When I was in first grade, I wanted to be an artist. Ask my mother and she’ll tell you I wanted to be a doctor, (which is true, at some point I ended up wanting to be a doctor), but when I think back on my childhood I can only remember ever wanting to be an artist. I have always had handfuls of things that I thought I could do with my life. Handfuls of things I wanted to do and succeed at. Picking just one path has always been a struggle for me.
When I got to high school, I had my mind set on becoming a doctor. I was going to be a pediatrician…no, a plastic surgeon. Later it ended up being an obstetrician. It didn’t matter in that moment, though. It wouldn’t matter for a while. All that mattered was that I was going to be a doctor, because I liked helping people, because I liked anatomy...because I knew I would be very well off financially. But by junior year, I started having doubts. I hated my science classes (everything but anatomy and physiology), and I started falling more and more in love with my English classes. My senior year came around, and I knew in my heart I wanted to be a writer. In my head, however, I heard the repetitive disapproval of people who believed I could make more of my intelligence and myself, the continuous worry of my conscience that I would be making the wrong decision. So when I thought about enrollment for my freshman year, I made a decision. I would major in English and go pre-med. That plan lasted for about a year.
Throughout that year, what I disliked most was the need I felt to explain myself whenever I told someone my plan. I disliked the questioning, the confusion. I disliked how it couldn’t just be. There was always something that made me feel embarrassed, something that made me feel dumb when I thought about what I wanted for my life.
When it came time for my actual enrollment, I was given a sheet of prerequisites for pre-med, and saw the dreadful science classes I would have to take. My plan dissolved, and I told myself I was an English major, and my heart was happy, if only for a short while. I didn’t care about what others thought; I didn’t care about the speculation of friends that wanted to be doctors or engineers. I didn’t care what my family thought as much as I cared what I thought. I was happy, because I knew I was going to be happy with what I was doing.
An honest question: what gives any of us the authority to label someone else’s career choice as inferior to ours? We ask how some plan to get a job with a certain degree, or how difficult it will be for others to earn a certain degree, and what makes us think those people have not already thought these same things for themselves? Why do we believe it is our place to bring them up? It is something that I have battled with deeply, the negativity and opinions of other people. It has held me back from pursuing dreams and going after things I really wanted out of life. It has made my decision-making process that much harder, because my mind has become clouded by the thoughts of others, and I can no longer distinguish which thoughts are my own. I can no longer stand it.
My fine arts degree is not inferior to your engineering degree. Your English degree is not lesser than my computer science degree. My mathematics degree is not lesser than your biology degree. Your journalism degree is not lesser than my business degree.
No major holds higher importance over any other. There is no set list declaring artists as inferior to businesswomen and men. There is no list declaring educators as inferior to doctors. I ask you, how would passion exist without the influence and existence of art? How would our world function without businesses? Who would teach the doctors how to save lives if not for the educators? Who would save the lives of people, of educators, if not for the doctors? My major is important because it is important to me. It is what I dream of doing with my life. Your major is important because it is important to you, because it is what you, hopefully, dream of doing with your life. No one has the authority to say it is any less than, that you are any less than, because you have chosen to fulfill that dream. How boring our world would be if we always listened to the opinions of other people.
It’s almost the end of the first semester of my freshman year of college, and I’m currently an international business major with a minor in French. Plans change. In the first couple of months, I was put in a situation where I needed to think about what it was that I wanted for my life, whether or not I wanted to turn my passion into a job. I cannot say I am 100 percent sure in the decision I made. I cannot say whether the standards of society and the view of others made me change my mind. I like my choice; I believe I can be happy with it. But I still remember how I wanted to be an artist, how I wanted to write words that made people feel. My heart still yearns to create, and I cannot say that that is not what I will decide to do with my life.
I have struggled with deciding who I want to be for a long time. I will continue to struggle. But it is solely my decision, and I will choose to do something that will make me happy. I will choose to do something that I will be proud to do, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, because I came to college not only to make myself eligible for a future job, but to learn, and to find things that inspire me through that learning. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could all develop enthusiasm for those who choose to chase their dreams, who choose to grow their minds, who ultimately can inspire others to do the same? Wouldn't it be lovely if we could be those people without the ridicule of others?
