Angel Come Home

Whenever people ask me what I want to do in the future, I've found that it's actually really fun to look them right in the eye, tell them straight up that I want to be an aeronautical engineer, and watch them try to decide how to respond. They always want to ask two specific questions but rarely do. First: "What exactly is aeronautical engineering?" Adults especially try to avoid this question, probably because they don't appreciate it when a teenager knows more about a topic - any topic - than they do. The second question is "Engineering? But you're a girl!" (which, I realize, is half a question and half a statement). I think any girl who wants to go into science will eventually face a sexist question like this, but those who major in engineering, math, physics, computer science, etc are questioned more than girls who prefer biology and medicine. While I'll be addressing both of those questions in upcoming blog posts, I want to answer the question that most people do ask: Why aviation?

I know there is an aspect of sexism behind it, because there are so few females in any industry traditionally considered part of a man's world. I was never raised on that philosophy, though - that men belong in mechanical careers and women belong anywhere else. When I was young, my Thomas the Tank Engine trains outnumbered my Barbies. I never had a dollhouse; instead, my sister and I shared a Tonka truck that we would cart all around the house. My parents, who are both science majors (my mom is a microbiologist and my dad is an electrical engineer), did the best they could to make sure that my childhood was as neutral as possible. My life wasn't particularly feminine or masculine. It just kind of was.

One part of that childhood was planes. My dad received his private pilot's license in 2002, when I was six years old, and my family bought a small plane two years later when I was eight. To say that my sister and I were raised on planes is a gross understatement. Half of my childhood memories happened in one small plane or another. The inside of our Mooney is smaller than the inside of a sedan, but I have literally spent hundreds, if not thousands, of hours in there over the past eight years.

With flying so readily available, it's really no surprise that the first career I gravitated towards was piloting. As a young girl, I wanted to be a commercial pilot or a fighter pilot in the military. It wasn't until I was 14 that I finally had my first flying lesson. It happened in a little glider several thousand feet above Hollister several months after my birthday, and I loved the thrill that it gave me. However, I quickly realized that while I still plan to earn my pilot's license before I graduate from high school, piloting as a career just isn't for me.

Aeronautical engineering is, though. The first time someone told me that I could combine airplanes and science and make a career out of it, I thought he was kidding. Two of my favorite things combined into one? It seemed too good to be true.

Now that I've done some research, however, I know that it's not as unbelievable as it seems. It's actually stunningly within reach, and I've already taken some steps to get there - including taking as many math and science courses as I can, participating in an aviation camp last summer, and planning to apply for several internships this summer. My dad keeps telling me that just because aviation is a major part of my family doesn't mean I have to make it my life - but I think he's finally beginning to understand that I'm not going into an aviation-related career because I want to please him. I'm doing it because I can't imagine aviation not being a part of my life. I'm doing it because I can't wait to take the next step in my journey to becoming an aeronautical engineer.



On the topic of flight, here's a 100-word flash fiction story I wrote recently:

Angel Come Home
          She went missing exactly a year ago, in June. Took off in that little airplane of hers and was never seen again. Charlie Bravo, that’s what the CB in her end number N231CB is supposed to stand for. We say it means Come Back. Come back, Kit, come home.
          She left us last year. And now, at the airport, we hear the hum. Loud, mechanical, impossible, the hum of a special airplane's engine.
          Too perfect. Too much to hope.
          And yet there it is, taxiing toward us: N231CB. A metal angel. Because Charlie Bravo has come back. Kit's come home.

Becky Hill