How did we get here?

How did we get here? How the hell? Pan left, close on the steeple of the church... how did I get here? How the hell? --RENT

I remember it like it was yesterday... except I couldn't tell you what day it actually was. But I remember where I was standing. I was working at a pre-school at the time, in the three-year-olds classroom. I was standing at the point where carpet meets tile, also known as the NO CRUMBS SHALL PASS barrier. I was facing the sink. I don't recall what small encounter with a child brought the thought to mind, but I remember thinking, "I wish I were a child psychologist." And then I thought, "why don't I do that?"

Let me back up. It is my blog, after all.

My Bachelor's Degree is in Creative Writing with a minor in Women's Studies. Do you know what one does with such a degree? I don't either. I was under the mistaken impression that getting the degree in hand was the important part, and the specialization would come later. After college, I spent two months unemployed and living in the crappiest apartment in the most wonderful city before getting a job at a call center. After another two months, well, let's see. Back to unemployed and living with my mom. Also, my dad died around that time.

Three more months. Moved to Kville. Waitressing-- bad idea on my part. People who like people should not work where you have to take orders from hungry people, and vegetarians should not work where you have to recommend food that you would never eat.

Finally, pre-school, and that's where the story really began. I loved those three-year-olds. There are no words for how much I loved them. But there was one thing I hated, and that was lesson plans. Yes, you do have to create lesson plans for three-year-olds, and you have to jump through more hoops than Barnum and Bailey's poodles ever dreamed of. Let me tell you, it is a pain in the butt.

I worked there for a grand total of fifteen months. For at least the first twelve, I said to myself, over and over, "I love working with kids but I hate teaching. I hate lesson plans. What can I do? What can I do?"

And then it hit me, that day on the NO CRUMBS SHALL PASS barrier, near the art shelf.

Except that the story doesn't end there. Do a google search for Child Psychology programs sometime. You'll end up where I did: "But I don't want to work in the school system!" "But I don't want to do research!" "But I don't want statistics to rule my life!" and most of all, "I don't want to move to Minnesota! It's cold there!"

So the alternative routes were explored. Community college classes were taken. Mentors were consulted. Mentors were created because who has mentors for this type of thing? Not Creative Writing majors. Finally, I applied to grad school... in Child and Family Studies.

I didn't get in. The GRE was not friendly.

A year went by. I got married. I thought I would apply to grad school again for 09-10. I didn't. Did you know it's overwhelming to get married?

Not to mention, this was three jobs removed from the first preschool. Eventually, after a complete and total meltdown, I applied to two Tennessee schools for a M.S.S.W. program.

And now I sit before you, working on a paper about child welfare. Kind of brings you full circle, doesn't it?

No, it doesn't. Not unless circles spiral around on themselves and veer off in different directions. But it does bring you to what full circle might look like if I tried to draw it on an Etch-a-Sketch.