In My Own Defense

I thought really hard about not writing this post.  I waited a week to even write it, because I thought what I felt would subside a little bit if I just waited a bit.  But I'm writing it anyway.  If I sound resentful, hurt, or angry in this post, it's probably because I am.  I don't always know how to respond to people when they say hurtful things, but I can usually write about it, so that's what I'm doing here.

Recently, I was at a church to lead a confirmation retreat, and the parishioners were kind enough to serve us breakfast before we got started.  I was sitting with one of the girls on the retreat, and this woman sat next to me.  Right away, she asked if I had gone to college. I responded that I had, in fact I just graduated last May.  She followed that up by asking what I studied, and I responded that I had majored in history.  Immediately, this woman said to me, "Oh, history won't get you anywhere.  I was a history major, and now I'm a speech pathologist.  You might as well change now."  She went on to talk about how many job offers she gets as a speech pathologist, and she made my job at camp sound like I was trying to delay being an adult, or that it was the only thing available for a lowly history major.  I was incredibly offended.  I couldn't believe that this woman who had known me for mere minutes felt the need to reprimand me for my life choices.

I know this woman probably thought she was offering sage advice to a naive and wide-eyed girl, that she was saving me from a life of disappointed hopes and lower-salaried jobs (the horror!).  But, she never felt the need to ask anything further than that.  She negated my personhood by only allowing me one label: history major.  I was planning at some point to write about why I chose to work at a camp after graduation, specifically this camp, and I think I might as well do that now.  Not because this woman deserves an explanation from me, but because it might offer clarity to someone else reading this blog who wonders how I got to this point.

The camp that I work at is so special to me.  I only got to go to summer camp here once, but it was one of the best weeks of my life.  Everything about camp was filled with fun and joy and this real opportunity to be yourself.  I remember how amazing my counselors were, and I still remember their names 10 years down the line.  Camp made me feel like the best version of myself, which is a feeling that is hard to come by when you're in middle school.  I desperately wanted to be a summer counselor at camp when I grew up, because my own counselors were just the epitome of cool and self-confidence to me.  As I finally got old enough to be a counselor, things kept coming up.  In fact, things came up every single summer of college.  I kind of accepted the fact that this would have to be a dream that didn't quite come to fruition.

If we rewind to last year, I was a college graduate fresh from commencement, and I was trying to decide where to apply for a job.  I wanted to do something that would allow me to do something related to history, maybe involving teaching, and hopefully outdoors.  My dream is to work for the National Park Service in their historical or archival departments at some point, so I needed an experience that could help clarify that direction for me.  About a month and a half passed, and nothing in any of my job searches sounded like anything close to what I was looking for.  One day, my dad came across the job posting for the program staff position here at camp.  He showed it to me, and we both agreed that it basically sounded like an amazing job.  I applied right away, and I got an interview.  I was so, so thrilled when I was hired because I knew that I had been given an amazing opportunity, and that camp and I seemed like a good fit.  I was further encouraged by telling my friends about my new job.  Pretty much all of them thought that working as program staff was the perfect job for me.  This was it.  This was my chance to fulfill that middle school dream, and not just for eight weeks, but for the entire school year.

Every day, I know I'm in the right place for me.  I get so much energy just from being on camp all the time, and constantly witness personal growth within myself.  I love what I do so much that it may change what I end up doing with the rest of my life.

So yes, I am a history major who is working at a camp right out of college.  But what that woman never bothered to find out was that I'm good at my job here.  I am happier and healthier now than I have been for years, literally.  I have found new friends and built new relationships and learned new things pretty much every day of work.  And not only that, but history was not my original field of study.  I started studying a much more traditionally lucrative discipline, and I was the worst version of myself at that point.  I was constantly stressed, I struggled with the material, and even lost my love of learning, something that is so important to me.  History was what allowed me to be a better me, and it turns out that I'm actually really good at it.  Not only that, but my degree informs everything that I do in my job and in my life.  I wouldn't change that for the world.

So, ma'am, in short, I would make an awful speech pathologist, but I think I'm going to make it through anyway.  Thanks for your concern.