On DoubtIn eighth grade, my math class had a financial unit that lasted for a few weeks. One of the assignments we received was all about learning to budget and better understand income and expenses. Pick your dream job, research its annual salary and benefits, then create a spreadsheet with the data you found breaking down costs and coverages for your intended lifestyle. At the end of the unit, we would present our spreadsheets and discuss the research with the class. When the project was announced, several people at my cluster of desks excitedly began listing out jobs to one another, some that their parents did, some they admired, some that made the most money. Doctors, lawyers, stock brokers, anesthesiologists, (I didn’t know what the two were, but they sounded too fancy and important to question). Personally, I didn’t have to give it more than a moment of thought. I wanted to be a cartoonist when I grew up, and though I didn’t totally know what that entailed, the comics and characters that filled every page of my school notebooks assured me I was on the right track. As part of the assignment, you had to present your preliminary research to the teacher, including median salary and a short statement defending the job you had chosen, which would then be signed off for the remainder of the unit. After a bit of digging, I found the average income for a cartoonist, jotted down a few other notes, and wrote a brief paragraph about how much joy both stories and illustration gave me. How much I looked up to artists like Charles Schulz and Bill Watterson, and that someday I wanted to be releasing comics regularly for people to laugh at and connect with. I distinctly remember handing her the paper with my information on it during our one on one session, in part because the worksheet was an unusual shade of light pink, but also because of my teachers face as she read the proposal. After a moments pause, she expressed that the number I had written in the median salary was much lower than most of the other students she had already seen. Not a number that would reflect a comfortable budget, and that I may struggle with the assignment if I didn’t choose another prospective career. She also informed me that my defense for picking the job should reflect something financial, not an explanation rooted in personal attachment (clearly numbers have never been top of mind). My teacher gave me an opportunity to list any other job that interested me. Despite rummaging through the mental filing cabinet of careers my table-mates had provided, nothing sounded remotely close to enjoyable. The only thing I got out was, “maybe an author?” A job I held to same standard as cartoonist or artist personally. My teacher looked at me with what I can only describe as a combination of discontent, confusion, sympathy and concern. She told me to forget the dream job aspect of the assignment for a moment and pick the first thing that came to my mind that might make the budgeting assignment easier. Whether it was sadness or frustration, I can’t entirely remember, but I simply said in reply, “I don’t know what else I would do.” “Well, if this is something you choose,” she said, pointing at the word cartoonist on my salmon colored worksheet, “you may not just be struggling for the remainder of the assignment.” I will never forget those words, and the strange mix of relief and guilt I had walking out of the room. My proposal was signed for the remainder of the unit, and I was extremely aware of the judgment for my decision because to it. A few weeks later, we were presenting in class, and sandwiched between several kids who were all going to make well over six figures a year, I spoke about the budget of an aspiring cartoonist. A few of the future doctors smirked when I discussed the annual income, some of the other kids seemed interested in the career itself, and my teacher leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed throughout the entire presentation. Although I had dealt with judgement regarding my artwork before, whether it be about it’s content, it’s skill, it’s implication of my masculinity (according to bullies)…this was the first time I felt a deep sense of shame in my aspirations from a financial and career driven perspective. I can look at the interaction with my teacher in a very objective way. She was attempting to steer me in a positive direction, as it would be much easier to do the assignment with bigger numbers. Maybe she was trying to save me from some embarrassment while presenting, didn’t see the career as viable, or she simply had a bad experience with cartoons in the past. No matter the reason, the underlying context of the conversation was difficult to digest at the time, and some of the things she said to me are still deeply engrained in my mind. I could have made my life easier, simply said another job for the sake of the project, but sixteen years later, I’m incredibly proud of my decision to be stubborn that day. I’ve found that passion is something that hinges on survival. Something that will constantly be assessed, judged, questioned, defended, attacked by forces both inside and out. My eighth grade math teacher certainly wasn’t the only one to point out difficulties that may lie ahead, and I understand that many of the things that are said in these cases ultimately come from a positive place…though things have a way of getting miscommunicated. Positive intentions can be laced with fear, control, judgement, and lack of understanding. Doubt in one’s direction isn’t inherently a bad thing, but forcing it on someone else without their permission seeks to rob them of confidence and meaning which are often in short supply. If you ever find yourself attempting to steer someone else’s ship due to personal interest or experience, it may be time to recognize the we would be much better suited tying the knots, and raising the sails, rather than at the helm. I feel like most of us have faced questions in our pursuits, be them in our career, our relationships, our daily lives. One’s we probably still think about and ask ourselves from time to time when we are at our lowest…or maybe at our highest. And though small things, like an interaction with your teacher nearly twenty years ago, can ultimately have a big impact, we can understand that doubt and judgment exists just as everything else does. On its own. How it is used and perceived is what matters, and whether you deal with it on a daily basis, or just from time to time, know that it is driven by human mechanisms. We have the power to sift through meaning and deeply understand where doubt comes from. Trust yourself to know what is genuine, what doesn’t serve you, and what is driven by the experience or insecurity of others. Be kind to yourself, the passions you pursue, and those around you. We are all dealing with bullies on the bus, teachers who don’t understand, and mentors who are maybe meant for someone else.
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