Chapter 1
You're Not Picking a Future - Just a Starting Point(The Unintended Geologist)
I thought I had my future all figured out. A career saving the environment, a degree in engineering, and a clear path ahead. Then, I arrived at college realized I had accidentally selected a university that did not offer environmental engineering as a degree. I had set out to save the planet - turns out, I was just going to study what it was made of.
Let me back up.
When it came time to pick a university, I had a plan. I was going to be an environmental engineer, designing solutions to pollution problems, making a real impact by saving the world. My high school yearbook features a picture of me hugging a tree*, just in case anyone doubted my commitment.
Now, I know that not everyone is fortunate enough to have a plan before heading off to college. But what I hope this story shows is that even the best-laid plans don't always go the way you think - and that's okay.
Looking back, the advice I'd have offered myself is this: your entire life does not hinge on one seemingly critical decision, like choosing a college or a major. Even when you think you have it figured out, life has other plans - and they often work out better than you imagined.
The College Selection Debacle
I got accepted to all the universities I applied to. I was ecstatic. The world was my oyster, and now I got to choose.
Since the decision no longer depended on which university would accept me, I had to decide based on other criteria. Growing up in rural Maine, I wanted to try my hand at big city life - so off to Boston I went.
With all the excitement of meeting my roommate, navigating dorm life, and finding my bearings in the big city, I had one more important task - selecting my courses for my first semester of study to be an environmental engineer.
The process was simple: I had to find Environmental Engineering in the course catalog and enroll in first-year classes.
I flipped through the pages, scanning for Environmental Engineering.
Nothing.
Okay... maybe I just missed it.
I flipped back a few pages. Still nothing.
Maybe I was going too fast. I slowed down, carefully scanning the headings. I skimmed past Environmental Geology - which obviously wasn't what I was looking for - only to realize... there was nothing else.
No Environmental Engineering listed anywhere.
I frowned and flipped forward a few pages to check the Engineering section instead.
Mechanical Engineering.
Electrical Engineering.
Civil Engineering...
...Nothing more.
Where was Environmental Engineering?
It was in that moment dread settled in, a slow, creeping realization that something was very, very wrong.
I flipped back to the Environmental section, staring at the only thing that seemed even remotely related to what I wanted to study. Geology.
That's when it hit me, I had chosen a university that didn't even offer my intended major.
This shocking realization - not only was I not on track for an Environmental Engineering degree, but I had chosen a university that didn't even offer Environmental Engineering. They had an amazing engineering program and an okay environmental program, but the two were not connected with each other - they weren't even part of the same college! Engineering was part of the Engineering College while Geology was part of the College of Science! How was I ever going to make this work?
So, I found myself becoming an Environmental Geology student.
At first, I thought, no big deal, they're related fields, right? But the more I understood, the more I realized that engineering was about creating solutions, while geology was about studying rocks.
Going Along for the Ride
I debated changing schools, but I had already started, and transferring seemed complicated. Besides, geology wasn't terrible - I just hadn't planned to study it.
I did what any rational 18-year-old does when faced with a major life decision:
I shrugged and decided to go along for the ride.
Little did I know, this "accidental" choice would shape the rest of my career. I found I loved studying rocks and developed an appreciation for the geologic time scale - something humans can barely comprehend in our short lifetimes.
And, as it turned out, this would set me up far better than I could have imagined for the next 25 years of my life.
Why Your Major Matters Less Than You Think
Although Hollywood loves the freshman who shows up with a five-year plan, the data tells a different story. In the United States, fewer than one in eight first-year students can even name a major on day one1, and roughly one in three bachelor's candidates switches fields within three years2. The same exploratory rhythm plays out across Europe: a pan-continental survey spanning 25 higher-education systems reports that about 14% of students have already changed programs and another 20% are seriously considering it3. In other words, uncertainty isn't a bug in the college experience - it's the default setting, and campuses on both sides of the Atlantic are built to help students turn that open-ended beginning into a purposeful finish.
Locking down a major is hardly the end of the story - it's more like the opening chapter. A recent Pew poll found that just 46% of grads end up working in the very field they studied4. And the New York Fed says nearly four in ten diploma-holders are in roles that technically don't even ask for a degree5. Bottom line? It's perfectly normal for new grads - especially in those early career years - to zigzag a bit before they land on something that feels right.
Why does this happen?
Because career paths are rarely straightforward. The world is constantly evolving, and industries shift faster than universities can update their curriculums. Many students also don't fully understand what their major entails when they choose it.
The real lesson?
Your degree isn't a life sentence. It's a steppingstone.
And here's the good news: it doesn't matter as much as you think. Just over half of recent college graduates - about 52% - find themselves in jobs that don't actually require the degree they just earned (Burning Glass Institute & Strada Institute, 2024)6.
Employers today value skills and experience over specific degrees.
Industries like tech, consulting, and sustainability** actively recruit people from diverse academic backgrounds because they bring different perspectives. What's important isn't whether your degree perfectly aligns with your dream job - it's how you use it.
After graduating high school, I thought my major defined my future.
As a young professional, I realized it was just a steppingstone.
Yes, I became a geologist, but I never became the person studying rock formations for a living. Instead, my geology background gave me the foundation for something much bigger - a career that spanned sustainability, regulatory work, and corporate leadership.
Of course, I did pick up some useful rock knowledge along the way. These days, I'm the life of the party on hikes and beach walks, dazzling (or exhausting) my friends and family with fascinating rock facts. Who needs small talk when you can reveal the hidden geologic history beneath one's feet?
That unexpected beginning didn't derail my career - it gave it depth. And it set me up for the next lesson: sometimes, readiness and responsibility arrive out of order.
* "Tree hugger" is a (mostly) affectionate term for someone who's deeply committed to environmental causes - think nature-lover, climate worrier, reusable-bag carrier. It's sometimes used to imply idealism, but I choose to use the label with affection and zero apology.
** Sustainability is the practice of meeting today's needs without wrecking tomorrow's options. In theory, it's about balancing environmental responsibility, social equity, and economic viability. In practice? It's often a mix of carbon audits, supply chain headaches, unreadable stakeholder reports, and the occasional PowerPoint promising to "do better." When done right, it's meaningful. When done for marketing, it's a leafy graphic and three bullet points. I like to think I landed on the right side of history with this one.
