Unexpectations

Back-story time. Does anyone else feel like this blog is just like an onion, where you keep peeling back the layers of me? No? Just me? Okay, just checking.

When I was in high school, I went to go see a career counselor of sorts and take a test to find out what kind of job I would be good at. (I'm really bad at making decisions for myself.) The test came back positive for a career in education or journalism or law. Lawyer by day; journalist on the education beat by night? Possibly.

When I got accepted to IU, I wanted to double-major in education and journalism and then consider law school afterward, if I wasn't too worn out by then. At the time, I knew I wasn't going to be able to major in both. The school of journalism wants you all for themselves, so the best I could get would be a minor in education which would amount to nada in the real world. Luckily my decision was made for me when I realized that I pretty much hated everyone in the teaching program and decided I couldn't possibly see myself finishing the degree without serious brain damage from banging my head against a wall.

So, journalism it was. I had some amazing instructors at the school and really became interested in advertising. I decided then that I was going to hop on the money train. I'd become an account manager and live my fabulous “Sex and the City” lifestyle, even if doing so had no relevance to what I had found particularly stimulating about advertising in the first place.

After a series of moves from Indianapolis, to Chicago, and then back to Indianapolis and looking for jobs in all the wrong places, I stopped. I gave it all up to a bad economy and began my application for the Peace Corps. That was chugging along for a while, and then I got a job interview. I forget how they got my name, but they did, so I headed up to Chicago once more.

I think it had the potential to go well, but it didn't. Or rather, it did. But in a totally unexpected way. I was sitting there, talking to this guy about where I saw myself in five years or so, and I realized: I absolutely without a doubt do not want to do this. My answers lost any enthusiasm that they originally had, and I walked out of there feeling weird. Isn't this what I've wanted this whole time?

I wrote the guy a thank you e-mail, telling him how much I really wanted the job. I think it was just in case. Just in case I'm really supposed to do this, I'll give it one last go. I didn't get it. In reality, Elizabeth didn't get it; that was who the e-mail was addressed to. Not only was I rejected, but my name was too. If ever I had needed a sign, that was it.

I dove headfirst into the Peace Corps thing after that. I looked for opportunities to use my English teaching skills, but I found nothing, and I needed at least 30 hours of tutoring experience before I could go forward with the process. I just thought it was my bad luck, but after speaking with my Granny, always full of wisdom, I realized I was most definitely not doing everything I could. She told me that if I really wanted to do this, then I was going to have to try a lot harder and search everywhere and told me some good places to look.

I followed her ever-sage advice and found some stuff, which I continued until I left for Korea. I remember driving home from those ESL classes, filled with eager immigrants just wanting a little piece of America for themselves, feeling elated. Yes, elated. After a year of no good news, this was a definite up.

Then, I went to Korea and got beaten down by the hagwon system, but that's a tale for another blog. Oh, yeah, tried that already.

Anyway, here I have two days per week at each of my two schools, and Fridays are my community days, where I go out in search of how I can save this godforsaken place. I kid. But an opportunity did find me while I was out jogging (soft “j”) one day. The chief of police approached me and asked if I would be willing to teach English to his police officers every Friday.

Last Friday was my first class. For the first time in a long time, that sense of elation returned. This can't just be stomach indigestion. Could it be that I've actually discovered what I want to do as a career? I mean, besides being an international jet-setter and just general bad-ass? Yes, methinks so.

For this, I consider myself lucky. I know a lot of people go through life without ever having experiencing this. What else would the point of midlife crises be?

Thankfully, this makes my decisions of what to do with myself so much easier when I go back home. So, don't worry Mom and Dad, your extra bedroom is safe from me.