Quod Facis, Bene Fac

Okay. So I’m this 5^th grader who has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up. Not bad. My parents had very little education. They’re in the working class. But they consider true class to be shown by your integrity, not what you do for a living. They brought me up to value good character above everything else.

But it’s not that my parents are contemptuous of the upper classes. They still consider getting a good education to be the road to a better life, including a prosperous career. It’s just that they only consider you to be a good person if, in addition to your high standing in the community because of your career, you also have integrity. They couldn’t explain much about careers to me. The only professional people the kid came in contact with were the family doctor, their dentist, teachers, and the parish priests and nuns.

The kid was always interested in machines and inventions. He read Popular Mechanics, to which his parents had a subscription. But he didn’t understand who designed and built those machines. To him, an “engineer” was a man who drove a train. He thought the word for the people who invented machines was “designer.”

He knew that, in addition to doctors and lawyers, whose occupations he fairly well understood, there were scientists. A scientist would be the ultimate in an inventor of new things. And my author made this kid almost precociously smart so he could have him becoming a scientist. But the kid didn’t have a clue how to become one. There were medical schools and law schools, but were there “scientist schools?” The kid had never heard of a school like that. And he had certainly never met a scientist. Even TV presented more cops and cowboys than scientists. And if they did, it would be a stereotypical caricature.

I like this kid—and his parents, although, so far, the parents are not explicitly fleshed out characters in this story. My author hasn’t described them much. The one thing that I do especially like is that my author has the kid’s father telling him “I don’t care what you do for a living as long as it’s something you’re good at.” Sounds like my author is thinking of writing a very positive story—maybe inspirational. Still it could take a nasty turn if the kid’s ambivalence leads him into an unproductive life of abject poverty. Or, worse yet, a life of crime. Still that could be exciting.

Wait. Now he has me in 7^th grade. I didn’t know he could do that. But, then again, it’s his story. I guess he can do anything with me. What’s the deal now? The parish priest has visited the classrooms of the higher grades to talk about vocations. That is, being called by God to the priesthood—Holy Orders, as it’s called in Catholicism. The priest said that people don’t just decide on their own to join the priesthood or an order of monks or nuns. Rather, God puts the idea in their hearts and then they are supposed to act on it, accepting the calling. So now I’m considering becoming a priest.

Hmm. Probably the same character as the 5^th grader except my author has decided to jump ahead a couple of years and rescue him from his quandary about what to do with his life. It makes sense that the kid could be drawn to this religious vocation idea, given that he knows what a priest is. And the parish priest explained how to go about becoming one. But if my author doesn’t first present the kid’s ignorance of careers in general, the reader won’t really feel the kid’s motivation. Maybe he’s going to just summarize the past two years, rather than flesh them out in exposition. Not so good for the reader. But he’s certainly going to have to do something to give the kid a motivation to become a priest.

What’s this? Now I’m 35 and in the throes of a midlife crisis. What happened to the priesthood? Oh, I had come to the conclusion that my interest in becoming a priest wasn’t a true vocation after all. I was just using it as a fall back because I couldn’t convince myself I’d be good at any other career. But when the priest described what the life of a priest is actually like—the celibacy, long hours, on call at any hour, giving a sermon every Sunday—the kid decided he couldn’t do that either.

This character ended up working in the food service industry. I’m now a chef at a Holiday Inn. Actually, I’m just a glorified restaurant cook. As I was driving home from work, I would often think through a list of careers that I might try switching to. But for every career I thought of there were always reasons I couldn’t do it. Doctor? I don’t want people’s lives in my hands. Lawyer? I’m not the persuasive and competitive type that could argue in court. I noticed that, as I thought about a career, it was as if there was a monster of doubt that would rise up and threaten me. I even had a mental picture of it as a black, amorphous blob that would appear in my way, preventing me from going any further with the idea of that career. Nice dramatic touch.

But apparently, for my author, that wasn’t working either. Now I’m a mob boss. I guess we’re going with an evil character. No. Wait. This mob boss is a tough guy, but with solid principles. I’m a very dedicated family man. I’m an altruistic criminal! I run only an illegal betting operation. No drugs. And certainly no prostitution. I game the system. I always win in any competition because I cheat. But I have developed the skill of getting away with cheating to a fine art.

Hang on. Yet another change. No evil character. Not even an altruistic one. Why am I surprised. I’m back to being a 5^th grader. Now I’m thinking of becoming a teacher. What the heck, Bozo! If becoming a priest was only a fall back idea, then this is too. Yes. I get it. In accordance with his father’s advice, the kid has to be sure to pick something he can be confident he can be good at. Thus, because of my impoverished childhood, I can only contemplate careers that I’ve seen people engage in. I’m right back where I started.

Perhaps my author is just working through his own insecurities. If he is writing about himself, then why doesn’t he have my character think of trying to become a writer? Maybe Mr. “I’m a writer” doesn’t want to face the fact that he’s trying to make his living doing something he’s not very good at.