287 Words to Read if You Don’t Know What to Do with Your Life

The college tour guide looked me dead in the face and said.

“Are you undecided?”

I looked at the cluster of people on my right — the engineers. To my left — the hopeful computer scientists.

“Um… I don’t know, actually.”

He smirked. I remember the smirk.

“That’s probably a yes.”

By the time I started enrolling in college, it was a mystery how anyone could be so self-assured, especially young people.

Keith would be a famous sportscaster and Mandy would be on Broadway and Kaci would be a teacher and Holly would sing for a living. These were truths, not opinions. At 17 years of age, these people knew.

And Todd? Nobody knew. Todd was Todd.

Todd was undecided.

You can see how teachers could have a problem with “undecided.” Imagine if your responsibility was to guide pimply, hormonal half-adults into rule-following, job-holding citizens. The choir director who walked like he had springs in his shoes, the Spanish teacher who had more sass than height, the homeroom counselor whose hair didn’t so much curl as zig zag — they all asked: