Word Vomit

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Ask any young adolescent and you’re likely to hear a response like ‘doctor’ or ‘race car driver’. You see, it’s curious to me how the responses change with age and it’s curiouser how they become geared toward money rather than passion. Social status rather than happiness. A size of a house rather than the size of heart. I see and hear too many people chasing degrees that don’t make them happy. Degrees that don’t motivate them to learn. Degrees that promise a large salary but a small self-worth.

I really want to say I know where I’m going with this blog, but I don’t. I have too many opinions to voice that they can’t simply be welded together to make perfect sense. I apologize if I jump around here. I’m just passionate.

I remember walking into my grandma’s kitchen one Easter. I believe it was my junior year. Her granite counter top was hidden under the overwhelming array of food. I was catching up with my uncle who lives in Seattle. Suddenly, he stopped talking and seemed to be calculating how to ask the question I fear most. “What are you doing in college?” Dear God. Run. Melt into the floorboards. Maybe throw up. I felt every emotion possible but the one that caused the stuttering mess that fell out of my mouth next was anxiety. “I…I…uh…don’t know.” Smooth, Devon. Great use of the three years of Honors English you have under your belt.

He stared at me blankly, kind of smiled awkwardly after a few breaths, and then walked away. Walked. Away. That’s it. My uncle is a very intelligent man. He is my father’s only brother in a family with 5 children. My father is a very intelligent man. The difference between them is their hair color, age, and level of education. You would never know the third if I hadn’t told you. My uncle is the only relative of mine that went to college. The only relative of mine that sees it as a priority. The relative of mine that might look down on someone for not going.

Anyway.

I’m going to college. Do I want to? Interesting query. Possibly worse than the one previously stated. My mind feels as if it has come unhinged in the past few months. So many pressure packed questions forced into my thoughts by adults. “Where are you going to college?” “What scholarships did you apply for?” “What are you going to study?” “Where are you going to live?” “How are you going to pay for it all?” This and that. A rather painful tug-of-war.

I can’t pick one career because I want to do more than what one degree qualifies me for. I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to write. I want to nurse people back to health. I want to rescue animals. I want to learn French. I’m in my fourth year of spanish and todo lo que sé es cómo pedir el baño. I want to teach. I want to serve as law enforcement. I want to mediate a legal case. I want to be a mother. I want to travel and become seasoned in the cultures of the world.

I am a good student and I try to be a good learner, and yes, there is a difference between the two. A good student knows how to show up to class, pay attention, regurgitate their lessons and pass said class. A good learner is one who truly enjoys learning and takes it upon themselves to learn about what interests them in their free time. Well…if their daily lessons don’t hoard their free time.

I feel less than prepared to be responsible for so much when I’m currently responsible for so little. I have spent so many hours in a brick building wondering what I should do next with my education and how it was state mandated but left something to be desired.

The current education system mass produces good students and suffocates good learners.