At the begininng of college, one of the most exciting things was the ability to have a “grown-up” email signature, and I think how they’ve evolved during my time here are rather telling about my experience.

It started like this: as neutral and dorky as a freshman email signature can get. I hadn’t really connected that if I was emailing someone, they wouldn’t need my email address written down below my name. I was stoked to be in college and felt weirdly in control and powerful.

At least this next one means I was confident that I’d graduate on time?

Chaotic evil. I blocked this era out and will not (should not) look back. I shudder at the sight. It always started up emails that began with “Dear Professor… help/I apologize.” F tier.

Ohhh hello little major removal! C tier. So doubtful, so meek. So necessary. <3

We digress from the sophmore year horror! Oh to be an English major. Terrifying yet lovely acceptance into my group of people. I remember going from classes only in Williams to classes only in Kauke. I remember going into Old Main for the first time and being flabbergasted by the mood change. To my humanities people, I love you.

I will be doing a close reading of my email signature, and I will be saying my bolded name and pronouns mean I’ve gained a whole lot of confidence and self assurance.

Yeehaw. The time has come. I have fully hatched. Watch out world! Or rather I will say “excuse me” softly because I’m still navigating the complexities of academia and continue grapple with the American educational system. Maybe I have been taught to watch out for you.

If there’s anything this school has taught me, it’s that I’m the only person who can help myself. There’s countless amazing people that can guide me the best they can, but I am ultimately in control of my success and performance.

Even more groundbreaking was what this semester has proven, something I never wanted to imagine. Being in an English major, something I absolutely love, is not always fun. It’s unrealistic for me to always expect poetry rainbows and that I’d only analyze the literature I love. I expected my shift from STEM to Humanities to solve all of my issues, and that expecation was absurd.

We spend so much time enveloped in academia- worrying and studying and writing and emailing and analyzing and scheduling- that we forget we’re people outside of this. “Student” is a small part of who I am, and I still struggle to understand how all of our value is somehow decided by an A or F. It’s easy to feel helpless and small in college, and I do, but knowing that I’m more than a student keeps me going.

I shoved myself into the doors of Wooster as someone who loved the idea of science and refused to believe I could be anything but a doctor. It was what people considered a “science school” and I felt like I could fit in here.

My family would constantly praise me at family events, declaring that I would be the first doctor in the family and would do so much good. I’d save lives, and it was such a selfless sacrifice.

I did not want to be a doctor.

In fact, what had pulled me away from an English major had been conversations with myself like this-

I could be an English major that makes sense I love to read but I couldn’t be a writer I have the attention span of a gnat i lose track of things after 30 seconds there’s no way I can be someone who could sit down and just write and I don’t want to teach but I guess I could just make kindergartners march in a little circle and learn about nouns and colors and ohmygod iamsodoomed.

Contrary to what most think, I was not forced into pre-med by my family. I forced myself into thinking I’d like it and that it was the responsible choice. After hearing their response to my medical plan, I became addicted to that validation. However, then these conversations started happening-

Academic Advisor- What if you just stop going to this class, because it’s stressing you out far too much and we don’t think you can pass.

OChem Professors- How are you going to be able to pass these exams?

etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc………..

I’d sniffle in my professor’s office and they’d slowly slide me a box of kleenex and I’d be feeling all sorry for myself knowing I wasn’t in the right spot.

Instead, I’d be thinking about how I love literature and I can analyze it like there’s no tomorrow. I have been drawing since I could hold the stubby crayons for chubby baby fingers, and I would dunk my entire hands into gallons of paint if my mother wasn’t watching me with a raised brow.

When I made what felt like the massive life decision to declare an English major, I knew I had made the right decision when the Department Head emailed me back:

SUBJECT LINE: WOOHOOOOO

Now, whenever I see family and they ask me about school, I say I’m studying English and Art. They go, “huh, okay.” But it doesn’t matter, and everything is fine. Because I’ll be on the second floor of Ebert dunking my hands in paint and writing literature reviews, knowing that I can do what makes me happy for the rest of my life.

It’s fascinating how Disney strives to make their princesses relatable to young girls, and it’s understandable that they do so! Representation (of many different kinds) in media can mean the world. It’s unfair for me to expect happier endings from The Little Mermaid, although up until now I think I might be anticipating them unless I see the words “Brothers Grimm” somewhere.

Besides this, I can’t seem to figure out what is this story trying to teach children. I struggle with analyzing it, and the only conclusion I can come to is that the moral is we shouldn’t be greedy or obsessed with “other-worldly” (a very well-fitting term here) things. Ariel’s personality and attitude in the story is not unlike those of other female protagonists, in fact she acts exactly how one might expect a teenager to, yet she still doesn’t get the happiest ending.

Imagine being impressionable (or maybe not, depending on you personally) and a young teen again, and you are read this story from a guardian or parent. Does it not discourage risk-taking and curiosity?

Of course not all of this is healthy, and the Disney ending is almost too happy, but what does the version we read teach young girls? To never leave home and venture out? To stay submissive and never explore?