Last week marked the end of my first full year as an adjunct English professor. Per my usual, I pause to reflect and lean into my ever-present, mid-life, existential crisis. My new job this year has come with perks perfectly balanced with aching desires for more. College students are awesome. Really, truly. Some of my best memories of my life occurred during my college years, and engaging with these young people at this time of their life is a treasure. We've had conversations about my own faith as a college student, about life as a minority student on a predominantly white campus, and about why Black Panther completely lived up to the hype. The future is bright because of young people like these. Like college students, college campuses also fill me with joy. There is something sacred about the hallowed halls of academia. I swear I can hear the whispers of generations past when I enter Nazareth Hall. This spring I have purposely parked farther away so I can enjoy a few extra steps on campus. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend for a brief minute that I'm 19 again. The logistics of this gig were perfect, too. With the age of my sons (13 and 14), working part-time was spectacular. I didn't have to miss a single sporting event this year, and I didn't feel like laundry would get the best of me. With time to run errands and take care of things at home during the day, I was able to be present with my kids and husband in the evenings and on the weekends. Sure, we're not spectacularly rich, but rediscovering balance has been delightful. However, I am in my late 30s, and I'm still not 100% sure I know what I want to be when I grow up. I'm kind of tired of teaching writing. Okay, maybe I'm not tired of teaching writing. Maybe I don't love teaching academic writing. Maybe I want to help students craft a particularly delightful personal narrative or work out their passion for creative nonfiction. I don't really care to read another proposal or evaluation essay for a few months at least. And while I love working in a Christian environment, I'm discovering more and more each day how unwelcoming various spaces are for people of color. This last semester I was particularly mindful of what our campus is like for the students of color, and because the student body and faculty are predominantly white, I heard several stories from the minority students about their disappointment in college life. They have felt unwelcome and othered. It makes me discouraged and feel utterly helpless. I want to effect change on campus, but I'm not sure where to even begin. Yesterday at church the ministry call at the end of the service was for women who felt like they had a calling on their life that wasn't being fulfilled, possibly because they had been belittled because they were women. Maybe they had been passed up for opportunities because of their gender. Maybe they just felt "less than." With a bit of discomfort, I stepped into the aisle and joined my sisters up front. I hugged the woman next to me who said, "Might as well be all women, right?" And she was right. I stood in the front of church and cried because I'm in my 30s and I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I graduated from high school thinking I could be a teacher, a nurse, or a social worker. And that wasn't because my parents belittled me or my teachers didn't feed into me. That happened because I was a product of culture and environment. I have moments where I love teaching, where I feel like I'm doing what God created me to do when I am interacting with students. But I also have this itch, you know? Like there's more. This spring I attended a House committee meeting at the Minnesota capitol, and I dreamed of being a legislator or lawyer. I want to own a bookstore and work at a greenhouse. I dream of writing a book. I'm always aching for more. And maybe that's just the More that we're all craving on this side of eternity as we yearn and ache for the Kingdom to come. Maybe it's not an ache that would be fulfilled with a change in career but more like a life-pulse that will always be here, that I must push into and through and allow it to make me become a better me. Maybe vocation isn't so much about where my paycheck comes from but more about learning how to live in this skin that I'm wearing for now. Maybe.
1 Comment
Kim
5/21/2018 02:39:47 pm
I totally get this Kim. I'm retiring in five years and I have so many things I want to do. I also want to own a bookstore/coffee/wine/class space and do writing & art journal classes and more. I want to maybe be a book editor. Publish my own books. Be a motivational speaker for teachers. Work at a non-profit. Teach future teachers maybe. Maybe not. Maybe.
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