Sucked, in my case.
Two friends and I had no idea what to study in senior high school so we made an appointment to see our guidance counsellor, who apparently had insight into such matters, kind of like a crystal ball crazy lady at a circus. We went along as a group of three because the guidance rooms were kind of scary. They were situated past the staff coffee area (also scary, because the scariest teachers could see you were out of class, and might at any moment duck out and ask what you were up to and why — although I must’ve looked innocent, because they never did.) Next we had to walk down a very long corridor, and once we reached the careers rooms there were scary pamphlets displayed across the wall, about getting accidentally pregnant, dying of AIDs and whatnot. Plus all the horrible stories that took place behind closed doors must have left a residue of foreboding, which radiated out into the waiting area.
By rights, we shouldn’t have sought careers counselling as a group, because apart from being best friends, the three of us had little in common. I was good at English, languages and art while my two friends were good at home economics and sewing and secretarial studies. (It’s not called ‘home economics’ anymore. It’s called food technology. And ‘sewing” is called textiles technology. English is still called English, but I wonder when that’s going to be deemed non-inclusive and Anglocentric.)
None of us had actually talked to this guidance counsellor before. Partly because our school had four guidance counsellors, and if you did happen to see one, once, for a course of private lectures because you were being a pain in the arse about compulsory swimming lessons in a freezing cold pool (yes, that was me but it did get me out of swimming), then it wasn’t likely you saw that same counsellor again, unless you were a regular problem kid, in which case the guidance counsellor, dean and deputy principal knew you very well. In that case, you may have got better career counselling than we got.
Because all that happened was the counsellor told us to take computer science. Were we good at maths? No. Not really. Okay, then you’ll have to take computer studies. This was 1993, and computers were the way of the future, so it didn’t matter what our interests, we needed to learn all about computers.
I did as I was told and put down computer studies. (At high school ‘options’ aren’t options in the true sense, because you still have to fill your timetable up with something.) My family had owned a home computer since 1986, so I didn’t find computer studies very useful. I learned that, despite very much liking our home computer, I hated computers actually, mainly because our school had also purchased a lab full of computers in 1986… and hadn’t updated them since. In computer studies lessons we wrote basic programs to navigate a turtle around a black and green screen. (I’d already done that myself aged about seven.) We memorised acronyms. We were told the difference between a dot matrix and an ink jet. That sort of thing.
My mother said I should also take geography. She’d taken history at school and hated it, she said, and she always wished she’d taken geography. So I took geography. I thought it would be about different cultures, where we could flip through national geographic magazines and do ‘projects’ of the sort I enjoyed so much in primary school – collecting foreign coins, memorising place names and major imports/exports, learn about major world religions, read excerpts from Desmond Morris… But high school geography was no such thing.
Instead, all I remember is rocks. I don’t actually remember the names of the rocks (except grey wacke, but if you come from Canterbury it’s likely you’d absorb that one anyway). I just remember that rocks were a major part of the course. I also remember a class trip to Birdlings Flat where we had to throw a stick into the sea while someone with a digital watch (always me, because I was a watch nerd and actually never properly learned to tell analogue time properly), had to utilise the stopwatch feature, to determine how long it took for the stick to wash downshore a bit. This was known as ‘rate of coastal drift’. Or something.
We also went on a midwinter bus trip to a nearby ski resort town to see how the roofs of the chalets had been built (all pointy like, to avoid the accumulation of snow). But what I remember most is that a girl whose name was pronounced ‘Weesha’ (and spelt completely differently) had lost her virginity the night before — in a bush in Hagley Park — and man, was she making a big thing of it, lolling about the bus with menstrual cramps, because she’d gone home and confessed it, for some reason, so her very angry Dutch immigrant parents had marched her down to the chemist quick smart and purchased the morning after pill. This episode annoyed me because Weesha was in our group, and we’d been given some task to do. Her parents must have sent her along on the field trip, despite major crampings, as just desserts, but she might as well have been at home in bed because she wasn’t pulling her weight. I remember Weesha got into computer science because she was Dutch, and almost all Dutch immigrants seem to produce kids who are very bright, and I suppose she’s earning squillions as a computer expert these days. (She was also the only girl in the computer science class, which suited her very well, or so I imagine.)
I digress. Careers counselling.
There was also a Careers Expo, but if you’ve ever been to one of those, you would be forgiven for thinking it was a Travel Expo. The glossy pamphlets and smiling salespeople at the stalls are a little too evangelical these days, because their institution’s funding — their very own jobs — depend on getting bums on seats. This is unfortunate. And useless. And it means we have a disproportionate number of students enrolled in courses like fashion photography and wedding planning and other glamorous jobs where they’re not necessarily going to make any money at the end of it.
Our own teachers tried to offer good, sound careers advice, but the problem is, many teachers have only ever been teachers, and I expect the teachers who used to be something else didn’t like that very much, so they’re hardly going to recommend it to their students.
One time, we were all taken to a computer lab to use what I can only describe as a ‘careers wizard’, and like all computer ‘wizards’ it was useless as batshit. (Although batshit’s probably quite good as manure, come to think of it.)
What we had to do was plug in what school subjects we liked and which ones we were good at. I’m sure we had to answer a few other questions too, but at the age of 14, what do you know?
My interests at the time included listening to music on the radio and making mix tapes, watching game shows after dinner with my parents, riding my bike and writing the odd play in my spare time. I liked English — mainly for the creative writing aspect — not for the awkward readalouds of Shakespeare, or the compulsory speeches and debates, which I hated, because I never liked to speak aloud in class. (That changed later. In fact, now I fear sometimes after group situations that I’ve had too much airtime.) Anyway, with all this information, the computer spewed out three possible career choices for me: One of them was a theatre director.
I’d never actually been to the theatre.
The other two choices escape my memory, but were equally unlikely. The girl sitting next to me was advised to pursue a career in Egyptology. This was New Zealand, by the way. I think there might be an Egyptologist from New Zealand. They probably live in Egypt. There probably won’t be a job opening for another Egyptologist until that first one retires, or dies.
I wish I’d been asked more relevant questions. Pay attention to what you envy. As the Lifehacker article says, your envy isn’t pleasant, but at least it’s honest, and should give you a good idea about what it is you really want to do.
I wish someone had asked me these questions:
1. Do you feel happiest working alone, or do you like to be surrounded by people? Or a mixture of both?
2. Do you like to be very busy with external stimulation, or do you like to plan your own day?
3. Does multitasking stress you out, however good you are at it?
4. If you were asked to complete a 3 hour task in isolation, would you find yourself craving human interaction by the end of that time, or would you be glad of the peace and quiet, to get the job done?
5. Does speaking to large groups of people energise you, or does it make you feel tired just thinking about it?
6. Do you require organisation, and do you cope well if plans change at the last minute, for reasons completely outside your control?
7. In order to feel satisfied with your work, do you require external verification (measured by small jobs completed, say) or are you happy to go for long periods of time safe in the knowledge that your work will mean something over the long term?
8. What sort of boss do you think you’d be? And what do you appreciate in a boss?
9. What is your relationship with people in authority so far? Any patterns? (Would self-employment suit you better than an organisation with multiple tiers and ranks?)
10. Do you aspire to own your own house one day?
That tenth question should probably come first. Because much of today’s Gen Y better have a good, high-paying job if they ever want to own property near a city. I’d also add an eleventh question:
11. Are you a country person, or a city person?
Because if you want to live in a rural area, you’re better off finding a job which you can do in a rural area. (Teaching is good in that case. Or GP or police work or nursing.) Some jobs require that you’re based in a city. Related to that:
12. Do you prefer to work outdoors, indoors, or a mixture of both?
13. Do you have any disabilities (either minor or major) that would prevent you from doing or enjoying certain types of jobs?
In my case, I burn easily (in Australia, because I’m not black) and also get hayfever, so no matter how much I like outdoors, the outdoors doesn’t like me.
14. Would you prefer to be slightly overstimulated at work, or would you prefer a less stimulating job?
We can challenge ourselves–shed our complacency and love of ease–and so reinvigorate our shrivelled virtues. That’s what a well-rounded education is supposed to do, and even those with the most repetitive jobs can in their leisure hours expand their minds.
If you’re fortunate to have hobbies and interests that occupy your thoughts and actions in non-work time, you may not need or want the excessive stimulation that is required by some jobs.
- from Tim Flannery, Here On Earth.
So there you have it. My own 14 Questions Careers Wizard. The main problem, though, is knowing yourself at the age of 14. Or finding adults who know you well enough to advise, without heaping their own career envy upon you.
“Our number-one value isn’t in any of the skills we have. It’s that we’re essentially curious.”
-Jim Coudal
Obviously, it is best not to be in social or work settings which conflict with your core values. If, deep down, you want to be a painter but are a merchant banker, you are liable to feel torn.
- Oliver James, from Affluenza
Related Articles: Finding Your Work Sweet Spot (from 99 percent); The Ten Least Stressful Jobs (from CNBC); How Do We Prepare Kids For Jobs We Can’t Imagine Yet? (from GOOD Education); Working for money versus Working for a purpose from The Everyday Minimalist; Four Destructive Myths Most Companies Still Live By, from HBR.
See also: Getting girls interested in science - Studies have shown that interest counts more than ability toward choosing a major or a career.







