No I cannot. To despair is to turn your back on God.
Cheers to Anne and Marilla for the lovely intro to my blog post. And speaking of which, anyone who watched (or read, though the visual aspect is less...visual) Anne of Green Gables as a child and says they did not want to find their own Gilbert and break a chalkboard lovingly over his head is just lying to herself. Gilbert is the Noah Calhoun of my childhood years.
Anyway.
I'm really not in the depths of despair...mostly the depths of confusion. About what to do next and which page to turn first. My life is more like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book than Lucy Maud Montgomery's series, and I have to decide whether to start at the end of the book or to plod through in the most logical order.
The good news is: I know precisely what my life dream is. Myself being the Jill of all trades that I am, I did not expect to ever have some kind of enlightening moment in where I need to do my entire life's work. All my life, it just came naturally to be good at whatever school kicked my way; I expected careers to come as easily, and there was no particular field in which I had a vested interest. How would I ever choose one thing to be passionate about? Whatever I do, I do passionately. Choosing a career would be synonymous with taking whatever job seems most appealing at the time of graduation.
Until the day I began working as a tutor for the UTMartin Writing Center. I hadn't even tutored a single student yet when I felt a click. There was no Common *bleeping* Core, no state standards, no syllabus, no dang attendance sheet or floor plan to keep me from showing everyone around me that I. Love. School. And as soon as the first student came up to see me, that's what they got. They got me explaining that grammar is important, especially since you're in college now and you're going to love it here so much that you won't accept anything less than your best. They got me for a cheerleader and coach and the person who could give the most honest (but nice, y'all, I still like all my teachers) recommendations, warnings, and advice regarding their professors.
Because really, what could have made you a better student in your first year at college? Would it have helped to see someone who loved it there so much that they practically moved into their department study area? Uh, yeah. Am I weird? Yahs, but I like to think it's in a refreshing way.
So the question that remains, hanging in the air like the scent of garlic still permeating my house after a delicious batch of chicken Alfredo last night (that's a simile, kids, see? There are lessons to be learned everywhere.): to grad school or not to grad school? I know that Writing Centers are the final destination for me, and most colleges require a MA in English or related field in order to become a director of a writing center. So, do I take the plunge now and get a Master's so that I can begin a job hunt for a director position? Or, do I continue working (Heaven only knows how many hours, but it wouldn't be a whole bunch, so I'd be rocking that two-job swag) in the UTMartin Writing Center where I can at least guarantee comfort, happiness, and seeing my favorite people everyday (Considering I see my most favorite person every day anyway, this would really only add a handful of people [and by handful I mean two] to my daily seen individuals, but two is worth it when they are so very splendid.) but will probably not get any closer to being offered a director job?
This is the direction I'm leaning. First, I don't want to leave this place. A Master's Degree suggests that I have to work closely with some professor who isn't anyone near or dear to me, and that suggests rubbish. Second, I don't have enough experience in a Writing Center to just set sail and throw resumes at people (because ouch, that is super rude. Imagine the paper cuts.) and hope for the best. Third, Matthew deserves the opportunity to do something besides work at a job that he hates for much longer.
December, here I come, then! To bigger and better things I will continue. Except probably not a Master's degree right this second. But maybe.
I DON'T KNOW, NOAH. I JUST. DON'T KNOW.
The depths, I'm telling you. Depths of confusion.
Okaybyeeeee,
mrs.mac
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