by Caroline Leach | Nov 28, 2015 | Change, Learning, Work/Life
It’s crunch time.
College apps for many California schools are due on Nov. 30. If you have a high school senior, as I do, this makes for an interesting Thanksgiving weekend.
Thankfully, the University of California and California State University apps are done. Now it’s on to the other schools with a variety of submission dates.
But all of the heavy lifting is done. The college visits. The standardized tests. Three years of academic high school courses. Extracurriculars. Volunteering. Work experience.
And that was all on my daughter’s part. For my part, it’s been encouraging, advising and a lot of driving. Okay, and a little nagging – no, actually, a lot – along the way.
As part of my learning project, what have I learned through this process?
Where you go to school does not define you. Opportunities are available wherever you are. You just have to look for them.
This applies in life; not just in college. Wherever you are today, there are opportunities. As Thomas Edison said, however, they may be disguised as hard work.
- Put in the work. The real work happens every day. It involves having a vision for your life, setting goals and working toward them every day.
Making consistent progress toward goals is what makes people happy. Read more about how that applies to work in Teresa Amabile‘s The Progress Principle.
- Follow the directions, and push the boundaries. A lot of school and life consists of following directions. That’s especially important in navigating any big bureaucracy.
But it’s also important to learn how you can push the boundaries in an ethical way, to make your own unique contribution.
In college applications, this is where the essays become so important. Rather than simply being a number with a GPA and SAT scores, your teen can show their unique approach to life and learning.
In life, it’s constantly asking how you could do things better. What would delight your family, your colleagues and your customers? What would delight you?
- Don’t be afraid to make a change. Our culture places a huge premium on tenacity and perseverance. I’m one of the biggest adherents. There’s rarely a problem that can’t be solved through intense effort.
Yet there’s also wisdom in knowing when to cut your losses and make a change. I learned this when I ended up at the wrong college for me.
Instead of hunkering down and trying to make it work, I transferred to another school. I ended up in a better place for me. And it made all the difference.
(That’s one of my beloved alma maters, UCLA, pictured above. It feels only slightly ironic to be writing this on the day when my two alma maters are facing off in college football.)
This change principle can apply to anything in life – a career, an exercise program or a volunteer activity.
This blog started out as a way to explore the future of corporate communications. Many changes in my life this year – both personal and professional – have altered my course.
This blog has evolved. It’s still evolving. Just as life is constantly doing the same.
It’s part of finding the way to the future – just as college serves the same exploratory purpose. The next posts are still to be written.
What will they hold?
by Caroline Leach | Jan 8, 2015 | Careers, Learning
When the universe gives you signs about what you’re good at, pay attention.
I learned this the hard way. Or the long way. Save yourself some time and follow the mantra to do what you’re good at. What you love.
When I was five, my uncle gave me a used typewriter. It was a cherished childhood gift. I’d happily type stories, letters, calendars. Anything, really.
The same year, I started kindergarten at Crow Island School. My family had just moved from the San Francisco Bay Area, where my sister and I were born, to Winnetka, Illinois.
As my mom tells the story, I was ready to drop out of school after day one. Apparently I was disappointed we wouldn’t learn to read until first grade. (Yes, this was a dramatically different era in public education, especially given what came next.)
So my mom went to talk to my teacher, a 23-year-old named Miss Rabeiga. She hadn’t taught anyone to read before, but she said she’d give it a try.
She asked her 19 students who wanted to learn to read. Six of us raised our hands. She invited us into her office during lunchtimes to teach us. I still remember the thrill of sounding out the hardest two-syllable word in our book, “some-thing.”
In high school my mom signed me up for a career counseling course, full of aptitude and interest tests.
With my abilities in school and interest in business and the arts, the report recommended several entry-level positions, many of which did not require a college degree. I wonder if the recommendations would have been different if my name was Carl instead of Caroline.
To be fair, though, I didn’t explore the ideas that better combined business and the arts – advertising specialist, marketing analyst and employee development trainer.
Following in my parents’ footsteps (they met at Berkeley in the 60s), I went to the University of California, albeit a different campus. I was there about six weeks when I realized I’d made a mistake. The school was not for me.
So I transferred to UCLA. And I fell in love with it. There was something for every interest – academics, athletics, activities.
The lesson? Don’t be afraid to make a change if something isn’t working for you.
It was hard to pick a major. My dad suggested English. “You love to read and write,” he reasoned.
“But Dad,” I countered, “what kind of career could I have? How will I become financially independent?”
So I chose economics, the closest thing UCLA had to an undergraduate business major. It seemed practical.
And I kept missing signs along the way. My professor for the economics of entrepreneurialism said I got the highest grade in the class because I was the best writer. Same thing with a business writing course, which I loved.
After four fun years at UCLA, all I knew was I wanted to work in the business world. So I signed up with a temp agency. On my third assignment, with a real-estate development firm, I was offered a job in their accounting department.
After less than a year, I moved on to aerospace procurement. I bought hardware for satellites and worked with suppliers in exciting places like Paris, Heidelberg, Gainesville and Joplin.
When aerospace crashed in the 90s, it wasn’t like my parents hadn’t warned me not to go into it. Layoffs were announced for 25% of the workforce. Every day I wondered if I was going to be let go. If only I’d realized I was a bargain as an entry-level person.
There was a silver lining, though. I finally focused on what I wanted to do with the rest of the my life. (This phenomenon now has a name – a quarterlife crisis.)
I dusted off my copy of What Color Is Your Parachute? by Richard Bolles, which my parents had given me several years earlier.
And I actually did the exercises. Seven stories about solving problems. Then underlining the verbs. And plotting them by skills with people, info/data or things. Mine were all with people and data. Not very good with things (maybe that’s why I don’t like cooking).
This turned into a flower exercise of my favorite fields, people, skills, working conditions, salary and places to live, capped with my purpose in life.
From there I matched my flower petals with potential careers. And that was the first time corporate communications came across my radar.
Finally, a field that combined business and the arts, just like my career counselor suggested.
People would pay me to write all day? Nirvana.
But how to make a change? That’s the subject of my next post.
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