This is the single question that rallies a classroom of five-year-olds and terrifies the average college student:

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Any kindergartner will tell you that they’ll be America’s future president, a chef, an actor, a soccer star, or the boss of a company.

Me? I would have told you that I would be all of those things plus a firefighter, a police officer, a singer, an artist, and a princess. When my mother asked me how I would be able to do all of those things, I told her that I would go to those jobs one by one for five minutes each day. While my family smiled or laughed at my fanciful notions, I wondered why no one else thought of this idea before. After all, the picture books like "The Little Engine That Could" told me that anyone can do anything they put their mind to, so why did my family think that my dreams were so impossible?

Flash forward a few years later: It was career day at my elementary school. Each third grader came to class in a costume of their future profession. Some were smartly dressed in business suits, claiming to be a CEO or the president, while others had sports jerseys or the fancy clothes of a celebrity. A few had come in normal clothes, clearly unsure of what they wanted to be and not wanting to solidify their future path by haphazardly picking a career that morning. No one decided to be a prince or princess.

Me? I ended up dressing in a small white coat with a stethoscope around my neck. I told everyone how I not only wanted to be a doctor, but a pediatrician. I was bragging how I was going to be someone who would help kids just like us, all the while putting my stethoscope to their chests and listening to the familiar thump-thump on the other side. I had given up the idea that I could have ten jobs at the same time and still be a sane person. Besides, being a doctor would be so cool! I would get paid a lot, treat sick kids and give lollipops those who were good patients, just like how my own doctor did with me. It seemed like the most sensible decision at the time.

Throughout the day the same question repeatedly left my teacher’s mouth as if it were leafing through the pages of a book.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Pediatrician, I would say to myself. I’m going to be a pediatrician.

Yet when I entered high school, all of the certainty I had about going to medical school started to fall away. Sure, I liked the idea of it and had enormous respect for medical professionals, but I didn’t know if that was truly my passion. My ninth grade English class introduced me to a whole new world of literary analysis, and I quickly fell in love with the written word. My best friend and I traded fantasies about how she would be an author living in the stormy English countryside while I could live in a community of artists in NYC. During class, I played scenes in my head where I would stay up late to finish writing my novel or discuss rhetoric with my peers around a fireplace. I wrote poetry and short stories, thinking about the day where it would be listed as a “Best Seller” in the New York Times. This future seemed as tangible as the pencil and paper I had on my desk. Even though I felt guilty for turning my back on this long-held goal of being a doctor, I couldn’t shake away the feeling that the pursuing the arts was my dream.

During those days, when someone would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I assured them that I would be a published author. I made sure to practice scribbling my signature, just to emphasize that fact.

Now, looking back on this ever-changing cycle of careers, it’s funny how my current aspirations are a sort of synthesis of all the three past major changes in career decisions. I’ve learned that it’s perfectly fine if a person’s passions differ from the pragmatic goals they set. For myself, I’ve come to accept that I want to be both a doctor and a writer (even if the pursuit manifests itself as a daytime hobby), yet still hold onto the five-year-old hope of perpetual growth.

To anyone out there who is experiencing a crisis between following your goals or your dreams, please don’t panic! Your feelings are not invalid in any way, and you don’t have to commit yourself to any one thing. As long as you are willing to compromise, regardless of how absurd or far-fetched your dreams may seem to others, it is very possible to incorporate both types of aspirations into your life.

So, the next time someone asks you what you want to be when you grow up, don’t be afraid to tell them everything that you’d like to become. If "The Little Engine That Could" taught us anything when we were kids and still unafraid, it’s that you can do anything you put your mind to.