Maybe practicality isn't so bad

In the halcyon days before 9/11, the recession and Iraq, my friends and I had a single goal that sprung from both our most selfish desires and our most pragmatic concerns: getting into a prestigious college. Achieving this dream would — or so we believed — satisfy our intellects, justify our hard work, affirm our pride, please our parents, secure our futures, and nourish our very souls. It was our answer to everything, our Atkins diet. There was no alternative. There was no Plan B.

While the fortunate still pursue a single goal, many of us now pursue two: "I would like to direct films, but I might end up teaching," or "I would like to teach, but I might end up in I-banking," and so on. Musical performance, freelance writing and fashion design are eschewed for degrees in medicine, law and engineering. Our ideal career, Plan A, takes an all-too-frequent beating from its more pragmatic counterpart, Plan B, the devil on our left shoulder who lures us into "selling out."

"They're not being true to themselves," we sniff at the fallen. "They won't attain personal fulfillment."

But does Plan B deserve the flak it receives?

The derision is understandable — Plan B people make us feel old. They remind us of bills and taxes and premiums. They remind us of how we're becoming our parents, or at least approaching the age when they became parents. They remind us of how far-fetched our dreams — novelist? dancer? composer? — can be, and that we might have to settle after all.

Is it defeatism or maturity that makes us forgo reaching for the stars? By choosing the less glamorous, less risky route, are we compromising what we've been taught is the most important thing — our selves?

Consider what happens when people try to maximize their own happiness with little to no regard to others. I hear about divorced couples who force a child to fly cross-country every two weeks just to see the other parent because "neither of us can move" (I suppose "can" has multiple meanings to some people.) Isn't the ability and willingness to sacrifice for a greater good an integral part of being an adult?

Not everyone chooses Plan B out of greed, pride, passivity, lack of adventure or overall old fogy-ness. Some choose it in light of their family's financial situation: What do their younger siblings' college options or their parents' retirement plans look like? Considering the great expense their parents have undergone to support them this far, some couldn't imagine taking a path that would ensure financial dependence for another decade or so. How can we choose careers without thinking of how much our parents may need us in the last third of their lives, and what we can provide for them, especially things they sacrificed to give us more? How can we choose careers without thinking of how it will impact our own future children, or how it will determine our ability to give back to our families, our communities, our nation?

In another age, the devilish Plan B told us to put our own desires above all else, and society frowned upon those who succumbed. Have we swung too far the other way? We shouldn't create a situation where people feel they must shamefacedly justify why they're not doing their favorite hobby as a living.

It isn't as simple as "med school bad, fashion design good," or vice versa. Depending on who you are and your circumstances, either Plan A or Plan B could be the easier or more selfish choice, the way you "sell out." Instead of jumping to conclusions based on career ambition alone, how about considering motives? There are people on both paths who deserve nothing but our admiration and encouragement.

Maybe Plan B deserves more credit. Maybe, in the long run, Plan B can make us and those we love the happiest. Maybe, sometimes, Plan B should really be our Plan A. Julie Park is an English major from Wayne, N.J. You can reach her at jypark@princeton.edu. Her column appears on alternate Tuesdays.