This summer my cousin and I took my Nana out for brunch in the small town of Jarvis, Ontario. Whilst we were munching on some delicious pancakes and grease-soaked bacon, a large group of people came over to our table. “Of course,” I thought, “everyone knows everyone here.”
The group exchanged pleasantries with Nana and because my cousin grew up in the community, they all knew that she was now working as a nurse. “A nurse!” they exclaimed with reverence and delight. “We could always use more nurses here.”
Then, noticing the other granddaughter at the table, me, one man asks with the twinkle of nurse-excitement still in his eyes, “And what are you studying?”
“I’m an English Major with a Minor in Creative Writing.”
Ffffffffff. The excitement fizzles from his face. He quickly widens his eyes to mask his disinterest.
“Oh… that’s, nice.”
The group quickly leaves. Super.
Just before I start to spiral into that deep void of maybe I should just go to teacher’s college, Nana pipes up and says, “He’ll act differently once you’re published.”
Warm fuzzies do not even begin to describe how happy that made me.
So, the moral of this story? I have the coolest Nana. But also, just because other people don’t understand your degree doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one. And you don’t need others to validate what you want to learn, that comes from yourself. Or in my case, my Nana.
Has there ever been a time where you felt an achievement belittled? How did you handle it?
Be strong artsies, WE think you’re the bee’s knees xxx