Graduation
I went to college to study English Education, I was originally going to teach high school English. When I got out of high school I really didn't have a dirrection, I just took English as a major because I got pretty decent grades. I never really had a passion for it. So the thought of teaching stuff that I really don't care about to kids who don't want to learn didn't really blow my skirt up.
I had a vague idea that I wanted to do something that really mattered, something that I could be proud of and also something that I would enjoy. Nothing against teaching, in fact I think its one of the most noble professions, its just not for me.
I graduated from the fire academy on a rainy night in March. We took over the auditorium of a junior high school way out in the sticks of western Mass in a little town called Sterling. My parents, my little brother and my girlfriend made a two hour drive to listen to the fire marshal talk about how the fire service has changed since he became a firefighter nearly forty years ago. They watched a slideshow of us in class, saw the flames arching over our heads and watched us struggle to tie knots with our bulky gloves on. Then, they watched as my fellow students and I were presented our certificates. Mostly the chiefs of our departments presented, a few guys' fathers or relatives gave them their papers.
I was going to write about the pomp and ceromony of my fire academy graduation and tell you that the whole ceremony made it worth while to have spent well over two hundred hours, spaced out over countless weekends and Thursdary nights, (and don't get me wrong, being able to show my family and the woman I love that it was all worth it, and including them in my role as a firefighter really was spectacular) but today I came to a rather interesting conclusion.
I'm still in college, I have six weeks left and I graduate. I was sitting in class today watching a film version of a Samuel Beckett play, a strange piece that followed several clay encased talking heads who would randomly yell for no reason what so ever. It wasn't doing anything for me, actually I was getting very mad that I was wasting my time watching it when I could be out doing something, but then I looked over at my professor. The man's eyes were lit up, he was basking in this movie that I could draw nothing from, loving every minute that left me baffled. I realized then that I am on the right path.
Had I become a teacher, generations of students would be screwed. Like I said earlier, I never had a passion for English, I majored in it because I was moderately good at it and I was going to be a teacher because I would get summers off. But when I looked at my professor today, I was scared that I almost went into that field. He has such a burning passion for the subject that he emerses himself in it daily, he does it because he loves it. And I didn't have that. I'm glad that he is a teacher, his love for the subject makes him perfect for the role. But me.....no way in hell.
When I shook hands with the fire marshall he told me how I was going to be doing a very brave and noble duty, all I could think was "God I love this profession." I have this inside of me, I need to do this because its the only time in my working life that I have ever not only enjoyed my work but have actually been good at it.
My father owns a landscaping buisness and I've been working with him since I've been old enough to push a lawn mower and I love that job, its great, its outside, I get to work with my hands and I can see that what I'm doing has impact. Once you cut a lawn or clean out a yard, you can tell that you were there and it looks great. My father is a real pro, he pours himself into it and his work is fantastic. He loves the work and he's good at it. Sometimes I sheer a chunk of turf when I turn the mower too quick, or I chew up a sapling with weedwacker. My father has a knack for that work, I'm good at it but I'm not like him.
When I get on a rig for a call, I know what I'm doing. Everything is automatic. I can eat on the way to calls, cupcakes, sticky Asian food, whatever because I know what I'm doing. I'm not bragging and I don't know everything but I know that this is what I'm supposed to do. I know this because when I took a 24 hour class on how to read signs on trailers to discern the chemicals they contain, I was riveted. I know this because when someone explained the pressures and rating systems for the pumping equipment at my station, I was enthralled. I also know because when I watched what my professor dubbed "The greatest modern play ever penned," I left class for ten minutes to go for a walk, lest I fall asleep.
The moment I graduated from the fire academy was one of the proudest and most emotional moments of my life. It meant the world to me that my loved ones were there to share it with me. Conversly, my coming college graduation could not mean less. I have loved my time in college, the friends I've made, the social ties and the great times I've had but academically its been simply rewriting the same paper and reading Cliff's Notes. I worked my ass of in the fire academy, studying and drilling to make sure I knew what I was doing; for college, I showed up. I haven't read an assigned reading book for school since the second semester of my freshman year, yet for the fire academy and EMT I read both books twice.
I graduated from the school that matters for my carreer path. All I have to do is sit through a four hour ceromony, listen to the Bulgarian ambassidor (that's my school's comencement speaker, should be a blast) and receive a piece of paper that will sit in the top drawer of my dresser.
But in the end, it was worth it. I met the girl of my dreams, found out what I really want to do with my life and grew one hell of a mustache.
I had a vague idea that I wanted to do something that really mattered, something that I could be proud of and also something that I would enjoy. Nothing against teaching, in fact I think its one of the most noble professions, its just not for me.
I graduated from the fire academy on a rainy night in March. We took over the auditorium of a junior high school way out in the sticks of western Mass in a little town called Sterling. My parents, my little brother and my girlfriend made a two hour drive to listen to the fire marshal talk about how the fire service has changed since he became a firefighter nearly forty years ago. They watched a slideshow of us in class, saw the flames arching over our heads and watched us struggle to tie knots with our bulky gloves on. Then, they watched as my fellow students and I were presented our certificates. Mostly the chiefs of our departments presented, a few guys' fathers or relatives gave them their papers.
I was going to write about the pomp and ceromony of my fire academy graduation and tell you that the whole ceremony made it worth while to have spent well over two hundred hours, spaced out over countless weekends and Thursdary nights, (and don't get me wrong, being able to show my family and the woman I love that it was all worth it, and including them in my role as a firefighter really was spectacular) but today I came to a rather interesting conclusion.
I'm still in college, I have six weeks left and I graduate. I was sitting in class today watching a film version of a Samuel Beckett play, a strange piece that followed several clay encased talking heads who would randomly yell for no reason what so ever. It wasn't doing anything for me, actually I was getting very mad that I was wasting my time watching it when I could be out doing something, but then I looked over at my professor. The man's eyes were lit up, he was basking in this movie that I could draw nothing from, loving every minute that left me baffled. I realized then that I am on the right path.
Had I become a teacher, generations of students would be screwed. Like I said earlier, I never had a passion for English, I majored in it because I was moderately good at it and I was going to be a teacher because I would get summers off. But when I looked at my professor today, I was scared that I almost went into that field. He has such a burning passion for the subject that he emerses himself in it daily, he does it because he loves it. And I didn't have that. I'm glad that he is a teacher, his love for the subject makes him perfect for the role. But me.....no way in hell.
When I shook hands with the fire marshall he told me how I was going to be doing a very brave and noble duty, all I could think was "God I love this profession." I have this inside of me, I need to do this because its the only time in my working life that I have ever not only enjoyed my work but have actually been good at it.
My father owns a landscaping buisness and I've been working with him since I've been old enough to push a lawn mower and I love that job, its great, its outside, I get to work with my hands and I can see that what I'm doing has impact. Once you cut a lawn or clean out a yard, you can tell that you were there and it looks great. My father is a real pro, he pours himself into it and his work is fantastic. He loves the work and he's good at it. Sometimes I sheer a chunk of turf when I turn the mower too quick, or I chew up a sapling with weedwacker. My father has a knack for that work, I'm good at it but I'm not like him.
When I get on a rig for a call, I know what I'm doing. Everything is automatic. I can eat on the way to calls, cupcakes, sticky Asian food, whatever because I know what I'm doing. I'm not bragging and I don't know everything but I know that this is what I'm supposed to do. I know this because when I took a 24 hour class on how to read signs on trailers to discern the chemicals they contain, I was riveted. I know this because when someone explained the pressures and rating systems for the pumping equipment at my station, I was enthralled. I also know because when I watched what my professor dubbed "The greatest modern play ever penned," I left class for ten minutes to go for a walk, lest I fall asleep.
The moment I graduated from the fire academy was one of the proudest and most emotional moments of my life. It meant the world to me that my loved ones were there to share it with me. Conversly, my coming college graduation could not mean less. I have loved my time in college, the friends I've made, the social ties and the great times I've had but academically its been simply rewriting the same paper and reading Cliff's Notes. I worked my ass of in the fire academy, studying and drilling to make sure I knew what I was doing; for college, I showed up. I haven't read an assigned reading book for school since the second semester of my freshman year, yet for the fire academy and EMT I read both books twice.
I graduated from the school that matters for my carreer path. All I have to do is sit through a four hour ceromony, listen to the Bulgarian ambassidor (that's my school's comencement speaker, should be a blast) and receive a piece of paper that will sit in the top drawer of my dresser.
But in the end, it was worth it. I met the girl of my dreams, found out what I really want to do with my life and grew one hell of a mustache.
posted by Nick Stabile at 11:50 PM
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