By Chris Cosci

At a certain age, children discover that they won't be spending the rest of their lives going to school, hanging out with their friends and playing video games. Eventually, they have to grow up, become adults and get these strange things called "jobs."

For younger kids, potential careers are selected from the historic list of children's dream jobs, such as doctor, policeman and astronaut. You never hear a five-year-old say, "When I grow up, I want to be a senior accountant for a high-profile marketing firm." By the time they reach middle school and high school, children are exposed to hundreds of new options. Schools and other organizations provide them with pamphlets, brochures and books on possible careers. This information gives students the focus to eventually go to college, change their major three times, then get a job entirely unrelated to their educational background.

One of the ways students discover new possibilities is through specialized tests, which are intricately designed to suggest future career options by carefully analyzing a person's skills and interests. In reality, they're usually only good for telling your friends how you once took a test that said you should become a spot welder.

Another source of job information is "career day," an event usually held at schools to educate students about various careers. While these events can vary in effectiveness, one recent career day at Jane Lathrop Stanford Middle School in Palo Alto, California may have offered students a little too much information.

At this career day, eighth-graders were invited to listen to a presentation by William Fried, president of a local management consulting firm. The presentation, which had been the highlight of previous career days at the school, was titled "The Secret of a Happy Life," and was meant to help students discover their life's purpose. Students attending the presentation were given a tip sheet that included a list of 140 potential careers, ranging from accounting and nursing to wrestling and stunt flying. But one career on the list sparked a few students' interest: exotic dancing.

I've always found the term "exotic dancing" to be a little unusual. Logically, one would assume that exotic dancing involves dance moves from exotic locales such as Hawaii or Thailand. Yet unlike those areas' native dances, exotic dancing involves an entirely different set of dance moves, requires considerably less clothing and is usually performed around a pole.

Anyway, despite their relatively young age, students knew exactly what kind of dancing this referred to, and they asked Fried about it during his presentation. As a professional used to answering tough questions, Fried gracefully handled the inquiry and politely responded with a solid "I'd be happy to tell you about it."

He gamely tackled the question, providing the curious students with some rather fascinating information about the subject. For example, he explained how lucrative the field can be for certain girls, with some dancers earning up to $250,000 a year. As for the eighth-graders who are (hopefully) still undeveloped and wondering what they can expect, Fried offered the following tip: "For every two inches up there, you should get another $50,000 on your salary." That should be great news for the students who were eyeing "plastic surgeon" on the career list.

Strangely enough, Fried's candid report of this potential "life's purpose" didn't sit well with parents. I guess they felt that exotic dancing is not a respectable career for their children. Either that, or they would feel tremendously uncomfortable with their daughters making a lot more money than they do.

Given the potential for such a high income, it's easy to see how one could be tempted by the field. (Keep your pants on -- I have no intention of taking mine off.) However, it's probably not the kind of temptation eighth-graders should be contemplating. Instead, they should wait until college when they'll need the money for books.