I quit my job last Tuesday.
(I was going to quit the Friday before, but it was the first day the whole semester my boss wasn’t there. I hope that wasn’t God trying to tell me something. Because I quit anyway.)
It was a lot more difficult than I had imagined.
You see that I was going to quit Friday but didn’t until Tuesday.
Monday came and went without quitting too.
I was nervous. Because I’ve never quit a job before. And it was a good job.
But I got offered a new job.
One that fit my particular gifts and abilities at the moment.
One that I just didn’t want to turn down.
A job that will let me help people and be involved in a writing community.
A job that I’ll probably hate some days because of the way it challenges me.
A job that will only last a semester.
And I think that’s why I almost didn’t quit my first job.
Because I had only been there less than two semesters.
And I don’t want to seem flaky. Or ungrateful.
But it wasn’t exactly me.
And in this new job, I’ll be working with words. Tutoring in the Writing Center.
And it will challenge, yes definitely.
Sitting in the back of the library helping people to write all day.
Some people who hate to write. And some who are better than I am.
And today I turned in a “Philosophy of Tutoring”.
A fancy-schmanzy paper that basically says “I think writing is important“.
A project done for the class that allowed me this opportunity.
And in that Philosophy, I said that
“In our sessions, we could be sitting next to the next Hemingway, encouraging the next Eudora Welty, spurring on the creative spirit of a potential Dr. Seuss.”
And I believe it. Because so many people don’t write because they don’t know how. So many hate it because it brings out their own insufficiencies.
But just as many write because someone has taught them. Because someone has understood that it’s hard, but it’s good.
And I’m excited about the challenge.
Because some people are in college because “that’s what they’re supposed to do”. And some only take writing classes because it’s part of the core. And some hate those writing classes like they’re the chicken pox. And some only come to the Writing Center because it’s a requirement of their sports team.
And that’s okay. Perfectly a-okay.
But I hope, in my dreamy twenty-one year-old way, that I really am even just a small part of someone’s rhetorical story.
That someone will look back years from now and say,
“The Writing Center helped me. She helped me. She encouraged me to be more than I thought I was, but all that I was capable of.”
And I know that’s a lofty dream that’ll get lost in a full semester of my own papers and projects (and an upcoming graduation!).
But I’m here for one more semester. So let’s make it count.
If you need me, I’ll be in the Writing Center.
(Well, at least come January. The next few weeks are filled with Hannah’s graduation, a trip to Belize!, Christmas!!, family and friends!)