Choosing a Career

I couldn’t be a lumberjack
Or a miner down a pit.
I wouldn’t like a policeman’s job
In nursing I wouldn’t fit.

I’d quite like to be a model
And wear outrageous clothes
Be garbed in silks and satins
From my head down to my toes.
I’d swagger down the cat-walk
With my nose up in the air
And turn and swish and strike a pose
For all the ladies there.
But this is just a pipe dream
‘Cos I haven’t got the body
My waist is non-existent
And dieting is not my hobby.
Choosing what you want to be
When supposedly ‘grown-up’
Is not an easy thing to do
And is often down to luck.
What subjects are you good at?
Is a question often asked
And if the answer’s geography
Or English, Biology or Maths
Then you are steered towards cartography
Or teaching, nursing or accounts.

There are a few young people
Who’ve known since they were eight,
What job they’d do when becoming adult
But that was not my fate.
The Head of the local College
Came to talk to us at school.
To give us an insight into courses
Run in her educational pool.
I plumped for one of those offered
Without a great deal of thought.
Would I have chosen anything different
If I’d considered things as I ought?
I could have been a teacher
And taught young children in school
And, in hindsight, I’d have taught ‘special
needs’ kids
As their needs are not met as a rule.
But you don’t have hindsight
When choosing your career.
So I stuck with Institutional Management
And quite enjoyed finding the flair
I had for being bossy
Telling others what to do.
It came in very handy
When the family came along
I managed my own ‘institution’