The End of Work by John Tamny

Author:John Tamny
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781621578475
Publisher: Regnery Publishing
Published: 2018-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

My Story

“I have never believed in myself more than when I was writing my script. I was never happier with myself.”1

—Dominick Dunne, The Way We Lived Then

“How do you like school?” Yogi Berra replied, “Closed.”2

I’m going to pause now to share the story of my own career, not because it’s extraordinary but because it’s in fact pretty ordinary. My story illustrates how economic evolution has expanded the range of work options. When I graduated from college in 1992, there was no Internet to speak of. Within a few years, as I’ll explain, it made my career as a writer possible.

My story is also a reminder that the path to the job that aligns with your talents and passion is often rocky and marked by failures. I don’t mind saying that fear propelled me much of the time.

After years of moving around as my dad wrapped up his time in the U.S. Navy and attended business school, my parents moved my sister and me to Pasadena, California, in 1975. From kindergarten through the third grade I attended Linda Vista School, which was right in the neighborhood.

Our classroom bookshelves contained the “Meet” series of biographies of great Americans—Meet George Washington, Meet Abraham Lincoln, Meet Martin Luther King, and many others. My favorite was Meet Thomas Jefferson. I couldn’t get enough of the “Meet” books, and that seemed to be a problem.

Though I was in the middle of every game at recess, in the classroom I kept to myself, poring over those short books. Because of my consuming interest in those biographies, my parents and relatives bought me more and more books about historical figures, especially U.S. presidents.

Still, by second grade I found it hard to pay attention in class, and one night I told my parents that school wasn’t going well because I was reading all the time instead of following what was going on in class. My parents were relieved when my teacher told them she was pleased with my love of reading. As long as I kept my nose in books, she said, everything would be fine.

I liked history and writing, tolerated math, and loathed science. Sports made attending school fun, but probably like most kids I dreaded Sunday nights.

In high school, the math became much more difficult. Freshman geometry went way over my head, and Algebra II as a sophomore merely added to my angst. It was doable, but there was nothing fun or interesting about it. It was assumed that these classes were essential if you were college-bound, and I got by with Bs and the occasional C.

As a junior I transferred to Loyola High School, west of downtown Los Angeles. Unfortunately, my extreme dislike of math in no way subsided. An advanced algebra class was beyond my capabilities—or at least beyond my willingness to work hard—so I dropped it. One of the counselors warned me this would be difficult to explain to colleges. It was all so depressing.

My grades reflected my middling interest in school. I wasn’t one to act up, but the only classes that captivated me were history and literature.

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