Courtesy of Zacqueline Baldwin
“I’m an English and philosophy double major”.
This sentence, which I have uttered dozens of times, is almost always followed by a question that feels much more like doubt than genuine curiosity or interest— “What are you going to do with that?” It’s rarely deliberately hostile, but it nonetheless carries the assumption that some majors are inherently less practical and worthwhile.
Although it may not seem obvious on a campus dominated by the humanities, I firmly believe that society at large ranks degrees according to some predetermined value, with STEM coming out on top. This hierarchy shapes how students both see themselves and each other, potentially influencing the path they choose to take in college. We only live once, and since that entire life will essentially be filled with work, we sure ought to spend that time pursuing a passion. However, this system judges many who choose this.
To be clear, STEM majors are very demanding. Things like long problem sets, time-consuming labs, and high-stakes exams can make the discipline feel grueling. Somewhere along the way, though, this has been confused for inherent superiority. The narrative that other majors are not only less difficult but also less valuable has taken hold.
“People are good at different things. I’m good with numbers, but can’t write an essay to save my life. So, I definitely don’t think my major is harder than anyone else’s by some concrete standard,” one junior-year biology student remarked. “But, I know a lot of people who do think that. They repost things discrediting non-STEM majors for stressing about their major. Like, what do you even know about their work? Probably nothing.”
Not too long ago, this thought process was used against me by someone I know. When asked about my GPA, I was told that my good grades “didn’t really mean anything” because my classes had to be easy. The implication that my achievements did not carry weight because the work behind them is presumed to be minimally demanding, in my opinion, had to have been fed to him somewhere. “English major” has also been used as a semi-joking insult against me on many occasions. This, I believe, is simply the dominant mindset of society.
This same person who judged me is an engineering major who admitted to choosing that field solely for an expected high salary. This reveals that, at least for some students, the perceived superiority of STEM is not just about intellectual challenge, but it is also deeply tied to economic outcomes. If I am not asked what I plan to do with my major, the substituted statement is always about how they think I will be broke. When I explain that my degrees are extremely common for pre-law students, which I am, the critique immediately ends. This way of thinking is both frustrating and disheartening, as it shows that an education for most is simply transactional, with salary projections being more important than intellectual development in a field that you enjoy.
Dismissing the importance of interest in a field is not only sad, but it also overlooks a key argument against the STEM superiority mindset. Genuine interest is one of the surest ways to academic success. From what I have both seen and experienced, students can undoubtedly perform better in subjects/classes that they actually care about. Motivation, curiosity, and engagement all play a role in producing A-level work. Pursuing a field solely for financial reasons (like the before-mentioned friend), especially one you don’t enjoy, can make work feel far more difficult. Just look at the Langer Scholars, whose variety in majors proves that determination, not just major, determines excellence.
What would happen if everyone adopted this logic? If all students chose majors based on perceived prestige or salary rather than interest, everyone in education would be like a machine, being manufactured for the workforce. Many fields that produce meaningful employment opportunities and experiences, like English (writing, publishing, journaling), communications (media, broadcasting), and theater (acting, producing, directing), would disappear, despite the fact that these come together with other jobs to form a well-rounded society. Education itself would, instead of being a time for exploration and intellectual growth, become a narrow pipeline towards a few designated paths. For example, tons of people would become medical students not because of a passion for helping others or a love of science, but for money. The quality of work, which undoubtedly needs to be top-notch, would decline, and everyone would suffer. A diverse community is a prosperous community, and a hierarchical mindset threatens this.
The point of college is not to determine who has it the hardest or to strive to be that person. It’s a space to develop ways of thinking, refine your skills, pursue topics that matter to you, and find something you love. Truly, the most impressive thing isn’t doing something “hard”, it’s finding a true passion and successfully following through with it, no matter what anyone else thinks. As the philosopher Plutarch says, “the mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.”
