“I must be cruel only to be kind”: Life as a Liberal Arts lover
Since I was little, I have loved to read. Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events was probably the first book series I ever remember being enthralled in (sorry, J.K. Rowling), I had more library cards than I could count, and my bookshelves were possibly fuller than they should have been for living along a fault line in the Bay Area.
Along with the reading came writing, like two peas in a perfect pod. I loved making up stories, no matter how absurd or far-fetched, and it was only an added bonus if I could write stories for class, for actual grades, rather than just for my notebook at home.
When I was in my sophomore year of high school, my English teacher returned an essay that I had written about our most recently read book, William Golding’s Lord of the Flies. After receiving the grade, she asked if I had ever thought of pursuing journalism. I hadn’t—but, soon enough, I attended the school newspaper’s info session, and my fate was sealed.
Journalism progressed from working as a nervous high-school junior writing stories, designing pages, and taking utterly horrendous photos to becoming the Arts & Entertainment editor with a love for very random music to working (for actual money!) as a staff writer at my college’s weekly newspaper to being the Arts & Entertainment editor focused on all the music, movies, art and culture that Seattle could offer. Five years of working at student-run newspapers, followed by online writing for Examiner.com and Medium.
Now, I aim to go forward with this foray into the journalism world outside of a college dorm building’s basement or high school’s cement-walled classroom. But, how exactly can I pursue a passion when it doesn’t have a set outcome?
Back when I was still in high school and just starting out, I visited Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University to meet with two professors, David Nelson and Roger Boye, regarding the journalism program and what the industry would look like by the time I would enter the working world in six years time. Both professors explained the ways in which the school was transitioning to correlate with the changes in the industry’s and society’s needs—but also made a point to let me know that it was imperative for me to ask these questions.
As the timid 16 year-old I was, I was fairly jumpy (and those damned Evanston winters did not help), and even more nervous as a mere acne-ridden teenager among adults—real, go-getting adults in journalism who I only hoped to emulate. I remember that my nerves definitely shined through in my conversation with David Nelson—he even pointed them out—but the main take-away I received from our time together was what he told me as I was leaving: don’t give up—I can tell you have potential.
With his words of encouragement, I gained a new sense of self and powered myself through countless articles, late nights, page designs, and copy checks, all because I loved what I was doing. And someone saw that, and felt that I could succeed. To have that kind of encouragement outside of a family member or a friend or a teacher meant the world to me, and continues to drive me today to do my damnedest to become a part of the Wildcat family.
But, you ask, how is this self-inspiration commensurate with the job market? Is there really a need for that many journalists?
And, in all honesty, I have no idea. And that scares me shitless.
David Nelson told me, at 16, that I needed a back up plan for the future to be logical about the job market. With that information, I decided to go into college as an English and Marketing double major. Soon enough, it turned out that I hate economics and calculus (especially at 8 o’clock in the morning), so the Marketing turned into a Film Studies major, and I added on a minor in Spanish just for the hell of it.
Four years of classes on Shakespeare, Chaucer, Kubrick, Hitchcock, the Spanish inquisition, and Latin American literature made me the person I am today, and these degree programs helped me to fully achieve everything I really wanted in my college experience. But did it make me more marketable for the working world? I can’t say it did. The work experience I had outside of my fields of study helped me to get hired about four months after graduation — and after 84 other job applications—and I love my current job. However, it’s not related, in the grand scheme of things, to either of my degrees or to my (hopefully) future Master’s in Journalism.
Is this the world I’m meant to live in? Working in an industry that I enjoy, but that doesn’t necessarily give me credence to write or read or study film?
I’m not the only person in this state (not that it’s a bad one to be in). According to a November 2013 study by Career Builder, “nearly half (47 percent) of college-educated workers said their first job after college was not related to their college major.” That’s a fairly understandable number when you think of how often a history major is able to immediately become a history teacher, or a psychology major is immediately able to open their own practice. You are, more often than not, going to want someone with a little more experience rather than a fresh college graduate as your therapist.
However, the percentage is still a bit jarring, and continues to be today. According to AfterCollege, the difference from 2013 to 2015 wasn’t that grand, with only 14 percent of college seniors having a job lined up following graduation.
As I say above, it took 85 job applications for me to find a full-time position following graduation. Once you have that many job applications out in the Internet-verse, it’s difficult to distinguish which one is which—and it’s even more difficult to keep your head up and continue to power through. I actually thought of applying to my gym for a measly $10.30 per-hour part-time position before I got the offer at my current job.
Luckily, it worked out, with my determination and drive, that I am now employed at one of the best universities in the world and get to not only work graduate students, but learn about what I can expect from my own graduate school experience. My boss is one of the most genuinely amazing people I have ever met, and the rest of the staff follows suit. Everyone is encouraging, and I have time to take off and study for the GRE (blerg) or work on creating my movie-reviews website.
So, even if I haven’t necessarily become a journalist since graduating—or a filmmaker or English teacher, for that matter—does that mean I’m unsuccessful, or should stop trying to achieve more?
No. It just pushes me even further.
And it all started with a nascent love of reading.
