I am not a parent. As I am not a parent, I understand you may think this piece falsely written. What could I possibly know about giving decent career advice to children?
Well, though I may not be a parent, I am still the child of two very successful parents. I am also the grandchild of successful grandparents. On paper, I should be earning a lot more money than I currently do. I should also be significantly higher up in a news agency or other form of non-fiction writing than I currently am.
My role models should have inspired me to try harder, but that didn’t happen. However, being underemployed does not have to mean that you are overqualified for a job you are getting under paid for (and for the record, The Underemployed Life is my highest paying position).
Let me start from the beginning. When I was young, I wanted to be a paleontologist. I was obsessed with Walking With Dinosaurs, and the Jurassic Park films. If it had dinosaurs in it, I was into it. Geology in general was my thing. This was all going on before the time I turned 10-years-old. I like to think this made my parents happy. I didn’t want to be famous, or be a singer, or an actress or any of those competitive positions that are mostly based on looks and sex. I wanted to be a scientist.
“This was in my heart. I would be…… a Doctor! Actually, I would be Dr. House. That was the plan. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?“
In the long run, I guess I achieved this, but paleontology was not to be my field. That’s not because paleontology meant sitting in a lab all day, or that it is in fact a very competitive industry, but because I fucking suck at numbers. Even the most basic mental arithmetic escapes me. However, my parents never told me that I couldn’t achieve.
“You’ll never starve,” is what my mother would say. It doesn’t sound like much encouragement, but the importance of this one statement will become inherently important very soon.
So, what? Paleontology wasn’t for me. I was probably around the age of 11 when I figured this out. Still, who can be surprised? My parents weren’t upset or angry with me. They got it; I was still a child. Things would change throughout my adolescence, but it wasn’t until I was around the age of 16 that I started to panic.
Work in the modeling industry was crap, and certainly not a long-term career option. I knew I didn’t want to be stuck in my awful hometown. I was trying to figure out a career that would allow me to make enough money to support my lifestyle, open doors to new and exciting countries, and make my parents proud.
Like all good young women, I chose medicine.
This was in my heart. I would be…… a Doctor! Actually, I would be Dr. House. That was the plan. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? It was so simple. I was intelligent, and got great grades in chemistry and biology (although I’m sure Marcus Adanah would disagree). I did well in all classes, except math, and I could work on that. I did work on that!
I worked hard and was accepted to an open day at my local hospital. Myself and fifty or so other local students practiced medicine there for a day. Oh how proud my family will be! The only grandchild left to do something with their life and MEDICINE.
HA!
When I got into my dad’s car at the end of the day, I think my exact words were something like: “I hope EVERYONE dies!”
My dad looked at me, “well Kay, they probably will. They’re in a hospital.”
“No! The doctors! I hate people!”
And thus the Kay Smythe you all know and tolerate came into being; and it was terrible.
My parents had never pushed me to be more than I thought I could be. They had always said earning a living was important, but mostly because they didn’t want me being financially dependent upon them into my adult life (and after this week guys, I promise I won’t be any more! Unless you fancy getting me a new laptop…).
Medicine didn’t happen, so I went to university and studied my favorite subject: geography. At a meeting at my mother’s work, one of her colleagues asked what one could possibly do with a geography degree. Most people can’t do anything with a geography degree, but my mother knew that I would do something. Why? Because she knew I would never starve.
It was never direct advice that pushed me to push myself. Yes, I am currently on the first rung of an epically difficult career ladder, but I was urged on by faith. Okay, so I may not have every parent’s dream job for their child (freelance non-fiction writer is not as much of a brag as doctor). However, my parents had faith in my overall ability to survive and be happy doing so. This was the best advice I was ever given: faith.
Urge your children to strive for the best. Make it normal for them to achieve. Happiness, success, and love are all relative concepts, and if your child can find just one of these in their jobs, and they aren’t financially dependent upon you, then leave them the fuck alone. They’re all right, trust me.
Kay Smythe, The British Bitch in America.
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