Major Major Stress

So I’ve already mentioned once or twice (or a million times) that thinking about a major majorly freaks me out.

As I signed up for a Fall Break OTL trip to Joshua Tree, I figured the title of ‘JChillin’ would mean a nice break from campus and a respite from the constant questions about my future from various faraway friends and family members.

But I naively overlooked the fact that I was on a 48 hour camping trip with thirteen people I knew nothing about, and who knew nothing about me. And what better way to make small talk on a two hour drive or nine mile hike than to ask the innocuous, “What’s your major?” Even I fell into the trap a few times while trying to make conversation.

The question wasn’t too hard at first. I would mechanically reply, “I’m still undeclared, but probably English…?” and my hiking buddy would nod approvingly before moving on to the next segment of small talk.

I had almost made it to the clear, and could see myself simply spouting my stock reply forever–until the car ride home. Covered in dirt, three shades darker from the desert sun than I had been two days prior, dreaming of In-N-Out and on the verge of a nap, I heard the question I had been shirking one more time. Before I had time to think of a reply, “Oh, probably English but I’m technically undeclared” floated from my lips. I figured that would be enough to satisfy my backseat neighbor, and breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon.

Instead, I heard a follow up question that I had never even considered, “And what is your favorite period of literature to study?”

I was dumbfounded. If I could have dissolved into the drab upholstery of the CR-V’s backseat, I would have. I could barely stammer out a reply, but my mind was racing.

I don’t have a favorite period of literature? Do I need to have a favorite period of literature? What even are the periods of literature I could choose from? Does this mean I’m an uncultured swine? Should I pick a different major? Do I even know anything at all about English as a field of study?

As I tried to cover up my ignorance, I mumbled a half-coherent and half-relevant answer about my favorite author. My cheeks burned and I prayed we would reach Claremont before the seemingly harmless questions further shattered my confidence.

Thankfully, the conversation moved onto fast food, math geniuses, lobster dinners and sports, but the question was burned into my mind. As soon as I got back to campus, I frantically sent an email to my English professor to get a better understanding of what it means to be an English major. Hopefully I didn’t sound too desperate – and hopefully I won’t feel as mortified walking out of our meeting as I did during that car ride!

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