An English Major Who Doesn't Know What She's Doing (and not in an existential crisis way)

 This week for my studies in writing class we were given the question: “What is one person who has influenced your writing?” 

I only glanced at the prompt, so as I thought about it through the week, the question morphed in my head into “Who is one author that has influenced your writing?” 

It must be the combination of my analysis of another author’s writing process alongside the prompt for this blog floating in my head…but I thought that was the prompt and it sent me spiraling.

 I began to panic. The last books I remember reading and truly loving were in middle/elementary school. I’m sure there were some in high school, but the era of immersing myself in books, thinking like them and writing like them faded as my work load and life schedule increased. 

Surely I’ve read books since middle school…? 

I think through the books I’ve read in college. I am a junior. And an English major in the Honors program. I supposedly have read a lot of books. 

I began to panic as I realized I don’t recall much of anything outstanding about the way anything I’ve read for classes has been written. 

Often the purpose of the reading was for a class discussion which surrounded the content of the ideas or narrative presented rather than how they were presented. 

I could get away with not paying attention to the how. Or with skimming and summaries and doing my best when busy. 

Shoot. 

Am I a fraud? 

Like…am I even an English major?

All the English majors I met when I came to George Fox were these put together people with half written novels or worlds they’ve built over the course of 5 years. They had ambitions and fancy words and deep thoughts about the ills of society. 

Freshman year when I attended the mandatory honors program forum, we met in a room with people only from our major because of covid.

I sat at a conference table in a small library in Hoover full of English majors. 

I don’t know exactly where I was at in life right then, but I know I had been behind on some of the honors readings. I was trying my best, and was super present in class discussions (despite it being 3pm and not knowing my classmates well yet). 

But my life was a bit messy and imperfect and as I joined this table of English majors somehow the topic of reading came up. One English major said she always allows herself one text a semester that she just doesn’t read…it doesn’t get done at all. It’s a miss and that’s okay. 

I wasn’t sure how to feel about this…part of me was comforted that someone else recognized I can’t get it all done, and it’s okay to let something go sometimes. 

And yet…I had definitely already missed more than one reading, and often failed to fully complete the reading. A greater part of me was starting to feel deeply unsure about my own reading abilities for honors. My ego would like me to be clear, I wasn’t completely neglecting this class. My grade and participation was doing fine. But I was definitely overwhelmed and failing at completing the reading assignments. Not to mention the required notes. 

Then…the rest of the English majors chimed in. Apparently, the aforementioned English major who allows herself one unread book was the exception of the group. Everyone else was perfectly well read. 

Sorry, one girl didn’t get her reading done for class in time once but she finished it a day later. 

I wanted to cry. I sat there internally panicking that I am a horrible student and a fraud of an English major. 

I must be BS–ing my way through honors. 

I sat taking in their laughter over the times they almost didn’t get a reading done, wondering what they would say if I was honest about how the times I almost didn’t get it done were victories. 

It has been over a year since that forum. I have no animosity towards the English major upperclassmen who inadvertently made me doubt my choice of major at the forum. 

Due to the theatre major being cut, I spent all of last year immersed in theatre and taking a break from English. The theatre classes were being offered for the last time, and I am a double major in theatre and English. 

Now, as I begin taking more English classes again, and discovering what that looks like for me, I am experiencing a bit of freedom. I know now who I am and that my worth is not in having all my reading done. It does not matter whether those English majors did or did not have their readings done every time. I do not. I can not, and be a healthy person. And that’s okay. 

I love school and I love reading and writing and learning…but it is not my whole world. I will not sacrifice everything on the altar of getting my reading done.

Somewhere, there is a freshman English major like me. Utterly imperfect. And as an upperclassman I have no intention of faking perfection. 

I struggle to complete my readings. I do not have three novels going in my head that I have been developing for years. 

I am not fancy or above anyone. I love to think deeply and critically about things, but I am in no way more intelligent than others for doing so. 

My homework life is honestly sometimes a shit show.

But I make my to-do lists. My planner is color-coded and my google drive is organized. I have a system of note-taking and I pay attention in class (mostly). I show up when I know I haven’t done the reading, and I do my best to take notes and follow along. Sometimes I want to cry because I feel so behind. Other times I chuck it in the bucket and move on. 

I care deeply about learning and my classes.

But I will not stay up all night every night to get reading done. I can’t.

I have learned, and continue to learn, to seek and accept grace from professors. To be honest about my struggle. That sometimes what you can get done is enough. It’s super humbling and hard, and I have often cried before asking a professor for grace and then been surprised and grateful as they continue to give it to me. 

I won’t sacrifice my health and well being to make sure every page of the required reading is done. Sometimes I have to turn things in late because I want to do them well, and can not in the time I have in my life. 

Sometimes I have a coffee in hand, with my planner filled out and I feel on top of it. 

Other times, my hair is a mess, laundry hasn’t been done in weeks, and I am making my fifth to-do list of the day just to keep my head on straight. I am emailing professors for extensions, eating on the go, and napping on the floor in the 6 minutes I have between classes. 

I’m an English major and I have no idea what I have read at school that has influenced my writing. 

Thank goodness that wasn’t the prompt.