All Grow'd Up

Certainly the most consistent theme to run throughout postings last week involved “transitions” and the anxiety they produce. To some extent, everyone shared Regan’s sense that they felt as though they were 16 and learning to drive again.
This is a difficult time. There are the old people like me, who think back occasionally and wish that they had the chance to “do it over again.” That is, until we hear from people like you who are going through it for the first time, and then typically we breathe sighs of relief that we’re free of those decisions.
You all made some excellent points as you reflected on your current predicament in the light of what we have been reading in class. People knew they were not “invisible” in the same way as our narrator—yet you managed to see some interesting parallels. Women especially found a kind of kinship with the narrator. Many of you have been reminded time and again of your “place” relative to the world you’re about to enter: one way or another, you have discovered a male structure “out there,” whether it’s the glass ceiling of corporate culture or the male dominance in your religious tradition(s). When my wife became pregnant with our son, she was moved from the administrative “fast track” at Sears’ headquarters in Chicago and found herself and her career “on hold” until the company could determine whether she would continue to be a good investment after she gave birth. I suppose that, from their perspective, she wasn’t, since she left for maternity leave and never went back.
Keep in mind that you can imagine being invisible “out there” in part because certain experiences at Loras have left you feeling that way as well. That makes me think of Missy’s comment that the world outside Loras might not be any more “real” than the one we have known together here. Remember, this is a transition, not a trip to another planet. Your experiences here have prepared you for much of what you’ll encounter, not because Loras has given you that exact experience but because it has given you many of the tools to deal with the unfamiliar. One of those tools (I hope) is the awareness of what it feels like to screw up, to miss the point, to ask the dumb question, to fail. Expect all of that to continue. One of the most reassuring studies I ever read was the one that pointed out that 4.0 English majors who enter law school frequently write terrible legal briefs; the reason is simple: they’ve never written one before, and so they mess it up. The good news is that most of them figure out quickly how to fix it.
I was so pleased to read what you wrote about the value of “community” in this transition. In a world that is so hell-bent on inserting a bunch of “things” between us and the world—ipods, cell phones, television sets, laptop computers—many of you wrote about how important it is to develop and maintain personal relationships. I would encourage everyone to think about something that doesn’t all comes to mind as you’re pondering your future: love. No other term captures what is so rewarding and so frustrating about being in relationships or communities with people, whether they are coworkers or neighbors in your apartment building or the crowd rushing to work at 7:45 AM. Love gives you a chance to see what otherwise is invisible, including what one of you called the “secret plans” beneath those plans the world shows us. Out of genuine compassion for what’s important in life, love can be skeptical of those things that disregard or harm others.
Allowing yourself to feel a connection to the world also can open your ears and eyes to what it has to say and show you. That’s my final thought. For all of you who (like me) feel compelled to plan out your future, go ahead, keep doing it. But remember that the world has ways of finding you. More often than not, life take shape around you and you discover yourself in a career or a relationship that is unexpected. And you know, usually it’s pretty good. jw