The Futurist

Had someone told me on my graduation day that in just a scant year and change I would return to full-time studies, I might have simply laughed it off, considering it foolish speculation.

I was, after all, resigned to moving onward and upward, my years at Nipissing University more than adequately preparing me for the work world. And for a time, the idea of settling into a career was not only feasible, but comfortable. True to form, I worked for the Canadian Red Cross for a year as a First Aid Coordinator while also maintaining ties to several charitable and campus-oriented organizations. I remained an active member of the university community, spent time with friends and graduates alike and, best of all, was paid for my time.

Unfortunately, even the best laid plans are wont to fail for one reason or another, sometimes because of systemic flaws or external functions, and sometimes because the laid for us never fits just right. After a few months of drudgery, the job became a series of actions done by rote – I was no longer challenged and there was little (if any) room for growth or creativity. At the same time, my friends were engaged at the cerebral and social levels, and though I was happy for their exploits, I was also jealous. I felt fraudulent, as though the expectations put upon me as a graduate – to be a success, and happy – were tangible items I had not the slightest clue of how to attain. Worse, my career was short-lived: I was under contract for the Canadian Red Cross, not a full-time employee and so when I met my one-year mark, I packed my belongings and slogged home. It was just as well though, I suppose; the thrill of First Aid sales and marketing had long lost its spark and it was now clear that training coordination was not a future I wanted.

Home life was, for a week, a welcome change. I would rise at my leisure, read the newspaper, shower for what seemed like an hour and find the day open to my whims. I would often go for walks, finding myself on Main Street peering through glass windows while sipping coffee. Suddenly – and for the first time in years – I had all the time in the world. It’s a dangerous feeling to know structure-less life, though. I became bored and began to apply for jobs of all variations – anything I thought would be suited to my experience and education – I ran the gamut from marketing internships to community organization. That too became an exercise in tedium when application after application was unanswered and even successful interviews profited little. I was in a rut.

The educational system in Ontario, for me and for many others, is based on merit and standardized testing. For my career at Nipissing University, I fared well because of my innovation and intelligence; although I will readily admit that I often had to catch up to others with assignment submissions, I graduated with enough standing to satisfy those around me. Of course, I naturally assumed my life as an alumnus would mean jumping into a white picket fence scenario, complete with a dog, a few kids and a two-car garage. I do not have any of those things. What I do have, though, is experience and the piece of mind to know I am not alone.