gen·er·al·ist | ˈjen(ə)rələst/ | noun
Anyone who's taken a business class can likely list the 4 P's of Marketing: product, place, price and promotion. Whenever my classes would get to the PowerPoint slide on "product," the professor would say again and again, "You can't be good at everything, and to try to be good at everything will ensure your failure." When a company develops a product, it shouldn't try to compete in all aspects; rather, it should pick its best feature - its unique selling point. Translate this to people rather than products, and most career advisors would tell you the same thing: figure out what you're best at, what your passion is, and pursue that relentlessly. But what happens when you're average to somewhat good at a lot of things, and nothing clearly stands out as your favorite? Welcome to the life of a generalist. I've been a generalist my entire life. Depending on the day, my kindergarten career ambitions switched between being a painter, an architect, a teacher, and a farmer. That failure of one side of my brain to dominate the other persisted as I entered high school as a tri-athlete, my favorite subjects being math and art, and 8 years of piano lessons under my belt. You can imagine my difficulties when it came time to choose a college and select a major. I had a perfect score on the Math portion of the ACT, but my creative flair kept me from fitting in with my math-loving counterparts. I wanted a career that would combine it all. In my classic style of making snap decisions on major aspects of my life, I decided to pursue a career in animation after watching a 5-minute Disney special on the creation of A Bug's Life. Animation seemed good for me, as it was part computer-programming and part designing. A double major with advertising would help me apply an animation degree to many different areas. That plan lasted only three semesters into college, and was further uprooted senior year when I decided to scrap it all together and pursue a career in student affairs. But, once again, my tendency to be a generalist transcended this new career path. A full-time internship with the Vice President for Student Affairs made my heart happy. As Vice President, my boss oversaw all aspects of student affairs, making it easy for me to dabble in many different functional areas. I sat in on meetings about accommodating a student with severe special needs, spent weeks working on assessment reports, advised a wellness organization, planned campus-wide events, researched resources for transgender students, and so much more. I was in heaven. But alas, it couldn't last forever. As a profession where nearly every position requires a Master's, my internship at my undergrad was only temporary. When it came time to leave and head to graduate school, my generalist heart was crushed as I realized it would be a long time, if ever, before I would be able to work with such a wide breadth of functional areas again. Sure, my assistantship with Student Center Programs would give me variety within a campus activities environment, but what about my desire to work with Title IX policies and to enhance the first year experience? Closely following this realization, the student development theory of self-authorship crept into my mind. This theory essentially refers to becoming the author of your life and determining your own path. In this instance, I decided to set my own path. I refused to work in a silo. I refused to let an entry-level position keep me from the learning opportunities afforded by working with many different areas. And I refused to let traditional career paths and higher ed bureaucracies keep me from being a generalist. Instead, I made a commitment to collaboration and volunteerism. I knew I couldn't - nor did I believe I should - begin at a management level that would allow me to supervise all these different functions of student affairs. I could, however, from my entry-level position, pursue these various interests by actively seeking opportunities to get involved with them. Supervising an alternative break trip, facilitating a fraternity leadership workshop, moderating common read discussions, and more would allow me to maintain my generalist tendencies. I'll start graduate school and my assistantship in just a couple months, and I'm excited to set my own path. I was incredibly fortunate to begin my student affairs career interning for a person at the top of the student affairs hierarchy, but I'm now ready to set out on my own from the bottom.
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Kristin KreherMy happiness comes from meaningful interactions, the outdoors, thrift shops, and saying "thank you." Archives
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