The Story of My Life

Being an English major is tough business. A conversation that often occurs goes something like this:

Annoying Person: So, what's your major?
Me: I'm an English major with a Classics minor.
Annoying Person: Oh... what can you do with that? Like... be a teacher or something?
Me: Uh... actually, I plan on going to graduate school. I have a lot of ideas. Perhaps get a dual degree in Law and Business or maybe...

and my list goes on. And the annoying person just gets bored because they already think I am boring. From now on, I'm just going to respond with: "Actually, I am just waiting to be discovered, then I will star in the moving pictures."

Many people have straight-up just told me that my major is useless. Apparently, learning the history of our language and the way it was utilized and how it has transformed over time and shaped our culture is useless. I suppose I can't directly apply what I've learned in class to my current career in food services, but I like to think that I am learning something larger about life.

Sadly, it turns out that not many students are made of the same ilk. Everyone is now turning to college for vocational purposes rather than an opportunity to expand the mind. The American Scholar put forth these depressing statistics in their article, more depressingly entitled, The Decline of the English Department:

Here is how the numbers have changed from 1970/71 to 2003/04 (the last academic year with available figures):
English: from 7.6 percent of the majors to 3.9 percent
Foreign languages and literatures: from 2.5 percent to 1.3 percent
Philosophy and religious studies: from 0.9 percent to 0.7 percent
History: from 18.5 percent to 10.7 percent
Business: from 13.7 percent to 21.9 percent

It's important to note, that during these 30 years, more and more students are entering higher education. That is messed up! I have had so many business majors point their nose up at me as if they have some greater purpose in life--to make mad cash moneyz--and I'm some poor loser sitting below feverishly reading an outdated piece of literature.

Now, dear readers, you may ask: Well, what does this have to do with contemporary literature??? Allow me to give you a long-winded response.

As much as I like to think of myself bursting forth from the womb with Wuthering Heights in hand, I know that this is not the case because of it being physically impossible. While growing up, my mom certainly had a large influence in my reading and what I read. I do not want to discredit her, however, I think majority of the credit goes to school. I know that school, in essence, forces its students to read. And through that reading, we are encouraged to go out and read some more. I was not the huge nerd I am now. It was really in high school that I embraced reading and sought it out. I was introduced to Shakespeare and went through a phase thinking that I was the smartest 14 year old because I had read "King Lear," on my own! An author enjoyed was an author sought in bookstores. Teachers recommended other books to me. I felt cool being able to talk to my elders and reference books in conversation.

Since college, this relationship with professors has continued, albeit in a less personal fashion. When a professor refers to a book and looks hopefully at the students expecting at least one person to know the book they are talking about and I can't be that student, I am disappointed. I put that book on my list. And again, reading in class leads me to read more outside of class. Learning about the effects that books from the past have had is immensely important. Truly great books that are written today, no doubt, have been influenced by these pieces of literature.

So, to try and sum up my long point, the fact that the English major is on the decline is directly indicative of the poor book choices made by the masses. A look at any bestseller list can tell you that. And I sort of understand. Perhaps when these business majors have had a hard day on Wall Street, they want to come home and watch TV, play video games, go on the interwebs, or whatever. The act of turning a page, and allowing ones' eyes to skim past letters, is intelligent enough on its own and should be celebrated. Maybe I should not lament the words read or the crappy books published.

But the English major in me says that that is all wrong. But, I suppose I am a dying breed and contemporary literature will continue to decline in quality as it panders to those who don't see the "use" in the study of humanities.

Ah, woe is me: