A group of primary school students just gave me a valuable lesson on my career

I expected giggles. I didn't expect to be impressed by a group of 10- and 11-year-olds to a soundtrack of whimsical bell chimes.

The premise was simple: a classroom scene where a student playing the "teacher" asked the class what they wanted to be when they grew up.

A number of kids stand and declare their dreams - a rock star, a doctor, a businessperson - and after each one, cue the bells: a dream sequence unfolded, complete with dancing classmates acting out the imagined career.

It was funny, creative, and utterly delightful.

But the moment that truly struck me - both as a parent and as a career development professional - was when one little girl stood up and said, "I don't know what I want to be." The teacher smiled and replied, "That's OK! Lots of adults don't know what they want to be when they grow up either. And our career can change as we change and grow."

That line deserves to be etched into every school wall, every parent handbook, and every career education framework.

We often think of career conversations as something reserved for high school students, when subject choices and university pathways loom large.

But the truth is, children begin forming ideas about work and identity much earlier.

By the age of seven, many have already internalised stereotypes about what jobs are "for them" based on gender, background, or perceived ability, and this limits their perceptions of their futures.

Primary school is the perfect time to introduce career thinking-not as a rigid roadmap, but as a playground of possibilities. When we talk to children about careers, we're not asking them to choose a lifelong path.

We're inviting them to imagine, to explore, and to connect their interests with the world around them.

That's why the play was so powerful. It didn't just showcase occupations - it celebrated curiosity. It gave children permission to dream, to change their minds, and to see career development as a journey rather than a destination.

Too often, career education is framed around decision-making, goal-setting, and future-proofing. While these concepts have their place, they can feel overwhelming-especially to young minds still learning how they fit in the world.

Instead, we need to reframe career conversations as acts of storytelling and self- discovery. What do you love doing? What problems do you want to solve? What makes you feel proud, excited, or useful?

When children are encouraged to explore these questions without pressure, they begin to build a sense of agency. They learn that their interests matter.

That their future is not fixed. That they can be many things across a lifetime - and that it's not a failure of planning, but a celebration of growth to change pathways.

The play also reminded me that career development isn't just about the individual - it's about community. My own mother was awarded a "community merit award" during the assembly for helping my daughter make cardboard guitars for the "rock stars" the weekend before. The gesture was lighthearted, but meaningful.

It acknowledged that career conversations are enriched by the people around us - parents, grandparents, teachers, mentors.

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When we involve families and communities in career education, we create richer, more inclusive narratives. We show children that careers aren't just about climbing ladders - they're about building bridges, solving problems, and contributing to something bigger than ourselves.

Imagine if every child heard the message that it's OK not to know. That careers can be creative, flexible, and shaped by who we are - not just what we do. Imagine if we replaced "What do you want to be?" with "What do you want to explore?"

That's the kind of career education I advocate for. One that starts early, speaks gently, and invites children (and adults) to see their future not as a pressure cooker, but as an open canvas.

Jarrod Lyons, the teacher who brought this play to life, deserves credit for crafting a moment that was both entertaining and transformative.

It was a reminder that career development doesn't have to be dry or daunting - it can be joyful, imaginative, and deeply human.

And if a group of primary school students can teach us that, maybe we should all listen.