You’re Not Supposed to Have It All Figured Out

One letter. One lesson. A lifetime of becoming.

Dear Graduates (or anyone on the cusp of a change),

Ever since I came in runner-up to give the commencement speech my senior year at UMass Amherst (a fact I’m clearly over), every spring I imagine what I would say. Over the years, the message has shifted—thanks to experience and hindsight—and in recent years, I’ve come to realize that maybe our purpose isn’t to become one thing, like a doctor or a Broadway star, maybe our purpose isn’t a “thing” at all. Maybe it’s the journey.

And let’s be honest—we might never land the dream job. Or we might, and think, Wait, this is it? (See also: every adult ever.)

This time of year is thrilling (and slightly panic-inducing) for college seniors waiting to hear from employers, and high school seniors waiting to hear from colleges—or trying to choose one. It can feel like life or death. (Spoiler: it’s not.) My nephew Andrew’s in that boat now. I’ve reminded him—more than once—that no choice is forever. That possibilities are endless.

Trying to explain it, I thought about a letter my dad wrote me the summer before senior year of high school. It was about the search for the right school, but it was also life advice for making decisions, for keeping an open mind and to never stop learning. I shared the letter with Andrew, and now I’m sharing it with you. Whether you’re 17 or 70, life—if you’re lucky—keeps changing. That’s the beauty of it. We always have options.

Here are a few clips from my dad’s letter:

July 30, 1987

Dear Felice:

I don’t know if this will reach you before you get home, but we’ll see… I want to talk about the year ahead for you. We’ve assembled a lot of information on colleges and arranged interviews. So, when you return, we’ll spend time leisurely visiting (“Please let her in. Please, please.”) schools. But the decisions may become narrower by common sense. The idea is not to see how far away from home you can travel or how exotic an environment we can afford. It’s about giving you room to grow—at your own pace, with support along the way.

You’re still young enough to take advantage of society’s built-in supportive response for young people, and old enough to focus your energies and intellect to take advantage of that support. Fortunately, you’ve got plenty of both. Plus, you can be sure that we’ll help as much as we can, which is a lot. You’ve got my word on that.

So, what do I see as this “plan”? I see attending as broadly-based a school as you can find, not a very small or very narrowly focused a school. I see a school near enough to home so you can break away gradually into the big world, not going off to Oregon or Louisiana or father away than you have to. A school with a business, science and math environment, but with lots of history and literature (and fun! Don’t forget fun. And boys.) so you will not become a robot.

Don’t worry about making a false start. It’s alright to guess at some interests which may not be ultimately OK. While you do this, you can also be steadily processing through stable and rewarding subjects. That’s a balance that will stand you in good stead throughout your career. For those reasons, I like Boston College, with a close second the larger state universities.

I am not forgetting sports. They have made you, in part, a leader, and they continue to give you the feedback on which self-confidence grows. I think we should take advantage of that momentum from your athletic awards and go for it scholastically as well. We should make the grand tour of all the schools to experience what’s out there. (And maybe find a surprise school!)

But whichever school, the books, the reading, the thinking, perhaps at no time up to now in your career, has to be given their priority.

We’ll talk when you get back. Your 100% top fan member misses you.
Love, Dad

To those graduating, here’s one bit of advice (that I’ve been waiting decades to give):

Know that you’ll make some great choices. You’ll make some questionable ones, too. That’s how you learn. That’s how you grow.

This week, write a letter to someone who’s facing a big decision. Offer advice, if you have it. Or just let them know you’re there for them, no matter what. That alone can be everything.

With love (and a yellowed college acceptance letter somewhere in a drawer),

Felice

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Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.