They were already half laughing before I reached the front of the classroom, whispers and polite sneers floating just above the hum of Career Day. Parents had PowerPoints and laser pointers, lawyers, analysts, architects all showing upward-trending graphs and rooftop gardens. Then there was me—faded flannel, scuffed boots, a yellow hard hat, and a leather tool belt that left a faint ring of dust on the polished desk. Some students wrinkled their noses. I heard the dismissal in the whispers, the polite skepticism of people who measured worth by degrees and titles. I didn’t react. Reacting only confirms the story people have already written about you.
