I’ve been digging up old pieces of writing on my laptop, and one on changing my major stuck out. It was written at the end of my first semester, three-and-a-half years ago. Here’s how it goes.
Going into college as a biology major was everything but comforting. Although I was enrolled in advanced mathematics and science classes during high school, I still felt I was completely unprepared. I knew two plus two and other basic concepts, but organic chemistry and applied calculus? Forget it. I was terrified of Fundamentals of Biology I lecture, and the three-hour lab period that was included, especially after I glanced over the books and materials I bought from the campus bookstore.
On the first day, I walked in a sat in the front row. All the students in the front get As, right? By the time the period ended for the afternoon, I was not so sure. In fact, I was even more lost than when I stepped inside the classroom. It all went by so slow and I had not had an interest in the discourse at all.
By mid-October, it was time to end it all. I withdrew. Since I passed my two summer courses, I was already ahead by eight credits, so academically it was not entirely a huge dilemma, but it would forever show up on a transcript. However, to this day, I still do not have any shame from it. Even though I was taking one less class the fall semester of my freshman year, I landed on the Dean’s list with a 4.0 grade point average and felt completely secure about changing my major.
Let me explain.
Upon my high school graduation, I attended a six-week summer program at my college for my scholarship. While having my own dorm on campus before any other freshman outside of this program, I took a class in college-level English and another in statistics. Although I was determined to pursue a career in the medical field, soon grim indecision and insecurity struck. I fell in love with my English class, taught by a literature professor. I think this was so drastic because I was never exposed to honors and other advanced English courses in high school; I was always fixated on the natural sciences.
Soon enough, my writing tutor helped me with assignments to adjust to college-level literacy and progressive analytical writing. In fact, she demanded I change my fall schedule. I did. I switched out of pre-calculus and chemistry into humanities and history, which both fulfilled general education requirements.
“If you enjoy Readings In Humanities as much as Critical Reading & Writing II, you should take Introduction to Literature in the spring. I promise it will be the best decision of your undergraduate career,” my tutor suggested.
Although I was still in a biology class, I still felt I could do it. Yet, I continued to fail throughout the first month and I was not satisfied with my grades. Science was not working out for me. As suspected, I adored my humanities class. I registered for my first literature course in the spring. As I look back now after the second semester of my freshman year has ended, my intro class was phenomenal; I now know I am in the right major. I am ready to pursue writing, instead of science, and I am content with this. Over the summer, I found a hidden passion for reading and writing. It turned out to be always apparent, but never completely acknowledged in a classroom setting. I am glad it happened. 
