“Are you sure you want to do that?”
It was a question I never expected to hear from my family – a family that always emphasized the importance of a higher education.
The same people who spent most of my childhood encouraging me to attend college were now questioning my decision to do exactly what they had prepared me for.
The doubt didn’t end there.
High school teachers, meant to guide students towards a career and instill a passion within me, met me with hesitancy.
People I leaned on for support spewed caution rather than confidence.
The weight of their words pressed down on me like two kettlebells on my shoulders throughout the first two semesters of my college life.
I had chosen to major in computer science. A decision influenced by what felt like an unspoken rule that anything outside of science, technology, engineering, or math was a waste of time.
At first, I tried to convince myself that I had made the right choice; but before I knew it, 16-week classes moved at the pace of the hour hand on the clock – slow and dreadful.
Assignments towered over me. Two-hour coding classes overwhelmed me with lines of codes that felt like an unsolvable puzzle.
Submerging myself under the idea that studying computer science brought me happiness, it didn’t take long before I noticed that I was not only drowning myself but also the academic ambition that I once had.
Becoming a software engineer no longer felt like the future that I had once envisioned.
I turned spring break into a research project to find the major that not only challenged me but also ignited my heart.
Sitting at my beige wooden study desk, I explored different fields, stretched hours by clicking through career quizzes – attempting to find a glimpse of clarity.
I wasn’t alone in this pursuit.
According to the National Center for Educational Statistics, 35% of students who had declared a STEM major changed their field of study within three years.
Spring break left me with a better understanding, but no final answer.
That answer didn’t come until I stepped into the Humanities Building– noticing the El Camino newsroom for the first time.
Through glass windows that housed articles, awards and yearbooks going back decades buzzed the energy of stories that had already been told and those still waiting to be told.
A copy of The Union, the campus newspaper, and the latest edition of Warrior Life magazine found their way into my hands.
The crisp sound of the newspaper, boldness of the headlines and vibrant energy of each page radiated. The colorful and impactful images of the magazine, each page brimming with life and purpose.
But it wasn’t the polished look of the publications that was the sole reason for my newfound interest in the subject.
It was the byline. The writer’s name boldly displayed beneath the headline held weight.
For the first time– I envisioned my name printed there. The thought of my words reaching others activated something within me.
It felt as though a light had been switched on.
A path that once was shaped by outside opinions illuminated with the clarity that I had searched for relentlessly.
That path only grew brighter as I stepped into my first year as a journalism major.
Suddenly, I was out in the world asking questions, chasing after stories and being pushed out of my comfort zone. This time, I didn’t feel like I was drowning but navigating the waves.
Each challenge strengthened me rather than discouraged me.
Soon, a wave of warmth and self-accomplishment washed over me when my first article was published both online and in print.
Admiring my byline, my words, seeing my voice and my thoughts– the burden I once feared was lost.
Changing my major was more than a decision, but a turning point.
Every story I write now, every challenge I encounter, depends on the confidence I have in myself.
For the first time in my college life– it feels like I am where I need to be.
