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Rena Beban.

Throughout my years as an undergrad, the inevitable question I was met with every time I told someone I was a physics major was, “Wow, that’s really difficult. Do you want to be a teacher?” My response every single time: “No way, I’m going to work in a national laboratory and analyze data for huge projects!”

Now, I’m writing this piece shortly after finishing a paper proposal for one of my graduate education classes. Yes, I’m going to be a teacher.

I graduated with a bachelor’s in physics less than a year ago. In the months leading up to graduation, I was certain I’d be working in a lab and changing the world by now. And someday maybe I will do just that, but I can’t say it will be a linear path. In the meantime, I’m lucky enough to be a Noyce Scholar at Adelphi University, which means that the National Science Foundation is paying for me to earn a master’s in adolescent science education. As part of the program, I’ll be teaching in high-needs schools for two years, promoting interest in STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, and math) among underrepresented student populations. So, I have a solid two-year plan, right? Right?

I’m thrilled that I’ll be doing such important work with young students who may not receive the same opportunities as some of their peers—I think about girls dealing with gender norms, students with learning differences, and kids with financial barriers to out-of-class STEAM resources. It’s a beautiful thing to be in a position to make a difference, and according to the Physics Teacher Education Coalition, the need for qualified physics teachers is higher than ever.

But is it what I want to do in the long run?

Frankly, I have no idea. As rewarding as teaching can be, it would be naïve to ignore the stress behind it—I find myself intimidated by the lack of funding, long hours, and not quite knowing what each day will bring. Not to mention, I still want to work in a lab!

I might want to pursue a doctorate. Law school, even?

I’ve created a mental pendulum for myself, constantly flowing between feeling certain of my future and feeling scared, confused, and unsure beyond comprehension. In these moments or phases I look in the mirror and tell myself one thing: “You’re 22 years old. It’s okay not to have it all figured out.”

We constantly see inflated portrayals of individuals who seem to have their entire lives set by age 20 (think about the influencers you view on social media), and it normalizes the abnormal—it’s not normal to be a millionaire with a mansion before you can legally have a drink. Looking at ourselves in the mirror forces us to consider where we are at that very instant, be it as a student, working professionally, both, or neither. Mirror moments are reminders that we are where we’re meant to be, even if it’s not necessarily where you want to be. Each day that we work toward our goals and make the most of our current position opens doors to unexpected, new opportunities, showing that there is potential in the unknown.

But how do we address those feelings of uncertainty?

The best way I’ve found to keep my head straight and not spiral is to give my all to whatever I’m doing, be it my studies, my work, the tiring retail job I have on the side, or my own hobbies. I’ve learned that remaining present and putting my genuine best effort into my current project keeps me confident in my path and helps me feel fulfilled, even in this confusing phase of my life.

Still, though, the pendulum is swinging in my head. Really, I don’t know if it will ever stop (we’re ignoring air resistance so it will definitely not stop!). What I do know is that it’s okay to be confused. Yes, I have an end goal. I might even have 50 conflicting end goals. Maybe you do too! And if you’re feeling like me—unsure about where you’ll be in the future—I encourage you to have a mirror moment of your own and take your path day by day.

For information on the Robert Noyce Teacher Scholarship Program, visit nsfnoyce.org.