Personal Essay by Gabi Prigmore, Photos by Flora Patteson, Graphic by Alyssa Hoppie

Just like lots of students coming into their first semester at A&M, I started college as an engineer. I wanted so badly to be seen as smart, as talented, as doing something others considered difficult. Every “Oh my gosh, you’re an engineer? I’m so sorry!” sent a rush through my veins and every pitying look after a 24-hour study session in Zachry, TAMU’s engineering building, felt like lightning.

For my first semester, that feeling was enough. Knowing that I was doing something difficult was enough, and excused all lack of interest in the actual material. By my second semester, it wasn’t enough anymore. I spent the next year fighting myself, believing that I had to keep going as an engineer or I would prove everyone right— I wasn’t smart enough to be an engineer. All of my drive to succeed in college was based on other people’s opinions of me and the fear that I would be seen as weak if I “failed.”

It took the worst semester of my life—one where I only passed a single class out of a 15-hour courseload— for me to realize that I wasn’t where I needed to be. I didn’t like my classes, I wasn’t passionate about anything anymore, and I felt lost. The only thing that kept me going was the one class I had passed that semester: Building Better Cities, an entry-level Urban Planning class that I had taken for an intended minor. 

Completely on accident, I found myself falling in love with the material. I was reading more than just what was required on the syllabus, talking about Jane Jacobs to anyone who would listen, doing all the extra credit assignments and things I had never even considered doing in my engineering classes. On my way out of office hours for the class, I passed by the Wright Gallery in Langford, the Architecture building. I timidly walked in and although I don’t remember what the exhibit on display was anymore, I remember how impacted I was by the Gallery’s mere existence. Knowing that there was a space in the building that was just there as a celebration of art, as a getaway from the stress of college, as a display of the humanities that are so often disregarded in STEM fields, moved me. I felt a sense of belonging I had never felt in Zachry.

Two weeks before finals, I called my grandpa on the phone crying about how I had no idea what I actually wanted to do with my life. He told me that no matter what my major was or what my grades were or what kind of job I got after graduation, he would be proud of me just for getting through college. He helped me understand that there was no way I would get through a degree plan without a real drive to know more about the subject and a passion for it. At that point, I shyly admitted to him that I had been considering changing my major to Urban Planning, and told him all about the love I had for my planned minor. His encouragement and undying support was the striking of the match for me, and within the week I had met with the Transition Academic Programs office to begin the process of changing my major.

“If anything, changing your major only makes you stronger.”

-Gabi Prigmore

Looking back, I am so grateful for my time as an Aggie engineer. I met so many of my closest friends and some wonderful professors. However, I can not imagine myself ever being happy if I had stayed in a major I didn’t love. I don’t know if I would have ever realized how much having a strong passion and conviction for what you do changes your life.

Whether you are in your dream major, in the midst of changing, or lost in uncertainty, I hope that this article can give you a glimpse of hope. I want you to know that graduating with a degree is something you can do for yourself, and that majoring in something that drives you will never mean you are weak or giving up.

If anything, changing your major only makes you stronger.