As a student of the reputable Illinois State University, a school known for its haunted library, strong police presence, and deep roots in education, it makes perfect sense that I should attend the first public university of Illinois with no intentions whatsoever of becoming an educator. Now, there are still many students at Illinois State University who do not aspire to teach the future generation of our world, but as an English major who is attending a teaching school, it makes sense for most people to assume I plan on teaching “The Catcher in the Rye” to ungrateful teenagers later in life. I do not blame those who assume I am going into education. They’re not wrong to assume that I am not actually planning on wasting all my time and money on a major that has consistently proven to lead to poverty and debt.
The truth is that I do not understand education majors. I suppose there is something admirable about having passion for being the object of resentment to so many future little ones. I, for one, have never been keen to the idea of spending my entire memorable existence dragging myself through school work, only to remain in an educating facility until the end of my better days. I may be on the road to unemployment but I am certainly not on the road to more school. I am at the point of my educational career where I have reached a certain state of what I like to call “blissful denial.” I have thoroughly convinced myself that with a bachelor's degree in English Studies I am on my way to owning a half-a-million-dollar home in Southern California, fully equipped with all the necessities, like a heated pool, marble driveway, and the encompassing matte black Lamborghini. It is better for me to believe that my future in writing will lead to my becoming flushed with cash than to accept my fate just now.
I am also eager to face the impending interrogation and criticism from my family members at this years’ thanksgiving dinner. The thought of being lectured about all the writers in America who are without a job while sitting in the shadow of my Summa Cum Laude Bradley graduate of a sister, who is on her way to start a fulfilling career as an Occupational Therapist and make the family proud, just tickles me with joy. Although I’m sure to be just as underpaid as an elementary art teacher in Illinois, at least I can rest easy knowing that all the years I spent being bullied in elementary school and dress-coded in high school have finally lead to pursuing my dream of bringing joy to people through the underappreciated art of literature.
