Don't Choose the Wrong Career

The safest plan, and the one most sure of success for the young man starting in life, is to select the vocation which is most congenial to his tastes. Parents and guardians are often quite too negligent in regard to this. It very common for a father to say, for example: "I have five boys. I will make Billy a clergyman; John a lawyer; Tom a doctor, and Dick a farmer." He then goes into town and looks about to see what he will do with Sammy. He returns home and says "Sammy, I see watch-making is a nice genteel business; I think I will make you a goldsmith." He does this, regardless of Sam's natural inclinations, or genius.

For a young man starting out in life, the safest plan is to choose a career that best suits his interests. This plan is also the surest way to succeed. Parents and guardians often pay far too little attention to choosing a suitable career. A father will very commonly say, for example: "I have five boys. I will make Billy a clergyman, John a lawyer, Tom a doctor, and Dick a farmer." He then goes into town and looks around to see what he will do with Sammy. He returns home and says, "Sammy, I see watchmaking is a nice, respectable business. I think I will make you a goldsmith." He makes this choice without considering Sam's natural interests or talents.

We are all, no doubt, born for a wise purpose. There is as much diversity in our brains as in our countenances. Some are born natural mechanics, while some have great aversion to machinery. Let a dozen boys of ten years get together, and you will soon observe two or three are "whittling" out some ingenious device; working with locks or complicated machinery. When they were but five years old, their father could find no toy to please them like a puzzle. They are natural mechanics; but the other eight or nine boys have different aptitudes. I belong to the latter class; I never had the slightest love for mechanism; on the contrary, I have a sort of abhorrence for complicated machinery. I never had ingenuity enough to whittle a cider tap so it would not leak. I never could make a pen that I could write with, or understand the principle of a steam engine. If a man was to take such a boy as I was, and attempt to make a watchmaker of him, the boy might, after an apprenticeship of five or seven years, be able to take apart and put together a watch; but all through life he would be working up hill and seizing every excuse for leaving his work and idling away his time. Watchmaking is repulsive to him.

We are all, no doubt, born for a wise purpose. Our minds differ as much as our faces do. Some people have a natural talent for mechanics, while some strongly dislike machinery. Bring together a dozen ten-year-old boys, and you will soon see two or three "whittling" some clever device. Or you will see them working with locks or complicated machinery. Even at five, no toy their father could find pleased them as much as a puzzle. They have a natural talent for mechanics, but the other eight or nine boys have different talents. I belong to the latter group. I never had the slightest love for mechanics. On the contrary, I have a strong dislike of complicated machinery. I never had enough skill to whittle a tap for a cider barrel without making one that leaked. I could never make a pen I could write with or understand how a steam engine works. Suppose a man took a boy like me and tried to make him a watchmaker. After five or seven years as an apprentice, the boy might manage to take a watch apart and reassemble it. But throughout his life, he would struggle with the work. He would seize every excuse to leave his work and waste his time. He finds watchmaking repulsive.

Unless a man enters upon the vocation intended for him by nature, and best suited to his peculiar genius, he cannot succeed. I am glad to believe that the majority of persons do find their right vocation. Yet we see many who have mistaken their calling, from the blacksmith up (or down) to the clergyman. You will see, for instance, that extraordinary linguist the "learned blacksmith," who ought to have been a teacher of languages; and you may have seen lawyers, doctors and clergymen who were better fitted by nature for the anvil or the lapstone.

A man cannot succeed unless he enters the line of work nature intended for him, best suited to his particular talents. I am glad to believe that most people do find the right work. Yet we see many who have chosen the wrong career, from the blacksmith up (or down) to the minister. For example, you will see the extraordinary linguist known as the "learned blacksmith," who should have been a language teacher. And you may have seen lawyers, doctors, and ministers who were naturally better suited to blacksmithing or shoemaking.