How the heck did I end up as a reporter?

Never once growing up did I think “I want to be a writer/reporter when I grow up.” I went through stages of wanting to be a geologist, a doctor or nurse, psychiatrist and owning a ranch in Wyoming where troubled kids could stay and work.
 The winter of 1968, we lived in Bothell, Wash. We moved there from Idaho Falls. Our fourth-grade class was asked to write short stories.
The story I wrote was about an elementary school-aged girl who lost her sight. It has been too many years to remember the complete storyline. However, I do recall there was a successful surgery, and her sight was restored.
Our teacher, Mr. DeLeon, submitted my story to a magazine and it was published. Not sure if it was a local Seattle area magazine or a national one. But even then, the thought of becoming a writer was not in my mind.
Perhaps deep down, the seed was planted in my fourth-grade self. I know my handwriting is still at that fourth-grade level.  
Fast forward to high school in Virginia. We had a great 11th grade English teacher who encouraged us to write. That still didn’t set off the ding, ding, ding, you want to be a writer. Those years were the I-want-to-be-a-geologist years, inspired by Grandpa Bill Greene who started the Greybull Museum.
The second year of college in Washington State resulted in a year of creative writing classes along with the other basics. Many of the students in class were in the Navy. Their stories were SciFi and war stories. Mine were about time spent in Wyoming. They used to laugh at the emotional and heart-touching tone of my stories. MEN!
The last two years of college were in San Diego. That was the psychiatrist stage. I got a bachelor of arts in behavioral science. Yup, a B.A. in B.S.
In 1994 I moved back to Wyoming and started working in radio. Those creative writing classes paid off because I knew how to paint a picture with words for commercials.  Plus, writing news stories.  
Eleven years ago, I started as a reporter for this paper. Our stories have been published statewide, nationwide, and even in Canada. Never imagined that in fourth grade. Yet here we are.
We greatly appreciate your readership, insight and feedback.  Thanks for reading your local hometown paper.