“How did you become a park ranger?” It’s one of the most common questions I received while working as a ranger, and it’s one I still get asked almost every time someone finds out I used to work at national parks.
No, I did not attend a ranger academy. No, I did not go to school for forestry or “ranger stuff.” When I got my first park job, I didn’t even have a degree in science.
My path toward US national parks began in the Great Smoky Mountains, near where I was born. As a child in Knoxville, Tennessee, I remember family trips to Cades Cove, picnicking and scanning the fields for deer and black bears.
When I was six we moved to Asheville, NC, on the other side of the Smokies. Here we had easy access to the Blue Ridge Parkway, which carved along the edges of the city.
On weekends we would drive its ridges, exploring Mount Mitchel, Grandfather Mountain, Linville Falls. At home, I lived outdoors with the other neighborhood kids, memorizing the trees and creeks in the strip of forest beyond our street.
Despite my love of nature, the Smokies, and the Blue Ridge Mountains, I never imagined being a park ranger as a child. I didn’t know such a job existed, at least not anywhere but in books. I loved to read as much as I loved being outside, maybe more. The only thing I ever wanted to be when I grew up was a writer.
My ambition to write led me to earn an English degree. I also longed to travel and added a French degree to my workload. After graduating I moved to a village in the south of France, where I taught English at a public high school. I loved exploring France and I loved my students, but I missed home. So I headed back to Tennessee.
I joined Americorps, an environmental education program. I took the job to be closer to home and because it sounded fun. I had no idea that it would dramatically alter the course of my career and life.
Every day I stood in elementary school cafeterias and snatched compostable items from students’ lunch trays. I waded through entire schools’ trash to perform waste audits. I planted vegetables in garden plots and turned compost with a shovel. I organized recycling drives and taught lessons about endangered species. In short, I had the time of my life.
I discovered for the first time that not all jobs require a person to slowly decay in an office: some jobs took place outside. This knowledge opened up a world of possibilities for me. It also served as a reminder a few years later, when I found myself jobless, dropped out of grad school, and looking for a change.
After Americorps I tried to get what I thought was an adult job. I worked in a basement cubicle, with concrete-block walls and no windows. One afternoon a rumor spread through the basement like a summer breeze on a stifling day–it was raining.
At break I ran up to the parking lot and watched the drops fall, staining the pavement a darker shade of gray. I breathed in the tangy air of the storm and felt alive in a way I hadn’t for weeks in that musty basement. At that moment I decided that this would be the last time I would work in a room with no windows.
I began trying different jobs, none of which fit. I drove a recycling truck, interned at Oak Ridge National lab as a science writer, and started grad school in journalism. I hated all of it. I quit grad school, now saddled with student loan debt and still clueless about what I wanted to do with my life.
And then I saw a documentary about national parks.
When the Ken Burns documentary–National Parks: America’s Best Idea–first aired, I was depressed, fresh out of a long-term relationship, and looking for a change. I wanted to leave Knoxville; I wanted to do something big. I watched national park rangers hike and wear funny hats and talk about bears and thought, “I could do that.”
And I was right. I had no degree in science, no background in national park anything, no idea how to become a park ranger, but I knew myself. I knew that if given a chance, I could do that job and do it well.
My friends and family had less confidence. They saw a woman who didn’t know what she was doing–a failed recycling truck driver, a failed office worker, a failed grad student. When I spoke about my new ambition, I saw a lot of rolled eyes or worse–concerned faces.
But they were wrong about me. I was not lost; I was exploring. I was not a failure; I was choosing to quit things that didn’t serve me. I knew who I was, and I trusted myself. And now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I wanted to be a park ranger. I just needed someone to give me a chance.
For months I applied to national park jobs, hardly knowing what I was doing, clicking on the “Yes, I’m an expert!” button even when I had no idea what they were asking. If I could just talk to one of these park people, I could make them understand. I could do this.
I began by applying for jobs in nearby parks, like Great Smoky Mountains National Park or the Blue Ridge Parkway, until I discovered that there were parks all across the nation looking for rangers. I applied to every one of them, dozens of jobs. And I heard nothing back. Not a thing.
After six months of applying, not a single park had contacted me. I gave up. I stopped visiting the coffee shop near my house for free wifi, stopped checking the government website for new listings. And then I received the most important email of my life.
Was I still interested and available for a ranger job in a small park in Alaska? Why yes, as a matter of fact I was! I interviewed with a national park supervisor named Bruce, a kind man who I would later learn had a knack for bringing new rangers into the fold.
He was interested in my experience in France–he needed a bilingual ranger. He was interested in my Americorps experience–environmental education work with a government program looked good on a park resume.
It turned out that my chaotic background had just the mix of skills and experience he was looking for. He asked if I could start in a month.
A month? I had one conversation with the man and now he wanted to know if I could uproot my life and move to a tiny Alaskan town in a month?!
“Absolutely,” I told him. And that is how the greatest adventure of my life began.
Want to learn how you can become a park ranger? Read “How to Become a National Park Ranger.” Or learn more about park ranger careers here.