Ever since I’ve been a junior, I’ve had a problem.  Okay, not a problem, but an annoyance.
Any time I have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a new adult, I am met with the same question (after, of course, we have the conversation about my not-even-that-above-average height): “Oh, you’re a junior slash senior! Where are you going to school?”
Not incredibly tough.  I’ve known my entire high school career that I’d end up in Ann Arbor with the rest of Andover, so even last year I’d answer humbly, “Oh, me? I’ll probably end up at U of M.”
This year it’s even easier.  I look them straight in the eye and say “I, Andrew Weiner, will be attending the University of Michigan in the fall of 2010.”  It is effortless; they ask the question, I answer.
But it’s a trap.
This question is just to rope me in; get my confidence up so they can shoot it down.  Now, they ask the question they know I don’t want to hear: “And what are you going to do up there?”
Every time I hear this, I panic.  Withdrawing into my defensive shell, I have no idea what to do, let alone what to say.
“Uh, engineering?” used to be my reply, but this didn’t satiate the inquisitive minds that pester me.  I even added the question mark to the end of my answer to imply that I had no idea.  But did this satisfy them?  No.
“Okay, what kind of engineering are you interested in?”
Um.  The kind that gets you to stop asking me questions.
When I realized engineering involved math, I gave up on that career path.  I switched my answer to urban planning.  Then came the realization that I don’t know what urban planning is.
My next answer was political science.  “So you want to be a senator?” No, I don’t want to be a senator.  Then pre-law.  Then pre-medicine.  Then glass blowing.
Then I got crafty.  I would evade the question with a new answer.  “I’m not sure, but I know I want a minor in film.”  Genius!  Then I can direct the conversation to the latest movie the adult has seen, pretend I’d seen it and, like magic, I was in the clear! Or so I thought.  That only leads to more questions.
“So film studies or, like, making movies?” Crap.  I wave my white flag.
I experimented with responding “I’m going to major in saving the world” hoping that they’d be distracted by my wittiness and forget the original question.  Again, no success, just blank stares.
Maybe I should tell the truth. “I dunno.  I’m gonna take basic liberal arts classes, the minimum amount of credits, be at a party a majority of the time, graduate with a useless degree and move back in with my parents.”
Sure, it’s a conversation topic, but don’t they understand the pressure they’re putting me under?  What I am doing with the rest of my life is not something I want to think about until after college.  Maybe that’s a bad idea, but it’s my plan.
Recently, I’ve given up.  When asked for my future plans, I have a new answer.
“I’m going to be a lion.”
“A Lion?  Like a football player?”
“No.  Like the animal.”
Then I walk away.  Victory.