What Comes Next?: Saying Goodbye to Being an English Major
The first thing that someone asks you when you meet them at freshman orientation is, well, your name, but the second thing is, “What’s your major?” It’s no wonder why we all get so attached to our majors; they become our entire identities, the stereotypes that go along with them being worn like badges of honor. But no one really teaches you what to do when you graduate; you’ve curated your entire personality around being this kind of person, so who are you now?
This really might just be a me thing especially because I’m writing this at 2:29 am on a Friday night because I can’t sleep, but like, I knew I wanted to be an English major in college from the time I turned 13-years-old. Being an English major was a dream to me because I just wanted to be able to study literature and learn to be a better writer, and that’s exactly what I did. I loved every single second of being an English major and I wish I didn’t have to go.
The reason I’m writing this article at such a lovely time of night is twofold: 1) I can’t sleep and 2) I was thinking about all of the awesome stuff I got to do as an English major. I know exactly how much of a dork I sound like right now and I’m perfectly fine with it. I loved being able to analyze literature and rhetoric and philosophy; it was what 13-year-old me dreamed of doing in college. Now that I’m leaving, I’m going to miss it so much.
But really, what comes next? I know it’s a big question and totally not meant to be a Hamilton reference (yes it is), but like, do people in “the real world,” ask you what you majored in in college? Do they care? Because I really cared. I cared A LOT. I know they’ll ask, “What do you do?” And right now, it’s nothing because everyone is freezing hiring but that’s a totally different article that I also wrote. I loved being an English major so much and as much as it hurts to say goodbye, I think this article was exactly the kind of closure that I needed in my undergraduate career; a kind of love letter to the English major. And as much as I’ve already gushed about how much I loved being an English major, I’m going to continue.
When I was 13 I knew I wanted to be an English major because I loved reading and I loved writing and that was all I needed to know. I was dead set on being an English major, I didn’t need to think about anything else and holy SHIT was I right. When I started college I was so shy and quiet, anyone who knows me now absolutely would not believe me if I said that. Being in classes doing something that I’m good at all the time has been such a confidence booster, and I know that can be said about any major but especially writing; writing is something so vulnerable and then allowing yourself to share it to a room of 20+ strangers is nerve wracking. I got to read books that I wouldn’t have looked twice at and now I won’t allow myself to part with them. I got to discuss the philosophy of feminism. I got to write a whole paper on Hamilton for my Women’s Rhetoric class. I fully know I sound like a huge fucking nerd when I say this, but all of that was so fucking fun; and right now, as I’m sitting here snot-nosed and choked up after pulling myself together from crying twice while writing this, I have to say I would do it all again in a heart beat.
Congratulations to the Class of 2020 once again, but congratulations in particular to the Lit majors and Pro Writing majors; there’s not a lot of us, but that’s sort of what makes it fun sometimes. Don’t tell the other majors about our secret clubhouse, alright?
