My parents were very gentle: “It’s great that you love it, but maybe you can find something else you love that has a practical application?”
W hen I was in ninth grade I opened a time capsule from fourth grade. Flipping through my old journal I saw a fill-in-the-blank that said “When I grow up I want to be a neuroscientist.”
I doubt I even knew what the word meant then but I’d always been interested in language. Back when people read newspapers my father used to clip William Safire’s “On Language” column for me and he bought me books on codes. In high school that interest in language led to curiosity about how the brain processes language and from there to how the brain works in general.
It certainly wasn’t the typical Bais Yaakov career path. At one seminary interview I was smart enough not to answer “neuroscience ” when asked about my plans so I said something vague about linguistics. “Oh that’s great ” the rav answered. “We’re affiliated with a really strong speech therapy program and you can take classes while you’re here.”
Once I announced my decision reactions were… mixed. A lot of well-meaning family and friends were convinced I’d never find a shidduch. Their fears weren’t wholly unfounded based on my friends’ experiences.
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