I work here on campus with some amazing people. My professors are insights into future possibilities, my strengths and weaknesses as a student and human being, but alsoare truly dedicated people to their work, their projects, and their students.
As I was finishing up my spreadsheets this afternoon, I spent some time unwinding chatting with two of my favorite professors on campus while scratching the Civil War mascot-- Penny. She rolled onto her back as I scratched her belly, while still putting my two sense into the conversation. I froze, however, when the topic turned towards a student's decision in graduate school. All I heard was that she had to take loans to go, and I immediately began asking questions.
What type of loans? Will they tack onto my undergraduate loans? How do I pay for it? How WILL I pay for it?
I admitted that I didn't know a single thing about my future schooling, but one of my professors turned to me and said,
"Yeah Emma, I think we need to sit down and talk about some future programs for you. I know it's a bit early, but I think it would be a good idea."
I immediately felt my stomach drop, and all of my plans for my future disappear in a panic. My other professor looked at me as he began walking towards his office, asking me what exactly do I want to do with my life.
How in the world to you answer this question?!
I could have laid out my childhood dreams. I could have told him what I came to school with. I could have made something up, but I didn't. I basically told him the truth-- A head historian with the National Park Service. I did leave out a crucial piece of information on which park I want to work at, since the crazy "Yeah, right. Sure." look I always get keeps me from admitted to it. He stopped, blinked a few times, and sighed. I knew that was the reaction I was going to get, so I quickly tried to recover.
"I know, it's a sinking boat, but I really want to do it..."
They both agreed. My career path is a sinking boat. With the Federal government budget, the NPS has had their funding cut tremendously, so many parks cannot hire new employees, and have cut positions. I know this going into it, but I have this secret hope that if I'm good enough and passionate enough, I might be able to work there.
As soon as I let those words come out of my mouth, everyone immediately began rewriting my future for me. I could be a novelist of vampire love stories while volunteering at a National Park if all I want to do is talk to people about history. I could work at another historic site, NOT in the NPS or a Civil War site, while writing novels. I could take a year off before I go into a Masters program if I was only going into it to deffer my current loans. I could, I could, I could...
But I don't want to. I have a dream I want to fulfill. But walking out of work this evening, I immediately felt defeated. What I want doesn't seem to be possible, so I quickly dialed the number of my boyfriend, and asked if we could go to the battlefield. I always have spurts where I feel as though I need to go out there, enjoy the silence to clear my head. He agreed, and as we walked to his car, I told him everything. I choked up as I admitted my fear of being left behind in our future. "You want to go to your Masters, onto your Doctorate, and begin teaching. And what am I going to do? Be trapped paying for loans I can't afford?!"
He didn't say much as he just let me go, listening to my deepest fears come pouring out of my mouth. He started the car, and we began to drive as the sun began to set over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Mist began to flow over the rolling hills surrounding us as he took me a different way than we normally go. We usually go to Little Round Top, but this time, he took me to the High Water Mark. It's also known as The Angle, or better known as Pickett's Charge.
It is a field of great bloodshed and fighting on July 3rd, 1863. Robert E. Lee, commanding officer of the Army of Northern Virginia sent his boys into a suicidal frontal assault on the Union center. (Basically, he ran his men into the middle of the line of the enemy.)
We walked up to the wall, not saying anything. The sun shot orange across the sky, mixing with the baby blue and purple clouds. I mumbled some random information about my day, which he didn't really respond, so I asked him if something was wrong. He looked at me, his bright blue eyes compassionate, yet stern, and began to speak.
"You know, these men who crossed this field-- they were scared, too. They didn't know what was going to happen the next day. They could either charge across this field, or sit in camp and be bored outta their minds. They didn't know if they were going to live or die on this field, yet they still kept going. Like us, they were scared of their future. They were scared of the unknown. But like them, we must keep going. We have no idea what our lives hold, but we just have to keep going to find out."
I caught tears in my eyes, knowing he was right. I swished my feet into the soppy ground, purposely getting mud from hallowed on my feet as I leaned against his shoulder.
"This is my home. This is where I want to work, so, so bad."
"Then you will." Bobby said firmly. "You will get here someday."
I looked up at him with a smile, leaning up to kiss him softly.
"I love you so much," I whispered, and he replied that he loved me too. I knew he was going to support me, just as much as I was going to support him. We are each others rocks, to form our base for our future together.
On the way back to school, the song "Hall of Fame" by The Script came on his iPod, and I realized that this song is what I want to be. I want to be in the Civil War Hall of Fame. I want to speak to people, share this passion. I want to work at my home, the Gettysburg National Military Park. I am going to speak to hundreds to people. I'm going to get there, through hell or high water.
The world is going to know my name.
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