Please Stop Asking, “What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?”

In my youngest years, I couldn’t wait for an adult to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had so many big ideas, aspirations, and goals. I would spew them all simultaneously and watch their faces lift as they realized just how big of a deal I might be one day. I wanted to be an astronaut who danced on the moon; I wanted two kids; I wanted to be able to move things with my mind. I wanted to be the very best person I could be and do all of the things I was capable of doing, all at once.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the same question that brought me joy and creativity would quickly become toxic as a young adult.

As a middle schooler, I wanted to go to law school. In high school, I had my sights set on Broadway. I also wanted to be a chemist, a professional softball player, and a writer. In my first year of college, I switched my major from business and marketing to journalism. A little while later I settled into digital media production, a degree that is arguably less impressive now that iPhones shoot in 4K and Canva has made design accessible to the average Josephine.

My first job out of college was a flop; my boss lied about the position and I was left stranded in Shanghai, China without a backup plan. When I came home, I wrote and published a book that documented the life-changing experiences I accrued after traveling through Southeast Asia with the time I had left abroad. I started working at a fitness facility to pay my bills. A year later, I was self-employed, running my own publishing company and freelance writing. This year, I published my second book to help inspire others to pursue sharing their writing with the world.

My 6-year-old, aspiring-astronaut self couldn’t have been farther away. She had no idea what else life had in mind.

Forcing The Hand Of Young Hearts

Before students even enter middle school, they’re encouraged to consider their job preferences from an endlessly diverse set of career paths. At 13 and 14 years old, we are told that every decision we make— extracurriculars, study habits, course selections, internships, volunteer work — will impact our future success. We are programmed to believe that before we are 21, we need to establish a path for the adult version of ourselves.

We are undeveloped minds making decisions for individuals that don’t yet exist in the world.

By the time students are nearing high school graduation, everyone wants to know which path they chose. Teens who have hardly experienced life on their own are making critical decisions that will affect their financial and personal wellbeing for the rest of their adult life. Without a direction, though, it’s easy to feel as though you’ve been cast out from any chances of success. Older generations simply don’t know how to respond positively to a college student who is, “Undecided”.

After graduating, most students cross their fingers and hope they made the right choice of degree. Many end up doing something entirely unrelated. That alone should tell us a lot about the pressure we’re placing on young minds.

I’ve always admired those who knew from age 10 that they wanted to be a doctor or a chef and pursued it as part of their identity. I wanted so badly to feel that passionate about a career. I wanted to land what others so often referred to as, “a job you would do for free.” I have spent countless hours scrolling through job boards, searching and hoping for one that seems like it might be meant for me. Or that I might be meant for the job.

It has often felt as though there isn’t a single job that speaks to who I want to be or what I want to contribute to the world.

Choosing To Be One In A Sea Of Many

Humans are multi-faceted individuals with a wide range of talents and interests. I truly believe I could be just as happy and successful in event coordination as I would be life coaching or making documentaries. I want to simultaneously be a powerhouse CEO and a stay-at-home mom who volunteers at a local shelter. I’m interested in pursuing so many industries that some of them seem to contradict one another. My fiancé encourages me to just pick a path, and try it, but my brain programming from high school says, “If you switch careers too frequently, no one will take your resume seriously. It’s long-term career suicide.”

If I can’t find the right career, how am I supposed to find my purpose?

I finally broke down. It could have been the lack of sleep, stress from planning a wedding, or uncertainty over where my career is headed. A simple, “How are you?” turned into a cry for guidance. I explained to my best friend how pointless it all felt; how it all seems so overwhelming and divisive. I couldn’t possibly pursue one interest without giving up another, and committing to a position only to find out it’s not for me would feel like failing. How could I — in good conscience — accept a job knowing that it may not be the right fit? Too many industry hops and the next employer would consider me a hiring risk.

He stopped me in my tracks, “A job is nothing more than a job.” Yeah, okay, I’ve heard that one before. He doesn’t get it. I listened with heavy skepticism. “No matter what your title is, a job is strictly intended to put food on your table. It doesn’t define who you are.” Alright, yeah, but if you don’t pick a good one people will criticize you for not using your degree or not working hard enough. Nice try.

“You make me happy every day just by talking to me. Isn’t that purpose enough?”

I paused.

“You make your family happy. You make your fiancé happy. You impact the lives of others simply by being who you are every day. A job doesn’t change that.”

The tears came back.

It suddenly hit me that all of the energy I was putting into assigning myself a title, finding myself a career, determining which employer would give my life purpose, was energy that could have been spent appreciating the person that I already am.

Building Inspiration Rather Than Expectation

Asking kids what they want to be when they‘re an adult sets a precedent that they will be defined by their title. It tells them that their identity is incomplete without a job that speaks to who they are. In reality, a job is just a job. The person you are at work means next to nothing to the person you are outside of the office. It’s why die-hard fans of TV shows and movies are often disappointed to meet their favorite characters. It turns out, Hollywood actors and actresses are just doing what the rest of us are: working.

This isn’t all to say that a job can’t positively impact the individual that you are or continue to shape your personal aspirations and values. But a job is not where it starts.

Rather than perceiving jobs as something that defines our path to success (whatever that even is), why don’t we focus instead on the people we are on AND off the clock. Why don’t we prioritize building values and identity development over resumes and LinkedIn profiles? Why don’t we ask students about their creative expressions and worldly interests instead of which version of the American dream they’re pursuing?

What would happen if we stopped asking children to define the rest of their lives before they even have a chance to live it?

5 Clear Reasons To Stop Asking Kids What They Want To Be When They Grow Up

1. After enough adults ask the question — and after enough instances of not having a satisfactory response — they’ll find an answer they’re comfortable repeating until they start to believe it’s what they really want.
2. It implies that that purpose, aspirations, and identity can be summarized with a single answer, and that’s simply not realistic.
3. If you wouldn’t ask your elementary school student to declare your next career path, don’t ask them to determine theirs. Planting the seed of career pressure will only grow into a fear of uncertainty.
4. Let kids be kids. They will have plenty of time to evaluate their life’s purpose and pursue a certain industry when they’re able to form more cohesive and informed thoughts about the world around them.
5. There’s a very good chance that the adults in their lives will remember their previous career aspirations and may use this in an attempt to help guide and inspire when they feel lost. In reality, this may be more confusing and distracting than it is helpful.

The Next Steps

I thought about my funeral, as one often does in the middle of a mental breakdown, and imagined what my friends and family might say. Without missing a beat, I knew it wouldn’t be, “She was the greatest member services associate at the gym,” or, “Her storytelling and digital media skills were off the charts.” Chances are, it would be something a little more like this:

“Erin lived a full and traveled life, taking in every opportunity to learn something new, explore the unfamiliar, and connect with a stranger. She was genuinely curious and driven, empathetic and kind. She put others before herself and always sought the best in everyone. She was a good friend, an old soul, and a compassionate person. Erin made time for the things in life that really mattered to her and brought her joy, and inspired others to do the same.”

You can’t clock out from being the person that you are.

I have some work to do; some unpaid, life-giving, gratitude-inducing work to do. By the time I breathe my last breath, I will do so knowing that my career is not what people remember. Instead, I will be comforted knowing that I focused on what mattered most; being my genuine self and honoring the individual that I have been, will be, and already am.

e.