Power

“Isn’t what you want (if you are so good as to think well of my character) to see me exert most power, in whatever direction? Well, this is the way I exert most.”

--from “Owen Wingrave” in The Turn of the Screw and Other Stories by Henry James

Not long after moving to Chicago, I sent out a long email to pretty much my entire address book. In it, I gave everyone my new contact information, reflected on my initial impressions of life in the city, and described my new job. At the time, I was working as an editor for a commercial publisher on a series of K-6 mathematics textbooks. It was the beginning of a career that I have come to really love.

I was surprised at how many people wrote back to me. I’m guessing that the number of was over twenty, yet I only remember one of the replies clearly. It was from the pastor of the church that I grew up attending – someone I considered a personal friend and whom I really respected. I’m sure that most of the email was very complimentary and warm, but I only really remember one piece of it. I can’t claim that this is an exact quote, but the note included something to this effect: “It was interesting to read about your job. Somehow, I think you’re called to something bigger.”

This was only one of at least five occasions—though admittedly the most hurtful—when people I trusted either insinuated or told me directly that my job was somehow beneath me. That I could do better. That I was not living up to my potential. That I had power to help people that I was throwing away. Most often, people suggested that I should consider entering religious life. Other times, they insisted that I should become a teacher. But, the point in all cases seemed to be that what I was doing was simply not good enough.

I struggled with this issue for a lot of years. Through my last two years of college, I wondered constantly if I was really meant to be a nun and I was just denying it. Six months after starting my job at the commercial publisher, I somewhat haphazardly applied to graduate schools because I felt it was what was expected of me. During graduate school, I started an application to the Peace Corps, because to do anything less felt like I was failing myself, failing God, and failing everyone who ever supported me through school.

The problem was that all of those choices made me extremely unhappy. I went to events for people considering religious life—and I cried through them. I went to graduate school—and in my second quarter, I entered what I am sure was a clinical depression. I was accepted to the Peace Corps—and knew immediately (though I couldn’t admit it to myself or anyone else right away) that to accept my assignment would be the worst mistake of my life.

Other people saw me in ways that I did not see myself. They saw me as a nun. They saw me as an academic. They saw me as a selfless volunteer in a third-world country. But I did not see myself that way. I did not see myself as anything. In an effort to please the people around me, I took their labels and tried to apply them. But it didn’t work.

In the aftermath of the latest of these debacles (that is, after declining my Peace Corps assignment when I started to apply for jobs), I found a posting on a university website for an editor of mathematics textbooks. Figuring I was qualified, I tried to apply, only to find out that teaching experience was a requirement. Because I did not have any teaching experience, the system locked me out, and no human being would ever even look at my resume. Irritated by this, I wrote an email to someone at the university whom I worked with while at the commercial publisher. He ended up writing me a letter of recommendation that, in the end, got me the job.

He sent me a copy of the letter. I will never forget reading one particular passage in it, which said the following: “She’s equal to best of your editors and superior to the rest.”

Many, many things went through my mind after I read that letter, but the one pertinent to this post is this: Wow. He sees me as an editor. And a good one. A superior one. Maybe this is an appropriate thing for me to be, after all.

I took the job a couple of weeks later, and I’ve been working as an editor on various math programs there ever since. And at the risk of sounding conceited, let me also say that over the years, I have become more and more aware that I am very good at my job. Among the best in my field. My background, my interests, and my disposition are perfectly suited to it. And I truly believe that the work that I do makes the programs better. I believe that in small ways, I make mathematics more accessible and enjoyable for kids. I believe that I make a difference.

I still think back on all the other things I could have become, sometimes. Had I chosen to enter religious life, I probably could have found a niche where I made a difference. If I had stayed in graduate school and gotten my PhD, I probably could have done some useful research. If I had used my master’s degree to get a teaching certification, I might have been able to run a moderately successful classroom. If I had gone to Kenya, I likely would have found some ways to change the lives of the people there.

But I would have been unhappy. Unsatisfied. Constantly stressed and terrified. And so there is no way I would have been at my most effective.

As an editor, I’m able to use many of my strengths to their greatest potential. And I’m left with enough time (and enough calm) on the side to engage in other activities that help other people. I could do other things that might seem to other people to be more powerful. But this is the way I best exert my powers.

I can think of two people in my life that are struggling with this issue. One just recently quit a job that made up a huge part of her identity. The other constantly feels that she should be doing more or doing better as a parent and generally as a person. To those two ladies, I just want to say this:

You’ve both made incredibly brave choices and done what was right for you. Other people may not always agree that they were the right choices, but only you know the ways in which you can best exert your power.

Now go use those powers for good. I’ll be cheering.