“What’s easier to lift, a shovel or a pencil?”
I opened my eyes to view the dust-covered dashboard of my dad’s van. My dad’s head was titled towards me as his eyes were kept on the road. It was a cold December, he took me to work him and I earned some cash. I had not only been earning cash but I was also getting a life lesson. I was fortunate enough that my parents provided the necessities and accommodations to live. I was nonetheless grateful for what my parents achieved for my wellbeing. I’m comparison to their upbringing, my parents did not have a choice.
I sheepishly whispered “a pencil.” My father heard it loud and clear, he knew I was learning to value education. My academic integrity was never damaged, I was the exemplar student. My dad’s work was rough, intensive, and exhausting. He has only his trade to make income. To have the opportunity to see the working conditions my father works under. It opened my eyes to comprehend what his phrase had meant. The understanding of his phrase surpassed my knowledge of knowing what I wanted for my future. Did I want an intensive work lifestyle where I would come home exhausted? Or did I want a comfortable working site with benefits and a stable job?
