What I want to be
OCT 30 — I have a clear memory of writing about wanting to be a teacher when I grew up. This was when I was about 10 and again several more times throughout secondary school. It was a recurring theme in classroom essays.
The thing is, the older I became, the less sure I was about this teaching business. English was the one subject I excelled in, though this was likely due to the watered-down content that was introduced in the KBSM syllabus.
I did come from a family of four teachers though — my maternal grandmother, paternal grandfather and two aunts. Surely, it was in my genes to be an educator?
This line of thought did not serve me well in college when I signed up for a degree in Accounting and Finance. With six uncles, aunts and cousins qualified as chartered accountants, I could hack it too. Couldn't I?
So until I started my first job at 23, I had no clue what it was I was planning to be. I had done the growing up part. When was I going to be something?
My husband, on the other hand, always knew he wanted to work with animals. It did not matter what field it would be in, so long as it was a compassionate one (deep frying chicken in a fast food restaurant would not cut it).
The calling to serve as a veterinarian came to him in the sixth form when he learned that a local university offered a course in veterinary science.
His dream until that moment of enlightenment was to be a zoo keeper or a stable boy — positions that would ensure he stayed close to his animals.
Looking at my friends from school, I wouldn't have guessed where half of them have ended up.
Whether they were high achievers or trouble makers, they have done well: high-flying lawyers, a human resource director of a multinational company, medical specialists, a dentist, a mother homeschooling a child prodigy, another mother running a successful macaroon-making business from home, an accountant turned pastry chef.
Some of us switched careers once we hit our mid-30s, finally being able to do what we really want to do. It's hard to say what you want to be when you grow up. Until you've grown up.
I found my balance when a friend introduced me to journalism the day I picked up my final-year results.
Within a week of stringing at New Straits Times I knew that that was where I wanted to be — if only because of the wonderful editors and writers who were willing and able teachers.
I asked an old friend what she thought I would be and funnily enough, she thought I would be a writer because I used to write her long letters (this was back in the day of aerogrammes)!
This week, my three-year-old and his classmates were asked to dress up as what they wanted to be when they grow up. At three! It took me 20 more years to figure that out.
As expected, most children showed up as doctors, nurses, firemen and ballerinas. I wouldn't be so quick to put it down to parental wishes. These outfits are easy to come by and for time-pressed parents, a no-sweat option.
One little girl stood out on my Facebook page though. Her mum had posted a picture to explain how proud she was of her daughter's choice: A mother. She sported a sarong sling with a baby doll in it and a diaper bag on her shoulder. How cool is that?
Once I explained the concept of occupations and provided examples (waiter, teacher, tennis player, doctor, bus driver) to Ishan, he zoomed in on race car driver, "just like Lightning McQueen" (from the Disney Pixar Cars cartoon).
My next best option was surgical scrubs, thinking we could do a father-son combo some day. Except that Ishan did not want anything to do with being a veterinarian. Animal doctor? No!
Thank goodness for syringes and stethoscopes. Once he set his eyes on those and a host of medical gadgets, he was happy to don the scrubs and tend to his killer whale stuffed toy.
You're probably thinking that this exercise has a sense of foreboding, where a child is forced into an occupation he does not like. He would have so been a race car driver had I found those stickers.
I wonder though if a race car driver will lose its shine when he discovers that it will be a long time before he gets behind the wheel of a race car. Will he be happy washing cars, reading car manuals, studying engines, working for a mechanic and selling race day tickets at a concession booth?
We'd probably explain to him how much a race car driver can make a little later on. And the accident rate. Show him photos of spectacular car crashes on the track. Find a long-lost friend who actually is a professional race car driver to sit Ishan down for a man-to-boy chat.
I suppose the trick is to explore pathways and job opportunities of various fields. I was ignorant as a teenager but in the age of Internet there is no excuse not to learn all there is about a dream job.
Meanwhile, I have another year to come up with a killer race car driver suit. Hopefully he hangs on to this profession long enough. Who knows, he may want to be a robot next year.
* The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the columnist.
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