Jack of All Trades, Master of None…

Better than master of one?

I began writing this post about a year ago, at a time when I was feeling incredibly discouraged. With my internship at Taproot coming to a close, I was seeking out professional opportunities in a variety of fields.

On LinkedIn, you can find a (very outdated) list of 41 skills I credit to myself, including web design, coaching, wardrobe, and music composition.

Many of these skills were self-taught because I got excited about a project that needed them, for a short period of time. Very little formal training in any of them. My interests and experiences are wide, but rarely deep. So when I searched for jobs and saw the list of qualifications, my resume never matched up.

This post was initially me ranting about the proverbial Jack and the ludicrous idea that having a variety of mediocre skills was better than being very experienced in one field. It felt very difficult to pitch myself in a cover letter: “Hey, I’m way less qualified, but I’m okay at doing lots of other things you won’t find at all relevant!”

The second part of this draft, post-Jack ranting, was written last August:

Here’s what I will say is better. Once you’ve been hired by a company that you like, your ADHD, your Jack-of-all-tradeness, will serve you incredibly well.

In November of 2024, I sought out a job teaching theatre with this company, Dandylyon Drama. I was insanely nervous to begin — not having any formal teaching experience, but only self-taught methods and offhand moments, I had no idea if I’d be a good teacher.

Well, I was. Praise God.

I was teaching alongside my boss Mel in my first class, and quickly picked up on some of her strategies for classroom management. She decided to be impressed with that effort, and asked me if I had any stage management experience. Thankfully, I had just called a show for the first time through my internship at Taproot, so I said yes.

After calling a winter showcase, Mel asked me to be the stage manager AND assistant director for our spring show, and I was more than happy to oblige.

They didn’t require much of me in my contract as stage manager, but I’d just seen what it looked like to be a professional stage manager, and I wanted to emulate that as much as possible. I decided to write up rehearsal reports, using the small practice that I’d had at Taproot. (This gig also helped me find ways to conquer my ADHD, like getting there ridiculously early so I could set up the room and lesson plan, and staying late so I forced myself to finish the rehearsal report before anything at home distracted me.) Each director also took on a technical element, so I offered my glue gun and took on props.

During that process, my boss was patient with me as I told her I might not keep working with them in the fall, I was looking at other opportunities. And she let me ramble about my final intern project at Taproot, where I was researching what it took to be a producer and do fundraising work.

This past week, [again, back in August ’25] I had a conversation with Mel, who is considering me for an admin role with the company. She has hyped up my proficiency as a stage manager to many people — to the point where one of my other bosses reminded her that I might be an option for this role. Before we even started discussing the role, she asked me about my final project, and I gave her a bit more of a detailed run-down of what I did. She said that they might hire me to do fundraising work with the company as well.

The point is, put effort into learning things, put those things into practice, and talk about things you’re excited for. [Even if they aren’t all of one in-depth pursuit.]

I’ll be honest, when I started stage managing the spring show, I found this weird sense of identity that I’ve been encountering in myself since 8th grade. At that point, I kept reaching out to my art teacher to clarify confusing points in our syllabus, or reminding her of things that she’d forgotten. She told me that I was a genius. I felt as though I was a type-A artistic person, that I was both organized and creative.

That sense of identity was lost in college when organizational skills went down the drain from depression and undiagnosed ADHD. But as I’ve been mentally and spiritually healing, and as I’ve been put into this new position, I was watching my relationship with my bosses take on a similar form as it had back in 8th grade. And Mel now reaching out to me for these positions makes me beyond confident in what’s next. I was scared for a while, thinking that I was stupid, but now I find that my organization is present and valued, even if it’s not as put-together as my fully Type-A mom or sister. My boss is affirming in me this identity, and I’m so excited. God is so good.

As I said, I’m certain of divine interference on my behalf.

Because somehow, I randomly applied for this teaching job at a cute little company in November of 2024, hoping to replace my waitressing job.

And now, in June of 2026, I’m on their permanent staff as a Teaching Artist and Production Coordinator, literally using all of my random skills at a moment’s notice. Yes, I can stage manage. I can make anything from hot glue and cardboard. I can sew a dress and paint a set. I can put together a video montage and edit some sound cues.