“Why I love being an English Major” is a difficult question. Not in the sense that it's hard to understand the question—just that it feels complicated to answer. I’m a second semester senior and have been an English major my whole time as a student.
I’ve loved it—that’s why I am writing this article—but it has been a lot. To talk about my time as an English major without mentioning the weight of tens of thousands of words written for essays, CPAs, journals, creative work and otherwise would be a hollow appraisal. It’s honestly been a pretty grueling journey for me to get to this point.
I’ve never taken well to the education system (I can rant for hours about its many failures), and I’ve found most academic work tedious and painful (even when it should be fascinating). By all accounts I should hate being a—well—anything major, given how rough my academic journey has been. But I wouldn't be writing this article if I truly hated it. I love being an English major.
There is a freedom that comes with studying reading and writing. Each completed assignment, though admittedly painful, somehow feels liberating. Maybe not while the thing is being read or written, but in the following days, there’s this feeling that you really did something.
Even if what you wrote turned out horrible, or you forget what you read immediately upon finishing it, you did accomplish something semi-miraculous. You examined something unknown and found words about it. Just as Yahweh hovered over the unmade universe and made it with His words, you hovered over some mystery and made something of it with words, whether just in your head or on paper.
That's why I love being an English major—I get to find and make things with my words.