Eighteen

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

My general response to this question is an awkward chuckle followed by a shrug and a resounding, “I don’t know.” I usually justify my lack of a response with time: adulthood is a million years away, so I don’t have to decide my future immediately. Now, however, my 18th birthday is just two years away, and the future feels much closer than I once thought. I believe the biggest stresses in my life will soon be career-oriented. Which colleges should I apply to? What major should I study? How do I know if the major I choose will be the right choice? 

Previously, to avoid answering these questions, I pretended to be interested in certain careers. The obvious choice was to tell others that I wanted to be a doctor. It sounded like a career both smart and secure enough to make my Asian parents proud. My sister was in the medical field, so it seemed like an easy decision—I could follow in her footsteps. I even remember asking my sister if she would be willing to lend me her notes when I got accepted into medical school. In fact, many people in my life expected me (and possibly still expect me) to end up in the medical field. 

On multiple occasions, my neighbor did not suggest but told me to become a doctor. He recommended various medical schools I should attend and examinations I should prepare for if I wanted to pursue medicine. In those moments, I would anxiously shift from one foot to the other and fiddled with my hands, struggling to say, “No, I don’t want to do that.” 

I realized early on that I could never see myself as a doctor. For one, I saw how my sister persevered through mental exhaustion; her level of commitment was something I could only aspire to develop. Pursuing a medical career meant crippling student loans and possibly another decade (or more) of school, and I did not have enough love for the field to subject myself to that. Secondly, I did not like being told what to do. At various times, becoming a doctor felt less like a choice I made and more like an expectation I felt pressured to live up to. 

After that realization, I was not too torn up about what came next—I was just 10 years old, and there would be plenty more opportunities to explore my likes and dislikes. Throughout the summers that followed, I dabbled in miscellaneous activities: I tried painting, journaling, filmmaking, and badminton, and more. When I was 11, I thought I would become a professional badminton player. I was terrible at the sport, but I loved the feeling of being outside and playing with my siblings. Whenever we played, we had to step onto the road along our house because the only light came from the streetlights in the evening. Playing badminton will always fill me with nostalgia, but I no longer see it as something I’d pursue as a serious career. 

I only started to seriously consider career options around the start of eighth grade. I remember being very into the TV show The Rookie, which followed the lives of police officers in Los Angeles and portrayed the pros and cons of being in the police force. Naturally, since I was watching a show about the police, entering the police force became my next hyperfixation. As an officer, life seemed adventurous, and I would be forced to work out! I was so determined that I signed up for the NYC Summer Youth Employment Program to learn more about civil service jobs, including teachers, police officers, firefighters, and sanitation workers. I even looked into when I would be able to take the civil service exam and the Job Standard Test, a physical fitness test. 

I once had someone ask me, unprompted, if I was “too smart to be a cop.” I wasn’t sure if they were complimenting me or insulting my choices. That comment really bothered me and made me question my initial zeal. Was I “too smart” to be a police officer? Would I be another example of wasted potential? Although these questions lingered in the back of my mind, I decided to push them aside and remained determined. This was what I wanted to do, and I was going to stick with it. 

Over the next few months, I paid closer attention to how the police interacted with the community. I noticed how kind and helpful the officers posted at train stations were; they directed lost people by explaining what routes the trains took or which trains to take to reach a specific destination. However, I also saw the side of policing that The Rookie failed to mention—the side that used excessive force, verbally abused certain demographics, and acted unkindly toward the people it was supposed to protect. 

The nail in the coffin came when I saw an interaction between college students peacefully protesting the situation in Palestine and New York City officers violently striking them with batons. I heard the click of handcuffs and realized, not for the first time, how bigoted the police department could be for an organization meant to protect human rights. I am not implying that the police should be shunned, because they still are the first people we call in the face of emergencies. However, I personally no longer believe being an officer of the law is, or ever was, my life calling.

I felt very disheartened when my interest in being a part of the police force slowly faded, because I truly believed that I had found my “thing.” It was the first career I felt motivated to research about, but I was suddenly back to square one. Once again, I awkwardly stared at people when they asked about my future prospects and lied on applications about being interested in medicine, law, or any other field that sounded fit for a Stuyvesant student.

It’s easy to get caught up in myself and imagine that I am the sole person experiencing this, but I know every teen deals with their fair share of existential dread. I am not the only one who feels physically overtaken by anxiety as I watch practically everyone around me confidently announce what they want to be. Some people know the exact medical field they want to pursue, which never ceases to shock me considering my adult sister has yet to figure that out. 

To manage my anxiety about the future, I take a look around and remind myself that everyone grows at their own pace. It does not reflect poorly on me—or anyone else—if I have yet to figure out the rest of my life, so I allow myself to slow down and live in the present moment. Another aspect that makes this journey easier to stomach is realizing that many of the adults around us experience the same struggles. I remember interviewing a few of Stuyvesant’s guidance counselors for one of my articles, and feeling reassured when several of them shared that they had changed career trajectories more than once—and that the world didn’t end when they acknowledged that their current career did not feel right.

Currently, I am experimenting with some of my other interests, such as astronomy, as it is a topic that I don’t need to fake a liking toward. Before moving to New York, I used to live in a rural area of Punjab, Pakistan where a starry sky was commonplace. The stars are one of the many things that I miss about my old life, which explains my fascination with studying the celestial. 

However, that might change by the time I graduate. Perhaps I’ll end up moving to Sweden and opening a bakery in a small town, even though I have no culinary skills at the moment. Or, maybe I will end up in education, or choose to revisit a career in healthcare. Being 18 does not equate to magically possessing the ability to make sound decisions. Mistakes are inevitable, especially when deciding how I want to spend the rest of my life. 20 years from now, if I realize I am stuck in a career I truly dislike, I can remind myself that it is not too late. To quote Barbie, “You can do anything.”