I am a senior English and Writing major at an expensive university who is exploring the possibility of not teaching in my future career.
Yep, I'm one of those.
All those jokes about English majors now apply to me... fully.
I've joined the ranks of starving artists and further-education-enslaved debt accruers.
When people ask me what I'm going to do after graduation, I will now hear that semi-concerned, semi-mocking question that puts racing heartbeats, sweating palms, and longings for an escape route into motion for vague degree candidates everywhere: "So, what can you do with that major?"
Furthermore, parents will look at me on the street, with my mascara- and tear-stained cheeks, notebook in my back pocket, unique (odd) clothing, bag full of books, but empty wallet, and point me out to their children, saying in hushed tones, "See [insert any U.S. president's last name for the child's first name here], this is why you should go into a science-related field. Writers become depressed and financially unstable because they think they can save people's lives with their writing; doctors actually save people's lives and make gargantuan amounts of money."
