Diverging

Robert Frost wrote a rather famous allegory about the consequences of the choices we make in life.  Many people read the poem as a celebration of taking the road less traveled, a road filled with independence, autonomy, and integrity.  While I agree with the concept and have worked hard at various times in my life to do just that (and been lazy at other times and took the easy way out), I do not read the poem that way.

While Frost recognizes the difference taking the “road less-traveled” has made in his life, he seems to wistfully wonder what might have been; after all, the poem is titled “The Road NOT Taken” (emphasis mine).  It is not so much regret that I read into his words but the contemplation of what other differences might have been had if he had taken the first road.

I think many of us find ourselves wondering about the same sort of thing, sometimes with regret over poor choices or with simple curiosity about where those divergences may have led.  For instance, I have often of late wondered why I chose my profession.  I do not know if it is because I am fifteen years into my career or if the type of children and/or people with whom I work have changed so very much in my tenure.  

I remember that first time in the woods, looking at the paths before me, at the ripe old age of 18 when I had to choose.  I wish I could say it was for altruistic reasons like inspiring the youth of America.  It was not.  Truthfully, I just wanted to be able to coach the sport I love, and teaching seemed to be the best way to do that.  It turns out that somewhere along that road, I fell in love with teaching.  This isn’t very surprising as teaching and coaching are so similar, but given that I didn’t have that passion upon embarking on this journey, I am pretty lucky that it worked out that way.

Lately, though, I seem to have fallen out of love with it.  I find that apathy is more the norm and that independent thought is something of the past.  Please don’t misunderstand: I have students who strive to learn and examine the deeper purpose of learning and living.  It is for them I come to school. It is, though, the others who make me question what the purpose of education is, why I chose it, what my purpose is when I once so clearly understood it.  

I do not regret the choices I’ve made, not even the truly toxic choices that took me to rock bottom.  It is because of them, and all of the healthy ones as well, that I am who I am today.  But I think about that other road, the one I didn’t take when I was 18.  Would I have the questions I have now?  Would I feel so inconsequential?  Or would I just have a different set of questions to examine, search, and define?  I tend to think the latter, but that wistful curiosity remains.