Today in my English class the topic of how many credits I will graduate with came up. Don't ask how this topic just happened to come up--I am quite proud of my excessive amount of credits and bring it up at every opportunity.
Anyway, when I mentioned that I am about to graduate with 246 credits, the class was incredulous. Cries of "Don't they kick you out before that?" "How long ago did you start?!" and "Wow...wow" accompanied by a stunned look rang out across the classroom.
My teacher looked around at the class. "Can anyone beat that?" No answer. "Does anyone even have within 50 credits of that?" When no one answered again, I laughed out loud. "Yes, it's kind of a sensitive subject with me. I've been here a long time, ok?"
Five minutes later, my teacher said something and then added, "How many credits do you have? two-hundred-ninety-something?" This way-out-of-proportion guess made my original number seem so much more reasonable.
But hey, I think it's still pretty impressive to be graduating with 246 credits...
Showing posts with label BYU. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BYU. Show all posts
Monday, April 4, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
"Would you like fries with that?"
The actual title of this post is, "Would you like fries with that? Or, in other words, the moral obligation of a Humanities major."
It's a little long, though, so I thought I would just stick with the first part.
The other day I was at an evening symposium on the representations of WWI and WWII in England. It was quite interesting, actually, but the main reason that I had gone was because one of my former professors, Kristen Matthews (whom I loved, loved, LOVED!), was in charge of it and invited me to go.
So I went. And after it was all over, I started talking to Dr. Matthews and another of my professors, who also happened to be there. Another woman, an English professor who teaches in Arizona and a good friend of Dr. Matthews (do you have all of these relationships down yet?) was also talking to us, and she said something about English PhD programs--something along the lines of "they should keep those programs small--like 2 or 3 people, or none at all!" All three of us looked a little shocked, so she started to explain.
"I had a student who was just finishing up his undergrad, really bright and had done really well, who came in to talk to me about attending graduate school," she said. "He told me that I had a moral obligation to convince him NOT to go to graduate school in English."
At this point Dr. Matthews looked over at me with a look that said, "I hope you don't expect me to have that same obligation, because I would never convince you not to go to graduate school," and I looked back with a look that said, "First of all I would never expect anyone to have a moral obligation to convince me not to do something that I wanted to do, and secondly I would never as an English professor that also went to graduate school and obviously has a job now to convince me to not follow the same path because there are no jobs."
Yeah. It was a pretty intense look-exchange.
It got me thinking, though. What is it about majors in the Humanities that make people think I will be dishing out fries after graduation? I, of course, am adamant that these years of work will amount to a wonderful job that contributes to the well-being of society and ultimately changes the world. But not everyone has that same idea. Especially with the economy the way has been these past few years, many people think that a college degree is only useful if you can grab your diploma with one hand and your first paycheck in a full-time career with the other.
But really, are there any degrees like that these days?
Anyway, I thought I would make a short list detailing just a few of the benefits of having English majors in society. Because really, majors in the Humanities = helping the world understand what it means to be human. (Do we really want a world that gets paychecks every month and nobody knows how to be human? No.) So here are just a few of my favorite things about being an English major.
1. We have John Donne and George Herbert. Does anything else need to be said? Not to mention poetry in general. What would this world be like if we didn't have poems like "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways" or "The Road Not Taken." Think about what would be missing with your life if we didn't know anything about the poetry of Langston Hughes, Emily Dickinson, or T. S. Eliot.
2. Books can change the world--even fiction books. Ever read Grapes of Wrath? Uncle Tom's Cabin, A Christmas Carol, or War and Peace? They changed the world when they were written. And English majors make sure the world stays changed because of these books (not to mention writing their own books that can change the world). In fact, if you're curious, there are several lists of books that have changed the world. The Online Education Database has one, for starters.
3. Shakespeare. Have you ever read Shakespeare and thought, "That's beautiful. I have no idea what that means." You could take a class on Shakespeare at a university from...someone who studied English in graduate school! And believe me, it would change your life forever.
4. Critical thinking and research skills. I have developed my research abilities and critical thinking skills so much in my English classes. I know what to look for in an academic argument, I know how to figure out if sources are reliable, I know how to construct a coherent and convincing argument, and most of all I know how to think logically and critically about almost any subject, issue, or even ideas or situations (not because I am just amazing, but because that is what they teach us in the English major). I just went to a luncheon where the MBA program told us why women in the Humanities would make such great MBA students. Critical thinking + marketable skill = everyone is happy.
5. Writing skills. Have you ever had to read a college textbook and thought a-this is the most boring thing I have ever read in my life, b-did this person ever take a writing course in college, or c-if I have to read books like this in graduate school I am changing my post-graduate plans? Yeah. I have. And I did change my post-graduate plans for that very reason. Much of my time spent as an English major has been spent writing. And even though my best writing doesn't necessarily come out on my blog, I know what good writing is. I can recognize it, I can work to produce it, and maybe one day, I will write textbooks that are interesting.
There are several more, but I think I will stop here. What do you think--is English really a useless major?
It's a little long, though, so I thought I would just stick with the first part.
The other day I was at an evening symposium on the representations of WWI and WWII in England. It was quite interesting, actually, but the main reason that I had gone was because one of my former professors, Kristen Matthews (whom I loved, loved, LOVED!), was in charge of it and invited me to go.
So I went. And after it was all over, I started talking to Dr. Matthews and another of my professors, who also happened to be there. Another woman, an English professor who teaches in Arizona and a good friend of Dr. Matthews (do you have all of these relationships down yet?) was also talking to us, and she said something about English PhD programs--something along the lines of "they should keep those programs small--like 2 or 3 people, or none at all!" All three of us looked a little shocked, so she started to explain.
"I had a student who was just finishing up his undergrad, really bright and had done really well, who came in to talk to me about attending graduate school," she said. "He told me that I had a moral obligation to convince him NOT to go to graduate school in English."
At this point Dr. Matthews looked over at me with a look that said, "I hope you don't expect me to have that same obligation, because I would never convince you not to go to graduate school," and I looked back with a look that said, "First of all I would never expect anyone to have a moral obligation to convince me not to do something that I wanted to do, and secondly I would never as an English professor that also went to graduate school and obviously has a job now to convince me to not follow the same path because there are no jobs."
Yeah. It was a pretty intense look-exchange.
It got me thinking, though. What is it about majors in the Humanities that make people think I will be dishing out fries after graduation? I, of course, am adamant that these years of work will amount to a wonderful job that contributes to the well-being of society and ultimately changes the world. But not everyone has that same idea. Especially with the economy the way has been these past few years, many people think that a college degree is only useful if you can grab your diploma with one hand and your first paycheck in a full-time career with the other.
But really, are there any degrees like that these days?
Anyway, I thought I would make a short list detailing just a few of the benefits of having English majors in society. Because really, majors in the Humanities = helping the world understand what it means to be human. (Do we really want a world that gets paychecks every month and nobody knows how to be human? No.) So here are just a few of my favorite things about being an English major.
1. We have John Donne and George Herbert. Does anything else need to be said? Not to mention poetry in general. What would this world be like if we didn't have poems like "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways" or "The Road Not Taken." Think about what would be missing with your life if we didn't know anything about the poetry of Langston Hughes, Emily Dickinson, or T. S. Eliot.
2. Books can change the world--even fiction books. Ever read Grapes of Wrath? Uncle Tom's Cabin, A Christmas Carol, or War and Peace? They changed the world when they were written. And English majors make sure the world stays changed because of these books (not to mention writing their own books that can change the world). In fact, if you're curious, there are several lists of books that have changed the world. The Online Education Database has one, for starters.
3. Shakespeare. Have you ever read Shakespeare and thought, "That's beautiful. I have no idea what that means." You could take a class on Shakespeare at a university from...someone who studied English in graduate school! And believe me, it would change your life forever.
4. Critical thinking and research skills. I have developed my research abilities and critical thinking skills so much in my English classes. I know what to look for in an academic argument, I know how to figure out if sources are reliable, I know how to construct a coherent and convincing argument, and most of all I know how to think logically and critically about almost any subject, issue, or even ideas or situations (not because I am just amazing, but because that is what they teach us in the English major). I just went to a luncheon where the MBA program told us why women in the Humanities would make such great MBA students. Critical thinking + marketable skill = everyone is happy.
5. Writing skills. Have you ever had to read a college textbook and thought a-this is the most boring thing I have ever read in my life, b-did this person ever take a writing course in college, or c-if I have to read books like this in graduate school I am changing my post-graduate plans? Yeah. I have. And I did change my post-graduate plans for that very reason. Much of my time spent as an English major has been spent writing. And even though my best writing doesn't necessarily come out on my blog, I know what good writing is. I can recognize it, I can work to produce it, and maybe one day, I will write textbooks that are interesting.
There are several more, but I think I will stop here. What do you think--is English really a useless major?
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Leftover Guilt
Today I was walking back to my car after spending a delightful time in the library. I really do like spending time in the library--perhaps a little too much, because they tried to charge me rent there once last semester. They said there was a 12 hour limit/day/student, and I had passed that 28 times so far Fall semester. So I switched to another building to study.
Anyway, since this is a new semester, I guess the rent-thing doesn't apply anymore. But I digress. I was walking back to my car and I saw a police car parked right next to it. And I suddenly panicked. Had I parked illegally? Was my car dripping large amounts of oil or anti-freeze? My mind quickly scanned everything I had done in the last 48 hours to see if my sudden guilt and fear had any foundation. As I drew closer to my car, I saw, much to my relief, that the police car was actually parked next to the car right next to my car, not next to my car, and the police was talking to a guy (presumably the owner of the car) who was holding a flashlight and looking in the windows.
I quickly got in my car and drove away before they could question me about whatever was going on with the guy's car. After all, being parked right next to him, I was a likely suspect.
As I drove away, I started to think about what has caused this unnatural fear of the police--because actually, every time I see the police I feel a little twinge of fear. Skipping over the fact that I speed perhaps more than once a year and ignoring the many books I have read about militaristic-type governments in the Middle East and Nazi Germany, I finally realized that this fear began when I was a young child.
I was 5 or 6 and we had gone on an extended-family camping trip reunion up Provo Canyon, as I recall. The reunion was fun, as I recall, and I got to play with my cousins and do other camping things, like slide down a muddy hill and eat dutch oven cooking. As we were packing up, I had found some beautiful wildflowers (which looked like weeds to an adult but violets to a small child) and picked a few of them to take home as a memento of the trip.
After I picked them, I continued walking along the trail, waiting for the rest of the family. It was then that I saw, to my horror, a sign that said something along the lines of, "It is illegal to pick the wildflowers."
Illegal?! I had just broken the law!! I looked down at the already-wilting purple flowers, the evidence of my criminal act clutched in my tiny fist. I panicked. I went and hid in the car, or something else very grown-up like, while I waited for my parents. On the ride home, I felt sure that the police would be waiting at my house with a warrant for my arrest.
I seem to recall that I asked my parents about the legal state of one who has picked flowers from a national park, but whatever they said did little to allay my fears. I resigned myself to life as a criminal.
Well, the police weren't there when we got home. They didn't come all that night, and I think by the next morning I had thrown away the "evidence" (my flowers) and moved on with my life.
But apparently the guilt is still there, and I don't think I will be surprised at all to run into the police one day and have them say, "Breanne? We have been informed that you picked wildflowers at a national park when you were 5. Please come with us..."
Anyway, since this is a new semester, I guess the rent-thing doesn't apply anymore. But I digress. I was walking back to my car and I saw a police car parked right next to it. And I suddenly panicked. Had I parked illegally? Was my car dripping large amounts of oil or anti-freeze? My mind quickly scanned everything I had done in the last 48 hours to see if my sudden guilt and fear had any foundation. As I drew closer to my car, I saw, much to my relief, that the police car was actually parked next to the car right next to my car, not next to my car, and the police was talking to a guy (presumably the owner of the car) who was holding a flashlight and looking in the windows.
I quickly got in my car and drove away before they could question me about whatever was going on with the guy's car. After all, being parked right next to him, I was a likely suspect.
As I drove away, I started to think about what has caused this unnatural fear of the police--because actually, every time I see the police I feel a little twinge of fear. Skipping over the fact that I speed perhaps more than once a year and ignoring the many books I have read about militaristic-type governments in the Middle East and Nazi Germany, I finally realized that this fear began when I was a young child.
I was 5 or 6 and we had gone on an extended-family camping trip reunion up Provo Canyon, as I recall. The reunion was fun, as I recall, and I got to play with my cousins and do other camping things, like slide down a muddy hill and eat dutch oven cooking. As we were packing up, I had found some beautiful wildflowers (which looked like weeds to an adult but violets to a small child) and picked a few of them to take home as a memento of the trip.
After I picked them, I continued walking along the trail, waiting for the rest of the family. It was then that I saw, to my horror, a sign that said something along the lines of, "It is illegal to pick the wildflowers."
 |
| (This one is from Israel. I didn't have any pictures from Provo.) |
Illegal?! I had just broken the law!! I looked down at the already-wilting purple flowers, the evidence of my criminal act clutched in my tiny fist. I panicked. I went and hid in the car, or something else very grown-up like, while I waited for my parents. On the ride home, I felt sure that the police would be waiting at my house with a warrant for my arrest.
I seem to recall that I asked my parents about the legal state of one who has picked flowers from a national park, but whatever they said did little to allay my fears. I resigned myself to life as a criminal.
Well, the police weren't there when we got home. They didn't come all that night, and I think by the next morning I had thrown away the "evidence" (my flowers) and moved on with my life.
But apparently the guilt is still there, and I don't think I will be surprised at all to run into the police one day and have them say, "Breanne? We have been informed that you picked wildflowers at a national park when you were 5. Please come with us..."
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