When I decided I was going to be a history major, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I thought it would be easy. I thought it would be fun. And yes, it was fun, but it wasn't that easy. History classes turned out to be way more demanding than I anticipated, but they also made me think in new ways. Learning how to think, not what to think, was by far the most important lesson I got out of college, but here’s a couple others.

1. Columbus was actually a huge dick.

So, I feel like everyone else is going, “uhm, duh,” but honestly, the way that I learned about New World exploration didn’t really make me think that Columbus and other European explorers were all that bad. I mean, how could they be? They helped discover America, and they did a bunch of other stuff.

Well, my first introductory courses in history put a stop to that silly idea.

So I knew that Europeans had their special diseases, and that some Native Americans got sick, and yeah, some died. But I didn’t realize the magnitude these special diseases had on the populations of native peoples all over the “New World.” I also was taught about the numerous resources that came from America. Of course, I didn’t even think that in order to procure the goodies, conquistadors had to exploit the shit out of the tribes and civilizations that made the goods.

Whenever the unit about Columbus ended, my teachers always made a point to mention how he died in poverty and disgrace, etc. I always felt bad for the guy. After all, he did so much, right? Well, after a few eye-opening lectures in college, I kind of think he may have probably deserved it. Oh well. C’est la vie.

2. Papers are about arguing a point, not rehashing research.

I need you to pause for a second and comprehend what I’m about to say. I am going to sound like I’m joking, or that I’m exaggerating, or anything similar to those hyperboles, but I’m not.

I could not pick out the thesis of any paper I wrote the entire time I was in college.

When I worked on my capstone project/senior thesis, I met weekly with an advisor to make sure I wasn’t falling behind schedule or that my paper wasn’t absolute dog shit. And every time, my advisor asked me the same thing: “What’s your thesis?” And I would just stare at my paper and fumble for an answer, because I never knew what it was, even days before the due date.

I was offered all the guidance in the world, but when it came down to it, none of my papers really had any real argument in it because I realize now I didn’t really ever make one. My notion of a history paper had always been something like a history report, and it took until practically after graduation for something to click and for me to say, “Oh yeah, a thesis. I get it now.” Oops.

3. History professors care more about grammar, citing, and syntax than any English professor I ever took a class with.

It sounds like a negative, but it really is a huge positive. Even if I still can’t pick out all the parts of a sentence, I sure do know how to put one together…mostly.

I had no idea what passive voice was. But now I do. And I still struggle with it every time I write. In fact, the first thing I do if when I proofread my own articles is check for passivity in my writing. It took years to figure this out. I had no idea what PASSIVE meant in the margins of my graded papers until one day, like the thesis thing, it clicked. And, like the thesis thing, it was just a little too late. But now, I am fully aware of it, and try really, really, really hard not to use it.

The second thing I learned were more detail-oriented things, like “Don’t end a paragraph with a quote.” I thought that was some bullshit, of course because I did it in everything I turned in. However, I soon learned that by ending a paragraph with anything like “” made it look like I was just adding source material in for the sake of fulfilling a quota for citations, rather than including something meaningful to the supposed argument I was trying to support.

I honest to God think that my history papers were graded with more diligence than anything my English professors ever looked at. I could spit an English paper out in a day or two, but a history paper could easily take a solid month of planning just because I knew the writing would be scrutinized to the last detail. I am so thankful for the challenge, even though I whined about it all while I was in school. I’m not the best writer out there, but I can say that I am better because of the perfectionist nature of my professors.

4. History people are the realest people on campus, probably.

So, I’m definitely biased because the majority of my classes were taught by the same three or four professors for my last three years of school, but they were the coolest people I met. When I hung out in the history department between classes, the atmosphere was super relaxed and chill. Everyone was a friend, even when I didn’t want any. When I was at my most depressed, I made myself go and sit in the history department to get away from myself. At the time, I hated everyone and the friendliness and casual atmosphere grated on my nerves. But I kept doing it because the people there—from the students to the secretary who knew everyone’s name to the professors, even the ones I never had classes with—had an energy that pulled me out of my darkest thoughts. I can’t tell you how many times I cried in my advisor’s office, and how many times she hugged me and told me everything would be okay. She supported me even when those who were closest to me didn’t.

I know it sounds like a stupid crazy hippie thing to say, but the energy in the history department was real, and it was always alive and buzzing. While my professors were hardasses and sometimes intimidated the crap out of me with their mad knowledge and high standards, it helped me become a better person with the same values. I saw myself as a bad student who only gave half the effort I was capable of because I was more concerned with working or socializing. They saw me as someone who could do anything, and that was probably what got me through the hardest times during school.

5. At the grocery store, don’t buy food in the aisle. Stick to the outside perimeter, and that’s where the healthiest foods are.

So I feel kind of bad posting this as the number one lesson I learned from being a history major, especially after that big sappy, sentimental #4. However, this was the lesson that I was able to apply most to my day-to-day life and one that I feel contributed to my weight loss.

Think about it: In most grocery stores, packaged food is smack dab in the middle. Around it, you got produce, the deli, and all that organic crap. My professor wasn’t advocating clean eating, or eating organic, or any of those other bullshit trends going on right now. He simply made a point that the majority of food that lacks nutritional value is normally in aisles, and the stuff our bodies actually need tends to be…not in the aisles.

I was over 100 pounds overweight when I heard this, and I thought that was the coolest thing I’d ever heard. I wasn’t interested in dieting when he said that, but his point stuck with me. When I went to the store after that, I did take notice at the location of the food I bought. Most of it was indeed “aisle food.” When I made a better effort to buy “non-aisle food,” I started losing weight. When I was losing up to ten pounds a week, I only stuck to the perimeter. For almost a year, I took that advice seriously. Now that I indulge in aisle food again, I can already tell a difference in how my body feels. And it isn’t a great feeling.

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To conclude, the best part of my college experience was working with my understanding professors and meeting other students in the history department. The culture of the department fostered critical and free thinking, which have been the most useful tools as a graduate. So many of the lessons opened my eyes and either altered or added to previous knowledge. I figured out what I do and don't like about history, and have a better appreciation for hard work and a job well done.