I thought I had heard all the arguments against me being in my major. “Why do you want to be a teacher? You’re too smart for that!” and “Are you sure  you want to deal with these brats for the rest of your life?” have been key components of my conversations with friends, family and strangers since middle school, which was  when I decided I was going to make a difference and teaching was the best way to do it.     
   But lately, those complaints have changed. I guess now that I’m four years in the public thinks there’s nothing for me. “You have no idea what you’re getting into” has changed to “I’m glad someone has the patience for it,” which, while not exactly heartening, is at least positive. I thought maybe I was out of the woods, that I had finally gotten old enough that no one questioned my choices. I should have known better, really. As of late, an entirely different question has been cropping up: “Why English?” usually spoken with an incredulous tone, as if no one could possibly enjoy reading books with teenagers for a living.
I can understand, I suppose. This is a land grant institution, where you can’t get a group of four together without finding an engineering major.  We value science, math and practicality. Stuff we can test with our own two hands instead of all that frou-frou liberal arts stuff. And the rest of the country agrees with us.
 Programs promoting achievement in math and science abound. News stories pronounce the need for America to catch up to other countries in math and science scores. Meanwhile, 46 percent of Mississippi third-graders are failing the state language arts test, and our governor decides the solution to that is obviously to add more science in the form of test scores, not to advocate early reading programs to make students life-long readers.
Because how could our third-graders find reading important when they live in a culture that values working hard, practicality and television? Their big brothers proclaim that liberal arts schools are dumb and girly, their dads announce they haven’t read a book in years. And their moms are sure to check that they know their multiplication tables but forget to ask what they’re reading in language arts this week. Even their English teachers have started using less “real books” because under the new national guidelines, more informational texts are required, leaving fiction to fall by the wayside.
Learning to read a variety of texts is absolutely important, just as learning math and science is essential to living a life of possibility. But some things can’t be done with hard sciences alone. Literature teaches students about the world around them just as much as STEM classes. Through literature, I can show students their shared history with the entire world. I can give them ideas they never dreamed of. All the while, I am teaching them how to relate to their fellow man, how language can transform a nation and how code-switching from their native dialect doesn’t mean giving up a heritage but rather opening themselves up to communication with people from all over. More than science and nonfiction ever can, literature can open small-town students from Mississippi up to a whole new world of possibility.
I’m not saying math and science aren’t important. I love the fact that many of my friends are passionate about calculus, learning how our world works in order to build it up themselves. Engaging in the conversation that has been going on since someone figured out that a story could be passed down through generations is important as well. Literature gives us all common ground. It allows us English teachers to create divergent thinkers, encourage creativity and help teens find ways to express themselves. 
 As much as liberal arts educations are scorned, businesses are calling on liberal arts majors to become a part of their companies. They want people who understand human nature, who can look at the big picture and who can create new ideas. I can’t help but think that maybe if more people engaged in classes like histories, literatures and philosophies that help them understand their fellow man,  there would be much less arguing going on in the political section of my newspaper.