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A moment that captures the advent of certainty in my career choice occurred to me recently. My student marched into our �鶹��Ƶ room and demanded another game of dominoes, pulling it from the shelf in exasperation. This is our fifth period routine when he’s ahead on his work in class, as is so often the case. We’ll walk to history at the end of the day when I round out supporting classes. This month, I’m teaching him how to write in cursive. That being said, we’ve passed countless hours over this set of dominoes, but his demeanor that day was different. 

I began keeping score between us, which usually ends in a tie or a stalemate, and did not hesitate to gently breach the barrier of his mood with questions. He answered, though not without some hesitation. He didn’t say outright what was bothering him, but I could tell that he was carrying a lot on his shoulders. It was almost automatic to play our hands and keep score without taking away from the concentration of our conversation. Slowly, bit by bit, he was able to let his guard down and disclose the truth of the matter. By the end, when the bell rang, he walked out with a smile and thanked me for helping him forge a new perspective. Moments like these, as they come to me candidly now, are what I think of when I picture my life after �鶹��Ƶ.

Two years ago, as my undergraduate career came to a close in Louisiana, I was puzzled at the outlook of professional psychology options in my scope. Service had found a permanent residence within me, as I not only waitressed but found inexpressible joy and purpose in community outreach. I spent time at an underserved senior center in Baton Rouge, spending quality time with its friendly residents and celebrating holidays together. However, I had all but abandoned the possibility of having a meaningful experience related to my degree once I graduated, one where I could combine all of my interests. I ran into a �鶹��Ƶ recruiter at a career fair. She asked me if I wanted to move across the country again, as if she already knew, and something in me voiced a great excitement at the prospect of a full year of service in Boston.

  In August of 2023, I was introduced to an incredibly effective and transformative group of people, the experienced staff at �鶹��Ƶ Greater Boston. Almost immediately I harnessed a sense of belonging in a well-matched team and received invaluable training for our upcoming work in schools. In Mrs. Anckiewicz’s third-grade classroom at the Madeline English K-8 in Everett, my days were stacked with routines, but also a budding admiration for the youth I served. We did cartwheels, painted, played soccer, and learned cursive. We threw cherry blossoms and played pretend. Before I knew it, my first Boston winter drove me to a point of serious contemplation about my future– what

was life going to be like after my �鶹��Ƶ was over? I could not conceive a career that did not involve the privilege of working with children. 

Ultimately, I deferred these thoughts a bit longer. Instead of returning to graduate school, another choice came upon me, and I assumed the challenge of leading a team in service– one more year would no doubt make up my mind. To my surprise, I was relocated to the English High for my second year, the oldest public high school in America. Rather outside my comfort zone, there was no choice but to completely surrender to the process of change through the grounding nature of service, alongside such powerful supports as my management, team, and corps. This year, in Mr. Caprigno’s 9th grade history class, I can voice with earnestness that I am eager to show up to work every day.

Despite the magnitude of changes that could have diverted my service year, my ability to adapt has been refined, and this year has brought about unexpected excitement and opportunity, such as fifth period domino matches. After integrating into this unforgettable community, I know with unwavering certainty that working in schools is where I belong. With this in mind, my applications for graduate school are nearly finished, and I anticipate beginning a Master’s of Arts (M.A.) in School Counseling somewhere in Boston next fall. My life after �鶹��Ƶ, after such a fated, purposeful diversion from my initial career trajectory, has all the appearance of promise. (This is not to say I won’t consider coming back again next year to serve alongside another corps– that is, if �鶹��Ƶ will have me.)

Update: I say with the utmost joy that I will be attending Boston College in the fall, pursuing my Master’s in School Counseling.