Life

Marks, money, and the missing conversation

In homes across the country, conversations about children’s futures often begin with warmth and concern but quietly transform into negotiations with fear.

Sentinel Digital Desk

Dr Prerna Bhardwaj Saikia

(prerna.jagdish27@gmail.com)

In homes across the country, conversations about children’s futures often begin with warmth and concern but quietly transform into negotiations with fear. Parents ask youngsters what they want to become, yet the answers are almost instinctively weighed against income, job security, and social status. Dreams are acknowledged politely, sometimes even encouraged, but only as long as they appear sensible, respectable, and profitable. This tendency is rarely driven by ill intent. It is rooted in anxiety about financial instability, about a competitive world, and about the possibility that a child may struggle or fall behind. However, in our attempt to protect them, we frequently reduce young people to projections of economic security, shaping their career choices less around their individuality and more around what we believe will guarantee survival. In doing so, we unknowingly send a powerful message: that aspirations are acceptable only when they align with financial returns. Over time, children begin to internalize this message. Passion is labelled impractical, creativity is treated as indulgence, and curiosity is gently redirected towards paths deemed safe. A child who loves art is advised to keep it as a hobby, a teenager interested in psychology is warned about limited prospects, and a youngster drawn to social work is encouraged to pursue management instead. These redirections often occur with affection and logic, making them difficult to resist. Yet what is overlooked is that passion is not rebellion; it is information. It reveals where a young person’s natural interests, strengths, and motivation lie.

 When this information is consistently ignored or dismissed, it does not vanish. It resurfaces years later in the form of disengagement, chronic dissatisfaction, or emotional burnout, conditions increasingly visible among professionals who appear outwardly successful but inwardly disconnected from their work. The notion of the safe career, long upheld as the gold standard of responsible parenting, is itself becoming increasingly fragile. In a world shaped by rapid technological advancement, automation, and global shifts, predictability has become an illusion. Entire industries have transformed within a decade, and job roles once considered secure have either evolved beyond recognition or disappeared altogether. Ironically, many careers that were previously dismissed as risky – design, content creation, behavioural sciences, sustainability studies, and mental health professions – are now integral to the modern economy. What truly sustains individuals through uncertainty is not the perceived stability of a profession, but their engagement with it. Youngsters who care deeply about their work are more willing to learn, adapt, and reinvent themselves when circumstances change. Interest breeds resilience, while disinterest breeds stagnation. Yet the pressure placed on children is not always about careers alone; it is often about unspoken financial and emotional expectations. Many youngsters grow up carrying the weight of adult fears without ever being explicitly told so. Phrases like “choose something stable” or “think practically” often conceal deeper anxieties about old age, security, and societal validation. In some cases, children begin to feel like long-term investments, expected to eventually repay sacrifices made for their upbringing. This emotional debt can be heavy. It transforms career choices into moral obligations, where following one’s passion feels selfish and obedience becomes synonymous with gratitude. When children believe their worth lies in their earning potential, they learn to prioritise approval over authenticity. Supporting youngsters in their career choices does not mean encouraging recklessness or abandoning guidance. It means replacing control with collaboration. True support lies in asking thoughtful questions rather than issuing directives. Why does this path interest you? What skills does it require? What challenges might you face, and how can you prepare for them? What alternatives exist within this field? When adults engage with curiosity rather than judgement, children are more likely to approach their aspirations with seriousness and responsibility. Guidance, when rooted in respect, empowers rather than restricts. It equips young people with tools to navigate reality without forcing them to abandon their identity.

Our definitions of success also demand careful examination. For decades, academic ranks, prestigious institutions, and lucrative job offers have served as the primary markers of achievement. These metrics are easy to measure and socially rewarded, making them convenient benchmarks. However, they capture only a narrow slice of human potential. Qualities such as fulfilment, integrity, emotional intelligence, and purpose are harder to quantify, yet they shape the quality of an individual’s life far more profoundly. When homes and classrooms celebrate effort, curiosity, and growth alongside grades and salaries, youngsters learn that their value is not conditional upon constant performance. They begin to see success as a personal journey rather than a competitive race. One of the strongest arguments against dream-driven career choices is the fear of failure. Adults worry that unconventional paths come with higher risks and fewer guarantees. Yet failure is not exclusive to any one profession; it is an inherent part of life. Engineers lose jobs, doctors face burnout, and corporate professionals encounter stagnation. The difference lies in how failure is experienced. When a youngster fails while pursuing something they genuinely care about, the setback becomes a lesson rather than a verdict. It teaches accountability, problem-solving, and resilience. On the other hand, failing in a path chosen to satisfy others often leads to bitterness and self-doubt, as the individual struggles to separate personal worth from external expectations. Listening, perhaps, is the most underestimated form of support. In a culture quick to advise and warn, listening without interruption or judgement is rare. Yet when adults truly listen, they convey trust. They signal that a child’s inner voice matters. This trust encourages youngsters to articulate their aspirations with clarity and thoughtfulness. It also makes them more receptive to feedback, because guidance no longer feels like criticism. Listening allows space for uncertainty, acknowledging that it is acceptable not to have everything figured out at once. Career paths, like identities, are often discovered gradually rather than decided in a single moment. At its heart, the conversation about career choices is not merely about employment; it is about the kind of adults we are nurturing. Are we raising individuals who measure their worth solely through income and status or those who seek meaning, contribution, and alignment in their lives? Money is undeniably important, and financial stability cannot be dismissed. However, when earnings become the sole compass, we risk producing generations of professionals who are materially comfortable yet emotionally unfulfilled. Supporting youngsters to make choices aligned with their interests does not guarantee success, but it does foster ownership. Young people who feel responsible for their decisions are more likely to learn from mistakes, adapt to change, and remain engaged with life. When we stop treating children as future money-minting machines and begin to see them as evolving human beings, a subtle yet profound shift occurs. Conversations become more compassionate, expectations become more flexible, and dreams become safer to express. Parents and educators move from the role of directors to that of mentors, offering support without suffocation. In allowing youngsters to explore the paths they are drawn to, we do not abandon responsibility; we redefine it. We recognise that our role is not to script their lives but to help them build the courage, skills, and confidence to write their own. In doing so, we may discover that the greatest success is not measured in pay cheques or prestige, but in raising a generation that is self-aware, resilient, and genuinely invested in the lives they choose to lead.