The other week I met with an industrious, charming group of freshman who were assigned to interview a faculty member whose research aligned with their career interests. We arranged a time to meet and they sat around the table, smiling politely in my direction, pens poised. One assumed the role of the scribe, another the interviewer, the others fiddled with their notebooks. And I remembered so poignantly being them, nervously shaking hands with a professor and seeing nothing but the space between where I was and where they sat.
At one point in the interview, after we discussed my career path and some of their interests, one of the young women twirled her hair and took a deep breath. In a manner approaching ashamed, she asked me, “Is it okay….that I don’t know exactly what I want to do?” She averted her eyes, the question so fraught with fear and nuance. You could tell she believed she was somehow a failure for not knowing who she was after a mere 18 rotations around the sun. And it took everything in my being not to reach across the formica table and hug her.
I strongly feel that we put more and more pressure on young people to know who they are and what they want as soon as they cross that threshold into college. Even before that. They need to have goals and plans from the second they set foot on campus, aiming like an arrow at their predetermined Pathway to Success. They glance around at their peers, with their shiny confident smiles and roadmaps marking the path they seem so assured about, and feel less than. But, I want to assure them of one simple fact: no one knows anything.
Here’s what I know: you don’t need to know exactly what you want. Or how to get there. You don’t have to ever be 100% sure or 100% ready. Most of the best things in life come from stepping outside of your comfort zone, which is literally drenched in uncertainty. And as I stared at this baby faced freshman, I realized that no one in her life has ever told her she had room to grow. She was probably told she could do anything and be anything. The skies the limit. But I bet that message was also laced with the unintentional undercurrent that she needs to choose that anything right now and with conviction.
So, I told her what I wish someone had told me: that the best part about being 18 is not knowing. That now is the time to experiment. Take a philosophy class. Go abroad. Discover what you’re good at. And also what you’re bad at. Find ways to make your passions mix. And if they seem to be these widely disparate ideas – mix them anyway. Pursue the things you always said you wanted – but if you start it and find that, actually, the reality didn’t live up to the fantasy in your head, step back. Step away. Forge a new path you never even entertained before. It’s brave to question your certainty. To realize that the entire world lies ahead of you, with limitless possibilities. To give yourself the freedom to outgrow the pot you’ve been planted in.
When I tell my story, I must admit I always feel like a hypocrite. Because I knew what I wanted to do when I was 5 years old. I loved sharks and my passion never changed. I was that straight arrow who went from undergrad, then moved to a PhD program in New Zealand. I’ve been zipping around the world ever since – first to San Diego for a postdoc and then a glorious five and a half years in Australia before landing here, growing my own lab and nurturing my own soon-to-be scientists. If I met you in an elevator, that’s the version of the story you would get. The assured one who never looked back. The neat and tidy fairy tale of Girl Follows Her Dream.
But, we have to be less afraid of telling the in between parts. The stops and starts. The many times I didn’t feel very assured and nearly got whiplash from looking back. The offer to another University that I turned down in favor of New Zealand, despite taking on a crushing amount of student loan debt to make it happen. The many people in my life who told me not to go. The ones who worried I wouldn’t make it on my own. And the part of me that went anyway, despite being crushed under the weight of their judgement. Not because I was so certain it was right, but because I was scared of who I would become if I didn’t go.
If we had a bit more time, I would invite you to pull up a chair, while I shared the endless moves and worry and uncertainty. Of coming up against too many walls and rejection letters to count. The grants I didn’t get and the people who told me I would never be enough. Of the endless goodbyes and the shaky feeling I still get every time I set foot into an airport. Of the countless times I would wake up and wonder if this was the day science was going to give up on me. Of somehow making it through to the other side, but with a whole lot of battle scars that are cleverly hidden beneath a petticoat and a confident smile.
I wish we told the next generation more of those stories. Maybe they would realize they don’t have to know who they are. Maybe they would feel the exquisite freedom of uncertainty. Of trying something new. Of putting down roots and then replanting themselves over and over until they find the place where they will flourish. That it’s okay to stumble and mess up. That none of us got here because we were sure.
We got here specifically because we weren’t.
xoxo
Outfit Details:
Sweater: Alannah Hill (similar)
Skirt: Evellon Vintage (similar modern & vintage here, here, & here)
Handbag: Mary Frances, thrifted from eBay
Shoes: Modcloth (similar here & here)
Lip Color: Dior Rouge 634
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