My 10-year telescope
Dear students, I hope that you’ll take a while to look through yours
Dear students,
I know it can be kind of weird to think about writing your 10-year vision. To be honest, if a professor had asked me to do this in college, just starting would have been a struggle. Maybe I would have talked about my career vision as a cell and tissue engineer–that I wanted to help make artificial organs so that people could live longer and healthier lives. At least, that was my vision going into college. I knew that I loved math and biology, and learning about stem cells as part of an AP Biology project intrigued me. This intellectually-oriented 10-year vision would have felt safe to write, but it would have soon left me longing. It only lasted a year.
As my first vision was dissipating, I probably would have been wondering about the other parts of me that I didn’t realize could make it onto the page. Because something (someone) wholly new was entering my world. The man who would become the love of my life. And I had no idea how to love. To show it consistently rather than just feel it. I had no idea how to negotiate holding space for myself and my most important other as a way of life. In this 10-year vision, I would have longed for a reminder of this lack. A reminder that there are so many pieces to being a full human that are worth working on.
With this hindsight I can start to peek into my 10-year telescope.
I see myself sitting near my daughter. We’re both reading. I know that when we’re ready to do something else, we’ll close our books and share the highlights. Because cherishing each other’s company has become a habit–one whose roots grew deep during her toddler years. And because I have cultivated a love of learning and storytelling in our household that has also planted its sproutlings in all of my classrooms.
I see myself still holding my husband’s hand when we go on dates during weekdays. Because I have prioritized sculpting my flexible schedule to create regular space for this connection. Even if it’s just a quick lunch. I see myself sitting next to him in a booth so that our shoulders can touch. Writing from the same emotional space in my 20-year vision.
I see myself continuing to experiment as a college teacher. Because learning should be fun, by golly! Because fun and significant learning are not mutually exclusive. Laughing over lesson mishaps that would have left me mortified pre-tenure. Because no matter how bad the lesson, some learning happened, and that’s all that I can ask for to try again.
I see myself continuing to align my work with my core value of changing the world to be one that I want my daughter to live in. One where individuals approach collaboration with humility. Where respect for the valuable experiences of others is so default that it’s as everywhere as air. Where that air is getting cleaner because more people are taking steps to care for the environment. Where that care translates to other resources that are so precious to us–food and water. Where concern for the systematic struggles of individuals and groups is the lifeblood of every organization. Where organizations act on this concern with ethical data collection.
As I look up from my 10-year telescope, I feel more peaceful. Whatever my world actually looks like in 10 years, I can move forward today, this month, this year, with an authentic feeling of what I long for.
Students, I hope that the same is true for you. The only way to approach this vision in the wrong way is to be inauthentic. If, after writing it, you feel that there are parts that you’re not ready for others to see, you don’t have to share your vision with anyone, including me. I will be happy just knowing that you took the time to think about what you want and why.
May you spend good times with your telescope 🙂
In truth,
Leslie