"I want to major in English, and maybe computer science."

"So you want to be a teacher, eh?" Mr. Barry, my guidance counselor, a man with a scarred face and I still can't remember if he seemed honestly like he gave a damn or not.

"No. I don't want to teach High School kids."

"Grammar School, then?"

"No. No teaching children. I want to write." I could see the horror, there. I had only recently come out as a writer. I had given up acting dumb, and I wanted to do something I love.

"Well, maybe you should have a back-up plan."

Huh? Going through my own life assuming failure? "No, that's all right."

"Perhaps a community college would be a good idea . . ."

But I wasn't listening. I had, roughly, this nasty epiphany:

Those who have abandoned their dreams will discourage yours.

and this:

No one dreams of being a guidance counselor.

And we trust our children's future to such people.