When I Grow Up...

I want to be... It's the all-important question - you are asked it from the time you are four to the time you are fourty-four, and after that. What do you want to be when you grow up? What are you plans for your future? What are your goals? What are you working toward? What do you want out of life? You need to take control of your future. You need to prepare. You need to take your life into your own hands. I remember the first time I was asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. We lived in North Dakota at the time. I attended the local middle school which was about four miles down the narrow, gravel road. There were 25 other children attending the school. There are less, now. I was probably in first grade at the time. I remember the teacher, Miss Briss, was calling us up to her desk one at a time. She was filling in some sort of form, which would be turned into a project to make the parents smile and sigh. It must have been a sunny day, because her desk was in front of a window and I remember how bright the sun was shining in. I blinked. So she smiled at me and asked, "Now Dana, what would you like to be when you grow up?" I didn't know. After carefull consideration, I announced I would like to be a fairy. Maybe a tooth fairy, maybe not. I wasn't picky. She smiled and nodded, and bent her head to write it down. Then she looked up at me again. I still remember the look of incredulity on her face. I remember feeling a little taken aback - she had asked me what I wanted to be hadn't she? not what I thought I could actually be. I knew faeries weren't real. She asked if there was anything else I would like to be. "Well..." no, I thought. But I remember feeling vaguely sorry for her, because she had outgrown the possibility of magic. And the next best thing to magic, I realized, was money. So I told her I would like to be the person at the store you took your money. Then, I said, I would get very rich. She looked at me, still slightly exasperated, which I could not understand. She wrote down salesclerk. The next memory I have of that question I was in the 3rd or 4th grade. I was living in Sicily, and was being homeschooled. I had now experienced the world. I knew now that cashiers didn't keep the money they took, and that fairies were dorky. I said I would like to be an artist. I dreamed of Da Vinci, and Michelangelo. By the time I had reached middleschool, we had moved to Virginia Beach. I started attending school again, and I was something of a cynic. By that time I knew that growing up was something to be avoided at all cost. But I knew I would have to be something, and I was by turns a busdriver, a veterinarian, a photographer, and a librarian. It was not until highschool that the question really started to annoy me. I didn't know where I was going to be next year - how was I supposed to know what I was going to do in five years? or ten? I turned to Ecclesiastes, and told everyone I was leaving it in God's hands, as mine were full at the moment. My senior year of highschool was the first time I took the question under serious consideration. It was the first time I really prayed about it. By the grace of God I chose a school. I chose some classes. I got a job. I still haven't the faintest clue what I want to be when I grow up. I'm ashamed to say I don't really care. I am leaving it in God's hands, as mine are full at the moment.