Growing up, I wanted to be either a nurse or a truck driver. (Ok sure, strange dream. But hey, at least they were real jobs.)
My parents were my heros and if they could do it, so could I. For the longest time, that was my dream. I couldn't decide which I wanted to be! As a truck driver, my dad was always going to the places that we would only get to visit on vacation. And he got to go EVERY WEEK! I suppose I get my travel bug from him, though I think my bug bit a little bit deeper because I like BIG travel. Out of the country travel. I would sit with my dad as he did his paperwork at home. It was the coolest thing.
I forget when that dream died. I think it might have been around the time I learned about truck driver stereotypes. I hated them so much. I still do. I hated the way people looked at me as I tried to explain with pride the work my father did. How unfair is that?
My dream to be a nurse died in the ninth grade. Pre-chemistry class. I asked one of the facilitators in my science class during a particularly difficult lesson, "Would I need to know how to do this math if I want to become a nurse?" She said yes, and my heart sank. Well there goes that, I thought.
Four years of college and a Bachelors in English (something I love), guess what kind of jobs I see in all the job searches I do?
Nurses and truck drivers.
Maybe I gave up on those dreams too early...