As the summer leaves start to turn their hue to an earthly orange and brown, so too do the annual breed of underclassmen turn toward their advisors’ offices. The first few exams have been taken, the grades are out and the students are restless to move. The beautiful natural phenomenon that we are about to witness is the yearly changing of the majors.
Who doesn’t love the spirit of change in the air. Who doesn’t enjoy an atmosphere of new opportunity? The College of Arts and Sciences emerges from its summer-long hibernation to welcome its late arrivals:
The wonderful, innocent engineers making their flight towards the humanities after shit got real, with their fluttering eyes and renewed hatred for thought and correct answers.
The free spirited and inspiring new crop of philosophy majors — free from the shackles of journalism or something else more useful — they are ready to bloom into discussion-based classes.
The elegant undecideds, a common but beautiful creature. The mystery of their existence and the variety of transformations make this a group to watch: We sit in awe as they slide into history classes, because they liked it in high school and it should totally carry over.
We gawk at the art majors who finally admitted to themselves that money isn't everything.
We sit in awe as a flurry of strategic communication majors float and drift over from the Farmer School of Business, confident that the wind will take them there next year. Or maybe the year after that.
Hundreds of other students are affected by these changes as each herd of bright-eyed new majors brings with them a bundle of issues.
In an attempt to assimilate, they will repeatedly verbalize their new major, so that other beings are forced to acknowledge it.
Acquiring a new major may embolden some young, naive students to pretend to have more intelligence than they do, either in an attempt to impress a mate or their own ego.
It is a true treat to witness this transformation each year, as the winds of the future carry these underclassmen into their later years. The ephemeral nature of the world is most visible as a lesson to be learned here, as we all know that many of these majors will not survive the winter. A violent six-week shedding period awaits them in a few months — but they don’t know that yet.
And so we celebrate the changing of the seasons alongside our fellow new majors, mutually hoping that we’re making the right decisions with no clue whether or not that is actually the case.