When I was an undergraduate student I hated being asked, “Are you going to be a teacher?” It was always the first question people asked after I told them I was studying English. I was always so offended by the question: as though the only career a person could possibly go into with an English degree was teaching. At the time, I was aspiring to be a book editor. I had visions of myself at Houghton Mifflin in Boston or Random House in New York City, helping to shape books that would inspire and impact thousands of readers. I loved taking books apart, piece by piece, to uncover deeper layers of meaning; at the same time, I appreciated how all of those little pieces came together perfectly to form a complete and satisfying literary work. I did not see in myself the creative talents and skills necessary to create these masterpieces, but felt that through editing, I could play a part in the literary world that I loved and identified with.
Finally, my chance came to fulfill my dreams. Right after graduation, I applied for and was offered a paid internship at a publishing house in California. I could barely contain myself I was so excited. Just the title I was given alone was intoxicating: book acquisitions intern. In this position I would work closely with the acquisitions editor and other publication staff members for three months. However, I soon found out that what I had envisioned was not matching up to the reality. The publishing house I was working with published pet care books and only pet care books. Instead of working with influential authors like Junot Diaz and Sue Monk Kidd, I was making copies of contracts for books about “doggy divas” and how to pick pets that suit certain lifestyles. Instead of professional and classy offices, I was working in a row of cubicles. I tried to keep in mind that everyone has to start somewhere, but I was miserable. Worst of all, I knew my work was having no impact on the literary community. I was not making the contributions that I craved. When the three month internship came to a close, and I was invited to apply for a position, I tearfully declined.
Upon returning to New York I was forced into a period of reflection. I had never considered what I would do if editing did not work out. I started to consider why it was that I had wanted to become an editor in the first place: my passion for literature and my admiration of the writing process. Neither of those two aspects had changed, and I knew that I was not willing to give them up. The next option that most intrigued me was teaching. Teaching would fulfill my entire checklist; I could share and nurture my passion for books, I could still examine different layers of text to extract meaning, I could have an integral part in the writing process, and best of all, I could contribute and make a difference in the literary world.
I was still a little tentative about my decision until I was a few classes into my graduate work. Once I started planning activities and crafting lessons about the topics that excited me, I knew I had made the right decision. I truly cared about the work I was doing and felt extreme satisfaction after interacting in local classrooms. My path to teaching may have been crooked, but I feel that I have finally found where I am meant to be. While teaching is not the only career option that is available after studying English, it is the career that I have chosen and that I look forward to with pride and ambition. You never know where life’s experiences are going to lead you, but I am thankful that mine have led me here.
