They always say that honesty is the best policy, right? I’m not really even sure who “they” is, but at least that’s what I had always heard growing up. Prepare yourself, because I’m about to hurl an honesty bomb at you. First, the activities I led on Monday probably could not have gone worse. And second, I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
Let’s start with the first one, and let me also set the scene—you’ll need to have the full experience. Just sit back, relax, close your eyes, and picture this. (Except don’t close your eyes, you still need to read this). Imagine you have twenty friends. You’re standing in the middle of your friends, and they’re all running in different directions; think gazelles after a lion runs into the herd. Except they’re not gazelles, because they can talk. And man oh man, do they (and loudly I might add). So, on review, we have twenty loud, fast, energetic friends, and you’re standing in the middle of them. Now, you try to get their attention, but no one seems to be listening to you. You try telling them one at a time, “Hey! Can you listen to me for a second?” But that doesn’t work, because after you’re done talking to them, they just go back to being loud and fast. It looks like it’s time for a new tactic—maybe you should try to get their attention all at once. You say, “Hey! Can everyone catch a bubble in their mouth and look at me for a second?” Except there’s one more challenge. Your friends tend to have some pretty strong emotions, and all of a sudden, one of your friends is crying, which makes another friend cry, and another, and another, until half of your friends are crying, half of your friends go back to being loud and fast, and one friend is picking at the paint on the wall. So this isn’t going well for you. Oh yeah, one more thing: your friends are four. Like, four years old.
That was me, Monday afternoon, from about 1:30 to 2:30 p.m., and whichever very intelligent individual said that experience was the greatest teacher was absolutely correct. I would classify myself as someone who is fairly confident in her ability to accomplish a goal or be successful at something I’ve never tried before, but my four year old friends proved me wrong that fateful Monday afternoon. (Fateful is probably a little dramatic, but I did feel slightly defeated).
We’ll come back to my little friends in a minute, but for now, let’s move on to some Fun Friday analysis on that second statement: I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I guess I technically am a grownup, and the kids at SVFS certainly classify me as one, but there are lots of things that could put a person in the grownup category. Legally speaking, if you’re eighteen, you’re a grownup. And life speaking, maybe being a grownup just means that you have real responsibility. But if knowing what you want your career to be is the official seal of being a real grownup, I’m starting to think I’ll never be one.
Ask anyone that knows me well, and they’ll tell you my choice of career changes, quite literally, every couple days. Let me take you through a brief journey of Sarah’s Career Crisis. First and second grade Sarah wanted to be a teacher—just ask my parents. Half of our basement was my classroom, and I have to admit that my mom was the librarian or gym teacher on quite a few occasions. As school continued though, I uncovered a real passion for science. So, third through eighth grade animal-loving Sarah wanted to be a veterinarian. Then high school rolled around, and this is when things really started to get complicated. I began taking classes through a biomedical science program called Project Lead the Way, and I fell in love with the incredible complexity and ability of the human body: disease, pathology, anatomy, physiology, and even public health and epidemiology. I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I’d want to explore human medicine a little further. But, before I got the chance, my life was completely altered in a way I’d never imagine would happen: my mom was diagnosed with Lupus, and a few short months later, my younger sister died of an unknown virus. Yikes. The more I’ve talked with young professionals, the more I’ve learned that career choices often come to be because of a passion for a subject and a personal experience, and this rings true for me, too. I knew the heartbreak and tragedy of dealing with death and illness, and I wanted to prevent other families from feeling it. And, the human body is just plain fascinating. How much better could it get? Just you wait: here comes college.
I decided to major in public health sociology, but still stay on the pre-medicine track. I loved my public health classes, but I also loved biology, so I decided I needed to do a little more digging to figure out what I really wanted to do. I worked at the hospital, I took this internship, I got involved with clubs, and even founded my own. All this, for nothing. Or so I thought, because much to my dismay (sometimes), I still don’t know what I want to do. I tell my friends that I could see myself being happy and fulfilled doing almost anything. I come home from working in the ICU in the hospital and think to myself, “I would love to be an intensivist.” I come home from this internship and think to myself, “I think I would find clinical psychology very fulfilling.” I come home from shadowing a pediatric general surgeon and think to myself, “This is, hands down, the coolest job you could ever have.” I have even listened to an investigative journalism podcast and thought to myself, “I love writing and talking to people, so why not do this for a living?”
I recently told a friend that, while this is not inherently a bad problem to have, it does make it very difficult to narrow the options down. Lately though, I’ve begun to realize something. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know what I want to do, and it doesn’t matter that I can’t decide between a PhD or an MD or a Master’s in public health. I am making an impact on people right where I’m at, and I’m learning skills I’ll need to be successful in any career along the way. I’m learning how to work quickly, yet skillfully, at my job as a PCA at the hospital, and I’m learning how to teach effectively and communicate well with children at this internship. I’m learning how to be a good leader in my role as co-president in the student organization I co-founded, and I’m learning how to study productively in my classes at Ohio State. And as for my four year old friends, well, they’ve been teaching me things too: patience, and that not everything will always go according to plan, and that’s a perfectly fine way to go about life. Careers included.