Hi, my name is Tim, and I'm Undeclared.
I wasn't always like this. Back in the day, when I was in high school, I had it all figured out. Biology was always my best subject, so I assumed, "Hey, I should be a bio major _ maybe even premed" (big shocker there). I never gave it much thought. That was what most of my friends were doing, and that was my plan. Case closed.
I didn't even look at other majors. Philosophy? International relations? Sociology? What is sociology anyway? People actually spend four years of college studying that? What do they do with themselves afterwards? Flip burgers? I couldn't believe people were so shortsighted. Hadn't they heard all the stupid major jokes? ("What do you call a graduate of comparative religion? Hey waiter!")
This attitude is fine when you're in high school. It is easy enough to say you want to be a rocket scientist when you're acing high school physics or English or whatever it is you're good at. In high school you can study the entire course of world history from the Peloponnesian War to the Gulf War in a year. Here you could take twice that time and never get past Alcibiades. (Remember back in high school when we were smart?)
It's usually the same when freshmen meet freshmen. "Hi! What's your name? Where are you from?" After you've repeated that one a couple dozen times and the novelty of hearing the names of different states has worn off, you might come across the casual, "So what are you studying?" And of course you have to have an answer. If you don't stop to think about it, you won't even realize that it's all right to not have an answer. You didn't have to think through the state question, right? So why should this question be any different?
I can't speak for everyone, but for me, the problem with choosing my major was just that: I didn't think about it. I never had. Then, as the semester went on, it dawned on me that I was surrounded by people -- intelligent people -- who had been happy and successful taking paths that I had never even considered. "Wow, how did they think of that? And why didn't I?" I asked myself more than a few times after talking to some of the upperclassmen. Eventually the answer became obvious: I didn't think of it because I had never stopped to think at all.
Sooner or later, most people will reach a point where the simple path they had planned for themselves might not be the path they want to follow. Maybe you'll hate your courses. Maybe you'll get a bad grade. Most likely, you'll take an elective, fall in love with it, decide to take nine more courses in the department, and turn it into a major. Most people can expect to do this a few times. My advice is to take as many courses in as many different departments as you can -- the crazier the better. Don't even worry about credits. You have three more years for that, and it is far better to "fall behind" one year than to spend several years torturing yourself trying to make a go of a subject you don't have any passion for. Besides, freshman year is the worst year possible to be attempting major credits, since odds are you're going to be putting more effort into getting settled in than into doing problem sets.
You get two years to declare a major for a reason. Use them. Ride the undeclared train as long as you can. Try everything. Anything worth dedicating a department to is worthwhile to study. Philosophy majors don't really flip burgers when they graduate. And, if for nothing else, it's worth it to see the expression on your parents' faces when you tell them, "I'm thinking of majoring in biochemistry_ either that or studio art."
Tim Bassell is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major.
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