Helicopter Moms: Letting them choose

WILMETTE, Ill., Oct. 29 (UPI) -- No matter how hard I try, I can't help blaming Indiana Jones and Latin for my youngest daughter's decision to pursue a career in archaeology instead of medicine.

Naturally, being a helicopter mom, I decided that a daughter who excelled in science should follow what was essentially my plan for her future and become a doctor.

We even joked about what branch of medicine she'd pursue.

I suggested surgery but she quickly ruled it out explaining that she really couldn't stand the sight of blood.

"I think I'll be a forensic pathologist," she said one morning at breakfast.

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked.

"Because the dead can't sue," she answered in all seriousness.

OK, I thought, that sounds plausible and at least she'd have an M.D. after her name.

When she was younger, she considered becoming a veterinarian but gave that up after deciding she hated seeing animals in pain. Humans in pain apparently didn't bother her.

And dead humans were suddenly preferable to live ones.

Still, I kept reminding myself, forensic pathologists go to medical school.

Imagine my disappointment when after only one semester at the University of North Carolina, she announced she was dropping pre-med to major in classical archaeology!

"I've changed my mind about becoming a doctor," she told me. "I just don't want to work that hard."

Suddenly I was wishing I had never taken her to see any of the Indiana Jones movies or pushed her into studying Latin rather than a modern language like French or German.

"What will you do with a degree in classical archeology?" I asked.

"Dig," she replied with a broad smile.

"I doubt it's as glamorous a profession as Hollywood portrays it. Besides, do you really want to spend a lot of time being pursued by Nazis?"

"Oh mother," she answered. "Be serious!"

Actually, I was being serious. Not about the Nazis but about Hollywood serving up a false image of what being an archaeologist entails.

It turns out I was wrong to try to push her into medicine when she obviously had no passion for it.

Decades earlier, my parents had allowed me to go off to college intending to major in theater.

I changed my mind freshman year after an improvisation teacher instructed our class to get on the floor and pretend to be piles of firewood.

As soon as the class ended, I went straight to my adviser's office and filled out a form to change my major from theater to English.

It took only one improvisation exercise to provide the necessary wake-up call that I wasn't going to be an actress. In my case, it had nothing to do with hard work.

For my daughter, archaeology turned out to be an exciting endeavor. It afforded her an opportunity to travel and meet people from all over the world.

During her undergraduate years, she spent several summers in Italy participating in a dig of an Etruscan hilltop settlement that predated the Romans.

Another summer she slept in a barnyard and worked in a Transylvanian forest not far from the castle where the man who inspired the Dracula legend, Vlad the Impaler, lived. We have pictures of her covered in mud from head to toe after bailing rainwater out of the trench she was working in.

She also spent three summers in Italy identifying small finds for the Anglo-American Pompeii Project, all while pursuing a doctorate in Roman archaeology.

Looking back, I see how wrong I was to expect my daughter to follow a path I set for her.

Even helicopter moms can learn that the dream must be theirs, not ours.

(Editor's note: Sometimes it's hard to tell whether you're tackling parenthood in the 21st century -- or being tackled by it. This is the latest in a series of reflections by UPI writers.)