"English? My parents would never let me spend $40,000 a year on an English major."
I stiffen as my friend, the international relations major, launches into a speech about how she wants to major in something that will help her change the world.
As she speaks, I wonder if she is right. After all, Shakespeare isn't going to stop a war. Reading Beowulf and Chaucer won't cure AIDS. Am I taking the easy way out - majoring in something that has always come easy to me, something I have loved since early childhood - while my friends the engineers slave over problem sets, my pre-med friends cry over bio curves, and I curl up with hot cocoa and Virginia Wolff?
"Well, you can't change the world with just English," says my friend the international relations major. "I couldn't bear to major in something that doesn't really affect people..."
No, you can't change the world with an English major. But you can't change the world with any one major, because your major does not determine whether you are able to change the world.
Affecting change in the world is about passion - intense drive - a desire to help people, the determination to follow through, to never give up, to hold onto your ideals for as long as it takes, maybe forever. These qualities have nothing to do with your major.
During my sophomore year, I chased down a second major with gusto. I liked psychology, political science, the list went on; it was simply a question of choosing a second major. At some point, my advisor asked me why I was fretting so much over a second major when I could take all the psychology classes I wanted (minus those I did not want to) by not officially adding psychology as a major. Why would I add majors and minors and follow another list of required courses when I could major in what I love - English - and then explore other courses to my heart's content? When I was completely honest with myself, I realized I wasn't thinking about what I wanted for my own life; I was thinking about that future employer who would sit across a desk from me two years down the road, review my resume, spot the double major, and decide I was somehow more sensible than the other "just English" majors.
If a student takes 10 required courses for a second major in psych but then chooses to take "School & Society" in place of the 11th required course during her senior year, some employers might see a person who quit before the race was over. But I think that transcript will show a person who did not need to "get credit" for following their calling.
Choosing a major that is not motivated by passion is just the first step toward a future motivated by society. The nine-to-five job itself might not even be what I want for my life. So how can I let society creep in now and convince me to put my real passions on the back-burner while I try to find "the right way" to change the world?
Every student needs to answer his or her own calling. A student who is able to connect with children can change the future of the world through the next generation - with a child development major. A student who loves photography can change the way people view an entire culture through one photo exhibit - with an art major.
Having a second major you love with all the passion with which you love your first major is laudable, but having a second "fall back" major is like giving up before the game has started. We need more students who are brave enough to commit fully to majors such as English.
To all those econ majors who are following their callings, bravo! But to the student in the back of the econ classroom pulling all-nighters studying aggregate demand curves, while he delegates music to a minor: ask yourself - are you neglecting your talents in pursuit of the major that everyone else approves of?
I respect the analytical minds that are double majoring in chemical and civil engineering; I couldn't do it myself. But engineers just do not seem to face the same raised eyebrows as the child development majors, the history majors, the English majors. "Oh, so you're going to be a teacher?" people ask. Perhaps. And perhaps that child development major will inspire an eight-year-old who one day runs for President. But maybe that child development major has entirely different plans. The bottom line is you can take a major anywhere you choose.
Just to set the record straight, a major in English does not automatically equal a graduate who has plans of becoming a teacher. Now, it may mean that for some English majors, but for the rest of the group, there are plenty of other options.
Countless companies seek out liberal arts majors to balance the analytical minds of their other employees. The skills of English majors - polished writing skills, a strength in communication - are an asset to any organization. In a world where technology can do more and more, the English major will never be out of work; communication will always be uniquely human.
This past summer, I worked for an author who had majored in mathematics. He was writing books on education reform, outlining his systematic approach to teach English skills to children, using computer programs and formulas to teach grammar and sentence structure.
"I need someone to balance me out," he explained. "I need someone with an English mind to show me where I'm not making sense."
From editing, to business communications, to journalism, to law school, the post-graduation possibilities are endless. The only real challenge for English majors is narrowing down what exactly it is they would like to do after graduation. The English major's path is undefined.
As far as changing the world goes, writing is crucial! International relations majors may become diplomats and stop wars - or they may become politicians and start wars - but writers start revolutions. Art has always been at the forefront of any societal change and a way to comment on the state of the world. Ernst Levy, the 20th century pianist, once said, "Man will begin to recover the moment he takes art as seriously as physics, chemistry, or money." The more I think about what my friend the international relations major has said, the more her comment infuriates me.
Thomas Paine's pamphlet "Common Sense," published in 1776, is largely credited with starting the American Revolution. Harriet Beacher Stowe's anti-slavery novel "Uncle Tom's Cabin" evoked compassion throughout the world for the experiences of African-American slaves during the 1850s. At the turn of the century, socialist writer Upton Sinclair wrote "The Jungle," sparking public fervor over the meat-packing industry in Chicago and ultimately affecting change. In 1947, "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl" preserved a tragic history never to be forgotten and educated a new generation that continues to work hard to avoid a repeat of the atrocities Frank brought to life in her writing.
Whose parents would not pay $40,000 a year to provide their child the tools to start revolutions, spark international compassion for the plight of an overlooked people, or otherwise forever changes the course of history?
"Writers are the first to go under Communist rule," says creative writing professor Joseph Hurka, "So I try to create as many new writers as I can. We need every one we can get."
And ruling powers have good reason to execute the writers first. In 1520, German monk Martin Luther reshaped Western Civilization with his written attack of the Catholic Church, the famous "95 Theses." 18th century feminist and author Olympe de Gouges wrote "The Rights of Women," one of the first demands for equality among the sexes. A century later, feminist author Betty Friedan sparked debate with her controversial novel "The Feminine Mystique." And you can thank the literary skills of Thomas Jefferson, in part, for the Declaration of Independence - and therefore a world with a United States free of British rule.
I would even bet that at least a few torrid love affairs have affected world events. Perhaps a secret rendezvous between a leader's wife and the leader of another country who is spared execution? Lovers' influence behind the scenes of history may have affected far more than we realize. And everyone knows torrid love affairs include poetry.
A student's major is far less important than how that student uses his or her major. The United States is not experiencing a dire shortage of pediatricians and surgeons, but the world is in need of more doctors willing to spend time with HIV patients in Africa who have no money. Sitting in a posh, air-conditioned office and diagnosing the common cold and flu is fine - and necessary. We need doctors. We need technical writers. We need grocery store clerks. But unless pre-med students are planning to spend a few years in Africa or some poverty-stricken population of the world, those students have no bragging rights over history majors.
We have heard it time and again from our advisors, but it's true: it's not your major that's important; it's what you do with it.
Another concern, inevitably, is the financial end of the decisions we make as undergraduates. Is it impossible to survive in today's world without law school, a business degree, or a degree in medicine?
Author J.K. Rowling, multi-millionaire creator of the Harry Potter series, might disagree. Still, the "starving artist" stereotype exists for a reason. According to statistics released by the U.S. Department of Labor, in 2002, the lowest-paid 10 percent of all writers and authors earned less than $21,320. But the highest-paid 10 percent earned more than $85,140 a year, and half of all writers and authors earned between $29,150 and $58,930 a year in 2002.
These numbers, compared with the statistics on lawyers and doctors, are the statistics that make the parents of English majors cringe. According the U.S. Department of Labor, the middle half of all lawyers earned between $61,060 and $136,810 a year in 2002, and the Medical Group Management Association's Physician Compensation and Production Survey reports that doctors earned between $150,267 and $306,964 that same year.
But perhaps our parents are over-reacting. You have never heard the term "starving police officer," and the U.S. Department of Labor's statistics on police and sheriff's patrol officers are similar to those of writers: in 2002, the middle half of all police and sheriff's patrol officers earned between $32,300 and $53,500 a year in 2002. The lowest-paid 10 percent earned less than $25,270, and the highest-paid 10 percent earned more than $65,330 a year.
Even accountants were not far off from writers: the middle half of all accountants earned between $37,210 and $61,630 a year in 2002. The lowest-paid 10 percent earned less than $30,320, and the highest-paid 10 percent earned more than $82,730 a year.
Robert Graves, a 20th century poet and novelist, paraphrased a quote he once heard: "There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money either."
My brother, who is a senior at a high school in Southern California, already has advice for me on life decisions: "I think it was Bill Cosby who said something like 'I have not yet found the key to success, but I know the key to failure is trying to please everyone else.'" He has already internalized this concept. He balances academics with days at the beach, and he doesn't feel guilty about it. He is farther along than many undergraduates who struggle with trying to find a way to lead the lives their parents have imagined for them.
A major that everyone else approves of might lead to a job that everyone else approves of and a life that everyone else approves of, but consider the observation of bestselling author Rita Mae Brown in her novel "Venus Envy": "The reward for conformity [is] that everyone [likes] you except yourself."
Let's face it: I could major in psychology and still become a writer, but why not cut to the chase. I know what I love and what I want to do - I love writing. Nothing is going to hold me back. I am majoring in just English, and I am going to be a writer. I might be poor, but I also might change the world.
English majors, if you are still having trouble with the decision to forego most hope of a wealthy life, don't fret. Writers have always been faced with such questions - truth or conformity? Passion or safety? Love or wealth? Mark Twain gave a frank explanation of his decision, "I am opposed to millionaires, but it would be dangerous to offer me the position."
But if we are serious about changing the world, then we should agree with 19th century scientist Louis Agassiz who said, "I cannot afford to waste my time making money."
Valerie Sullivan is a junior majoring in English.
