Reach for the Stars

After reading this article, which gives new meaning to "oops," I can think of quite a few school districts that would have appreciated a share of the millions of dollars that were spent on this-- to borrow a word from a beer commercial-- travishamockery.  I have to laugh at the word "likely" being used in the headline, because when I am not sure where my keys are, I'm not satisfied with knowing their "likely" location, let alone a quarter of a billion dollar spacecraft.  I'm sure the men and women at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration are quite upset, and so am I.  It's not that I think NASA and its projects are completely useless, it's just that I can think of so many other earthy endeavors, education only one of them, that would be better recipients of taxpayer funds.  And while public perception of what is spent by NASA and the actual percentage of the Federal Budget that they receive are worlds apart, it doesn't change the fact that I think the funds are misappropriated.

Were a student to tell me that he or she wanted to become an astronaut, I would find it difficult to choose between simply encouraging the dream or supporting the interest in science while nudging him or her toward a vocation that could pay dividends for the occupants of this planet.  As it is, I haven't had a student tell me that, most likely because the phrase, "I want to be an astronaut when I grow up" is much more commonly heard in an elementary school setting.  And at that point, the dream is very unlikely to come true, as evidenced by the fact that every third male walking down the street isn't wearing firefighting gear, a police badge, or a space suit.  Do I want my son to become any of these three things?  Not particularly, but I won't discourage him from expressing early and often what his career interests are.  At age two and a half, we aren't there yet, but if his imaginative play is any indication of what he will some day become, the best bet right now would be Santa Claus.

I do know that there are any number of unrealistic and probably not-too-beneficial-to-the-world (one Justin Beiber is enough, dammit) dream careers that my son may one day aspire to.  I'll deal with that when I get there.  My actual fear is that he will set his sights on a more grounded career path that I don't like, for whatever reason.  In 1997, I decided I wanted to teach high school, even though I was still just a tenth grader.  I knew what I wanted to be, and I got nothing but encouragement from my teachers and family.  Before my 21st birthday, I was teaching high school.  I set a goal and received support on my way to it-- any critics among those I cared about were silent.  I can't know for sure that I'd be where I am today if someone had voiced disagreement or doubt, so I am grateful that no one did. 

A fear much larger than the prospect of a misplaced set of keys, or even a phone-booth-sized 278 million dollar satellite, looms on the horizon.  What if the biggest obstacle between my child and his future career ends up being me?