When I think about "life after Dartmouth," I realize that there are about 20 different things that I want to try to do. In my opinion, that is an excellent reflection on Dartmouth. The quality of learning has so piqued my curiosity, that I wouldn't be satisfied abandoning all of the interesting things I've learned about and picking one thing to do.
Realistically, I know that I can't spend my whole life figuring out what I want to do. It's the type of situation that breeds embarrassing introductions at my friends' large social gatherings, and my children's open school nights. (Meet Linda, she's professionally figuring out what her profession will be.) I also imagine that my parents and sisters would eventually stop inviting me to functions, to spare my feelings and their awkwardness.
Although they will never admit it to me, I think my parents secretly like that I don't really know what I want to do. On one hand, I think they like watching me sort my way through everything. But on the other hand, their concern for my future forces them to come up with creative ways to parent and keeps them on their toes.
Their principal methods for extracting any new insights I may have fall into two categories:
Subtle: "Do you and your friends ever talk about what life will be like after Dartmouth?" This is the approach I favor, since it gives me practice in twisting people's questions around, and avoiding the hinted-at issue.
Not Subtle: "I read this article in the Times about what the job market is like for college graduates. (Brief pause) Are you ever going to get a job?" I am not quite as fond of this approach, since it usually involves my saying, "Yes," watching my parents' eyes light up, and then my saying, "but..." and watching their eyes glaze over.
I suppose my parents should be used to my vacillation; I was never one of those children who could answer that popular, but irritating, adult question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Well, I answered it, but never with any decisiveness. I went through stages of wanting to be a bagel maker, a regular on "Sesame Street," a ranch hand, a lawyer, an officer in the military and an Olympic pole vaulter. That last one caused a few minor injuries, so it's officially off of my list. The rest are still pending.
This used to amuse people, but I can understand why it isn't quite as funny anymore. I am, essentially, half-way done with college; it would seem logical to have a slight idea about what I will do when I'm done.
But the bottom line is that I don't know what I'm going to do, and I probably won't know anytime soon. This is an oddity these days, but my while uncertainty is slightly daunting to me, it is also making me look forward to post-Dartmouth living.
Instead of rushing to fulfill some kind of "grand plan," I get to figure things out, try my hand at as many things as I can. As much as the world of higher education universally expects its participants to go to school, get a job and stay there, there is no law that says that's how it has to be. If nothing else, my nomadic approach to the working world will make for good dinner conversation.
I am also 100 percent confident that I will find something that I will want to turn into a life-time profession. But in the meantime, I think I will truly appreciate exposing myself to as many experiences as possible. Who knows? In a few years, I may even be coming to an office near you.
