by AINE LAWLOR Mar. 7, 2019
I am a sophomore and I just declared a major life crisis and a minor substance abuse problem.
February is a stressful time for the sophomore class. We have to declare our majors, decide on abroad plans, figure out summer plans, and maintain our grades and social life on campus (I’m told this is something some students have).
I have no idea what I want to major in, and I know that everyone says it doesn’t really matter. If that’s true though, then why is it in the first three lines of every resume? Why is it the first question that every adult asks a college student? Why is it even called a major? Isn’t that, like, a rank in the navy or something?
Don’t get me started on the decision to study abroad. I am unsure of where I want to go and if I should do a program, or direct enroll, or go to a country that speaks another language, or take advantage of travel opportunities in Europe, or go somewhere that has programs for whatever random subject I decide to major in. And then there’s the consideration of where I’ll be able to take the most sick Insta pics, or what program will convince my parents that I am actually doing academic work.
I am also freaking out over what in the world I am supposed to do over the summer and how the hell I am expected to actually get any of the positions that will look good on my resume. I know that this only applies to half my class and the rest of you rich white kids will be chilling at your summer house in Cape Cod or working at your father’s investment firm, but unless I want to be nannying wild little kids for the third summer in a row and spending all my free time with my thirteen-year-old sister, I need to actually figure something out.
And don’t even mention the fact that I am starting to realize that my choices actually impact my life and that I need to be even remotely responsible. I have lost all sanity without even thinking about who my advisor will be, if I will do an honors project, what Bowdoin guy I will inevitably marry, and that political philosophy paper I have due next week. I have called my mom in tears three times today and my only coping mechanism exists in the absolutely incredible Bowdoin Party Culture. Forget about stress balls and soft pretzels, I’m declaring a major life crisis and a minor substance abuse problem, so please give me a pink sticky note to write my name on and burn in the flames of hell with all my other issues.