My son does not owe every dinner guest a career plan

At Sunday dinner, somebody asked my thirteen-year-old what he wanted to be.

He said he didn't know.

The question became a group activity. An uncle suggested engineering. My mother mentioned how good he was with computers. I added that he liked drawing.

He looked at his plate while the adults built a future from three hobbies and the fact that he had fixed a printer once.

When he finally said he might want to make video games, we began explaining which parts of that idea were practical. Nobody had asked whether he knew the parts yet. We were already evaluating a plan he had assembled to end the conversation.

Later he asked why “I don't know” wasn't an answer.

I started to say people were interested in him. He said they could ask what he was making.

He has been drawing a map for an imaginary game. It has a ferry terminal, a mountain and a shop that sells objects he hasn't named. I had seen him working on it all week. At dinner I contributed it as evidence of a possible profession instead of asking him about the map.

I don't think adults have to avoid questions about the future. A child can enjoy imagining a job. A teenager can want to talk through choices. The problem at our table was that every answer had to survive immediate adult evaluation.

Even uncertainty got treated as an empty field someone needed to complete.

Next time, I want to let his answer stand. If he doesn't know, we can talk about something he does know. If he offers an idea, I can ask what interests him about it before assembling the sensible version.

He doesn't need me to announce that nobody may discuss careers. He needs me to stop joining the interview.

The map is on the dining table now. I asked about the ferry terminal. He explained that the boats arrive at different places depending on which object you carry.

I still don't know what he wants to be. I know something about what he is making.