One of the perks of a private prep school is that the on-staff academic counselors do a pretty good job of plotting clear paths to college for their students. As antithetical as it may be to most incoming freshmen, the counselors start early on asking their young charges to think long-term.
So Julia’s advisor may have missed a key point in their recent meeting. Julia was thinking long-term; just because that long-term vista didn’t neatly align with the square peg dictates of the woman’s role doesn’t mean Julia doesn’t have a plan. On the contrary, she does.
My guess is that those incoming meetings generally last a good 20 to 30 minutes. Jules was outta there in five.
So what career do you hope to pursue someday? What are you plans?
I’m going to be a supermodel.
Fly-on-the-wall –can’t you just picture the juxtaposition? The slightly cynical stare of a parochial pedagogue, sans even a trace of makeup, being full-frontally faced with the wide-eyed certainty of youth.
From behind her desk, perhaps there was a knowing nod, a hidden eye roll, a stifled chuckle.
Well, what about your Plan B? In case that supermodel thing doesn’t work out for you?
I don’t need a Plan B.
And the thing is –Julia doesn’t.
In the wake of Steve Job’s passing, there’s been a small flood of his life’s philosophy via writings and speeches he gave. When he rejoined the company he founded, he set in motion the Think Different campaign with a letter to the public reminding the masses, among other things, that “the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
Perhaps also then it is the people with no Plan B who possess the perseverance to bring their first choice lives to fruition.
Jump out into the great unknown without a safety net and you damn well better make sure your first choice plan works.
Michael doesn’t have a Plan B, either.
Which would be fine but for the probability that he may not have a Plan A.
That’s not to say he doesn’t have a vision or even a goal. I just haven’t seen a whole lot of evidence that he has an actual plan on how to reach it.
I could be wrong here. Communication is sparse.
In a trickle of words last year, he informed me that just because he wasn’t going about things in a way with which I might be familiar didn’t mean that he wouldn’t get to where he wanted to be.
I can’t argue with that. Partly because, truth is, I don’t really know the path he should take.
I only know the level of frustration I feel when I watch him close doors which I think are better left open.
And he looks at me as if I haven’t a clue; as if I don’t want him to pursue a dream.
But I do.
And that’s why I’d like him to have a plan.
Not a Plan B, but a single, missile-focused Plan A.
The kind he can pursue, without a parachute, to the sacrifice of most everything else. Because it’s his passion, his dream, his calling.
I’m all for not having a Plan B.
I’d just feel a whole lot better if there were at least a Plan A.