It is officially the last week of classes for me which means that other than panicking about finals it is also that time of the year when I get extremely sappy and reminiscent about how my semester has gone.

For those of you who did not know, I did a thing before the school year started. I switched from a path in Pre-Dental to English Literature, and though it was possibly the single best decision I have made, it was also one that was extremely tough to do.

This year, undoubtedly, has been a journey. I made the decision to switch over to English last semester towards the end of April. After a nervous breakdown, and consulting eighteen different people about whether I was making the right decision I was at breaking point.

I literally did not have an answer, and the social stigma of being an Indian girl switching from a potential career in STEM to one in the liberal arts was a noose around my neck. But I just felt so out of place, as if I was trying too hard to be someone that I’m not, so I switched. Impulsively, I got up one morning and decided to let my heart guide me to my advisor’s office where I officially declared myself in as an English major. After all, I was not getting a set answer from the people around me, and ultimately the decision to make was (and still is) mine, and my own.

After declaring myself in I went through a brief period of relief where things were looking hopeful until anxiety began to rack my mind and body.

There were too many, “what-ifs,” and, “is this the wrong decision,” and my brain became my biggest enemy.

I battled myself until my first English course in the summer which happened to be an Intro to British Literature, and suddenly things felt right. It wasn’t perfect, it still isn’t, but here I was enjoying what I was doing even though it was summer, and I was not originally going to take a class. Now, I won’t say that class changed my life or anything, but it helped relieve my anxiety a little bit. I found myself truly liking the coursework, and so, very slowly my brain started to ease into the idea of having changed paths.

But that was an online class so not only did I not know what to expect my first day of face-to-face classes, but I was still ashamed to openly announce that I had switched over to an English major. I remember feeling ashamed, and humiliated at a social gathering where I had mustered enough courage to tell a group of women that I was an English major, to which they scoffed and sneered, “so what, you’re going to be a teacher?” and I wanted to clarify that yes, I am, I am going to be a teacher.

I wanted so badly to stand up and tell them how much it means to me to be following a path that I truly love, and one that I have loved my entire life, but I did not.

Rather, I took to crying all the way home, feeling awful for not defending myself and for not being true to my decisions, so I decided to stop telling people.

I’ll admit, it was not the greatest decision, but it calmed my nerves enough to start the semester, and like that began the greatest semester of my life so far. The very first class I walked into was Dr. Margot’s—my Intro to Literary Studies Class—and I walked in 40 minutes late.

So here I was, first day, late by 40 minutes, and not knowing what to expect, and the first thing she said to me was, “You seem prepared, why don’t you introduce yourself first,” and I have no clue what compelled me to, but I did. As I unpacked my backpack I introduced myself, and for the first time in about 12 or 13 years I pronounced my name as “Kae-tha-key.” Surprise surprise! I was beaming, and I just fell in love with the class.

However, it was not until the third week of classes, that I met the professor, who changed my perspective altogether. When I say I did not know what to expect when it came to Michael, I’m not kidding. Our class didn’t meet the first week because he got sick, and the second because of Harvey, and by the time the third week rolled around I had an inbox with poem-like emails from Michael, and a whole lot of curiosity.

This man was an anomaly (still is one), and when he walked into our class the first day I was a bit shocked. It’s difficult to describe Michael because he certainly does not look, or act like an “American Literature to 1865,” professor, and yeah, “don’t judge a book by its cover,” but seriously. He is an experience.

Michael’s class has been an unorthodox adventure from the very beginning. From the start of the semester we have switched around to about four different classrooms, and yesterday, we didn’t even have a classroom, so we held our seminar outside. It is an interesting class, and Michael is possibly the only person that could turn our lack of normalcy into something so endearing, and comforting, and that gave me a great deal of confidence.

To know that you can find comfort in feeling uncomfortable, that you can be displaced and still be okay was what I was looking for.

All the texts we have read and torn apart in his class reflect those values, and these texts that I otherwise would easily categorize as the more, “boring,” aspects of literature became my favorites, and a class that I did not give a second thought to when I added it to my schedule became the one class I looked forward to the most.

On top of that, I ended up being inspired enough to come up with a senior thesis topic and knowing that I have people that believe in me as much as I have the ambition is the kind of motivation that drives me to believe that I have made the correct decision in life.

My semester has been tumultuous, and in the beginning, I was a bit too nitpicky with myself, but as of now, I think, I am one step closer to being where I want to be. A place that many people don’t understand, or one that people think is a, “risky,” decision, but it is my decision and one that I’m proud of.