Alyssa Schwenk | Even the best laid plans...

When I was in ninth grade, several of my classmates had to write an essay essentially titled “This Is How Fabulous My Life Will Be at 30.” A few earnestly wrote their acceptance speeches for the Best Actress Oscar. A few had dates for their wedding and weights for their babies. A few were running for president (yes. At 30, five years before anyone is Constitutionally eligible).

I laughed at the essays (because, come on), but when I got to Penn I wasn’t entirely unlike them. I had Plans. And they were really good plans: summa cum laude, major in political science or English, a laundry list of extracurriculars, internships in Washington, D.C. every summer, phenomenal LSAT scores, a great Iron Man time, etc.

Those plans went out the door pretty much immediately — basically, they were toast the moment I walked into The Daily Pennsylvanian intro meeting (hint, hint). But I filled that void with new long-term plans (a certain position on the paper, a career in journalism, internships in D.C. every summer…) and spent the next three years stubbornly sticking to those new goals — even when life switched lanes and even roads on me, even when those goals stopped having a meaningful destination.

Although I love Penn (no, seriously, disclaimer: Penn is amazing and your next four years here will be awesome and you’re so lucky to have gotten this opportunity and while I’m excited about what I’m doing now I miss Penn and college terribly), it is a place where planning is seen as a virtue. Everyone has the essentially identical goal of being fabulous and successful, and the same ideas of what constitutes fabulous success, so you start to convince yourself that the way to gain a competitive advantage, the trick, is to plan better and more often. It’s logical. I get it, really. It just makes you miserable.

So follow your passions and make an impact, but more importantly, stop caring about how Decision X will affect your future and just do it because you love it. It’s going to be messy and imperfect and not fun and possibly even scarring at times, but it will be worth it.

My Penn experience, and the experiences of my friends and recently released classmates, is living evidence of how not sticking to plans ended up working out. Instead of interning in D.C., I spent a summer nannying for a Vogue editor in Germany. That decision was on a whim and possibly even a mistake but was way more educational than anything else I could have done that summer. And instead of joining multiple groups, I joined one, fell in love and never left — even when, at the moment, it was probably a better choice. Instead of being pre-law, I studied communications and journalism, and then last October put those plans on hold and decided to teach second grade. Instead of training for an Iron Man, I discovered BYOs, red velvet cupcakes and goat cheese. You get the picture.

Everyone I know graduated with a similar story. The things you plan on doing now aren’t necessarily what you’re going to love, and you have to be brave enough to recognize that midway through college. Try things and accept when they don’t work out. Don’t be afraid of moving laterally, or even backwards, in order to follow a hunch. Don’t be afraid to admit when you’ve made a mistake.

One of my favorite newspaper columns ever, written by Mary Schmich and since turned into a song, advises that “the most interesting people … didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds … still don’t.” That fact is especially true for 18-, 19-, 20- and 21-year-olds as well. Embrace uncertainty, log out of GoogleCal, spend an afternoon at the art museum and unsubscribe to 30 listservs. It’s worth it.

Alyssa Schwenk is a 2010 College graduate. She is a former Editorial Page Editor and Copy Editor of the DP and is currently teaching second grade in Washington, D.C. through Teach for America. Her e-mail address is alyssa.schwenk@gmail.com.

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