by Carissa Hawronsky
I fly often, but it has never been comfortable. We were fourth in line for take-off, and the woman sitting behind me kept saying the word "trooper." She has trouble sleeping when she's not at home, as she ever so politely allowed me to hear over the roaring engines. The noise could not cover the rest of her conversation about her son, so I heard every word from how he is graduating this May with a Bachelor of Arts in history to how he doesn't know what he is going to do yet. He fondly calls graduation "the cliff," which worries his mother more than a little.
But I understand his point of view. College graduation is the end of everything I know and the beginning of nothing I know. I, too, graduate from college this May, along with tens of thousands of other traditional students who are in their early twenties and have no idea what to do after picking up their diploma.
A few weeks ago I visited an Adventist academy to recruit for my college. I stood at the front of a classroom full of seniors, answering questions about college life. When a girl asked me if it was okay to not know what she wanted to major in yet, I shared the statistic of the average student changing their major four times. A boy raised his hand.
"How many times have you changed your major?" he asked. "Um." This was not good. I have never changed my major. Apparently, I am not average.
I have wanted to be an English teacher since fourth grade, when I would assign grammar homework to my dolls, then help them apply the "I before E except after C" rule when they left their papers blank. "English Lit Professor" is written in my high school yearbook beside my senior picture as my dream profession. I have never even thought about changing my major.
So, why do I feel that when I march down the aisle with my cap and gown, I will be marching off a cliff? Because for the past 16 years there has been no question as to what I would do next year: I would go to school. But suddenly, I have a choice. And the possibilities are without end.
The first possibility I considered was graduate school. This makes the most sense. It's more school, which, after so many years, I'm getting pretty good at. But grad school is not the easiest path. The application process is arduous. I had to take an intimidating test that required me to look at a computer screen for four hours. A test that gave me a word I had never seen in my life and asked me to pick its synonym from a list of five other words I had never seen in my life.
But the worst part of applying to grad school is the waiting. After I wrote my personal goal statement, perfected my resume, requested my transcripts to be sent, and distributed my recommendation forms, I still had to wait for the universities' decision.
And wait. And wait.
After four months of silence, even though I knew not to expect a decision before April, I started to seriously consider other options.
For example, missionary work. I was a student missionary in Poland and would love to do that again somewhere. Our denomination provides many venues to choose from. Or I could join the Peace Corps, an honorable organization. I could learn Spanish, teach English, and at the same time, cancel 30 percent of my student loans.
Other options present themselves, too. I could get a real job. I wish getting a real job was as easy as saying the words "I could get a real job." But it isn't, and I'm quite sure you don't have to be a recent college graduate to know that.
All of these options involve waiting. I have to wait to hear from grad schools. I have to wait through the long application process for missionary work. I have to wait to hear from the companies I've sent resumes to. I have to wait on other people's decisions before I determine my future.
But maybe that's where I have it all wrong. Proverbs 16:9 says, "A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps" (NKJ). Maybe I'm focusing too much on what I don't know and not enough on what God does know. I can plan all I want for the large abyss of unknown-after-graduation, but God is already there. He's been there all the time.
My entire senior year I have been living with questions about next year. Why have I been looking everywhere I can for answers, when I know that Jesus is the Answer? I don't know where I am going to be this summer or next year. But I know God does. And that's good enough for me.
Carissa Hawronsky is a student at Union College, Lincoln, Nebraska.Since writing this article, Carissa was offered a teaching assistantship at the University of North Dakota, where she will pursue her master's degree in English.