I am a self-proclaimed nerd of the English variety. I have always loved reading, analyzing what I have read and then discussing it with someone else. (Mind you, their opinions do not have to mirror my own, just as long as they respect my right to my views, I will respect their right as well.) I realized in high school somewhere between eleventh and twelfth grade that I wanted to study literature. I dreamt up this vision of reading, theorizing and dare I say it, writing my own views of literature. I would befriend peers whose views on texts would align my own or—even better!—differ, causing me to reevaluate why I liked what I read. Essentially, I would become a Literature Snob; I would be praised for my skills, my views and be reminded daily of the power of the written word.
…and then I got to Stern. “You’re majoring in English? Wow, you’re brave.” I had naively assumed they were referring to my bravery because of the amount of reading that I would be responsible for. I was also faced with the ever popular “What do you plan on doing with that?” or “Looking forward to giving you my order at Starbucks!” Presumptuous much?
The frustrating—or comforting?—part is that I know that I am not the only English major to have received this treatment from fellow students and adults alike.
Unfortunately, I also know of other students majoring in the humanities who frequently deal with these dismissive attitudes. But why is it that my pre-med friends are allowed the luxury of not knowing what they want to specialize in and an English major’s uncertainty regarding a career is assumed?
The truth is, no matter how often I am accosted with these remarks, they anger me just the same as the first one did. To think I do not have a plan post-graduation is a half-baked assumption at best. My interests and passions, mostly stemming from literature, lend a pretty clear picture of where they will bring me, just as soon as I settle on a path of how to get there (i.e. graduate school, internship etc.).
I struggle with my validity as an English major not because I doubt my choices—as I said before, I have always wanted to seriously study English literature—but rather because of how many others judge mine. Parents of friends, neighbors, other fellow students, all giving me a cocked eyebrow and a sympathetic look of “Oh, how precious, she thinks she can get a job by studying Yeats,” pats Menucha patronizingly on the head. Studying the great poets of yesteryear may not provide me with a degree to apply to medical or law school but it does give me the qualifications, experience and background to a slew of jobs in a myriad of fields. (I will not list them here as I have limited space; for proof please just use Google or visit the Career Center.)
But I digress. I am not asking for false encouragement—you are, of course, allowed your opinion. I am asking for respect that does not come out of the desperation of a 2:30 am panicked text begging for help when you realize that a five page critical lense essay cannot and should not be done when it is due in a mere eight hours. Please note that I love helping people edit their essays! I enjoy assisting students as they bring their evidence together, building an iron-clad thesis, getting the wording just right in a great conclusion. But why is that the only respect I warrant is when my skills are deemed immediately beneficial to you?
My (complete) inability to solve a physics problem does in no way deny my right to the same level of respect that is given to a pre-law or pre-med student. Fortunately, the staff of Stern concur with my point. They are always rallying behind the English majors, encouraging new initiatives, supporting our ideas and—whether they realize it or not—reminding us that what we are studying matters. That we matter. Learning how to properly write a convincing and informative essay has taught me to convey my thoughts with articulation and with meaning. (Much like this article is giving me a platform to share my experiences, provide some insight and hopefully prompt some responses. Op-eds anyone?)
I once had a really eye-opening conversation with a good friend of mine who is majoring in the sciences. I asked her what her workload was for the weekend. She responded by showing me a booklet of ten to fifteen organic chemistry problems that needed tending to; I gave her my sincerest apologies for her weekend forecast.
As I began packing up my stuff for the weekend she returned the question to me. I answered that I has about roughly two hundred page of reading to complete, most of which had to be annotated in preparation for a handful of upcoming essays. She looked at me with a shocked expression and telling me that never has she seen the equivalence of the work between humanity and science majors so clear before our exchange. I gave her a verbal hug, telling her to spread the word! English majors have work, and girl, do they work.
As I try not to pull my hair out at the thought of the sixteen (!) essays that I must complete this semester, I remind myself what I love about my major and to never forget all that I have learned; the value of punctuation from Dickinson’s, the skill—yes, skill—of a run-on sentence from Joyce, and the the power of imagery from Thoreau.
I encourage all you humanities majors—and a special shoutout to my English major sisters—to keep do what you are doing, and keep learning how to do it even better. Try not to doubt your major’s worth compared to your peers. Rather, revel in what you have learned and prepare yourself for all that you are about to learn and share with others.
And to all the other majors at Stern: please curb the snarky responses and the critical remarks. Please remember that we are all going to walk across the same stage in May and that I look forward to seeing you there.