"What do you do?" Discovering Identity Beyond a Title

“What do you do?” I’ll bet most of us have been asked this at some point, probably numerous times. It’s a fairly innocuous question, a well used conversation starter,  but one that I now dread.

For many years, I took pride in being a teacher but I never believed that my career defined me. I’d read of other teachers who had left and felt stripped of their identity and to be honest, didn’t relate at all. Only now, having left the profession, do I question the significance of identifying as a teacher. I don’t feel that I’m a less worthy human being now. However, for the first time I feel a little bit like I’ve been expelled from a club.  Even when dealing with something as unrelated to a career as car or home insurance quotes, it seemingly matters what I do for a living. I find it fascinating, almost amusing that defining someone by the job they do supposedly allows insurance companies to make a judgement on how likely I am to cost them money, how much of a risk I am.

Vaila and Jamie's mummy

Thinking back, I’ve always had a clear, given identity, or label. Growing up in a small town where everyone knew my dad I was “Campbell's daughter”. Over the years I’ve been “Miss Ferguson” then “Mrs Traynor” in schools, “Vaila or Jamie’s mummy” at various toddler groups and at the school gates. These days I’m probably best known in my local community as “Toby’s human”. No further explanation needed.

So feeling flummoxed by the simple question “What do you do?” has been a new experience for me. It used to be so simple: I’d say “I’m a teacher”, the questioner would know what a teacher does and polite, easy conversation would ensue. 

The first time this question proved problematic for me was at a function where I found myself having a drink with friends of a friend. Inevitably the conversation was being scaffolded by the standard “What do you do?” enquiry. As the question was directed at each member of the group in turn, I felt like a child in the classroom knowing that the teacher was going to ask me soon and I had no idea what I was going to say. I knew that it was a generic, harmless question and that nobody there was waiting with baited breath to hear my answer, this was just polite conversation. But I just couldn’t work out what I should say. It seemed an inappropriate situation in which to divulge my whole story of quitting teaching and changes in my family life but my whirring brain was failing to produce an answer which was succinct enough without sounding abrupt or evasive. 

As luck would have it, the person asking the questions was called away so I was off the hook on that particular occasion. Nonetheless, it left me questioning myself all the way home about what my answer should have been. Should I have replied that I used to be a teacher? That seemed irrelevant. Nobody else had answered by stating what they used to do. Furthermore, I was unwilling to get into all the reasons I had left teaching with a bunch of strangers. I mean that took a whole blog post! While it would have been true to say that I’m a stay-at-home mum and a carer for my son, I've noticed that such responses often lead to conversational dead ends. People are understandably cautious about asking intrusive questions regarding care needs and may lack the interest for further discussion about stay-at-home parenting, unless they share that experience.

I could have boldly stated that I was ‘exploring new possibilities" although that doesn't convey “respectable and trustworthy’ in the same way that being a teacher does. It would likely have required further explanation which I wasn’t ready to share, not eloquently anyway. I’m not particularly comfortable being the centre of attention and generally find that under the spotlight, I never quite manage to coherently say what I want to. Even when talking about myself, the one subject I should feel confident discussing, I’m prone to a dose of stage fright. Since starting my blog, even my best friend of 30 years has commented that I seem more comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings in written form. Now I realise how easy it was to be able to just say “I’m a teacher”, how that simple statement gave just as much information about me as was necessary. 

I hadn’t appreciated it at the time but my teacher status actually told people told more than what I do for a living; it provided the additional information that I did OK enough at school to go to university and get a degree. I was a professional. The fact that I had been cleared to work with children showed that I had no criminal record. Proof that I was a “good person”. So good in fact that I fell into the category of “respectable and trustworthy enough to countersign a passport”. The fact that I have given up my career appeared to mean relinquishing my standing in society. I know that many who leave the teaching profession feel a loss of identity, perhaps because it is such an all consuming vocation. 

Exploring my possibilities

A year on from the hotel conversation, I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t feel a little panicky to find myself in the same situation again. Right now, I'm exploring, learning and trying new things. I'm learning about myself as I cultivate a new way of life. I’m a mum, a wife, a carer and I’m currently wondering what else I could be. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever find a confident answer to the question, “What do you do?” again. But does it really matter?

Despite my difficulty in articulating it, I know who I am. My family understands me, and as I gain confidence, I’m gradually able to share more of my true self with others.

You’ll have realised by now if you’ve been following my blog that I often find guidance in podcasts. One of them delivered on this topic recently through an interview with the Reverend Kate Bottley who explained that she never asks the question, “What do you do?”. Instead she has found that posing the question “Who loves you?” provides the opportunity to hear about who a person actually is and what matters to them. 

In the movie “Eat, Pray, Love” Julia Roberts’ character, when asked what her word is, describes herself as a writer. Her companions point out that that is what she does rather than who she is and suggest that maybe she is “a woman who is still looking for her word”. I think that’s where I am too. This feels like the first time I’ve really been able to choose who or what I am and I’m reluctant to rush into giving myself a new label. The more people I speak to, the more I suspect this could be accurate for many people. One of the podcasts I listen to is called  "Try Life On"  and I think that’s what I’m doing just now - I’m trying out the ways I think I would like to live.

 A friend of mine has also discovered that since quitting his career, people are far more intrigued to hear about how his life has changed and what he hopes to explore next than they ever were about the details of his impressive career. This gives me hope that we can discover our identity beyond a title.

So next time you’re introduced to someone, maybe you’ll take the chance to delve deeper and find out something about them other than their profession. The Reverend Kate Bottley, speaking on the Postcards from Midlife Podcast, explained that she has found that posing the question “Who loves you?” provides the opportunity to hear about who a person actually is and what matters to them.  In the meantime, I’ll keep trying to construct the perfect answer to that question...

Drop a word, unrelated to employment, that tells me something special about you in the comments below!

Join my mailing list