Why I Switched My Major and Advice To Those Who Are Thinking the Same

Why I Switched My Major and Advice To Those Who Are Thinking the Same

Within the first month of my sophomore year of college, I switched my major from Biology to English. It was a decision practically anyone who knew me predicted. I took a lot of science classes in high school, and not only did I enjoy the content of each course, but I was able to succeed in them. When it came time to fill out my college applications, I thought biology was a great choice for an intended major, and it was—until it wasn’t. The summer before college, I received lots of questions from relatives and family friends regarding what I planned on studying. When I replied biology, I was always asked what I wanted to do with that degree. “Research” was my reply, a response that I hoped disguised my “I-haveno-idea-what-I-want-to-do-with-this-major-but-I’m-hoping-I-will-figure-it-out-unless-I’m-screwed” syndrome. I never had dreams of being a physician or an ecologist, and although the subject of biology and the sciences as a whole interested me, there was never one topic that really sparked something in me. I am someone who is very driven by passion, something I only figured out when I was not motivated to study for any of my biology exams and was desperately trying to make sense of why. I reflected back to my time as a high school student who would pull all-nighters for extracurriculars like Mock Trial. I asked myself why I was so capable of putting in an extensive effort toward something so low-stakes but couldn’t bring myself to care about my major. By the end of my freshman year and a series of poor exam grades in biology, I concluded that I wanted to, needed to, switch my major. I could care less about my grades; I was bored. I love learning and felt as though I was not even retaining information because I was so uninterested in the subject. But this realization left me with a bigger problem—I didn’t know what I was interested in, and I sure didn’t know how I was supposed to figure it out. I remained registered in science courses for the fall semester, though I didn’t know what other paths to take or where else to go. I spent the summer reflecting on what energized me, and all I could come up with was learning and talking to people. The only thing I knew I liked learning about was philosophy, but I did not want to declare that as a major, as it was already a minor of mine. I knew there had to be

something else that I liked. As soon as I got an email with the Organic Chemistry syllabus on a Sunday afternoon in early September, I burst into tears. It was so much work, and it wasn’t that I doubted my abilities to do well, but I knew I was not going to graduate with a biology degree. Putting in an extensive amount of labor for the course would be a waste of my time and energy. I decided to remain enrolled in my biology course though, giving the major one last chance. I emailed my academic advisor and asked if there were any other courses that I could switch into. I drearily scrolled through a lengthy list of full classes until I found one with only one seat left, titled “Creative Writing: Nonfiction.” My mind flashed to my elementary school library’s nonfiction section stuffed with biographies and scientific material. I did a quick “Rate My Professor” search for the professor just to make sure she was not awful, and readily emailed my advisor that I would like to enroll in the course. I thought it would be interesting. Tuesday morning rolled around, and I made my way to an outdoor tent where my professor was holding class. She took attendance, introduced herself, and passed out a small slip of paper with a tweet by author Chuck Wendig printed on it. “TUESDAY. The day you realize that nothing can stop you, because you are a MAGIC SKELETON packed with MEAT and animated with ELECTRICITY and IMAGINATION. You have a cave in your face full of sharp bones and five tentacles at the end of each arm. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING, MAGIC SKELETON,” it read. I smiled and placed it in the front of my binder, where it remains

today.

The professor briefly explained the course, and I felt foolish, as I realized my conceptions about the course were incorrect—this was Creative Writing Nonfiction, a genre I never heard of. My professor tasked us to create lists, which we shared with each other after completion. I learned that essays can be written in the form of a list; that essays are a form of nonfiction writing. Making lists is writing. To conclude class, my professor handed each of us a miniature composition notebook that she asked us to fill out by the next Friday. She did not care what we wrote; she just wanted us to write. In high school, I turned to writing as a way to process my emotions—sadness, anger, confusion, whatever it may be. I found it comforting, and I felt frustrated and restricted when writing papers for my classes. I longed for the creative liberty to write small paragraphs or prose. For so long, my idea of writing was confined to a practice only

done in academic contexts or by authors who published novels. It wasn’t until this first class that I realized there was a whole other world of writing I had yet to explore, a world I wanted to explore. I walked out of class feeling a mix of joy and relief. Over the next few weeks filled with reflection, a few more enjoyable Creative Nonfiction classes, and many boring biology lectures, I realized I wanted to switch my major to English. It just felt right. When I was little, my mom would take my books away from me until all my homework was completed. I won a gift card in fifth grade because I read the most books of all my classmates. I had forgotten about these things, the comfort I felt from burying my nose in a novel. I lost my love of reading as I grew older and busier, but I knew I wanted to rekindle my relationship with it. Not only was changing my major a weight lifted off my shoulders, but it has made me a better student, as I am actively working to be a better writer and better reader. I love my classes; I love the assignments I am completing, and I am doing well in school. Of course, it was hard to lay down the ego that being a woman in STEM had given me. When I hear about something science-related that intrigues me, a little part of me wishes I was still studying the sciences so I could better understand it. But then I think about how miserable I was every day during my first year of college, completing loads of work with no reward or satisfaction, and I feel confident in my decision. If you are thinking about changing your major, my advice is to give the one you are in a fair chance like I did. Take another course, and see how you feel. But study what makes you happy. You don’t have to be the best at it, but you should feel motivated to do well because you care about it.

MEET THE AUTHOR

Julie White is a student at Fairfield University studying English Creative Writing with minors in Philosophy and Editing & Publishing. She enjoys reading contemporary fiction and the last book she read is Writers & Lovers by Lily King, to which she gives a rating of 4 out of 5 stars.

Julie resides in New Jersey with her family and loves spending her summers at the beach. After graduation, she plans on attending law school; but really, has no idea what she wants to do. Julie hopes to publish some of her fiction and creative nonfiction pieces in the near future.