Tag Archives: high school

High School Project Turned Dream Job?

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My sophomore year in high school, my best friend and I got the grand idea to start our own vintage clothing boutique. It was prompted by a mandatory project, but we wanted to create something different from the myriad of plain poster presentations. We set out to complete a project that was not only beneficial to our community, but also something that was a joy, not a chore, to create and carry out.

Our weekly outings to the dingy local thrift store with no dressing room, where we tried on shorts under maxi skirts three sizes too big, originally didn’t seem to be more than a place for us to find unique clothes at ridiculously cheap prices.

The afternoons we spent cutting boy’s Levi’s into high-waisted denim shorts and hemming shirts into crop tops were always too fun to feel like work – the Arcade Fire record playing in the background, eating bowls of Ben & Jerry’s and complaining about boys as we sorted through the plastic shopping bag full of $2 jeans, massive dresses and quirky t-shirts made the event too casual to be a transferrable job skill.

But we decided to try doing what we did for fun–updating thrifted clothing into pieces we would actually wear–into a job, if just for a few weeks. We created an Etsy shop, a calendar of deadlines for the project to make sure we would have sold clothes by the culmination of the project in the spring. We meticulously kept track of how much we spent on materials, tried to fairly price all of the shorts, skirts, scrunchies and accessories, advertised our “brand,” Threads, on Facebook and Instagram, and got to work making clothes not just for ourselves as we avoided homework, but for ‘work.’

Thinking back on that spring of my sophomore year, I realize that was probably my dream job. Of course, it wasn’t a real job, (the location of the ‘boutique’ where we ended up selling the clothes to our friends was her parents’ basement) but if it were to be a real job, I’d definitely sign myself again in a heartbeat.

I spent hours with my best friend, doing what we probably would have spent the afternoon doing anyways. I had the freedom to be creative and mess around, and I always had my best friend at my side if I ever hacked off two inches too many of a skirt’s hem or needed to know if a dress I thought we could sell was ugly or cute. And I even got to go shopping regularly in the name of new inventory!

Honestly, the hardest part was having to be responsible for the entire project. I remember wishing repeatedly that someone would hold me accountable for the deadlines we had set, or a superior had more clearly outlined what steps would lead to a most successful end project. Selling clothing online was a hassle neither of us had realized we had signed ourselves up for, and advertising was always done so last-minute it was practically too late.

When we finally opened our pop-up boutique, after dozens of friends and family browsed through the racks of our clothes, we had made nearly $500 for a local charity in an afternoon, and also proved to ourselves that we were capable of carrying out a project from start to finish that we didn’t dread.

It may have been a little on the early side, but this experience gave me truly helpful insight into what I want in a workplace. Regardless of whether or not I can ever do something similar to this in my professional career, I hope it can be filled with supportive coworkers (or best friends), a laid-back atmosphere, and creativity–with a good dose of structure mixed in, too.

Speaking Candidly to My Past Self

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There are few things I wish for more in life than the ability to go back in time. I mean, to see other time periods would just be cool. I wouldn’t want to stay there for more than a day of course; I really enjoy basic twenty-first century things like not having smallpox and voting rights. But still, I would enjoy seeing past time periods, in past worlds, and talking to my past self. If I could go back in time and talk to my high school self, the first piece of advice I would immediately give would be “Stop plucking your eyebrows so that you look constantly surprised. It is the worst.” This was a trend that went on far too long into my teenage years, and images from this time period will cause me increased anguish for years to come.

Upon leaving the aesthetic ballpark (for which a lot could be said- “go on Accutane sooner, stop doing bottom eyeliner, stop wearing strange graphic tees”), my advice would veer into deeper musings about myself. As a teenager, I didn’t have a lot of confidence in myself. I knew I liked writing, but I didn’t have enough passion to pursue it, and I even forced myself to stop writing creatively at one point because I thought it was impractical. In this field, I would give myself the advice to write even when it’s hard, because even if no one really cares now, people will care in the future. I would emphasize that writing is a craft, not just some emotional outlet that involves spewing words onto paper, and that working on this craft can be soothing and confidence building. Even if no one’s going to read it, I would encourage myself to write personal essays about my experiences, and to not be so damn down about my lack of experiences.

I would encourage myself to read more; I liked reading a lot as a kid, and I stopped doing it in my teenage years in a strange fear that it would make me “lame.” I would tell myself to stop worrying about being “lame,” because by the time my high school career ends, everyone will think I’m weird for going off to a college of 950 women across the country that no one’s ever heard of regardless, so I might as well do whatever I want.

I would also tell myself to stop telling everyone that I’m going to major in International Relations, and that in my first semester of college I was going to take an Intro to International Relations class and consequently hate it, and then I’ll have to go back to my hometown and tell everyone that I am no longer majoring in International Relations. I would tell myself that English is a perfectly acceptable major, and also that learning is cool, and that I should stop hanging out with those kids that talk about smoking weed all the time when I don’t even smoke weed. Furthermore, I would tell myself to be friends with the people I was friends with my senior year sooner.

But most of all, I would assure myself that things were going to be alright. Even in the summer leading up to college, I was panicking about not having friends at Scripps, about being homesick, and pursuing my major being a waste of money. I still take time now to reflect on how panicked I was, and how relieved I am that now, everything’s okay.

Cookie Cutters, Time Machines, and Lots and Lots of Questions

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If, someday, I miraculously came into contact with a working, reliable, and free-to-use time machine, you better believe I would make the most of it. Ultimately, I would probably want to go back and give myself some advice on how to make the most of high school, college, and everything in between (first tip would be to my 8th grade self: girl, please let a professional handle your eyebrows this early in the game…..seriously). Now that I’m a senior, and the end of my time at Scripps rapidly draws nearer and nearer, I think I’m pretty qualified to go back and give myself some guidance, especially considering everything that I have learned since starting my first day of high school all those years ago. Sure, I think I handled myself decently well, particularly through some of those awkward years I know we’d all like to forget happened (braces and bad haircuts a terrible sense of fashion, oh my) but there is always some room for improvement. That is why–with the gift of hindsight–I know that, if I had the chance, I’d definitely want to do some of it all over again, and that is precisely the kind of guidance I would want to give young Dorie.

For one thing, the idea that there is any kind of ‘one size fits all’ life plan should be thrown out the window. I remember starting high school and thinking that I would totally have my entire life figured out by the time I graduated–complete with a dream career goal, a solid understanding of myself and what I wanted out of life, and a definite knowledge of where my life was headed. Well, I can confidently say that literally none of those things happened once I crossed the graduation stage with my diploma in hand, and to think that I actually thought it was possible to have all of that figured out at age 18 is just silly to me. I mean, I’m well on my way to turning 22, and I still don’t think I have any of that stuff figured out–nor should I have to! But, again, that’s the beauty of hindsight.

Now, this is not to say that there aren’t people out there who do have their lives all spelled out, with a strong understanding of self, and a feasible and well-structured life plan just waiting to be executed. I know plenty of people, in both high school and in college, that firmly believe in what they are doing, know where they’re going, and are very happy in their decision to follow that path. These kinds of people are amazing! In fact, I used to envy these people, so much so that I tried my hardest to emulate them: picking a specific job title and basing my whole academic and extracurricular life around it, only to quickly realize that that path was not the right one for me. And, the thing is, it’s not the right path for a lot of people–yet we are constantly expected to know the answers to these kinds of things, and make big life choices that will absolutely affect us for the rest of our life before many of us even know what we really want.

It seems to me that my life has been a series of questions since I became a junior in high school: first, it started off with, “So, what colleges are you looking into? Do you know what you want to major in yet?” Then, first semester senior year of high school, it moved into the always enjoyable (especially the 476th time someone asks it–so, so much fun!!!) “So where are you applying? Do you know where you’re going for college? Have you heard back from any schools?” As high school graduation drew near, the questions became more pointed: “Where are you going? Where did you get into? What are you going to study? Did you tour there? Aren’t you excited?” Once I had graduated high school, I naively thought the questions would stop–little did I know that I would be peppered by these same kinds of questions for the next 4 years, varying only slightly to encompass the next big stage of adult life: post-grad plans.

The problem I have with all these kinds of questions is that they inherently equate success and maturity with having a clear and dependable life plan. There is no wiggle room left for the natural uncertainty and feelings of apprehension that–realistically–we have all probably felt when making such huge life decisions at such an important time in our life. I think the constant battery of these questions as we are growing up (for me, these questions started around junior year of high school, but depending on the individual, can often start even before that) has an extremely detrimental effect on the way in which we think we need to function. Had I focused more on exploring my passions and learning more about what I wanted in life, rather than following the standard “X number of AP classes + Y grade point average + Z elected positions on campus = successful high school student” formula that is pushed on us more and more these days, I would most likely be a very different person than who I am today; I might even be a little more secure in knowing exactly what it is I want to get out of life, and who I want to be outside of the bubble of the education system–something I didn’t let myself even question until I stepped on campus and realized how much I had been limiting myself.

What I know now is that there is no cookie-cutter formula to success, and no singular “right” way to get yourself through high school, through college, and out into the real world. There are certainly things that make it easier–like time management, motivation, a strong support system, etc.–but even with these helpful supplements, thinking that everyone needs to do X, Y, and Z in order to be “successful” is one of the most damaging and constricting notions that is repeatedly pushed upon us, and something I think desperately needs addressing.

That’s the advice I would give young Dorie if I could go back in time–if you had the chance, what would you want to say to your past self?