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As my time at Fordham was coming to the end, I started going through a common but unfamiliar transition. I simply had no idea what would come next, and for the first time in my life, I felt lost. I figured I had two options; I could stay in New York City and attempt to find a job contributing to some facet of the media. or I could move home to Boston and take a chance at trying something new. I chose the latter due primarily to the materialistic nature of the former. In my mind, the overwhelming attitude projected in NY was greed. I was tired of hearing about the nice things people owned and the people that could get them into clubs. I craved the familiarity of home and the comfort that Boston offered. Also, I really wanted to learn and explore the neighborhood of my origin. I moved home in May, and I would not settle until I had a plan.

During the short breaks for Christmas and the summer, I worked part time as a substitute teacher in Canton. My mother worked in a special ed classroom so I was lucky to have an in. I enjoyed the work, and even more, the lifestyle that teaching provided. I did some research as to what it would take to be a certified teacher, and what I found was promising. I didn't need to have any experience nor a degree in education. I needed a bachelor's degree and the ability to pass a couple of exams. I took them both in attempt to gauge the necessary aptitude, but was fortunate enough to pass. I applied for licensure, and a few weeks later I was granted a preliminary license in teaching English for grades 5-12. Now I had a direction.

I frantically began applying for jobs. The hiring season had began, and with no experience I was at a major disadvantage. I didn't want to work in the suburbs, as I had seen how stifled those teachers became between standardized testing and overbearing parents. I wanted to teach in the inner city as both a challenge and a reason to relocate. After sending out at least 15 application packets, I received one answer; Saint Kevin School in Upham's Corner, Dorchester. I recall parking my car in a neighborhood less secure than the Bronx and approaching a building in dire need of restoration. I walked through a concrete parking lot, eroded to the point of vehicular immobility, through a crowd of curious eyes, and into the office of Sister Paula Kelly. The interview went well, and my walk portrayed my confidence. I felt oddly at home in this alien place, and saw SKS as a great place to start my career. The next day I received a call from Sister Paula along with an offer for a one-year contract. The money was not great, but was a hell of a lot more than I ever had before. I promptly took the offer. A few weeks ago someone asked me if I considered myself an adult, and I quickly replied "yes". He then asked if I could recall the first time I felt this way. I replied, "When I received my first salary".

Up to this point, I had gone through a rough couple of months. I couldn't feel comfortable without a direction, and this new adventure provided me one. I now had the ammo to cover my first and last month's rent. It was time to begin looking at new apartments in the city of Boston. Nobody else was ready, but I was about as restless as a Naval officer coming to port. The rest of my life was ahead of me, and I was ready to go. I contacted everyone I knew, but they were all happy with where they were. Finally, I got in touch with a friend and teammate of mine from Fordham, Greg Smith. He was a year ahead of me in school and finishing up a valiant attempt at playing professional baseball. He was also dealing with a lot of uncertainty, but ready to make a move. As soon as he agreed to go along for the ride so was I. We needed a third, and luckily for us, a great man named Colin Maxey was finishing up a year as a Jesuit Volunteer. He too was looking for a change, and the three of us found it in South Boston, in the second floor apartment on 57 M. Street.