It starts with mothers and fathers, grandparents, and preschool teachers. One day we’re happily playing with our toys, pretending to be Superman or the princess of a faraway land, and the next we’re sitting Indian-style on a rainbow carpet as a cheerful teacher asks us to draw a picture of what we want to be when we grow up. So we draw what we know. Superman. A princess. A TV character. A firefighter like daddy. A stay-at-home mom like mommy.
We come home and show our parents what we made. They, in turn, share our unfounded ambitions with family, friends, the neighbors. “You’ll never guess what little Johnny wants to be when he grows up. Go on, ask him!” So we share our desire to be an astronaut or a ballerina with the eager adults, all the while unsure of why a look of amusement is spreading across their faces, until it is replaced by a supportive smile and all is well.
As we grow older, we realize the reasoning behind the amused smirk. Superman only exists in movies and comic books, and since the career choice “princess” is not something easily found on careerbuilder.com, our only hope lies in somehow making Prince Harry fall in love with us or single-handedly overthrowing a monarchy, whichever is less time-consuming.
We are told that being a ballerina is not a career and that becoming an astronaut is not realistic. By middle school our dream jobs have evolved from Superman to racecar driver to lawyer, from princess to actress to doctor. In high school, we learn how to get good grades and join all the right clubs. Essentially, we learn how to climb to the top so we can get into a good college and get a “good” career.
Our world loves to ask its children, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” But even more so, it loves to convince us otherwise if our choice is not practical. “We don’t need any more lawyers. Why pay $60,000 per year in college tuition to major in Art? Psychology offers no employment. Medicine will always be relevant. The need for an English major is as obsolete as Old English itself. Business=bank” (no pun intended).
By the time we graduate and enter college, our ideas have been so warped by others’ opinions that many of us simply have no clue what we want to do with our lives. Some of us might think we know, but then we become that student who switches majors five times, you know that one who we have all heard about but never believed we’d turn into. Those of us who know exactly what career we want to pursue, and stick to it, are a rarity.
In college we prepare for one of those “practical” careers that society deems so “good.”
We go through the necessities: Above average GPA. Check. Job. Check. Volunteering. Three times a week. Clubs within you major. Done. Clubs outside your major. Okay. Internships. No problem. Research. Yeah, I think I can squeeze that in between feeding the homeless and leading an expedition to Antarctica.
And we do all of that for what? For the resume. Why? So we can get a “good” job. Not a “fun” job. Not an “interesting” job. Not an “oh my goodness I can’t wait to wake up every morning and go to work” job.
A “good” job. Whoever decided what “good” entails, anyway? Whatever happened to doing things because they’re fun? Because they’re cool? Because they fascinate you? Because you can’t go a day without doing them? Whatever happened to doing things for any reason other than for the resume?
Too many times this past year I’ve heard bright, ambitious students offer up the phrase “Because it will look good on my resume” as the primary answer to their friends’ questions of why they want to apply to a particular internship/job/research position/etc. Not because it sounds fun or cool or that it interests them or that they’ll learn a lot. That comes second. And that’s the problem.
We, as a society, have placed the extrinsic value of a piece of paper above the intrinsic value of something much more innate, something much more invaluable, something I could not quite pinpoint until last week when I listened to the graduation speech of Naperville Central High School’s Student Body President. That something is passion.
Passion: a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything (Dictionary.com). Passion is not just going through the motions so you can have something pretty to write down on that 8.5” x 11” piece of paper. Because while resumes are important, the harsh reality is that just like some clothes only look good on the mannequin, you might only look good on paper. That plethora of nicely typed, size 12, Times New Roman characters compiled into an impressive resume means nothing if you are indifferent to the meaning behind those words, if you can’t spend hours and hours sharing your experiences with an enthusiastic smile on your face when they’re good, with tears streaming your face when they’re sad.
Passion makes you feel. It makes you want to work harder than you’ve ever worked before. Passion is what lead a young girl by the name of Misty Copeland to, at the late age of 13, start her ballet career and, against all odds , become the first African-American female soloist in two decades to be part of New York City’s acclaimed American Ballet Theatre.
Passion is what will help that precocious little boy walking home from preschool, a drawing of himself as an astronaut in hand, to achieve his dream job despite others telling him it’s unrealistic.
So I urge you to be passionate first; the resume will follow. If you do what you love, you will have impressive results to show for it. Find a major that excites you. Find something you love learning about so much that you don’t mind staying in on Friday night to finish that paper or project instead of going out with your friends (Blasphemy! I know). The passionate English major struggling to find employment will achieve more success in life than the indifferent world-renowned surgeon, no matter how cheesy and impractical it may sound.
Passion is loving what you do. Not because it will bring you prestige or wealth, but because it is cool, fun, interesting. Because it is who you are. With passion you learn. With passion you push yourself harder and farther than you ever thought possible. Passion doesn’t let you give up. So instead of teaching our children to be practical, let’s teach our children to be passionate. A resume may drive you to set goals and attain them. Passion is what drives you to surpass them.
So to anyone who has ever asked me what I want to be when I grow up, my answer is this: When I grow up, I want to be passionate.
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