"So have you decided what you want to do once you graduate?"

How many times have I heard that phrase in the past few months? Probably about the same number of times I asked that exact phrase to my fellow seniors, not really expecting an answer, moreso hoping someone else was as confused as I was when it came to determining a life plan.

For three years, I always thought things pertaining to the rest of my life and career choice could be decided "later on," as if it was something I could scribble down in my planner between meetings and homework.

I came to Penn State with every intention of being an education major, so I spent about half a semester trying that on for size. Then I thought I spoke German fairly well, why not try that out?

After realizing that would basically do me no good, I thought maybe I should put my writing skills to good use and switched to English and journalism.

So sophomore year I followed an impulse and tried out for the Collegian. Two years later I sit as the arts editor, spending more time here than at home and realizing there is no way I can be a journalist for the rest of my life.

I think I realized it about a year ago. Every time people would talk about getting internships and meeting with important newspaper people to further careers and résumés, I would shudder deep down. It wasn't because I hated my job-- on the contrary, I love working at the Collegian-- but some part of me has always known being a journalist is not what I was meant to do.

So there I sat, junior year of college, two degrees well on their way to being finished, realizing that they both basically meant nothing. I wanted to be a teacher.

First came the "Oh crap I'm an idiot moment." I came in as an education major, why didn't I just trust my gut instincts to begin with? Then came the guilt.

Three years of my dad putting me through Penn State was not cheap, I knew that. Yet I wasn't going to do anything with the degrees he paid for me to get? That didn't seem right.

Then I realized that no matter what, my parents have always told me no matter what I do, to make sure it made me happy. I knew what I had to do.

I called my mom and told her what I was thinking. But instead of hearing the "are you sure want to throw your hard work down the drain?" speech, I got a "Oh good, we were wondering when you would realize you should be teaching."

Instantly the knot that had been growing in my stomach dissipated. I knew what I wanted to do. My parents knew what I wanted to do. Now I just needed a plan.

To make a long story short, I'll be graduating this May -- knock on wood -- with degrees in English and journalism.

But while most of my other friends are counting down the days until their last classes are over, I'm bracing myself for two more years of lectures and homework before the state of Pennsylvania trusts me with kindergartners.

And even though I spent four years of college and thousands of dollars on degrees I might not ever use and will be paying my way through two more years of college that I probably could have avoided if I had only trusted my instincts, I have to admit I don't regret it.

Deciding your life in four years is a pretty big step for anyone to take. Sometimes choices can't be classified into majors, and the risks may cost a lot more than the rewards.

But now, I no longer shudder when someone asks me that ominous "What do you want to do when you graduate?"

I know what I want to do.

I'm going to be a teacher.