A Bold and Dashing Adventure is in Your Future

"Now where did that come from?"

Of course nobody responded.  That tends to happen when you are talking to an empty room.

But still, where did that come from?  A small fortune somehow found its way under the sheets I had been sleeping in the previous four nights while staying with my grandparents.  I hadn't had a fortune cookie since I'd been there.  In fact, I hadn't had a fortune cookie in nearly three weeks and I most certainly didn't keep the fortune when I did.  Yet, somehow as I was walking out the door this morning to begin my eight-hour drive home, there it was.

Urging me on my latest dashing adventure.

Once upon a time, there was a romanticism associated with perpetual movement.  In the Old West, people left their homes in search of adventures on the frontier.  After World War I, a group of disenchanted ex-pats packed up shop and headed to Europe and wrote some of the greatest literature America had ever read.  In the 1960s, it was perfectly acceptable to hop in a VW bus with a group of tie-dyed strangers and make your way to San Francisco, as long as you were wearing some flowers in your hair.  The history books speak openly and positively of those with a restless spirit who yearned for a sense of adventure.

I am not one of those people.

Granted, my story does have some of those elements.  I am, a wander as they say.  Hence the title of this blog.  However, I don't see a sense of romanticism of what I am doing.  I don't yearn for the open road.  I was on the open road today for nine hours and it was way too damn hot.  I hate packing and relocating.  The picture above represents a half hour of work tonight and here I am blogging as to avoid moving any other heavy objects for the duration of the night.  I don't like unpredictability.  Right now I have a schedule of meals I eat each and every week so I know what I'm eating at what time and on what day.  I'm always early when I go places and I hate having to rely on other people.

So then why am I moving 500 miles north for my fifth job in eight years?

Good question, dearest reader.  Here is probably the most convincing argument as to why what I'm doing in not romantic in the slightest way.

I have no clue what I want to do with my life.

It's the simple truth.  I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  I'm turning 30 in just over 4 months.  Sure, I had a college degree and a career.  I was a secondary social studies education major and a teacher.  I taught on both coasts.  I taught middle and high school.  I taught U.S. history, world history, government and economics, 7th grade English, 7th grade social studies, health and P.E., an advisory class, and even a contemporary issues elective class.  I taught at public schools and charter schools.  I coached soccer, debate team, quiz bowl, sang with the concert choir, got dressed up for Halloween, chaperoned prom, and even ran the backstage crew for a school play.  In addition, I emailed parents, collaborated with colleagues, sat in on I.E.P. meetings, planned lessons, graded papers, and reflected on my craft on a daily basis.

In the end, it wasn't enough.

I wasn't good enough.  Or maybe I was just ahead of my time.  I don't know.  Honestly, when I was let go of my last job it was an odd mix of relieved disappointment.  I had been considering a move for a few months to a new field.  However, I never thought the decision would be made for me instead of on my terms.  And yet, the last week of May that's exactly what happened.  My contract wasn't renewed.  At a high school of 2,200 students with 80 full-time staff I was the only teacher on site to be asked not to come back.

A dubious honor to say the least.

And so, I wandered.  Not physically, but rather online.  Let me tell you, it's hard to translate teaching to real world applicable skills.  At what other job could I successfully manage 30 people at a single time, while interacting with over 100 people on a daily basis?  At what other job could I help and nurture developing young men and women both intellectually as well as socially?  At what other job could I help generate interest in elective-level classes, helping to ensure students not only pass my class but attain the skills they would need to become successful in a post-secondary educational setting?

My answer:  No job like this existed.

So, I did the next best thing.  I looked for a career that I would be passionate about.  Throughout all my teaching, I knew I had a passion for politics.  I can't explain it.  It's just always there, like the chorus of your favorite song.  This past year, that passion seemed to come alive.  My favorite websites would be news sites.  During my free time I would be writing about political issues.  My Saturday night Netflix would consist of watching The West Wing.  It would take every ounce of power in my body not to post about current events on Facebook.  Those who did who I disagree with quickly became unfriended.  I even ventured into the seventh layer of hell known as Twitter to set up a fake account to troll politicians.

Because I care about this country's future.

It's why I got into teaching in the first place.  The chance to make a positive difference in the world.  I am no fortunate son in that things have come easy for me.  I've had to work hard to get where I am.  And yet, I know through my experiences that I've had many things go right to help get me where I am.  Hell, I won life's lottery:  I'm a White male.  Jackpot!  And yet, for every benefit that has come my way over the years (playing travel team sports, taking SAT prep classes, affording a top-quality education, traveling abroad, moving across the country) I've come to realize that the vast majority of people in this country will never have access to these opportunities.

And they work as hard, and in many cases, harder than I do.

So, I found work at a non-profit based in Northern California.  It is here where this blog begins and is here where I will chronicle my adventures.  I will be here for at least two years.  It is an entry-level management position.  My official title is assistant director (business cards are being printed as we speak).  I will be working on behalf of progressive groups out there fighting for such noble causes as marriage equality, nature conservation, environmental conservation, health issues and concerns, access to women's health, immigration reform, and a whole slew of others.  In four days, I head to my first training on the East Coast.  This afternoon, I got my first homework assignment.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't chomping at the bit to start work on it as we speak.

And so begins the adventures of The Wandering Millennial.  I don't anticipate to be the subject of any novel, documentary, or Weird Al song anytime soon.  In fact, I'd be hard-pressed if anyone besides friends and family actually follow this blog.  However, if others join, I'd be honored and I'd love to share my story with you.  One thing that has kept me sane through my wandering years has been my writing.  It still needs some polishing, but the more I do it, the more confident I become.  I'm hoping these next two years will provide me some ample opportunities to share with you my latest wandering adventures.

So stick around, dearest reader.  You won't be disappointed.

Unless, of course, the fortune cookie lied.