It’s mid-May, and that means graduations! My socials are lit up with photos of people in caps and gowns, and, more importantly to me, at least, Smith College reunion photos.
I went to Smith, which, if you know anything about Smithies, a lot of us are, like, really into Smith. We love it, valorize it, credit it for helping us achieve our goals. If it were not a historically women’s college, we’d probably not live our lives in this chosen feverish admixture of nostalgia and self-congratulation. It’s a whole thing, and for those of you who went to state universities or less-self-obsessive private institutions of higher ed, congratulations! Going to college just for the educational aspect is a responsible lifetime choice!
Smith puts on a swank reunion every May, and every five years, the classes are invited to gather on campus for a massive weekend party, in which you can re-experience your halcyon youth by sleeping on a cheap, shitty dorm mattress in middle age (the worst part of the weekend, honestly), attending lectures and meetings, wandering around Downtown Northampton, seeing your friends around randomly (really the best part of the weekend), walk into the _____ House living room and find the same people I lived with decades prior gossiping, drinking wine, and blasting The Spice Girls, and eating dining hall food, which, at a classy joint like Smith, is pretty good.
But there was one moment where I came to see that Smith, in some ways, some obvious, well-meaning ways, led me down some paths that weren’t right for me. It was when I was telling someone about how much I enjoy working in a bookstore and I said I wished someone had told me twenty years ago that this is what I should do with my life. Why didn’t I do this from the beginning? I realized that no professor or career counselor at Smith was going to advise me to work in a bookstore. Because who goes to Smith to work a retail job that pays barely above minimum wage? That is not one of the careers that a school like Smith advises its students to enter. No one was going to award me a Smith College Medal for that!
I failed at various careers for two decades, not realizing that I would thrive behind the counter at a bookstore, being cheery and recommending books and even picking up gooey, gross stuff off the floor that customers track in on their shoes because that’s part of the job. I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought it was because I only wanted to be a writer, but that actually isn’t true—I like being around people and talking and connecting, and being a full-time writer has never been my goal, not only because only a tiny fraction of writers make enough to live off their writing, but because I like having a job. I’m a extrovert, so sitting alone at a desk all day doesn’t work for me. When I graduated with my MFA, I thought I could (and should) teach writing at the college level, but right after I left Ann Arbor, something happened to me that scrambled my brains and unfortunately I blew my shot at an academic career.
But I don’t even want to do that anymore because I’d have to quit the bookstore.
They used to say at Smith that when they gave out the Smith Medal, which is an award for outstanding alumni/ae, that in that moment, every Smithie would imagine themselves receiving that award and think about what they would do to win one. I certainly did. But then my twenty-fifth reunion year came and went (years, they come and go, am I right?) and I sort of shrugged to myself and said, “Okay, self. No Smith Medal. You work in a bookstore. And it makes you happy.” Trying to fit someone else’s idea of success only leads to misery, and there’s no need to be miserable.
But when I was younger, I really did internalize the idea that anything less than a smashing success is a failure, and that in some ways, I have failed in my professional life. Which is fine. Smith isn’t going to wave me in front of the kiddos as an example anytime soon, but I’m here if any young people want to talk about bookselling and writing vocations.
I’ve had plenty of positive stuff happen, too. Life is long and strange, and everyone has an interesting story, highs and lows, dreams come to fruition and a few dashed on the rocks like everyone else. I do wish I had made a full lifelong career out of bookstores, though. Being a young bookseller would have been awesome. Better late than never, though.
100% to all of this. I often feel like I am not living up to the potential of my degree and connections. Then I remember that comparison is the thief of much joy.
It's funny...I feel like I'm doing ALL THE THINGS and it's still not enough because I'm not...Condoleezza Rice. Provost of Stanford, former Secretary of State, concert pianist, and fluent in Russian.