If you never try, you’ll never know

You are never too old to set a new goal or dream a new dream. Les Brown

When I was nine, adults began asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My reply – to their general and vocal disappointment since they expected me to say lawyer, doctor or president – was mother, wife and teacher. As a senior in high school, I did lean towards becoming a lawyer and/or diplomat (attempting, perhaps, to align others’ expectations with my own interests), and pursued humanities in international affairs at a premier school of diplomacy. I loved my studies, but they along with observations of functioning government confirmed that I was not meant for politics. (Working at a law firm for two summers verified that I did not want the life of a lawyer.)

As a senior in college, I returned to teacher as my professional goal – although I did audition for, and study at, a drama school the summer after I graduated from college to see if I might want to be an actor. Having done a movie, commercials and modeling as a child combined with years of ballet lessons, piano lessons as well as musical theater performances from ages ten through 22, the arts were a lifelong love. Alas, I like security a bit too much, so I applied to graduate school, worked as a waitress at the Four Seasons to earn money to study in Spain, and lived in Spain for six months before going to grad school for Hispanic literature – having decided it was Spanish that I wanted to teach.

First semester senior year, a professor encouraged us to write a letter to our 30-year-old selves in which we discussed what we hoped to accomplish by age 30. At age thirty, I had attained said goals: I had completed the coursework for my PhD (not actually on my list but a bonus to help me be the best teacher I could be), gotten married, had a child and I was a Spanish teacher. Those years were grueling, exhausting, often painful and occasionally wonderful.

The first year I taught high school Spanish, there were quite a few veteran teachers on staff who were utterly miserable, just hanging on for the benefits and the pension. It was apparent to everyone including the students. Miserable teachers do not make good teachers. I promised myself then that if I were in a similar situation one day, I would find something else to do. After five years of working 80-90 hours a week (that includes the time outside of the classroom spent preparing lessons that could reach myriad learning styles giving all my students the opportunity to find success in the language classroom, grading, etc.), I started teaching part-time and consulting part-time for the American Council on the Teaching of Foreign Languages (ACTFL). After ten years, the last of which I spent crying every single day, I gave up great health benefits and left teaching to consult full time at ACTFL. I turned 40 that year.

Over the next decade, I managed the development of curricular and assessment materials in over 24 languages, managing then directing all aspects of said projects including proposal writing, contract management, budget control, contractor hiring, etc. Eventually, I accepted a full-time position in charge of maintaining the quality of the organization’s myriad oral proficiency assessments, raters and testers, contract fulfillment, as well as continuing to oversee various assessment development projects.

Another turning point was on the way.

It was the year we turned 50. My husband was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. I needed to not be working 70 or 80 hours a week nor bringing work and stress home so that I could be fully present for him. For me. For my birthday that year, my son gave me a book: Find your Passion. He encouraged me to pursue those things I had always loved – painting, writing, acting. He said you have always worked to pay the bills, support the family. It’s time to do something for you. My husband was living his dream (Parkinson’s diagnosis notwithstanding); his business was doing well. We could afford for me to dream a little, too.

A few months later I “retired” and began traveling with my husband on business and other trips to support him; us. At the same time, I began painting. And taking painting, drawing and acting classes. I renewed my SAG union card and started doing background work, then standing in and auditioning for speaking roles. I found Prose and started writing more consistently.

The walls and floor of my breezeway are covered with my drawings and paintings. My writing has improved such that I won two monthly challenges in the last year. I have been the stand in on a network show for three years and this summer, I auditioned for and was cast in three short films. One, as the lead. (We will film next month!) Doing a little happy dance!

All this to say that 50 was a turning point but it wasn’t the first and chances are it will not be the last – if the years are kind and I stay healthy. Some prolific writers started publishing at 65. At least one great painter started at 78. That gives me hope. A [person] is not old until regrets take the place of dreams. John Barrymore

I read recently: It’s never too late to start over. If you weren’t happy with yesterday, try something different today. Don’t stay stuck. Do better.

Words to live by at any age.