I tried, OK? I tried to find something that would be "worthy" of me. I have a degree, for God's sake. I spent four (and a half) long years studying and writing and cramming and presenting so I could be the proud owner of a piece of paper with "B.A." scrawled across the top and give that dopey grin from the commencement stage to let my parents know, "See? This will dig me from the depths of student loans! This is the answer to all my questions of purpose and fulfillment!"
And then I got into the real world and realized it, like nothing else, is that simple. The jobs I thought I'd somewhat enjoy thought I "wasn't quite right for the position," and the ones I really wanted required fifteen more years experience than one recent college grad could possibly provide.
So I became desperate. I changed my way of thinking. Instead of asking "what would be worthy," I thought, "What would I enjoy?"
Novel concept, I know.
In the next week or so I will start as part of the custodial team at Cedarville University, like I did during my senior year there. As one of my dear friends so tenderly put it, I'll be a janitor.
If you're quick to wrinkle your nose, let me stop you right there. Do you realize what it's like to be a new adult these days? Particularly a new adult who is knee-deep in planning (and helping pay for) a wedding, up to her eyeballs in student loan debt, a recent homebuyer, and the proud owner of a clunky pickup that likes to fall apart every few months (preferably right before road trips)? Nutshell: it's expensive. And while my other half makes a decent living, I need to make more than minimum wage to pull my weight. Oh, and need I mention insurance: it's a fine-able offense these days to be caught uninsured these days. While it would certainly be ideal to hold out until a good-paying job that requires my degree comes along, I don't have the luxury to wait for that. In short, I'll take what I can get.
For those of you who don't know, I graduated in 2014 with an English education license. I, my friend, am fully qualified to teach English/Language Arts anywhere from seventh grade to twelfth grade. So naturally it's easy for you to sit back and say, "Well, hell, why aren't you doing that then?" And for those of you who haven't kept up with my story for the past year or so, I'll cut you some slack. But let me also fill you in:
To be a teacher means so much more than standing in front of a classroom full of bright young things ready to sop up the knowledge you come to bestow. Sure, you get summers off. But your work months are grueling for shit pay, and unless you have years of experience under your belt and recycle the same material every year (which you really shouldn't do, you should be constantly tweaking your material), you can kiss a social life goodbye. While I was doing my student teaching, I would teach for eight hours a day, then come home and work for another four to five hours every night developing lesson plans, writing tests, reading the material I got to teach my kiddos (luckily for me I actually enjoy Beowulf - I got to teach it four times a day for three months straight), and grading papers. (I once assigned essays to all seven of my class periods to be turned in during the same week. That was the nearest I've ever come to suicide.) Oh, and I was working sixteen hours every weekend. I think I went three months without a day off.
Long story short: this workload requires nothing less than 110% dedication, or you run the risk of hating your job, negatively influencing the precious flowers you get to instruct, and/or dying with your head in an oven. And life is far too short (and simultaneously much too long) to waste your time doing something you hate.
Dear friends, I've learned much in the last year-and-a-half. And the greatest of these lessons (aside from "don't put powdered sugar and candles on a birthday cake") is to find what you enjoy and do the heck out of it. Do not let money be a factor. My sister is living on the bare minimum in a city far away working theatre jobs left and right for shit to no money, and she loves it. I met a lady on Wednesday who's been a seamstress for decades, and while she has to work a day job on the side, she continues to alter dresses in her 114-year-old house because that's what she's passionate about. Do what you need to in order to survive, but for the love of God, do something you enjoy. And I, dear friends, love to clean for people. I love the idea of doing the same thing every day at my own pace and seeing the product of my labor when I'm done: what once was filthy is now sparkling. After five years at a job where nothing is predictable and playing the politics game is just as important as slapping on the fake smile for customers, I know enough to say I don't play like that.
And there's something deeper. Deeper and much, much more important.
I chose this job because of the pay, but also because of the early hours: I start at 5am, which means I have to be up by 3.30 to be there on time, but I'm free to go at 2 in the afternoon. While my weekends won't line up with my fiance's anymore, I'll be home in the afternoons to be with him. And this also gives me time to write. Because of all the things I imagined I could be, the thing I keep coming back to - the thing that I was born to do - is be a writer. I'm working on a book right now, and the nature of the gig combined with the time off gives me the opportunity to leave my job at work and make my passion a discipline every single day, while also giving me the stability of an income at a job that I enjoy.
It'll be a different lifestyle: I'm so used to driving two minutes down the road to the grocery store and working unpredictable shifts with people who are miserable and management that seems unreasonable. But I'm ready. It's time for a change. It's been time for a change for a long time. It's time for me to do what makes me happy. It's finally time for me to do what's best for me. And that, my friends, is so, so important.
