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For the past few years, every adult I have met has had one question for me. It’s a harrowing question, and I’m guessing you all have heard it once or twice, in some variation at least.
“What do you want to do when you grow up?”
If you’re anything like me, you’ve contemplated this question for years, changed your mind more times than you can count, and taken a few quizzes along the way as well. I’ve never understood how one was supposed to know exactly what their future should look like when all we have had is our teen years of life to discover ourselves. It’s caused me to move through life with a strange, underlying panic— like I am always running faster and faster to try to attain a feeling of knowing, yet I don’t know what waits for me at the finish line.
When freshman year arrives, the pressure of knowing your future is tossed into your hands like a heavy piece of luggage for the upcoming high school journey. Adults have endless bouts of advice for who you should become and the best path you can take to get there. There are internships I should have already had, achievements I should have obtained, and nonprofits I should have begun. The most important thing, of course, is that all these things should pertain to the specific major and occupation I plan to pursue. But it’s difficult to pave the road to this metaphorical “finish line” when you don’t know what you’re trying to build towards. Like many others, I have spent my teenage years deciding who I am and trying to discover what my “finish line” is.
As teenagers, we exist between childhood and adulthood. Most children possess confidence in their opinions: their world is as they see it. They have never been exposed to any other way of life. In contrast, adults have lost that “self-centered” viewpoint. Most have a view of life’s hardships, which complicates decisions. They have less of a carefree nature, and there is more stress on the “real” aspects of life, such as a job, children, or finances. As teenagers, our personalities and interests are far from fully fledged, yet we are asked to quickly choose our future as if they are. There’s a certain fear that you’ll make a wrong choice. You’ll waste years and money chasing something unfulfilling. You’ll disappoint your parents, your teachers, and worst of all— yourself. High schoolers are expected to predict a future they can’t fully comprehend. It’s difficult when the world is telling us that our choice now will define the rest of our lives.
Yet so many people seem to know their path, which frustrates the people who don’t know even more. When the question, “what do you want to be?” gets asked with that casual expectation, it seems as if the answer should be obvious. Not knowing makes one feel a little more behind.
The world keeps changing, as do I. No one is the same person they were in middle school, and no one is going to be the same person they are now in five years. I am baffled by the notion I am supposed to choose a future that I haven’t even grown into yet.
Adalyn Lowe is a junior at Washington High School, and this is her first year on The Hatchet. She moved from San Francisco at three years old, and has lived in Fremont ever since. This year on the paper, she hopes to cover social issues, youth culture, and her own opinions. In her free time, she enjoys reading, writing, and traveling. After high school, Adalyn plans to extend her passion for journalism into a career.