It’s been little less than a month since I finished my undergraduate degree. Honestly, if I could summarize the four years of my bachelor of arts degree with a double major in English and French, I would say, “it’s been a roller coaster.” One moment, I was on the top of the world with excellent marks, the next, I’d feel a crushing headache as a attempted to extract logical sentences for an essay worth a third of my final grade.
I will not lie, university is stressful.
But it is in conquering said stress that makes these four years worthwhile.
I have never been the sort of person who was always so sure of myself. Funny enough, I come across this way to other people because unlike nearly everyone who goes through university, I have never changed my degree. I attribute my unwavering devotion to English literature as my reason to weather any form of criticism that came my way. And, trust me when I say, telling people you’re an English major will not get you the same approving gaze as someone who majors in chemistry (or anything STEM related).
Basically, the default reaction most people have had when I said, “I’m majoring in English…” is one of the following:
- “So, what are you going to do with an English degree?” This question is paired with furrowed brows and a tight line forming at the mouth.
- “I hope you won’t mind working at a grocery store or pumping gas afterwards.”
- “Oh, so you want to become a teacher so you can teach English?”
Most of the people I know are polite, so I usually get combo number 3. For the first twenty times, I responded:
“Actually, it’s not my plan to become a teacher.”
“No. I wouldn’t be a good teacher, trust me.”
I could just picture myself helpless in a classroom attempting to convey the subtle beauty of Jane Eyre as an old sandwhich flies in the direction of my head. I’m sure in no parallel universe will I ever choose teaching as my choice of career (or vocation).
I became an English major because I loved to read and write. I wanted to write. I had (have) an insatiable thirst to string words together. Mind you, I was a little naïve at the time. For whatever reason, I believed that I could somehow work extremely hard and be able to pay the bills by writing until my hands fell off. Of course, I was only eighteen.
Four years later, I am so happy that I did not switch my major. My decision to become an English major, and eventually an English-French double major led me to pursuing studies in translation.
So, it just goes to show just how good it feels to prove the “haters” wrong.
Until Next Time,