Thankfulness is a beautiful fruit to bear. For most of us, we all know what it means to be thankful but have you ever considered how the concept was introduced to you? Low and behold parenting to introduce another lesson imperative to our baby’s spirits—the lesson of thankfulness. Don’t you love the lessons parenting bestows on us!
In our home, we started teaching thankfulness as soon as our babies were born. From encouraging them to thank us for common occurrences like meals or gifts to encouraging them to thank each other for sharing, we really wanted our children to know that no one is entitled to anything. And we should be thankful for everything, even the things we assume we’re entitled to.
Despite my husband and I never allowing our children to go without the bare necessities, we make them thank us for basic things to teach them that everyone isn’t in their position. In fact, we explain to them that in our city there’s a child wishing they had what our kids have and for that, we explain to them why they should never take anything for granted.
Because most children learn from example, we grant our babies opportunities to display their gratefulness and thankfulness by sharing some of their blessings with others.
Here are few ways you can mold a grateful heart in your babies.
We pray with our children daily and I make it a point to welcome them into intimate parts of my conversations with God. This means they see mama cry and cry out to Jesus! Including them in prayer has really enhanced their perspectives!
Paying it forward
More recently, my four year old has been more observant about recognizing people in need. In addition to explaining that everyone isn’t as fortunate as others, we encourage him to share his blessing. This means allowing him to bless the homeless with money, food, and when we don’t have physically things, prayer and smiles. This means blessing neighbors with some of his old toys. Doing these things on a regular basis has positioned Liam’s heart to always be ready to give!
Respecting their things, selves, and others
Respect coincides with thankfulness more than you think. We teach the kids that respecting themselves, others, and their things not only shows God a grateful heart but it shows Him that if they can cherish what they have now, they’re ready to be promoted to something bigger and better.
Holiday season can be a dark time for many living without, especially this year. Remember to be thankful for everything and everyone you have in your life. And to those in fortunate positions, share some extra kindness this year!
While baking with my oldest, I couldn’t help but observe how every ingredient in the dessert we were baking served as the perfect analogy for parenting. The fruits of the spirit are as pertinent to our parenting as each ingredient my son and I tossed in our mixing bowl. Every ingredient serves a special and divine purpose. Despite their different flavors, when combined they make the sweetest combination. Motherhood entails that we nurture our trees to ensure our fruits (our babies) roaming the Earth continue to plant other decent trees (their children and so forth.)
Becoming a mom is hands down the most beautiful thing to happen to me. I can remember the day I found I was pregnant with both kids like it was yesterday. With Liam, he was unexpected, so my excitement took a while to brew. Zora, she was planned, but we didn’t expect to get pregnant with her so soon, especially since our doctor hypothesized it taking us a year to conceive. Nevertheless, each one of my babies blessed my life in different ways and for that, I’m forever grateful. Yet, even with all the beautiful moments that parenthood brings, I can’t negate the hard days. The truth is, everyday of parenthood isn’t rewarding—at least it doesn’t feel that way. Some days I question God’s plan. I question my abilities. I even question my children.
Besides having an incredible group of mothers that I lean on for advice and assurance, I lean mostly on Jesus. But, my first few years of parenting I didn’t know how to lean on Jesus, or what to even ask of Him. If I’m being honest, sometimes I felt selfish for asking any more of Him than I already had—I mean there I was vexed with motherhood when so many women wanted the life I had.
So, I took some time to walk with Jesus. On that walk He lead me to some impactful Bible lessons that just seemed to say all the right words when I needed to read them. Since seeking the godly way from Jesus, I’ve noticed a change within my children and me. I learned that instead of praying for my children, I needed to first pray for me. Ask God in what ways do you need to be fulfilled, redirected, or even reshaped. Instead of asking God why my child was giving me a hard time, instead, I’d ask God what did my child’s outburst mean? Changing my perspective in those minor ways, helped me to gain hold of the bigger picture.
I know many of us don’t look at motherhood as an opportunity to serve, but tantamount to your marriage or any other God appointed position, parenthood is another opportunity to be selfless—another opportunity to share God’s love.
Below I’ll share my favorite Bible verses that keep me encouraged when satan tries to mask my blessings as burdens.
Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.
Ask God to order your steps. Sometimes we get so caught up in trying to get our children to be like us that we forget to teach them to be like Jesus!
2 Corinthians 5:7
For we live by faith, not by sight.
Satan likes to plant evil seeds in our mind. Whether you’re wary of how your kids will turn out, down about your abilities as a mother, or just unsure how to be the best parent, BE STILL! Remember that faith is believing in the things we can’t see! All you can do is cast your fears on to Jesus and continue to sow good seeds—hope and believe all will be well and it will.
The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.
How often are you breathing life into your children? It’s easy to get caught up in shelling out demands. Remember to affirm your children. Build up your house!
Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.
No matter how hard your day was, thank God for blessing you with your children. Children are a reward from God! If you have them, you’ve must been doing something right! Give yourself grace. Give your babies grace too!
You have not given me into the hands of the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place.
Don’t let satan make you think your kids are too much to handle. Even on the days when both kids are bickering, the youngest is throwing a tantrum, and you’re at your wits end, God didn’t enlist you for an unreasonable task! On these hard days, remember to change your perspective!
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
God gives us peace, peace that can only be obtained through Him. Use that peace to maintain it within your home—your children. It’s already yours! Claim it!
Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.
God moves through people! Surround yourself with other godly parents and lean on each-other!
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.
Keep your joy, in fact share it with your little ones! The hard days of parenting aren’t bad days! They’re days you need a little more Jesus and guess what? There’s no such thing as too much Jesus, so indulge in Him!
Parenting never gets easier, because everyday we’re faced with new obstacles. Although that might frighten you, remember that you don’t have to do it alone. Do it with Jesus!
As a freelancer, you get accustomed to the word no. Even if it’s not said directly, you can take the hint when a piece you’ve written gets rejected from a publication. It can be discouraging, but I’ve learned that for every no, there’s a yes. When you consider the millions of publications around the world, one measly rejection email from one out of a million other publications seems minuscule.
In all transparency, I didn’t always possess this optimism. As a matter of fact, I was apprehensive to share my work for a long time. For a while, I didn’t. Consequently, when my last writing gig fell through, I felt like that experience reflected my talent as a writer. I questioned my talent and abilities.
So, imagine my astonishment when a friend reached out to me about a writing job. This friend is an established writer with a pretty impressive resume. Her considering me for ANY job in my eyes was/is an honor. (For the past months, she’s been a driving force of encouragement and light.) I’ll be forever grateful for her kindness.
She asked me to write an article covering Black hiker’s week on Instagram. I did. I conducted interviews with the curators of the movement and managed to write and submit the piece before the deadline. (All while mothering my two little ones) Immediately after receiving my article, I received the green light for layout. A few days later, I was submitting my invoice and W9!
While I sat on the same bed I once shed tears on now writing for a bigger publication than my last; I had an epiphany. Last month I was distraught about my last writing gig disrespecting both me and my writing. Of course I knew that experience wouldn’t permanently hinder my writing career, but that didn’t make the trial any less hard. To be sitting in the same spot I once bawled my eyes out, now ok’ing article edits in a real deal publication felt like the biggest HAHA to the ones who doubted me—to the ones who hurt me.
Right then and there I heard God’s voice loud and clear. “Be still and know that I am God!” (Psalms 46:10) I’m unsure of why I hadn’t heard Him before. I’m sure this wasn’t His first time telling me to trust Him
While I had been questioning the reason, “why,” at my last job, God was orchestrating a plan—a major one! He needed me STILL and PATIENT so that I could prepare for my next task. The irony of it all was that just last month, my “Pro-black article” was too Black to be published in my old publication. Yet, my that article that was just published in Outdoor Retailer was Black as hell and in company with other beautiful Black stories.
To whoever’s reading this, remember to be still and patient, because although you’re weary and even a little anxious, your current set back is apart of a major comeback!
Seeing my name in Outdoor Retailer’s latest weekly issue was a reminder that things are always working for my good (Yours too) by the grace of God! Let today serve as a reminder for you to be as still as an anxious Amazon Prime shopper anxiously waiting by their door for the postman to deliver their package. Stay where you are and let God deliver (to) you!
It’s not that police brutality or the mistreatment of African Americans in America is new; it’s that before, I didn’t feel the same urgency to consider and protect, until I became a wife to a black man and a mother to black children. I’ve been black all my life yet I didn’t become vocal about black rights—human rights until I became pregnant with my son. It was in 2015 when I was welcoming new a life while many black parents like the parents of Sandra Bland were saying goodbye to a life.
Though pregnant, I hadn’t really comprehended what it meant to mother while black. I remember reading about Sandra Bland and acknowledging that her treatment was unjust, but still being unsure of the possible truth behind the evil accusations made against the police department. I couldn’t fathom such cruelty in modern times. I just couldn’t.
It wasn’t until I experienced the first disregard to my little black baby’s life that I realized, white society doesn’t feel the same urgency to respect or nurture black lives.
“It’s no big deal,” the nurse said to me rolling her eyes as I nervously ask her what was next. With little regard, the nurse pointed to the hospital gown I was to get dressed in and exited out the room. I dressed in my hospital gown to deliver my baby boy prematurely. Although Liam was full term, he was induced 3 days early due to lack of amniotic fluid.
“No big deal,” I thought. If it was no big deal, why was I being wheeled across the hospital and being told to remain calm? Why did my baby need to be born today if this was in fact, “no big deal.” It was in that moment when my body was consumed with fear, my mind monopolized by hypotheticals, and my family still 2 hours away from comfort that I realized, I, the black mother of this black baby had to advocate for his life—our life. The nurse with her biases treated me and my unborn child as nuisances. In those moments I quickly grasped the meaning of what mothering while black would entail.
That interaction shaped how I parent and love my son. It shaped how I maneuver in life. In that same hospital days after my son’s birth I remember a doctor’s astonishment that my son had a present father in his life. “Oh, he has his father’s last name,” the doctor asked with a raised brow. Liam, my sweet baby boy hadn’t even settled in this world, yet somehow society had already written his story.
So when I hear of stories about sweet brown baby boys now black men like Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd, my heart doesn’t just break, it shatters. These men’s mother’s looked at their babies the same way I look at mine. The bond between mother and child is well established before the child enters the world and being a black mother to a black child enhances that bond times 10. Everything leading up to birth has been calculated, well thought out, and understood. For instance, black mothers know that the maternal rate for them is abnormally high. So a lot of consideration goes into choosing the best hospital to deliver. Black mothers understand that schools aren’t picked based solely on zoning. The school your child goes to has to be racially diverse enough to empathize with black plight, but white and wealthy enough to offer better opportunities. Black mothers understand that although they bring life into the world, they too have to acknowledge that there’s a possibility that at anytime life might be stolen from them by the hands of authority.
I’m scared to let my babies grow up, “as if I have a choice.”
I’m scared to let my babies “just be a kids,” “as if they have that choice.”
I’m scared to send them out into the world, “as if I have a choice.”
I’m scared for white society to be scared of them because of the color of their skin, “as if they have a choice.”
Times like this I question God. I do. Why? Why is this happening? Why is this still happening? Why is it happening to people of color?
My son matters. My husband matter. My daughter matters. I matter.
Today I have no powerful words or insight to share, because the truth is, I’m just scared.
The first vivid memory that I have of my mother is when she sent me to stay with my grandmother after my brother was born. The memory serves as small flashbacks; suddenly, my mother was rushed to the hospital to give birth to my baby brother, at one point I was asleep on a visitor’s chair in the hospital lobby. Next, I was handed a box of orange juice by a nurse, and the last thing sketched in my memory is my aunt’s car pulling out my grandmother’s driveway, and me, a newly promoted sister, 5 years old, watching as the car sped away. No one really explained what was happening. I was left to assume that mommy had gotten a new baby and no longer needed her old one.
Before my baby brother, my mom treated me somewhat like a burden. She took me places, and she bought me things, but often times, it felt like a tired routine that she was over performing.
I remember walking into my grandmother’s house the day my mom welcomed my new brother. The blinds were open to let in sunlight, but the eerie of truly believing that my mother was getting rid of me tented my vision with the darkest gray. Grandma’s house was dark both literally, and figuratively. My mom and my grandmother were never close. My mom had made it clear that she didn’t approve of my grandmother’s parenting. Knowing this while standing with my luggage in my hand at my grandmother’s front door solidified the feeling that my mother didn’t care about me.
Feelings of abandonment, and uncertainty consumed 5-year-old me, and even after my mom retuned to pick me up from grandma’s house (after what felt like a few years later,) the feeling of rejection never subsided.
I spent the latter part of my childhood desperately trying to gain attention from my mother. Any attention was welcomed, no matter how it was rendered. I gave my mom a hard time in elementary school, talking out in class, and constantly finding myself in disappointing situations. Although I didn’t always know why I behaved the way did, I remember just wanting to be seen, heard, and loved.
Old age and spankings quickly taught me that good behavior offered the best attention given to me by my mom. So, I took heed, and became an angel child. My favorite pastime was being around my mom on those “good behavior days” in front of company. An audience fed my mom’s desire to appear as a doting mother, and with every ounce of praise she received, my mom performed harder. These performances never mattered to me. I was always overly eager to indulge in any affection offered to me by her. This temporary acknowledgement that came with these shows was always worth it. People would eat up her act, and that made her perform even better. Our relationship was never organic, but situational. I knew this, but I didn’t dare accept it.
When I became a pregnant with my first child, I remember feeling lost—mostly unsure. I knew failed parental relationships dwelled deep within my family. I understood that the only way that I’d know if I had inherited this cancerous trait was after I too became a parent, vulnerable and new. It was only logical that I address my childhood traumas with my own mother before I could ever be someone else’s mom.
After my son was born, I fell into the deepest love with him. He was perfect in every way; I awaited the moment that I would fail to make him feel loved in the same way that my mother did to me. Late feedings would end with me mesmerized by a face belonging to a being that I loved more than myself. Acknowledging this admiration for my child, conjured unanswered questions as to why my own mother didn’t feel this way about me. The ache of not knowing the answer to my question began to haunt me. I was never alone in my thoughts, because every moment I was granted time to think; the ghost of, “why” persisted a fixation. The question “why” took the form of my child. Despite my baby being alive, they question, “why” haunted my child’s very existence. My son became a ghostly reminder of the love I always wanted but would never get.
I didn’t know what to do, so I continued to do what I had been doing for the past couple of months; I nurtured him, I fed him, I talked to him, and most importantly I loved him—so much. My haunted baby might have become the Casper I never wanted to encounter, but still, I couldn’t fathom even a ghost feeling alone. So, I became a ghost whisperer and as soon as I started to accept my new norm, something happened. One day, I looked down at my son’s face, he once Casper, no longer looked ghostly. In fact, he looked new. It was as if I was meeting my son and he was meeting his mother, for the first time.
In this realization, I felt as if chains had fallen at my feet–invisible shackles broken. The ghost that once consumed my child was gone. Before I could fully wrap my head around what just happened, I had an epiphany. In that moment of cradling my baby boy in my arms, I realized what that ghost symbolized. It was a ghost from my past, a generational curse. When it realized that it had no place in my home—my life, it concluded that it had no ability, no power! By giving my son the selfless and pure love that I never had, I was discontinuing a long viciously and unhealthy family cycle. Selfless love had broken my family’s generational curse. I was free of burden! We all were. The ghost of my past no longer had a place to fester or feed. So, when the ghost and I realized that, I was immediately emancipated.
On that day, that’s how I became the mother I never had.
“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”
This is the Bible verse I chose to dedicate the children to. I chose this scripture because, one day, the kids won’t live under my roof and when they no longer do, I want them to understand that although they’ll come in contact with evil, their GOOD—God’s GOOD will always conquer that evil. I want them to stand firm in this truth.
With Liam, everything was trial and error. As years passed of his life, I felt like we had forgot to do something major. It all became clear when we welcomed his sister, Zora.
Haha, my husband and I had forgotten to dedicate Liam to Jesus. No worries. Rest assured. We were told that it wasn’t too late, and that we weren’t the only parents that dedicated older children.
We learned that the most common misconception is that baby dedications are just about the child and have to be done when the child is an infant. Dedications are more so about the parents and their willingness and commitment to surrender their children to the Lord and His perfect ways. Any child too young for baptism with eager parents wanting to dedicate them is eligible for dedication. Don’t be intimated to bring forth your toddlers! It’s not too late! During the ceremony, the parents confess publicly that they are dedicating their children to Christ. It’s such a special moment.
So, with this new knowledge, I didn’t feel too bad about forgetting to dedicate Liam sooner. Frankly, dedicating both kids at once made the moment even more beautiful.
Both kids were dedicated March 1st and we are elated!
The scariest part of parenting is knowing that one day, you have to send your babies out into this evil world. Cover them! Cover them with Christ! Don’t no blanket cover you like the blanket of Jesus!
Putting your art out for the world to critique is hard. It’s one of the most vulnerable things I’ve done in life. I always knew that I wanted to explore and nurture my artistic side, but I allowed my low self esteem to dictate my vision.
Time and time, I would map out these life plans and dreams just to find every excuse in the book not to follow through. I became a first class quitter. I mastered quitting and I had grown comfortable in defeat. This was all until I learned the definition of defeat. Defeat means to overthrow. All along I had been allowing negative thoughts to OVERTHROW my purpose.
On one of purposeless days , I came across an old video of Nikki Giovanni interviewing James Baldwin. The video had resurfaced online.
I’d always been a Nikki Giovani fan, but I’d never watched or listened to her interviews. In the video clip I watched, she was beautiful and confident. There she was interviewing a legend, she a legend too, and she conducted herself with so much boldness. Seeing this made me fall in love with her even more. Giovanni dominated that interview, but not in a negative way. She asked questions and received the answers, but she never gave the impression of demure.
Sometimes, when in the presence of a powerful man, we women feel the need to stifle ourselves or hold back out of reference. It’s been ingrained in us since birth to always let the man lead. This is ok sometimes, but never ok ALL the time. In the interview, Giovanni didn’t do that. She conducted herself like she knew she deserved to be there, and she did! Nikki didn’t let James Baldwin or his status intimidate her and that…
That’s what I wanted for myself.
Afterward, filled with newfound excited, I searched for a Nikki Giovanni quote to post on my daily agenda. I’m really into beautifying quotes thanks to my favorite fictional journalist, Mary Jane Paul from the series, Being Mary Jane. In the series, every episode starts off with a profound quote.
One of the first quotes I found of Nikki Giovanni was, “I am so hip even my errors are correct.” The quote is so simple, but to me, it represents everything Nikki Giovanni is to me and taught me to be—unapologetically fierce! She taught me with that one sentence to embrace my flaws—failures, because owning them makes me who I am.
There’s no better time than now to pursue your dreams! Write! Love! Do whatever it is that you’ve been putting off!
You’ll never live the life you want if you dwell in defeat.
As a young girl, I spent countless hours dreaming of my wedding, future family, and spouse. I still have some of my dream wedding gown sketches from 6th grade. I was young and my thoughts about marriage were pretty shallow. It didn’t help that my parents were divorced and couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other. I didn’t have the best examples of what a healthy marriage looked like, so I dreamt of what I wanted my my ideal marriage to look like—be like.
When I met my husband for the first time, it was a weird encounter. He wasn’t my type. He was socially awkward, and we had nothing in common. (I thought we had nothing in common.) It’s safe to say that we both shared relief when the date finally ended.
It wasn’t until I needed a roommate that I reached out to him. He had room and he was never home. Perfect, I thought. We tried our hardest to dislike each other and remain at a distance, but the intimacy of living together forced us to learn a lot about each other. We saw each other’s dates, saw each other sad, angry, smelled each other’s poops, and saw each other drool in our sleep. Living together made having our guards up impossible to do.
One day out of the blue, my husband told me that he was deploying to Afghanistan. He was really causal about it, but he wanted me to prepare to find a new roommate. I don’t know what shifted, but in that moment, we both felt the need to protect each other. It was apparent that we both really cared about what happened to each other next. I had been saving for a car and hadn’t reached my goal. “I’ll add $1000 to your car fund,” he offered. “Where are you going to go,” he asked. “I’ll write you everyday,” I promised him.
Before he left for Afghanistan, I visited him in Virginia. Did you know that Virginia is called the love state?
We spent a weekend together, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. It felt right. We’d never behaved like this before, but for some reason we fell into this flow.
On the way back home, my friends and family checked in. “Did you tell him?” “Tell him what?” “That you love him…”
It took a deployment for us to realize that we were in love and had been for a very long time. I prayed for a safe deployment, but God had other plans. My husband ended up not deploying.
I’ve only been a member of 2 churches as an adult. Similar to finding you’re forever spouse, searching for a church home is just as a special process. I was a member of my last church home for about 7 years, and after marrying my husband, he joined my church too. Our young love grew, so did our family, and our love for Christ grew deeper, but something changed.
Last year, my son began to ask a lot of questions about Christ. His thirst to know and understand Him brought forth my own feelings of harsh realities. I hadn’t been honest with myself. Deep down inside I knew that I had outgrown my current church home, but feelings of disloyalty filled my heart. This church had been apart of my life for so long and I felt guilty for waning to venture out. My son’s newfound interest in Christ held me accountable for how I introduced Him to my child. When your enter that sacred spiritual space with God, you have to make sure to neglect all outside distractions to ensure that you really open your heart to Him.
You see, I had been battling with many conflicted feelings at my old church. I wanted a media accessible church. Living a busy life with my phone always in hand, I wanted to be able to feel connected to my church at all times, even when I was out of town. My old church didn’t have those amenities. I also dealt with feelings of alienation. My husband and I were one of a handful of young married couples. Sometimes, well a lot of times, I felt out of place. Although no one intentionally set out to make us feel “too young or out of the loop,” we did feel that way. Lastly, a scholarly children’s church and nursery was important to me. My old church didn’t have a nursery, and sometimes mommying my little ones took away from mommy’s praise and worship.
Although I love my old church and everyone in it, with the new seasons of my life, my spirit became weary. It needed to be fed a different way and my son saw this–he felt this. I knew that his first intimate introduction to Christ was a monumental moment. I didn’t want my son to think that he had to stay in one place of worship if it wasn’t where he wanted to be–where he needed to be.
So, like a mother duck leading her little ducklings, I decided to ventured out for a new church home. The decision wasn’t easy. In fact, I went back and forth. I felt guilty for leaving the church that reared and shaped me, but I couldn’t dwell in my unhappiness.
Pharisees get back, I had conversation with my old pastor. I expressed my reasoning for leaving his church and like the wonderful man of God he is, he smiled and gave me his blessing. (I love you PG & First Lady!)
So, back to my little spiritual child Liam. We got lucky and found our new church home on the first visit! What solidified my choice was Liam’s excitement to go! He yearned for his new teachers, friends, and Bible lessons! The kid came home reciting Bible verses and wanting to reenact Bible stories. This made my heart so happy!
Another plus was that my little Zora had her own friends and class too! Our new church also has an app, YouTube page, and a plethora of ministries to get involved in. The other exciting part is, I know a lot of my church members from school, which means, I don’t feel so socially awkward! (Yay millennials!)￼
Our new church fulfilled everything I wanted–needed. My husband and I were finally able to really focus on getting fed the word! After a couple of Sundays, I noticed a change within my house. We were all so full–full of Christ!
There’s a church for everyone! If you don’t have a church home, visit some of your local churches and find your home!
The most talked about thing in college is graduation. It’s like people bypass the college experience and immediately jump to post grad life. The problem with that is, many college students don’t take full advantage of what their institution offers. So yeah, you graduated on time or early just to be struggling to find a job after graduation. How crazy is that?
Every major has an academic track. A vast majority of students go for the easier track meaning they take the bare minimum, and some others end up taking classes irrelevant to their post graduation goals. Why? Sometimes our parents heavily influence what academic route we take. Sometimes we feel pressured to follow in mom and dad’s footsteps and we get all the way to finish line and realize that this isn’t what we want to do. I know it’s uncomfortable, but you have to remember, the only person that can live your life is you.
Class selection and experience is key. Take classes that are beneficial to you. Also, gain as much experience undergrad as you can. For example, I’m an aspiring journalist so to gain journalistic experience, I’m working for my university’s magazine. Prior to landing that job, I wrote for my university’s newspaper.
Because I have a blog and brand that I hope to expand, I’m taking marketing classes as well. Marketing classes aren’t mandatory for my major, but I’m choosing to take advantage of classes that will help me in the future.
I know it’s easy to become obsessed with the idea of graduation. After a challenging semester, it’s almost all you want to think about. These obsessive thoughts cause you to be unrealistic about what you’ll do after graduation, because now you’re driven by frustration instead of progression. The workforce is competitive and one must be able to stand against the toughest competitors!
Another thing we sometimes forget to do as college academics is networking! I’m huge on networking. I always speak when I enter a room. You never know who’s in the room! I also make sure to surround myself with likeminded people. Having a circle like that pushes me to strive to be better. For example, I ended up making friends with my now boss on the magazine, all because I talked to her on the first day of class the semester prior. I didn’t know who she was. I just sparked up conversation.
Since I’m not a traditional student (remember, I’m a wife and mom) I don’t over exert myself on frivolous play. I understand that I don’t have the leisure to do so, but that doesn’t stop me from showing my face and making my presence known when I need it to be. I know that sometimes it’s hard to muster up extra motivation to get involved with things on campus, but remember, networking is key. Many universities have guest speakers. Check out those events! Network! Network! Network!
Internships are another way to gain experience and land jobs post grad! Most universities have specific places their majors intern, but I’d recommend venturing out to other places. Interning places outside your school’s connects makes pitching yourself a little easier. I know a few people that ventured out and are now working their dream jobs! Think about what you really want to do. Put yourself out there and see if the company you’re interesting in has interning opportunities. Also, use your professors as tools! A lot of your professors know people that can connect you to where you want to go, your professor might even be one of those connects. Reach out to your professors!
Sometimes I get caught up on my graduation date, but I have to remind myself that by doing everything I listed above, I’ll be more than prepared for the workforce!
Not taking full advantage of college life happens to a lot of people. Some people don’t take full advantage of the college experience and then they end up having to return back to college for another degree. Those people blame the degree when in actuality, it was the lack of work they put in to be successful before they graduated. It’s sounds harsh, but it’s the truth.
I think we as people have this idea that if we graduate with a degree, jobs should fall at our feet. This is partially society’s fault. We’ve all heard, “you can’t do anything without a degree.” Someone somewhere always rebuttals, “they’re successful people that don’t have degrees all over.” That someone is true! Those successful people are successful, because they took advantage of the space they were in. We college students have to do the same! Take advantage of college just like SallyMae takes advantage of interest applied to our loans! Woosah and laugh.
At the end of the day, you’re paying for college. Some of us are even in debt for it, my philosophy is to take everything college is willing to give you! Then take some more! Make college work for you!