In the eighth grade, my career class wrote a paper on what we wanted to be and why. I wrote about becoming a journalist and wanting to change the world with my writing. I got a B on the paper. My teacher said it was informative, yet it lacked an emotional connection.
A week later, my family and I went to our favorite restaurant for dinner. I ordered a hamburger and fries and my parents ordered two plates of pasta with multiple glasses of wine. My mom asked me what we were doing in school, and I told her about my sub-par essay on wanting to become a journalist. My mother didn’t comment on my grade.
You want to be a journalist?
Yes, why wouldn’t I want to be? I can travel the world and report on things that matter.
Yes, but there’s no stability with that job. Why would you want to live in uncertainty?
I don’t know, but I don’t need to think about that now. It’s just something I’m interested in.
Well, you can be interested in becoming a doctor. The world always needs more doctors.
I spread the ketchup around with my fries. I didn’t want to be a part of this conversation. Every conversation led to my parents wanting me to become a doctor, or an engineer, or a business mogul. These jobs were stable and the only ones that seemed to matter. My dad noticed how uncomfortable I was and between sips of his third glass of wine he tried to comfort me.
My love, you can do anything you want. No matter what you do you’ll be wonderful at it.
Thank you. I know.
And why does it matter? After college what? You’ll get a job as whatever for three or four years and meet a nice man. After that your life will be made for you. He’ll earn the money and you can stay at home with your lovely children.
What do you mean?
It’s just that after some point it doesn’t matter if you’re a journalist or a doctor or anything. You’ll be married and taken care of.
At the end of the year, we wrote another paper on what we wanted to be to see if our goals had changed. I wrote about wanting to be anything other than a housewife. I got a C on that paper. My teacher said that it wasn’t a real job and that I did not fulfill the requirements of the paper. That was the best essay I’ve written.