I often imagine what my life will be like 30 years from now. It's a disturbing habit really, a fascination with the morose that, like a fiery car crash still smoldering on the side of the road, simultaneously repulses and enthralls me. Usually, I envision myself alone in a small room, sitting behind a derelict wooden desk loaded with tattered books and a motley assortment of papers. My hair, long and oily, drapes over my bottle cap glasses and onto my fraying tweed blazer. Around my leg is a tight shackle, from which a heavy chain snakes along the floor and up into a framed scroll that hangs on my wall. It reads, "Be it known that the Trustees of Dartmouth College have decided to honor Josh Kornberg, in accord with his merits, a Bachelor of Arts in Comparative Literature and that he shall suffer the consequences forevermore."
Though idiosyncratic, this vision reflects a common anxiety among college students confronted with the looming prospect of choosing a major. Administrators de-emphasize the importance of our selections and claim that the skills sought by graduate schools and future employers the ability to read well, write cogently, think coherently and conduct research are taught in all majors. Most students know that to a considerable extent, however, we are defined and categorized by our choices. Within every field of study are tacit stereotypes that shape how each of us is perceived.
Art majors are pretentious non-conformists who lionize Andy Warhol. Computer Science majors love World of Warcraft and, even as adults, continue to dress up like Batman on Halloween. Philosophy majors either smoke cigarettes and drink coffee all day, noses buried in Nietzsche, or are hippies who wear dashikis. And psychology majors are obsessed with dreams and rats.
Such clichs, as well as inherent differences among academic departments in terms of their rigor and applicability to the outside world, greatly influence the trajectory of our lives by impacting the opportunities later available to us. Majors don't limit us to only one career choice and our career choices don't limit us to only one major, but when it comes to making money, especially now, some degrees are as useless as white crayons.
I arrived last Fall excited to sample the full array of intellectual offerings at the College, eager to explore new subjects and to engage myself in a diverse spectrum of stimulating classes. I figured that after a few terms, I'd simply find the "class that changed my life," and then proceed to major in that department. This hasn't happened yet, and with the deadline to submit D-Plans approaching, I'm beginning to wonder if that eureka moment will ever come.
I think what scares me most is that choosing a major can be a path-dependent process in which the outcome is greatly affected by early, random events. These preliminary events being denied entrance into a popular Biology course or choosing to take a History course instead of an English course because the 10A was better for your schedule are reinforced over time as successive decisions build upon previous ones. The range of our possibilities diminishes as we move forward and it becomes increasingly difficult to shift from one major path to another.
Indeed, we don't have to declare our majors until our fifth semester on campus. But as early as freshman Winter, we apply for FSPs and LSAs, forcing us to make important decisions about our D-Plans that are contingent upon the notion that we have some idea of what we want to do with our lives. To have a shot at participating in any of these programs, students must prematurely eliminate some majors from consideration and focus on classes in only one discipline. Beyond our D-Plan decisions, internships, parental expectations and a barren job market hang over us like the cruel blade of a guillotine.
It's easy to be paralyzed by indecision and apprehension when contemplating what to study, because the majors we choose have important ramifications in our lives. Ultimately, though, it's helpful to remember that a preoccupation with the future often forces us to miss the present. In the end, I think that when we face uncertain junctures in our lives, it's better to choose the bolder route. For me, that's choosing the major I'm most passionate about, Comparative Literature, even if it means I'm more likely to be fettered to an unsavory stereotype or a lower salary 30 years from now.
