A Major Problem

This week, I do not bring you a review or a suggestion, but rather a personal experience that you may be able to relate to. Hopefully, you will find this to be helpful in some shape or form, or at least enjoyable to some extent.

As you all know, once you begin college, you must declare a major. This, for some, is an easy choice. However, others find it rather difficult to pick a field. Some of you are planning on graduating in May of 2020, and others have no idea what their major will be.

I’m here to tell you that it is okay to not know. 

We all think we know what we want to do as children. Growing up, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I thought it would be the absolute coolest job. I mean, you get to hang out with animals all day, right?

WRONG.

You actually have to, like, perform medical tasks on the animals, and one episode of Dr. Poe showed me that was exactly what I did not want to do with my life. 

After years of playing basketball, I came into college wanting to be a coach. I thought I had a passion for it, that I would be good at it and, truth be told, I probably would have been good at it. I knew enough about it, and I enjoyed the sport. However, I thought long and hard about it during my first year at WBU. I asked myself, “Do you want to spend more time in a gym with no air-conditioning than at your home? Do you want to make a career out of coaching? Do you want to do this for forty years?” 

The answer, of course, was no. I was not comfortable being in charge of a group of young athletes, of being tasked with teaching them how to play a sport and how to be successful. 

This is not a knock at future coaches; I know many and, truly, I applaud you. This was, evidently, not the path for me. 

So, I told my parents I did not want to coach. I felt pretty good about making that decision, pretty adult-like, if you will. It was then that my parents knocked me down several levels: “What do you want to do, then?”

(Mom and Dad, if you read this, I thank you for asking that question). 

This stumped me. I had always had a particular passion for reading and writing, so I decided I might be an English teacher. My mom is a teacher, so how hard can it be, really? 

It was when I sat in Professor Gibbens’ office in early August and was being prepared for observing in a classroom and later teaching in that classroom that I realized I was absolutely terrified of teaching. I would have to stand in front of a class – by myself – every day, and try to get the little rugrats to actually pay attention to me and listen to me. 

I want to take this opportunity to commend teachers everywhere. You all are saints, the best of the best, and without you, society would crumble. There is a special place in heaven for teachers; perhaps there you won’t get tapped on the shoulder every second, or have to repeat yourself a thousand times, or eat peanut butter crackers for lunch because you’ve only got twenty minutes of free time. 

I decided that I simply was not cut out for teaching. I am too shy, for starters, and could never willingly put myself in front of a classroom for several hours a day. Also, I don’t generally enjoy being around people a lot younger than I am (that may sound insanely negative, but don’t act like you don’t know what I mean). 

Last month, I changed my major to English (BA). Again, I was so proud of myself for choosing something that I had a true passion for; that is, until my parents crushed my dreams once more (seriously, I love you guys): “What’re you going to do with an English degree?”

My answer was the same as it is now.

”I don’t know.”  An English degree prepares you well for a lot of things, actually, like law school or journalism, just to name a couple.  But as for the route I’ll take with it: I don’t know.

And that’s okay.

I’ll figure it out, and so will you, if you’re in the same boat. I don’t know what God’s plans are for me, but I know He has them. It is not my job to create my own plans; it is my job to work hard and have faith that He will bring those plans to light. 

I have no idea what I want to do, and I’m a junior. I have roughly a year left to figure out what I want to do with my life, what I want to be when I “grow up,” and that’s okay. 

Right now, I’m just trying to make it through classes. Perhaps once I figure out how to do that, I’ll start thinking about my “future,” or whatever. 

 

Thanks for reading an eagle view,

Bekah Kopp