It's raining golden calves

If you have been reading this blog for the last year or so, you are probably aware of the fact that I have been graduated for over a year, and have been suffering from a fairly acute level of cognitive dissonance caused by the fact I am still employed at Carrabbas. If you have just recently joined this, well, simply mind bogglingly important blog--the dissonance has indeed been acute, and been suffered for the better part of a year. Which is maybe why, quite unexpectedly, grad school suddenly sounded real appealing.

Which is weird, because I have mostly been of the disposition for the better part of the last 3 years that, upon finishing college school, I'd rather be chewed to death by a bear, starting at the crotch, than go back to school.

I sort of, well, loathed school. I mean, not the actually going to class/learning part. That part I rather enjoyed (mostly, minus didactic lecturers with God complexes.) But the endless, tedious assignments and research papers I hated. Over the last year, whenever a friend or a co-worker told tale of a huge test to take, or a research paper to be written, I would get the most ominous, dreadful feeling. Sort of like what I get whenever I see a neighborhood with an assload of cookie cutter housing. The sort that summer sales bro's target. The sort that I targeted 3 years ago, during my 2 month stint as, well, a summer sales bro. Seeing a neighborhood ripe for a corporate raping takes me back to the feeling of misery I experienced during those 2 months. And hearing about other peoples' school assignments made me feel the same way, thus ever solidifying my anti-more-school position.

So when a grad program actually sounded like a desirable course of action, I felt like It had to be the right thing to do. Because, even as I type this, thinking about my undergrad still gives me that despicable summer sales swindler feeling. But, curiously, not when I contemplate this particular program.

I have felt lost for the last year. Graduated with a seemingly useless degree, wondering what on earth to do. I mean, this blog was an obvious fall back, since I make just stupid amounts of money maintaining it. Or should be. I guess I was waiting for either that to happen, or for a big golden calf to fall out of the sky, come crashing through my house, and land on my leg. So then I could sue whoever dropped that golden calf out of the sky, broke my leg, and ruined my ceiling. Hopefully for enough money to just live an extravagant life of blogging and eating expensive fruits. Grad school gives me real direction. Finally.

I applied for a Masters of Arts in Teaching at Westminster. I was worried, because they only accept 15 secondary ed students. So, having been accepted, that either means that I am simply a spectacular bastion of scholarly material, or that there just aren't that many people who want to pay a boatload for a masters degree. That golden calf crushing my leg would really be welcome right now.

So, after a couple years of avoiding my destiny as a secondary education mind moulder, I have come back to it. Over the last year or so, I have come to the realization that I need to love what I do. I need to feel fulfilled. Meaningful. I want to make a difference, to help people think critically, to love education. Pending the golden calf incident, I may not end up rich. But I will be happy. And that is what is important.

I'm ready for you, August 25th. No ominous feelings here.


Nat's blog said...

i am so happy for you! it's got to feel amazing to know you are leaving the shit hole we call work! :) p.s i'll keep praying for a golden calf to fall out of the sky aiming just for you!

wizzity said...

I am glad to hear that you are going into teaching. As a teacher I know that I would love to have you as a coworker. Good Luck with school

The Rookie said...

So...teaching (here comes the part where I offer you my entirely unsolicited advice): you will love it and hate it simultaneously. If you're doing it well, it will challenge the hell out of you. There is no real way to prepare anybody for the reality of it. Especially that first year. Promise yourself you'll do three solid years right now. Look yourself in the mirror: do you feel passionate about your content area? Passionate enough that listening to people say how badly what you're selling sucks multiple times a day every day won't kill that for you?

I'm hoping so, because there's something sickly appealing about having your ass handed to you from 7:30 on by a bunch of hormonal, awkward adolescents, coming home, and still liking their quirky selves enough to read more of what they think.

Good luck, congratulations and condolences combined.

(Sorry for the incredibly long comment.)

jason said...

Are bro's up there the same as bro's down here in CA?!