“You’re going to be a teacher, right?”
This presumptuous question haunts every English major to cross the threshold of Wilson Library. And, of course, it has haunted me for nearly two years. It knows no bounds. Grandparents, parents, cousins, friends, Starbucks baristas, hairdressers, teachers themselves — all of these well-meaning, curious interrogators have determined my fate for me — and us. “With a degree like that,” they argue, “you’ll have to teach.”
My classmates say these arguments are like nails on chalkboard — or, worse, a misplaced comma.
So here’s the plot-twist of the century (or at least the quarter): We’re all not going to teach high school. Some of us will go into politics; others will be renowned novelists. Inevitably, others will edit New York Times articles and BuzzFeed missives. Many of us, myself include, harbor a dark, tempestuous secret, a confidential confession: we have no idea where we’re going or what we’ll do. We just know that the art of language will guide our lives and careers. In reality, we English majors ought to be proud of our shared mystery. Our interests and passion are the masters of our fate — not the stock market or our GRE scores.
While we’re discussing dangerous secrets, it is time for me to reveal a very intimate detail: I abhor Shakespeare. And while his work continues to be read centuries beyond its very conception, and while everyone (and I mean everyone) has read "Romeo and Juliet," and while I’m “supposed” to like it as an English major, I just cannot (scratch that, will not) bring myself to enjoy that stuff. It’s inscrutable and bland and boring and bad. In the field of English, students enjoy a wide variety of texts, ranging from “young adult” fiction to work of Edgar Allen Poe. Truly, there is a niche for everyone. Thus, English majors are far from being a monotonous collective who are obsessed with antiquity.
Speaking of literature, it is no secret that we do spend hours reading. But here is a not-so-obvious observation: most of us have stopped reading for fun. A professor once told me that college “ruined the novel” for them. After analyzing countless texts, the thought of reading loses its luster. Though we still love reading, often we need new, non-textual ways of distraction. Listening to music is a popular choice, but photography and hiking seem to be popular choices, as well.
Since we spend so much time reading (and since we are all going to be teachers), you would think that we’d all be grammar masters, champions of participles and clauses. The shocking reality: most English majors don’t know how to use semicolons. Even more controversial: most don’t care enough to learn. While teachers have given us a reputation of being the grammar police, we’re more interested in the wonder of language: how it builds open itself, how it changes with society, how it gives us a voice. While comma errors may bother some of us, the English major is truly about discovering one’s voice in a sea of words, ideas — and coffee.