Major Findings

“I can’t believe this! Who would have thought that I would be an Art History major?  I didn’t even know that major existed.  And now I am one.  I’m so excited!  You know, Art History majors don’t just have to know the art, they learn about the history and the culture too, and I love that stuff.”  Mom just sat there nodding her head as I continued to ramble.  I had thought the most difficult decision I would make would be which college to attend.  But, once I had settled on BYU, I had no idea that it would be even more difficult to pick a major.  Part of me thought a teacher, another part of me thought something history related, the crazy part of me wanted to go into music.  I finally had landed on Art History.  I liked history and I had really enjoyed my art history class in high school.  It all seemed to be working out.

••••

“That is not art!”  I looked up from my reading to see my roommate looking over at the picture I was studying.  I glanced back down; it was an image of Improvisation 28 by Wassily Kandinsky, a key painting from the German Expressionist movement known as the Blue Riders.  This movement helped pave the way towards abstract expressionism.  I love this painting.

“Sure it is.  He’s demonstrating his feelings through paint.  It doesn’t have to look like anything; it’s just supposed to evoke emotions.”

“That is not art.  And nothing that you say will convince me that it is art.”  I can’t find the words to articulate what I am feeling.  Of course it’s art.  Kandinsky was revolutionary in his use of oil paint on a canvas.  His ideas were incredibly innovative and influential for years to come.  These are great ideas, and I could write a fantastic essay on them, but I cannot express the words currently in my head verbally to my roommate.  I actually start to wonder if it is art, or if I just say that it is because that is what I am supposed to do as an Art History major.

••••

“What’s your major?”

“Art History.”

“Wow! What do you want to do?”

“I don’t really know actually.”  The conversation is always the same.  People are impressed by my major, at least they seem to be, and then they ask what I plan on doing with that degree.  I could work in a museum, or teach at a university.  I like teaching so that would probably be my first choice.

Even as I try to rationalize my chosen field of study, I have a sinking feeling in my gut every time I think about it.  Is this really the direction I want to take the rest of my life in?  I like my art history classes, but I’m not overjoyed with them like I was this summer.  This major doesn’t seem to be taking me anywhere and I don’t feel like I am enjoying myself as much as I should.  I let the conversation around me continue without my input, not sure what to think anymore.

••••

“Hey Mom, I love fourth graders.”

“Really?  Well, that’s good to hear.  So, I take it that you like it?”

“Yes!  Volunteering at Wasatch is the best.  I love watching when their understanding kicks in and they know how to solve the problem.  It’s the best feeling.”  This semester I decided to participate in a tutoring program where BYU students work at the local public schools, helping teachers and students.  Every Friday morning I work with fourth graders during their math hour.  I have never been so happy or comfortable.

••••

“What can I do for you?”

“I want to change my major.”

“Alright, you came to the right place.  If you’ll just fill out this form for me, we can get started.”  My arms feel almost weightless as I reach for the paper and pen the student advisor at the McKay Education Building is handing to me.  Hesitantly, I record my personal information, sign my name, and hand back the paper.  A few clicks on a computer and I am no longer an Art History major.  My focus of study is now Elementary Education.

Walking back across campus I feel no relief about changing my major.  In fact, I feel the same gut wrenching sensation I used to have when I thought about Art History being my major.  Shouldn’t I feel different?  Mom told me that all I talked about when I was little was teaching elementary school.  If this was what I was meant to do, why did I feel so unsure?  No matter how much I prayed, the unsettling feeling would not go away.

••••

Walking out of class, I turned to the last page of my bluebook and read what the TA had written about my test: “97% Great job! You should be an Art History major!”  Smiling at the irony, I began to head back to my dorm.  As I walked away, it occurred to me that I had felt no hesitation in brushing off the TA’s comment.  Yes, I did truly enjoy art history; but, at the same time, I had no problem reminding myself that it was no longer my major.

It may have not come in a flash of lightning, but I had an epiphany: I was in the right major.  Switching late in the semester means that I may not get into all the right classes for winter semester, but I know now that I am on the right path.  All that praying and worrying over what I should study has finally been replaced by the assurance that I am in the right place, working towards the right goal.  That is the best kind of realization, one that is the result of much pondering and prayer; it’s the best kind of epiphany.

Side Note: Since writing the above I have had another epiphany. Yes, education is the answer, but of the high school variety. Current major: History Education. Stay tuned for further updates. This decision is too important to make only once.