Don't ask my major

I remember during my senior year of high school growing increasingly irked by the incessant questions about where I would be going to college. I thought that when I graduated and started college, I would finally be able to escape the pestering. But no sooner was I free of one nosy question than I confronted a new one: "What's your major?"\nGroan.\nFrom the classroom to the dorm room, it seems as if everyone desperately wants to know what everyone else studies. Over the years I have attempted every conceivable tactic to parry the onslaught: being a grouch, being a smart-mouth ("oh, I don't study") and even being honest. I eventually concluded that the best response to the major assault was to fight back, becoming obsessed with why so many people seem obsessed.\nI admit, the degree to which I am bothered by this may border on the unhinged. But I've coped the way any sane person would, that is, by digging up rational reasons to justify my irrational complex.\nFor starters, talking about majors constantly generates the expectation, however implicitly, that majors are set in stone throughout our college years, an expectation that is out of touch with reality. Although different sources provide different statistics, it seems fair to estimate that 20 percent of incoming freshmen are undecided and that at least half, and possibly as many as four-fifths, will change their majors at least once.\nThere's also a tendency to expect that what we study will lock us in to a particular career path. On the contrary, relatively few fields require a specific undergraduate background. According to the Web site of IU's Exploratory Student Resources, "Most professional fields ... do not have such specific requirements and therefore you have considerable flexibility in your major choice." Given today's economy, where many of us will probably change careers at least once, the bond between majors and careers appears even more tenuous. Far more important than what we major in is simply having a solid education and a willingness to adapt.\nSocially, I find the major question to be a real pain. Even if I had enjoyed answering it in the beginning, I would be completely sick of it by now since it's asked with such mind-numbing regularity. Worse, we often use majors as a way to pigeonhole others according to stereotypes we harbor about certain majors. And, like many stereotypes, these are usually neither accurate nor flattering. Music? An artsy weirdo. Elementary education? A silly girl who doesn't want to have to work too hard. Math? A nerd with a serious masochistic streak.\nAlthough I understand that when we meet new people it's natural to ask a basic introductory question, the major question is a pretty superficial one. It tells you what they've currently decided to study in college, and hints at their possible interests -- but it doesn't tell you what their sense of humor is like, or how they act when they get angry or what they really care about. In the end, knowing someone's major is an inadequate substitute for actually knowing someone.\nSo don't stress out if you haven't decided what to major in yet. Don't think you're abnormal if you decide to change your major. And the next time you meet someone new, please don't ask, "What's your major?"\nOr, at least, don't ask me.