College Reflections: The Major Decision

by Priya Patel – University of Florida

I’m mere weeks away from a bona fide college degree. In the past four years, I have gone through two laptops, three majors, and developed a semi-serious and expensive addiction to caffeine to get to this point (damn you, Starbucks!). I have spent countless nights on projects and papers. I have spent even more nights procrastinating and getting distracted by the randomness of dorm life, and then apartment life.  But it’s finally here. Graduation.

It’s not only a time of transition, but also of reflection. And so begins the sentimental sappy story of the moment, as is required in the by-laws of all writing related to ceremonial milestones in a young brown girl’s life.

Two and half years ago marks the time when I officially changed my major to English (cue gasp). I was a sophomore and my career goals at that point were shaped entirely by what I didn’t want to do (i.e. doctor, engineer, pharmacist, accountant – so basically any job worth having as decided among the general collective of South Asian parents).  I was stuck in an accounting course that interested me about as much as watching the most boring shade of paint dry. And every time I was asked what my major was, I would reply halfheartedly, “…Business…general studies, I guess.”

Needless to say, my motivation was limited. But I felt it was my only ‘practical’ option because I lacked even the most basic aptitude in science or math and my parents felt it was the most sensible choice. And I didn’t want to disappoint them.  I was jealous of all my non-Indian friends who I felt had the luxury in choosing their own life path. And so I sulked until I finally failed my first test. Ever. It was sort of a nerdy wake-up call. The newspaper headline of the day might as well have read, “Smart Indian Chick: Now a Failure in Life.” Ok, I exaggerate. But nevertheless, a failed test grade did alert me to the state of my studies and it wasn’t a conclusion I was entirely prepared for.

The truth was, I hated all my classes, hated all my future classes, and hated whatever future profession I would enter into. That’s a lot of hate for a confused 19-year old. Ultimately I sat down and reviewed my options. Stay in the major I was in, or switch it out for something a lot more appealing – English. I’ve always had a strong affinity for words and ideas that didn’t involve some complicated equation or a hundred dollar calculator…or a five dollar calculator for that matter.  So, English it was; I thought – perfect! There was only one glitch. The parents. I absolutely dreaded breaking the news that their eldest daughter, whom they, for whatever reason, placed so much hope and expectation into, was setting out to lead some sort of transient-hobo-hippie lifestyle. After all, what do you do with a B.A. in English? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CK6ksA0QyE4)

Eventually I (wo)manned up and told them — six months later. As expected, they freaked out. I had gone rogue and absolutely lost my sense of future stability/survival. Oh no! The world was ending and in this apocalyptic state of Indian family crisis, my main battles were trying to convince my parents I had a solid post-graduation plan (which I didn’t) and screening calls from random relative phone interventions (which I failed at). At the end of what I consider the Most Un-Fun Spring Break Ever, I had managed to talk to five different aunties and uncles who attempted to sneakily convince me that they were giving me a friendly courtesy call, not all trying to ambush me with ideas about pursuing dentistry or something practical of the sort.

“Beta, you want to be teacher? They make no money, you know,” they persisted.

“…not exactly. I’m interested more in…” I replied back. The last bit was usually a mumble of some sort of generalized plans, when in actuality I had no freaking idea what was to become of me.

A few weeks later, my mother finally calmed down enough to tell me in her own special way that it was fine. It took my father a bit longer, but eventually he came around too.

What seemed like an impossibly uphill and arduous journey then is just a nostalgic blip now. Not that all my problems have completely disappeared – there’s still the post-grad adjustment period/job search — but I’ve realized (with help) that whatever the situation, it will be O.K. This is the exact sort of optimism I’m in the habit of mocking and cynically criticizes, however it’s true.  At the time, I was devastated at the thought of disappointing my parents and failing their expectations, but they got over it. It took time, but eventually all the anger and disappointment just reverts back to the familial love that never goes away, that never went anywhere actually.

It’s hard explaining this part of my life to non-South Asians. I think in the South Asian family dynamic, there is such an importance placed on family that any sort of disappointment or ‘rebellion,’ whether it is in love, education, or career choices, becomes a seemingly epic ordeal. Breaking away from the engineer-doctor paradigm can indeed be difficult, because of the immense amount of pressure that may comes from parents, relatives, or even that random grandmotherly figure you always see at the temple (or whatever house of worship you might attend – because contrary to popular belief, not all of us South Asians are Hindus), but it’s not impossible. If that’s what you want to do, more power to you; however, it’s not the only option. Whether it be your major, or any other “life-decision,” it’s not conducive to do something because you feel stuck or obligated. It’s the corniest line in the old cliché book, but follow your dreams. It’ll be worth it in the end.

This is part advice article; part me just self-indulging in my own memories. But the message is simple. Do what’s right for you. Whatever you do, do it all the way. Look at that, I’ve turned into a motivational speaker (translate: prospective career option!).