I stare at my laptop contemplatively, with a glare so fierce that my computer screen turns black with fright, or more likely idleness. I haven't actually touched the keyboard in a few minutes, but rather I let my careless thoughts fade away into the blank air, sifting through the wreckage of my mind to find something worth writing down....and then it hits me! I wiggle the touchpad to wake my computer back to the dimly lit dorm room I sometimes call home. Wheezing air out of its lungs, I can feel its heat spewing onto my bottom bunk bed, where I lie behind it, eager to type my thoughts into Microsoft Word. With a swift tap I begin, only to be abruptly silenced by a loud "thump!"

Too apathetic to rise, I snapped my neck around to see that my roommate's friend had walked into our dorm, closing the door behind her. My roommate was busy playing some computer game at his desk a few feet south of me. She startled him playfully, but he was too locked into his game to focus on her. Eventually, a conversation struck, but I didn't pay much attention to it. I continued my writing, while in the background their conversation escalated. Eventually I had no choice but to listen. In the middle of heated confrontation I heard my roommate's friend: "That doesn't make any sense, what are you even talking about?" Slyly, my roommate turned away from his game to face her directly. Responding facetiously, he said: "I wouldn't expect a SSHA major like you to understand me anyway." With that she turned around and stormed out of our room, slamming the door with an even louder thump than when she entered. My roommate and I exchanged puzzled looks, and I turned to my second roommate sitting north of us, and he looked confused as well. After a moment of silence, we chuckled at her aggravated response to my first roommate's tongue-in-cheek comment. "What was her problem?" He asked. "I don't know," I responded, "I guess she didn't like you making fun of her major like that."

I could understand the sentiment. As a SSHA major myself, I often found my studies as the butt of a joke; but, using my literary skill and advanced vocabulary, I found I always had a witty or downright harsh comeback to defend myself with. See, UC Merced is a school renowned for its ethnic, cultural, and socio-economic diversity. However, when it comes to majors, it couldn't be more homogeneous.

For the uninitiated, UCM undergraduate studies fall under three schools. The School of Engineering, the School of Natural Sciences, and finally the School of Social Sciences, Humanities, and Arts (a.k.a. SSHA, pronounced like the common last name "Shaw"). SSHA majors include a variety of focuses, from Business Management to History, to my major, English.

According to the UC Merced Institutional Research and Decision support website, last fall, only nineteen freshmen enrolled to UCM as English majors, and only three did the year prior. That is compared, for example, with the 382 freshmen enrolled last year in Biology, and 411 the year prior. Similarly, 216 freshmen enrolled last fall as Computer Science and Engineering or Bio Engineering, with 172 the year before that. In total, as of last autumn, STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) students outnumbered non-STEM students by over 600. And at a school as small as UCM, that number feels much, much, larger.

Thus it was only natural for me to form a thick-skinned mentality to the issue after the constant insults and de-legitimization of my studies. I can't even count how many times I've been told I'll end up working at Starbucks after graduation, if I can find a job at all. Even the well-wishers and proud family members often ask me, "English? Well, that's nice, Anwar, but what are you gonna do with that?" as if the choices were limited between "disgruntled high school teacher" and "free-lance hipster that writes the narrative poems on the sides of Chipotle bags."

As if our collective futures weren't already under enough scrutiny, English majors and many SSHA students alike have to deal with the fact that their studies are somehow "less than", either less rigorous, less important, or a combination of the two. I have noticed the stigma that English, History, or Writing is somehow easier than Biology, or Chemistry, or Engineering, as if only the geniuses amongst us could even attempt to take a class on Science, and that the rest of us are mere mortals who fled to SSHA after embarrassingly failing the heroic challenge of STEM. And although I know many people who have made the switch from STEM to SSHA, I personally chose English out of my own will and eagerness.

See, I'm the type of person who wouldn't touch Math with a ten foot pole. I pull out my phone's calculator to add up a basic tip at restaurants, and I count with my fingers like a child to complete even the most basic arithmetic. But does that make me less than competent? Do I not deserve to fight for my education like everyone else? Unlike Math, Writing to me is like a school of fish synchronizing in a pond. My words flow onto the page, and literary ideas swirl through my head like a gentle tide on the beach. I know there are STEM students out there who have trouble typing even one coherent sentence, and I admit I'll get pretentious and holier-than-thou at times, but then I realize, what's the use of devaluing someone's deficiencies when I have deficiencies of my own? Not trying to get all "High School Musical" tonight, but I truly believe that we're all in this together. Learning isn't a competition, and a University of all places isn't an entity built to stigmatize someone's choice of study.

Minutes after the incident with my roommate and his friend, we all returned silently to our own worlds inside our computers. But for the third time, a loud thump pierced the air, bringing with it the brief return of my roommate's friend. Standing inside for only a moment she echoed a sentimental scream: "BEING A SSHA MAJOR ISN'T SO EASY YOU KNOW!!!" She left just as quickly as she entered, leaving us even more bewildered than before.

Two years have passed since then, and although I don't know what ever happened to her, I do know one thing: the roommate she yelled at is now a SSHA major too. Who's to say which is more difficult and whether it matters? All I know is that the world is a rather big pond, and sometimes you never know how you'll end up swimming it.