In Junior High, I was expected to have a more realistic answer than “girl stunt rider”. The old saying “you can be anything you want to be” is a lie. So, I changed my story to “Teacher in the Special Education program” and I stuck with that for a while… Until I was about 15 working in the family restaurant when I was serving a group of adults with developmental disabilities. The reality of what I took for granted everyday hit me like a brick wall and I had to walk away because the tears would not stop. Nope.

I tried all the classes they offered as I headed into High School to try and answer the dreaded question. Sewing Class – My skirt, which was supposed to fit me, barely fit a Barbie doll. Final grade? A solid D and I think all 68 points came from “participation”.

Foods class – I set the oven on fire when I failed to pay attention to directions and put a rising yeast stollen in the oven and realized too late that the dough was supposed to make a stollen, 6 rolls, and a loaf of bread. Final grade? A solid D with a note from the teacher (who happened to have had my dad in Foods Class many years prior) that read “It’s hard to believe you come from a family with such natural talent.” I’m 100 % sure I only passed because Mrs. Collins adored my father.

Child Care – A class where we were actually responsible for the care of pre-school aged children. After the first couple weeks, the little one I had been spending time with was only saying “caca”, the Spanish word for poop. But he wasn’t Spanish. Nor was his family. I scraped a C out of that class.

Journalism – The teacher called me a “menace to the entire profession”. Ouch.
Physical Education – No. A hard no. Changing clothes messed up your hair and makeup. No one wants to sweat in 2^nd hour. Just no. Dodgeball is not for me. Is it possible to fail PE? Yes.

College went better and led me to a 30-year career in a profession I loved – until I didn’t love it anymore.
Then I had to decide again; “What do you want to be when you grow up?” This time around, my answer was clearer and more definitive.
When I grow up, I want to be happy.
I want to be an inspiration.
I want to be a leader.
I want to be appreciated.
I want to be positive.
I want to be trustworthy and reliable.
I want to be fun.
I want to be a helper.
I want to be dedicated and passionate.
I want to be a bright light on someone’s dark, cloudy day.
I want to be the person that is thankful for all the good things in my own span of control.
I want to be the one that encourages those who can cook and sew and celebrates all the things others are good at that I am not.
I want to be the one that finds a use for the raised crack in the sidewalks – they make for great wheelies!
 
Next year, next month, next week I might have a whole new list of what I want to be. But there’s one thing that I know won’t be on that list:

Grown up – if it means you’re done trying to figure it all out!