From Government Jobs to YouTube Dreams: A Journey Across Generations

My daughter, at nine years old, belongs to Generation Alpha. While I was busy correcting answer sheets on a recent weekend, she cheekily remarked, “How sad! You are working on a weekend. You could have rather become a YouTuber than a teacher.”

Growing up, I always believed I would be the “cool” parent. Yet here I am, struggling to accept that she considers being an influencer a legitimate profession. I am still coming to terms with the idea that "influencing" can be a full-time job, and I confess, it irks me to imagine her launching her own “get ready with me” channel someday. This disconnect is not new; it is an echo of the past. My North Indian Punjabi parents never understood the idea of running a dance school, being a poet, or pursuing a bachelor’s degree in arts as a viable livelihood. Never in my wildest imagination had I thought that I, too, would face the same struggle to understand my child’s aspirations. What gets lost in translation with every new generation?

The answer lies in the change of time and context. For my parents, a government job meant security, respect, and stability. For me, traditional stability felt confining; I valued independent decision-making and creativity. For my daughter, freedom of expression and visibility seem the priorities. Each generation translated “success” and “a good life” into a new language, rewriting their meaning in ways the previous one may not always understand. This became clearer when I first heard of the “fake wedding” phenomenon in metropolitan cities: lavish mock weddings with no actual brides or grooms. Guests arrive dressed as relatives, participate in festivities, click selfies, and then return home. I was baffled - why would anyone pay for such a thing? Until one of my Gen Z students explained. She told me many of her peers rarely attend large family gatherings or weddings. Migration to cities, nuclear family structures, and detachment from hometown roots mean they miss out on traditional community spaces. For her, these events are not absurd but a way to find connection, joy, and belonging. What seemed meaningless to me was, for her, a translation of old rituals into new forms of community.

Moments like these remind me to pause and withhold judgment. What appears strange is often just another way of meeting the exact timeless human needs - for connection, meaning, and self-worth. My daughter teaches me this daily. She is fiercely egalitarian and quick to hold up a mirror. If I ever differentiate between a friend and a staff member, she is the first to remind me: “You are the one who says we are all equal!” Her clarity both unsettles and humbles me. Every generation believes it is wiser or more forward-thinking than the one before. Yet, instead of treating these shifts as losses in translation, perhaps the wiser path is to see them as opportunities to co-create meaning - to listen, empathize, and weave together the best of both worlds.

After all, nothing is truly lost if we are willing to translate with care!