When I Grow Up

I'm currently back in school, taking some upper level history courses:  Absolution and Enlightenment in the 18th Century, World History from the 1600s, and Modern Russian History (modern meaning from the late 1800s to present day).  I had a very clear vision for myself regarding these courses; the plan all along was to take some history prerequisites in order to apply to a local graduate school, with the eventual goal of earning a masters degree in history. 

And then, I actually took some history courses and figured out, it's not at all what I really want to do. And that, my friends, is the most ultimately frustrating aspect of this little experiment.  I've put in hours preparing to go back to school, researching various graduate programs, jumping through flaming hoops covered in red tape to engage in the long, arduous process of "getting back into school".  I've spent more money than I had in tuition, books, and gas for classes that I now know, won't lead anywhere but just a bit further into student loan debt. 

I have a very specific degree already, in Emergency Administration and Planning.  It wasn't my first plan, just the last in a series of "what I want to be when I grow up" plans.  When I first entered college, over 10 years ago (eep!), I was undeclared and just "takin' my basics".  Within a year or so, though, I had decided to become a psychology major.  The material was interesting, but I started to realize that unless I wanted to go on to graduate school, a bachelor's degree in psychology wasn't all that marketable, so I ventured on.  I spent exactly 4 hours as an education major before I realized I had made a terrible mistake.  Incidentally, that four hours cost me over $1,000.00 in tuition fees due to that college's withdrawal police.  (I never went there again after that, on principle.)  After that, I floundered for a bit before deciding to go back into psychology, since I had the highest concentration of hours in that.  After another semester of psychology, I came back to the realization that it was truly pointless for me to continue on, knowing that at that point, I had no desire to pursue graduate school.  I was truly lost.

It was at that point that fate intervened through two events.  A long-time friend of mine had been telling me about a degree he was involved in, that he was really excited about and Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast.  The degree he was studying was Emergency Administration and Planning, or in other words, disaster management along the lines of what FEMA and the American Red cross engage in.  I was inspired.  I thought--now that's something I could get passionate about.  And so, feeling as though fate were behind the wheel, I enrolled in the degree as well, and within eighteen months, I was a newly minted grad with a crisp new diploma. 

It wasn't a bad choice, as it turned out.  I got a job with a wonderful little private consulting firm and really fell in with a great boss and coworker.  (I did say it was a "small" firm!)  Then my son happened.  And he really became my true passion.  I always knew I wanted to stay home with my babies, even though many people near to me thought I would go crazy at home, I didn't.  I don't.  I really love my job, much more than I or many others thought I would.  I've given my two week notice a time or two, but my bosses don't accept resignations :)  Thankfully, I would never leave this particular job.

But, within a few years, my little ones will be in school, and I know I'm meant for more.  They'll have a job to do and so will I. 

The only question is... what?  I'm not sure I want to go back into emergency planning - many of the jobs require a level of commitment travel-wise that I am unwilling to give, now that I have children.  Plus, although I did love my old job, I wasn't in love with the work, and I'd like to know what that feels like - to be in love with your work.  I suppose I already do know that feeling, because it's one I experience often with my kiddos.  Still, I'd like a personal purpose as well, that extends beyond my role as wife and mother.  It was nice to have that feeling of personal accomplishment outside of the home and in all frankness, it was nice to have a paycheck, too. 

Because I have a deep love of Celtic history, language, and music, I thought history was a natural choice.  Friends have told me I'd be a great teacher; and I believed them.  With faith, I stepped out onto a path that almost from the first moment, I realized was altogether wrong.  People have asked me how I can be so sure that history isn't for me, and it's incredibly hard to articulate.  The material isn't what I envisioned and it really doesn't touch upon the aspects of history I find most fascinating - the little day to day details within another peoples' lives.  The foods, the music, the plebian concerns.  My history classes have been more politically-based, broad strokes, and I'm interested in the fine details.  Also, I've realized that I'm resentful of the time away from my kids--that's a big indication to me that I'm in the wrong place, because if it was a true passion, it wouldn't feel this intrusive.  I've just made a mistake, and I know it.  It's been a blow, but I'm determined that there is a lesson to be learned and that these classes will benefit me in some way, regardless. 

So, I'm on the edge of a precipice.  I'm looking out over the land and I see infinite possibilities.  The paths below are rough, rocky, and although I can't see it yet, one has been carved especially for me.  Now I've got to get off this mountain and find out which one that is.