The Great College Major Adventure

I still remember the day that I started to seriously consider what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was sitting in my economics class in the spring of my junior year of high school–staring at the clock like I always did–ready to get home and take a nap. My teacher then announced that this was the day that we would be visited by various “career professionals,” who were going to share their experiences with us.

For what it’s worth, I commend my high school for giving us some semblance of a nudge toward what we should do after high school, but on the other hand, I almost felt as if it was too little, too late. After all, most of us had already started applying to colleges. I had made the decision of my school somewhat early, and was already boasting a sweatshirt that told everyone where I was headed next.

Up until then, all I knew in terms of what I wanted to “do with my life” was that I wanted to do something with writing. I loved all of my English courses; I loved journaling—first in a notebook as young as age 6, and then, later, huddled in my basement typing out my romance woes to my Xanga page; I also had a strange love for writing papers, a love that often confused my friends and parents. There was just something about sitting down with my thoughts and getting everything out. I still didn’t know how that would (or could) materialize into a “career” or a “real job,” but it’s the one thing I knew for certain that I was passionate about.

The first set of girls walked in the classroom, wearing dresses I had seen on the “misses” rack at Macy’s. They had high heels, curled hair, flawless makeup–one of the girls even had that Coach bag I had been eyeing for the past year. “We’re buyers for Target,” they said. Suddenly, I was reminded that I had a shift at my local Target that evening—stocking shelves and folding the same tank tops eight times in one night. I realized then that these women were not wearing red and khaki to work, and helping soccer moms find the fat-free milk–they were dressing up in these stylish outfits and selecting the items that Target would sell. How awesome is that?

I don’t recall much of what the other career professionals talked about, but I suddenly had a brand new plan for future adventures, out of nowhere–like only a 16 year-old can manage. I would major in Marketing, I would wear those high heels, and I would sit in a plush office all day, shopping online, and picking out products that the rest of America would buy. I was hooked on the idea of having a career—having money—and being an adult to boot. I was suddenly and irreversibly in love with the fact that I could make myself anything I wanted to be once I got to college.

At my college’s freshmen orientation, I sat down with a random professor, wide-eyed and jittery, wearing my brand new jeans and college t-shirt. I was terrified at the thought of signing up for my first classes, but I reminded myself that these would take me one step closer to being those successful girls who showed up in my economics class.

I started out college as a Marketing major, although a glitch in the system would end up placing me in an orientation group with the undecided—those people who either didn’t care about what they wanted to do, honestly didn’t know, or forgot to check the box marked “major” on their orientation forms. During my first semester, I met with my orientation group once a week, and the more I got to know the people in my group, the more I questioned my college major of choice. They seemed so carefree, not really worrying about the future. Then I started questioning. Did I really want to take both macro- AND micro- economics, when I had almost failed my basic economics course in high school? Why did I have to take all of these business classes? Why did I still have to take science? I was left thinking, where is the fast track to the nice clothes and the Coach purse and the plush office at Target?

I was naïve, and stubborn. I truly believed what almost every adult will tell every adolescent or child: you can do whatever you want to do. No one tells you the steps it will take to get there.

So, making a decision like only an 18 year-old can, I changed my college major. In my head, I had built up this experience to be a daunting one; I imagined the “major change” administrator, his office located on a dark and lonely floor of a forgotten building. I would walk up to his door, and he would summon me in. He would then drill me for hours, about why I had given up on marketing. I would leave confused, in tears, wondering why I wasn’t able to change my mind.

In real life, I walked in to the student center, grabbed a bright orange flyer off of the rack mounted to the wall, and I checked two boxes. “Delete major.” Okay, I can do that. “Add major.” Okay, now I was stuck. With a list that seemed as long as my high school graduation’s class roster, I began to scan the page, searching for the one little category that would determine the rest of my life: Did I want to be a doctor? No, I pass out at the sight of blood. No pre-med biology major for me. What about philosophy? I liked to think about things! My dad’s voice in the back of my head rang in my ears: “What the hell are you gonna do with a major like that?” Okay, off the table. What about Mass Communications? (The Mass Communications department was one that was, to me, an exclusive club for the creative kids. The ones who wanted to be PR reps, managers to the Stars, the “important” people of the world.) With four tracks to choose from, it was tempting. But then again, I looked at the corresponding course requirements, and couldn’t fathom having my anxious brain complete group project after group project. The very idea made my head spin.

Then I saw it: English major.Writing option/Literature and Language” option. Wait a minute. I could MAJOR in WRITING?! I could spend my days under the oak trees on campus, jotting down my thoughts in my notebook, sipping coffee, and spending my weekends attending poetry readings with my fellow classmates? The world seemed to open up to me then. I realized I was on the greatest adventure of my life, and I got to take the driver’s seat. I could travel the world, I could write a book, I could talk about poetry, authors, novels, and I could write creatively—all while obtaining a degree.

From the minute I changed my major freshman year, I was met with the same phrase over and over: “What are you going to do with THAT? Work at Barnes & Noble?” I would offer the fake laugh and smile every single time, shrugging my shoulders to the weight that the words carried.

In my four years at college, I did end up changing my college major twice again (once to Secondary Education, for English teaching, and once to Journalism.) My two attempts to gain access to the education program proved futile; and after spending a year working in the news office of the local paper, I realized that I was definitely not outgoing nor confident enough to conduct interviews on a daily basis. Each and every time, I would re-visit that little orange sheet, and write “English” as my college major of choice. The farther I got in to school, the more I realized that my college adventure was one that I would have to create for myself. Sure, I did love most of my classes. I read more novels in four years than most people do in a lifetime. I wrote more than my fair share of 10, 12, and 15 page papers, eyes foggy as I constantly glanced between a book and my computer. I dealt with self-involved creative writers who thought they were the next Shakespeare; I learned to combat my fear of public speaking while reading my work aloud in poetry class; and I wrote. A lot

After I graduated, people would often ask me if I regretted the decision I had made with my major. After four years of thought, I could confidently say that no, I didn’t. College was the greatest opportunity for me to embark on an adventure that few other industries other than academia can provide. I was able to honestly ask myself what made me passionate, what I was good at, and what I could see myself doing for the rest of my life. Of course, I did not major in English with the hopes of landing my first book deal with Harper Collins upon graduation, although it would have been a nice thought to comfort myself with. I majored in English because I was lucky enough to find something that I truly loved, and loved enough to spend four years learning about it.

My advice to those who are seeking a new career path, selecting their college major courses, or those who feel stuck? Go with your gut. If the steps to get to where you want to be overwhelm you to the point of giving up, maybe it’s not where you want to be. Find what you’re passionate about, and give it all you have. After all, changing your mind is as simple as checking a box on that orange sheet of paper.

This song has helped me immensely in my discovery to figure out what I truly want to do with my life, and it’s worth a listen if you need some inspiration: