Different Perspectives: A senior and a freshman contemplate the future
From 'Ninja Turtle' pajamas to a suit and tie, one JMU senior hates the question 'what are you doing after you graduate?'
By Evan Allgood, contributing writer
Posted on April 27, 2006

Do you smell that?

That’s the smell of 3,000 bodies loaded with potential, illogically donned in black, filing into the football stadium to grab hold of a milestone. That’s the smell of freshly cut grass mingled with human sweat and the occasional case of morning breath.

That other smell?

That’s fear.

Graduation is so close you can practically feel the program unfolding in your fingers, all glossy and smooth and informative. “There it is in black and white,” you’ll say, pointing to your name. “I’m officially terrified.”

Of course, if you’re anything like me, you’ve been terrified for months — you just won’t receive the certificate of authenticity until May 6.

Also, if you’re anything like me, your mom has been sending you daily job postings off Craigslist — things you’d be great at! — for the past year-and -a-half. Likewise, your dad and your professor and every other respected elder in your life has been beating you senseless with the idea of graduate school; not just graduate school, but graduate school immediately. The way they talk, you’d think the opportunity was going to sprout limbs, flip you the bird and run away. Choose your destiny — it’s this fall or never! (I’m leaning toward never.)

Like me or not, I’m sure you’ve heard The Question. You know the one. You’ve heard it a hundred times this semester and you’ve grown to loathe it. You’ve even gotten to the point where you can see it coming, much the way Spider-Man’s spidey sense alerts him of imminent danger.

Unlike Spider-Man, though, you can’t pummel your enemies or cover their eyes with webbing, for your enemies are family friends, and you lack superpowers.

“What are you doing after you graduate?” they ask, nonchalantly tightening the vice on either side of your head. You appear to be smiling in response, but really, it’s more of a toothy grimace.

How can people ask such a loaded question with so much levity? They’re essentially asking what you’re going to do with your life, but they ask it in the same tone as if they were wondering what’s up this weekend. “Oh, not much, just grappling with financial independence. Laying the groundwork for my future, trying to build a life. You?”

Your hands might defy your brain’s orders to throttle these inquirers, but the pressure is getting to you, for sure. It’s just revealing itself slowly and with subtlety. Last week, for instance, I conditioned before I shampooed. A few days ago, I put two top buns on one chicken patty and two bottoms on the other. I was baffled.

If only senility was socially acceptable at twenty-one. “Look at that poor man wandering around in his cap and gown,” they’d say, shaking their heads. “He looks so lost!”

The other day one of my professors comically rephrased The Question in the form of, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” It was a nice gesture, and funny, but it would’ve been a lot funnier if I hadn’t been wearing a Ninja Turtles backpack at the time.

And all semester.

That made me realize, though, part of the reason graduation is so scary. We heard that question – What do you want to be when you grow up? – with such frequency during our childhoods that it virtually lost all meaning. Most of us just said the first absurd thing that popped into our heads: “Astronaut!” or “Princess!” or “Toy-maker!” (That last one was mine.) We never considered what sort of qualifications an astronaut or princess might need to make it in his or her field. Fields were things we ran through — not things we trained for, entered and ascended.

Now when people ask us what we want to be when we grow up, they’re not saying the “when you grow up” part. They’re only asking us what we want to be, and that scares the shit out of us.

We’re all grown up, or something close to it, and I’m not sure any of us expected that it would happen this fast. It’s fitting that our senior movie at Grafton is Swingers, if only for the late-night diner scene near the end. I feel like Jon Favreau in that scene: It’s four o’clock in the morning, some drunk guy is telling me I’m all growns up, and I’m about to get kicked out of a major establishment.

Nonetheless, some of us are ready for it. Some of us have jobs lined up, numbers jotted down, a room to rent and a broom to hop. Others, myself included, have a three-step plan that’s as enticing as it is vague: Save up money, move someplace new and see what happens.

“Baby steps” isn’t the right phrase, but it’s the first phrase that comes to mind.

I’m not trying to be some champion of indecision, to stage some rallying cry around fear and uncertainty. All I’m trying to say is that fear and uncertainty – at this stage in our lives – are well-founded, normal and, for lack of a better word, okay.

If you’ve made it this far, that means you’re armed with an eighth grade reading level (at least!) and a sense of humor. Throw in a college degree and let’s face it – you’re probably going to be rich.

Okay, you might not be rich, but you are going to be fine. I mean it. I’ve got a good feeling about you, reader.

If you find yourself freaking out on May 6, here’s what you do: find a reflection, realize how ridiculous you look and laugh. Then launch that silly hat into the sky with the zealous abandon of someone who realizes that right now, at this very moment, the future is more wide-open than it’s ever been before and may ever be again.