'What do you want to be when you leave school?'

It's a Well-being class and we've all heard this question thousands of times throughout the time we have been at this school. Professor Dean is also my well-being teacher as she is for most of my classes except for Maths and Home Economics. So, it didn't surprise me that she was particular focused on me.

'By now, you should be working with some sort of career in mind. After all, it's been two years since you guys arrived on this campus.'

Dean hands out typical worksheets with typical questions that I've answered thousands of times before:

Why do you want to be a _______?

How are you going to be a _______?

What have you done so far to be a __________?

The amount of times the school has bombarded us with this question is too much to count. I already have my response to each of these questions, so it doesn't bother me.

Why do you want to be a Celebrity Chef: I would like that career because of my father

How are you going to be a Celebrity Chef: By winning the Head Chef position and going to a culinary school in France.

What have you done so far to be a Celebrity Chef: I have joined the cooking club and taken Home Economics classes.

I finish the worksheet and look up to make eye contact with Professor Dean immediately. She reads over my worksheet before turning over to the blank side of the paper.

'I want more information, Brooke. That answer isn't going to cut it.'

As Dean walks away, I slouch slightly in my chair and lightly press my pen onto the paper. Why should I bother to do this crap?

I answered the question and did what Dean told me to do. Almost as if she read my mind, Professor Dean walks over and smiles slightly. ' I do wonder Brooke. Are you becoming a chef all because of your father? Cause you need to remind yourself, the career you are deciding on is based on whether you want to be a chef. Don't be a chef just because you want to be like him or reconnect with him.'

She walks away to her desk and parks at her laptop. My pen pressing is a lot more aggressive and out of beat.

Do I want to be a chef? Or do I rather want to impress Father? Is this a way of dealing with the emotional trauma that he has left me?

All I know now is that might be the case and if so, I seriously have some problems.

I refuse to go to therapy though. I don't want to inconvenience Mama.

***

'What do you want to be when you're older?'

Derek looks back at me with surprise and confusion. I don't blame him. I happen to be on my way to the office and I catch him in the reception area waiting for Principal Walters; I'm waiting for the supplies that I ordered from the office.

'That's weird of you to randomly ask me a question like that.' Derek takes a sip of his boba.

'I know. I'm just curious. Do your parents force you to commit to some career.'

Derek adjusts his straw. 'Kinda. They want me to be a lawyer, but I've already established my disinterest in that. Convinced them to allow me to have the job of a Forensic Pathologist.'

I notice a teacher walk into the staff room. 'What's that?'

'It's the person that looks at a dead body and does the analysis of how the person may have died. It's a cool job.'

'You and I have a different definition of cool.'

'At the end of the day, that job sounds fun, and I want to do that. Wake up every morning to cut up a dead body and help the authorities solve cases. It's my passion.'

Passion, huh?

Derek laughs. 'Plus, we have a different definition of everything. Including "deserved".'

'True.'