It all started with a simple prompt: "Course of study desired: Please check only one and write appropriate code(s) in corresponding boxes." As a high school senior at the ripe age of 17, this part of the application seemed like a piece of cake. Of course I was going to be an engineering major - more specifically, bioengineering. I was on the physics team in high school, I loved math and I did a summer engineering program. I was hooked. Engineering was my drug of choice. But then as senior year came to a close, I started to really think about my course of action. Buyer's remorse set in as I pondered the idea that perhaps engineering wouldn't be my dream major. But with graduation approaching and the anxiety of beginning college growing, I convinced myself that I knew where I was going, what I was doing, that I was going to be fine.
Flash forward to first semester. By the time I started my first programming class, I had already started to fall out of love with my "intended major." Sure, I thought the classes were interesting, but for some reason it just didn't feel right for me. "Give it more time," I told myself. But finally I knew I had to do something. I went to meet with my advisor. As a naive freshman, I thought this meeting would solve everything. yeah, not so much. There we sat face-to-face: the Engineering department and I. I told my advisor point blank that I would like to transfer out of engineering because I had decided that the program was just not for me, and I wanted a course of study in the College. She shot me an angry glare from across the office that I was sure meant that I had committed a heinous crime. There was no sign left of the smile with which she had warmly welcomed me. I understand; I wouldn't be too happy if the roles had been reversed and a student had wanted out of my program. But come on. Isn't this my time to figure out my hopes and dreams?
Okay, fine. So, Engineering's pissed. There's nothing I can do about that. Next stop on the pull-my-life-together train was the College advising office. Here I was greeted and helped by an advisor who gave me ideas about what courses to take, but ended the conversation with "of course this is assuming you meet the requirements and are accepted to the College." I left the meeting confused. Engineering didn't want to help anymore, but the College wasn't welcoming me with arms wide open either. Engineering told me to talk to the College and the College told me to go back and talk to Engineering. I was a ping-pong ball in the game of university politics. I was officially caught in the middle, an in-between. I was roaming the campus in no man's land, not really belonging to any one entity.
It seemed I had inadvertently broken a cardinal rule. In the pre-professional environment that is Penn, encouragement for those of us who haven't quite decided what our future will hold is elusive. It shouldn't feel like a punishment that I haven't figured out my exact career path. But it certainly feels like one. I acknowledge that transferring between schools is not a completely banal activity, but I know it affects a significant proportion of the undergraduate population. Maybe all we need is some advisors who are dedicated to helping students who change their minds and want a little guidance. Just because I haven't decided from the get-go to be an electrical engineer or a computer programmer, it doesn't mean I'm completely hopeless, but it wouldn't hurt if I wasn't the only one telling myself that.
