I was set on Physics as my major before I even came to KAIST. In hindsight, that seems like a terrible idea, but I thought I knew what to expect, what I was getting myself into. Studying physics means solving problems, learning about fundamental laws, and understanding the secrets of the universe… right? So, in spite of the warnings of my peers, I pushed ahead with the major, never pausing to consider whether it was actually right for me. Now, I’ve very nearly graduated from the department, but the main thing I’ve learned is that I don’t actually want to do physics anymore. Whether that’s a result of the KAIST environment, my own changing interests, or a combination of the two, I’ve accepted that it’s just not the path I want to follow. And that’s okay.

Everyone loves to complain about their own department. When tired of unreasonably difficult homework problems or unhelpful admin offices, venting to your friends can be therapeutic. But it’s often a sort of love-hate relationship — we all chose our majors at the beginning, after all, and there must have been a reason, no matter how simple or how profound. We earn the right to complain by putting in the effort. So the grievances of those in the same major — the people who really know — are acceptable, but we quickly get defensive against external criticism. Even while struggling, we retain a sense of pride in our major choice. Despite everything, I did too: long after the people around me were probably sick of my complaints about classes, I was proud to be making it through. I still am.

But it’s one thing to be proud of your own major, and quite another to put down others. It’s clear that the requirements, expectations, and career paths for different fields can be dramatically different. While one person might aspire to become a professor, another might be hoping to join a start-up as soon as possible. Being satisfied and sure of your plan is excellent, and I hope everyone can find their own direction. However, letting this self-certainty develop into a major superiority complex, is, to be honest, embarrassing. Belittling other departments, and therefore other people’s choices, is a cheap and arrogant way to bolster one’s own aspirations. And seeing a ranking of majors as proclaimed by one narrow perspective or the other isn’t really helpful for anyone, except in some sort of self-indulgent delight in either being superior or the most arduous.

After all, everyone has different motivations that brought them to KAIST, and probably different ones still that keep them afloat through every tough exam season. I know my own have wavered and altered many times. The same dilemma arises again and again: should we be motivated by interests or by money or something else entirely? And how do we choose, when the future is so unknown? Certain majors probably accommodate a financial incentive more than others, but that’s not to say those students aren’t highly interested in their studies, or vice versa for other departments. In my case, I know I want to be able to get a job I actually enjoy, but I also want to be financially stable. Further, I want to be able to do some good in the world. For me, that means moving away from physics, and it’s terrifying to be graduating with a degree I likely won’t directly use. But I’m following my own motivation, just as you should, too. Ultimately, wherever we fall on the scale is alright, as long as we remember that these are personal motivations — everyone is different, so each person’s opinions should apply to them uniquely. 

If I’ve gained any insight at all by graduating from a department I will soon leave, it’s that your major — even academic study in general — really doesn’t have to define you. In KAIST, it’s so easy to constantly compare yourself to others and feel as though time is running out. We hardly pause to breathe or contemplate our own wishes. If you’re starting to have major regrets about your major choice, that’s fine. In fact, we are lucky enough to attend a school in which it’s pretty easy to switch departments, especially compared to other universities in Korea. I’ve seen people change majors even in their junior year, and still graduate in good time. Or, if you want to simply stick to the end with your major — like me — that’s also totally valid. It’s okay if your major isn’t what you want to do in the future; if anything it makes you more interesting, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. The point is, as long as you’re staying true to your own motivation, things will probably work out. If you want something, go and get it.

After four years, I don’t regret my major choice. Sure, there were times I hated it, but it has also been my own small pride. And perhaps, only by taking this path have I been able to find what I want to do next. I hope you all will too. Good luck!