A taxi driver. A lawyer. A singer. No, no – a chef. Maybe a teacher? The truth is that I wanted to be hundreds of different things while growing up. As I got older and my world expanded, the list of possibilities seemed endless. Around middle school I solidified my love of history and from the time I had my first set of braces until I was well into college, I wanted anything and everything to do with public history. It’s the type of history that focuses on archival work, exhibits, even the historical markers along freeways. I built a pre-Pinterest-era board in my imagination of what my life would be. I’d live in Washington D.C. and slowly but surely climb my way up the ranks to running the National Archives. In true bright-eyed, optimistic college student fashion, I wrote my senior thesis on how women in their early 20s who moved out west on their own to homestead in 1900 viewed their femininity.  This was also around the time I wanted to name all my children after presidents. You get the picture. When I was about four months shy of getting my college degree, I spent a semester focusing on public history work. Newsflash: it wasn’t what I imagined. It was drafty and unglamorous. I saw way too many spiders. I spent hours combing through boxes of records in poorly lit government basements trying to find one small piece that could connect to another small piece to tell a quasi-interesting story. In a flash I understood that I could love history and that I didn't need to make it my career; which eventually led me down the path of a photographer and marketer who still scopes out each history museum at each new city she visits. High school seniors are in the thick of discerning their next adventure. Some will go on to do exactly what they think they’ve been wanting to do since they were small, and others will create a very different life. Both are wonderful; both are right. Hearing what each senior hopes for the future is still one of my favorite parts of working with them.