Passion doesn’t pay rent...(apparently)

Every VCE student knows the feeling of existential dread, walking into a careers counselling session with what feels like the entire weight of their future on their shoulders.

As if the exam stress and constant assessments weren’t enough, students are also tasked with picking university courses and career paths. On top of that: the anxiety of choosing the ‘right’ course.

For me in year 12, I remember thinking my life was over before it had really begun: I wanted to be a writer. There was no surefire way to attain that goal, no course that guarantees a sparkling, successful career. No degree that will automatically make you a New York Times best seller. Any discussions about wanting to pursue an artistic career are often paired with a grimace and a lecture on the likelihood that you’ll end up poor.

This is precisely society’s issue with the arts. Most of the time it’s not quantitatively measurable, therefore it must be invaluable.

At my high school, our careers department was chronically underfunded and tragically under-cared for. Counselling sessions were monotonous and felt as if they were copied and pasted - rolling off a production line rather than something made fit for purpose.

Our counsellor would take one look at your best-graded class and ask you to consider teaching it. This became such a trend at our school that even our teachers made joking remarks as we left their classes for our career meetings: “Let me know if you get told, nurse or teacher!”

A lack of resources in the arts is a tale as old as time. You could walk into almost any school art department and see that it is underfunded and undervalued. Old buildings, juxtaposing the new complexes that house academics or athletics. And for students picking electives like media or drama, it was renowned as an ‘easy’ option and not taken seriously.

Since early 2023, education and nursing scholarships have been added to the list of government-subsidised degrees, designed to boost the healthcare system and support the teaching workforce. Since then, students have been pressured to follow these free courses and discouraged from pursuing other careers. Especially those in the arts. What is the justification for those promoting these other courses? You’re almost always guaranteed a job, and it’s a free degree.

I can’t help but wonder: when did everyone decide to fall into this immense societal pressure to be successful? When did we stop valuing passion? Is it really success if you aren’t enjoying it?

I vividly remember in year seven during our very first classes, my peers detailing their ambitions of interior design, directing a movie or becoming a musical star on Broadway. Then, like clockwork in my later years of high school, those exact people looked me in the eye and told me, ‘I have no clue what to do so I might just do a free teaching course.’

Of course, don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with these careers, teachers and nurses make the world go around. The issue here is what is being sacrificed for some people.

Flashback to my year 12 experience again really quickly: (but not for too long… good riddance high school) it got down to crunch time to submit my preferences for university courses. I had gotten to the point where I had finally picked my first choice. My ideal writing and editing course. I then went through all my other options, shut my eyes, and picked a random order. One of my friends looked at my computer screen with disdain, asking me why I wasn’t taking it seriously. I looked at theirs, where I saw degrees paired with something like science and maths,(they hated those subjects) and their greatest passion (music) wasn’t alone, it was a dual degree… with teaching. They claimed it was for security in case music didn’t work out, needing something to fall back on.

Flash forward slightly to my first year of university. It took me around a month to settle into my course, but once I did, I was so pleased to finally be surrounded by like-minded people. The dread I had once felt towards pursuing writing was demolished, replaced with fulfilment. I realised that, even if I didn’t end up in the New York Times, I would still be in the writing field, and as a result, I would be happy.

I can feel my younger self taking a satisfied look at me now. This feeling carried through when I was asked about how life post-year 12 was going, and I could confidently say I was happy. As for my friend, they were increasingly miserable, clinging onto the security of having a job to fall onto towards the end. I couldn’t handle picturing a future where I was dragged from my fulfilling career to entertain the monotony of a secure stable life with no passion. When we met up for coffee during the Christmas break, I discovered that they were miserable in their teaching course and planned to drop it. Luckily, they’re pursuing music more now, which I suppose is a lesson learnt the hard way.

The biggest observation I have made since graduating high school, being part of the minority that followed a passion-led path, is that it isn’t super scary. Most of the people I have met through my course have experienced scrutiny for their choice, and none of them regret it. Ultimately, someone who has a passion for the arts, no matter the medium, is already different to the norm. To me, pursuing a career of passion is equally as scary as pursuing a career with no artistic enjoyment. I urge young student artists not to succumb to the idea that your ideal career is unreliable, instead use this to push forward, knowing that you have what it takes to create something. In doing so, that will make you immediately just as, if not more successful than those who chose what is reliable.