Major issues and the problem with "practical"
Why I majored in English – and why I still stand by that choice
I saw a post from Adam Grant a little while ago about “practical” majors that struck me. It was addressed to the parents who feel they need to push their kids into majors that will ensure “success” after gradation. However, his punch line was this: “The goal of liberal arts education is not to build careers. It’s to broaden minds.” He added that “the true value of college is learning how to think and learn.”
It made me think about my college experience, particularly around selecting a major. I went into college completely undecided in all senses of the word. As a result, my first semester schedule was selected for me by my liberal arts school and included classes like English, philosophy, and computer science. I liked some (English) and despised others (computer science), which I see now was essentially the point: put her in some of the basics across the board and let her see what she likes and dislikes.
English was easily my favorite class. It was the one class in which I didn’t have to try very hard, not necessarily because it wasn’t challenging, but because I actually enjoyed it, and it showed. Despite being somewhat of a wallflower in the usual classroom, I found myself one of the most active participants in this one. Halfway through the semester, after my professor handed me a paper with a perfect grade, she asked me what I was majoring in.
“I’m undecided,” I replied. It was a response I had been initially agnostic about and even excited by, but was steadily growing more and more uneasy with. I had always thought of college as a time to explore, but the more I looked around, the more I saw students with firm ideas of what they wanted to do and who they wanted to be. My roommate, for example, was in the nursing school. My next-door dorm neighbor and budding best friend was double-majoring and gunning for law school (note: she is still one of my best friends and is in fact a successful lawyer). Several other people I’d met were in the school of engineering, with each specialization (mechanical, electrical, civil, etc.) providing neat roadmaps for their futures. The more certain everyone seemed, the more lost I felt.
“You should be an English major,” my professor said.
I responded with a chuckle, already brushing off the suggestion. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” she asked.
I shrugged. I didn’t actually know why not, I’d never let myself consider it.
“Just think about it.” She left the topic there, with the door ajar just enough to keep me curious.
Could I really be an English major? I asked myself. I reflexively shook my head. No way. I’d already written off graphic design (despite loving it) because it didn’t seem like a viable career option (more on that here). How could I possibly be an English major?
Although my parents spoke fondly of the classes they got to take in college while deciding on their majors (botany for my mom, computer science for my dad), pursuing a passion never really felt like an option. My mom, for one, is extraordinarily talented in the arts, with natural affinities for language, drawing, and singing. Yet here she is a dental hygienist with a nursing degree, a stark contrast to the rest of her family which consists of teachers, artists, and musicians. Whenever she helped me with art projects for school or hummed high notes with ease while milling about the kitchen I wondered why she never pursued her passions, or at the very least her talents. I asked her about it once in grade school.
“Mom, why didn’t you study art like Uncle John? You’re so good at it.”
“Because I didn’t want to be a starving artist,” was her frank reply.
The youngest of four and the only daughter of two modest school teachers, my mother became a product of her environment. I didn’t know it as a child, but I see now how her mother, my grandmother – a homemaker and steadfast traditionalist – was quiet but critical; how my mom likely felt the pressure to be successful in a more socially acceptable sense because that was the best option presented to her. She watched her brothers paint on canvases and bash on drum sets, loving what they did but living more or less hand to mouth. She watched her mother trade the classroom for the confines of the kitchen after kids. She saw it all and and she wanted another way, so she bit the bullet and traded her passion for a paved path and a paycheck.
My dad, on the other hand, followed in his father’s footsteps and became an engineer. Though an entrepreneur at heart, he managed to put his own spin on it and studied electrical over his father’s civil. As my brother and I grew up, he fostered the entrepreneurial qualities in both of us, always suggesting directions our talents and interests could take us. In fact, the simple printer paper booklets he stapled together for me as a kid are where I got my storytelling start.
Even with this encouragement, I had my mother’s mindset and didn’t see English as a real possibility. It didn’t make logical sense because it didn’t lead to a clear-cut career outside of education. If I didn’t want to be a teacher, why would I study English? What else would I even do with a degree like that?
By my second semester freshman year, I felt the pressure to declare. A friend told me about a course counselor who helped her decide on her major and I promptly booked myself an appointment. The counselor was a warm, welcoming woman with a simultaneous commanding air about her. As I sat across her desk, I was both comfortable and intimidated.
“Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do in your spare time?” she asked.
Easy enough, I thought. I rattled off my list: read, write, hang out with my friends, design greeting cards, watch tv, etc.
She then asked me about the classes I was taking, which ones I enjoyed.
Easy again. “English,” I responded. It came out before I could think too much about it.
“Well,” she said, taking off her glasses like an agent might do when the case was closed. “It sounds to me like you should be an English major.”
Despite the fact that this was very obviously the right conclusion, I was stunned. I still had my mom’s voice in the back of my head.
“I can’t be an English major,” I said.
“Why not?” she prodded, asking the same question my professor had.
I didn’t have a reason. I shrugged. It felt too open-ended, I explained. I didn’t know what I could do with a major like that. She mentioned that I could pair it with something a little more defined like public relations. I had never heard of public relations, but after she gave me an overview, it felt like it could be a good fit. I liked people and I clearly liked language. Plus, it sounded like it would lead me in a more specific direction.
Which it did, just not the one I wanted.
And therein lies the problem with “practical.”
After declaring English as my major, and despite double-minoring in PR and promotions to substantiate my choice, I was bombarded with the same question I had initially asked myself:
“What are you going to do with that, if not teach?”
The question came from my mother. It came from the people majoring in things like accounting and engineering. It felt like it came from all angles. It felt like I was supposed to have a specific answer. Yet the more I was asked, the less sure I became. By graduation, I found myself leaning into PR as a default since the path was a little clearer. From my college classes, I’d learned that there was a writing element, and even if it was stiff, straightforward stuff like press releases, at least it’d be writing. So I got one internship and then another, and then finally a full-time PR role. But after less than two years in the field, I realized that a large part of my job was not writing. Rather, it was shipping boxes or calling local news stations. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. In fact, it wasn’t anything that really even required a college degree. From my desk, I could see the graphic designers and writers and found myself longing to do what they were doing.
Like Brussels sprouts or softball, I wouldn’t have known I disliked PR unless I tried it. But the fact that I could recognize that and pivot is the beauty of a degree like English. Because it’s so broad, its applications are limitless. From PR, I transitioned into marketing and then specifically into social media. Now, I freelance and do anything from content strategy and graphic design to TikTok video scripts and blog writing. Each experience has built on the last and often led to the next – and they all have the fundamentals of my English degree in common. My degree taught me how to think critically, how to communicate my thoughts and opinions, how to form an argument, both verbally and in writing. It taught me how to see multiple sides of a situation, how to see the beauty in simple, everyday life.
Now, this isn’t to say that if I had majored in something more specific like nursing or engineering that I’d be stuck in that field forever. We’re all allowed to change our minds. However, I do think I personally would have a tough time pivoting away from something that required such specialized expertise. I think it would take me a long time to push past any guilt associated with that choice. I commend those who have made such a change, it’s a very brave thing.
Even though some parents, to Adam’s point, may be resistant, I do think our society on the whole is getting more accepting of differing degrees. Technology alone has enabled more jobs and career paths than ever before, some that don’t even require a formal education. This levels the playing field in many ways, especially considering how expensive higher education is in the United States. And because a degree often leads to a mountain of student loans, it can be tempting to choose a “practical” major that can pay the bills. However, like Adam says, no one knows what skills will be useful in the future. Call me idealistic, but it seems to me that the more focus there is on learning as a skill in and of itself, the more equipped someone can be for life.
Someone who knows how to think and learn is someone who can figure out creative solutions to seemingly impossible problems.
They’re someone who can take lessons from one situation and apply them to the next, creating better and better outcomes.
They’re someone who, when asked what the hell they’re going to do with their degree, can say and do exactly this:
Anything.
This is such a great essay! I never questioned my choice to major in business since it was reinforced by my high school and I honestly wasn’t exposed to much in the creative realm, both at school and family life. But looking back I wish creative pursuits were presented as things to explore, even if only for expanding the mind and not necessarily as a profession.
It’s so true that your degree subject isn’t as important as the skills you pick up with a college education. I often think what it’d be like to go back now and learn for learning’s sake, as I’m so much more curious and appreciative of learning than I was back then.
Aww those university years are so scary and they feel open and wide for all the wrong reasons. we truly create our own ties. I studied philosophy also because it was a delayed choice. I would learn to learn and, of course, it would open my mind and prepare me to the abyss also known as the future. But my mother lived a very similar experience to yours... always the artistic type, always expected to be an accountant.