I was a wistful kid, always fluctuating between what I
‘wanted to be when I grew up’ and what was happening in the here and now. One
day I wanted to be a movie star, the next a doctor or veterinarian (I still
haven’t entirely gotten over that one).
When I went to college the question still loomed over me… ‘What
do you want to be when you grow up?’ because even though I loved writing, I
never thought I could make a living at it.
Luckily I had equally wistful parents who allowed me to major in
Creative Writing at Western Michigan University- a risky venture. I knew I was never going to actually ‘use’ my
degree unless I got rich writing a novel.
I always assumed I would settle down at a newspaper and start writing human
interest stories (a quandary my protagonist struggles with in ‘Evening in the
Yellow Wood.’)
Long story short, I got my degree, had a blast and met some
great friends and professors while the rest of my friends worked on their
practical goals. No creative writing
jobs presented themselves on a silver platter and so I found work at a dog
kennel, at the Elks Lodge, at a golf course and as a waitress at Applebee’s. Somewhere in the middle of all that I stumbled
upon a job that would fulfill me for the next 13 years- I became a paraprofessional
in a special needs classroom and began to teach students.
Wait a minute… ‘Teacher’ had ever been high on my wish list.
Nevertheless, people began ‘hinting’ that I would be a great teacher. It became annoying, in fact- as though I was
being ‘pushed’ into something legitimate.
And what would become of my writing? Late nights grading papers and
chaperoning school dances left little time for the Muse to appear. Two such time-consuming jobs could never go
hand in hand… could they?
And then I quit my parapro job, went through a divorce and
began to question what direction my life was taking. I needed something substantial to get my children
through our financial hardships and the dog kennel just wasn’t cutting it.
And then an opportunity presented itself to me. And my
parents took another risky venture.
I’m now proud to say I am a certified teacher in the state
of Michigan- finishing up just in time to dive into the Epsilon class with my
fellow Pandas.
And still I wonder if a writer can ever truly divide their
heart between two professions. Are we all just ‘treading water’ until we get to
quit our day job to write full time? I
see others do it- I see my fellow Pandas and all the projects they have going
on outside of their writing and am in awe.
I am also comforted- because I know that every quirky job I
ever had has meandered its way into one of my stories. Every strange character I
couldn’t get out of my head was based on someone in real life. Places, objects- even smells- stuck in my mind
like a shoelace to Velcro and if I waited around for inspiration to strike I
might find myself staring at a blank page indefinitely.
In other words, I need to live in order to have anything to
write about, and that might include a thrilling chapter on grading papers long
into the night or the girl who’s glued against a gymnasium wall with no one to
dance with.
Stephen King did it. Robert Frost and J.K. Rowling did it, too. In fact, teaching and writing seem to go
hand in hand. We plot the stories in our head the same way we guide the lives
of the students in our charge, always hoping for a happy ending.
So be a teacher, or a doctor or a lawyer or a veterinarian. Spend some time hanging around dog kennels and
the local Elks Lodge. Take your experiences and carry them onto the page
because nothing is ever wasted. The Muse
follows the action, not the other way around.
And so I dive into the next chapter as a Middle School
teacher with the same wistful heart I had when I was young, knowing that some
of my students will make their way into the stories that have given me such joy.
Names changed… of course.
