This past summer, I worked as a camp counselor for a summer program in my town. We began every day with “circle time” where we would tell everyone our name and answer a question about ourselves. We would ask the kids (ages 3-5) something simple to help everyone get to know each other, such as “what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” or “what’s your favorite movie?” and of course, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Throughout the summer, we heard some pretty interesting answers. A few highlights were “a pencil,” “a fire truck,” and “a ceiling.” When it got to be the counselors’ turns, we would usually answer with something silly as well, like “a dinosaur” or “a princess.” The kids would think nothing of these choices, deeming them all appropriate answers to the question at hand. For us though, that question had been taunting us for many years prior and for many more to come.
In today’s society, so much emphasis is placed on the importance of performance. Even at the young age of 11, walking into my first day at Pollard Middle School in Needham, Massachusetts, I knew that my journey had just begun. I had seen a preview of what was to come from my brother who is two years older than me and is the kind of perfectionist that would put even the most devoted “Type A” to shame. Getting anything less than an “A” was not an option for him, and I followed in his footsteps as most little sisters would. But what came easy for him, proved to be harder for me. He was headed for great things, and comparing my B’s to his A’s put me in a place of sheer panic when I got into high school. Suddenly, everything was about what you could put on your college applications. It was a race to fit as many clubs, sports, volunteer opportunities, and jobs into your life as you could, on top of the grueling work that comes along with being a high school student at a high-ranking college prep school. This all became a bit too overwhelming for me, and I began to really struggle by my sophomore year of high school. To keep myself on track, I tried to keep my eyes on the prize: graduation. What I didn’t take so much into account was that things would only get way, way harder before they got easier.
My dream was to become a veterinarian. I love animals and I love medicine, so why not a career that incorporates both? My junior year though, as I began to look at colleges, my feelings changed. This was my first shift in interests, and I began searching for schools with great pre-med programming rather than animal science programs. This brought me to the University of Pittsburgh, notably one of the top undergraduate health science programs in the country with lots of opportunities for research and internships. When I came to visit at the end of January of my senior year of high school, I fell in love. Despite the polar vortex weather, every student I saw looked happy. On the second floor of The O, as my dad and I shared a tub of amazing fries, I decided I was coming to Pitt.
Move-in rolled around and before I knew it, I had been thrown into college life. What I thought was a manageable course-load turned out to be far too much on top of the adjustment to being 600 miles away from home around nobody I knew. Trying to pass bio and chem in my first semester of college proved to be quite the daunting task, and by the end of the semester I was brain-dead. When I got home for Christmas, my mom could tell how unhappy I was. And it was with her guidance that got me on the right path.
I’ve always been someone who enjoys reading and writing. I used to spend every Saturday reading a whole book. I had quite an active presence on Tumblr, and I wrote some pretty popular fanfiction in my heyday (as of this October, my biggest piece has 31,501 views). Although I liked these things, I had never really considered a career that incorporated them. My mom had always told me that science wasn’t the right path, but I was convinced I was doing the right thing. That Christmas, we struck a deal: my next semester, I would take some communications and writing courses instead of science ones, and then afterwards, I could decide which major I preferred. This proved to be ingenious, as of course I loved my humanities classes. I came out with nearly all A’s, and I finally felt happy with what I was learning. The work didn’t seem so hard when I was working on things I actually liked.
I hope that my sharing this experience can give some insight to people who feel they may be in the wrong area of study. The most important thing to remember is that it’s okay to ask for guidance and it’s okay to change your mind. In hindsight, I see that my single-mindedness kept me from realizing what my true calling. If you are unsure of your choice, try a couple different courses in different subjects to see which you like best. Don’t get discouraged! It may take some time to find what you really like, but when you do, you will know. As long as you keep an open mind and continue to work hard, the pieces will all fall into place.