My Pre-Med Pivot to Computer Science

It was always made clear that I had to go down a conventionally "successful" path. My options, a doctor or lawyer, were limited. With me being probably the most indecisive person you'll ever meet, I woefully thought that this decision made my life a lot easier. I knew I didn't want to be a lawyer—along with being indecisive; I am also terrified of confrontation—so only one option became available.

I had somehow convinced myself that not only would I be a doctor, but I would be the greatest doctor in the world. I had always been in STEM—my parents first enrolled me into a science aligned daycare at 2. My report cards always reflected a huge love for science, and I then went on to a STEM honors program in high school. I was also an avid Grey's Anatomy watcher, so I had romanticized the idea of being a doctor to the fullest extent possible. Amidst the 7 am hallway fist fights, gross public school lunches, and teachers that would have rather been doing anything BUT teaching, I would seldomly come into contact with students taking AP computer science. One look at whatever colorful IDE my peers were using, and I immediately told myself, "there's no way you could ever figure that stuff out." This was my first exposure to computer science and, quite frankly, my last for what would be nearly half of a decade.

And here we are, almost five years later, and I'm doing it!

Filling in this five-year gap is full of confusion and desperation. I had already been rejected from my dream school, NYU. My academic history is a little shaky. I had started middle school and was averaging around an 80%. While this isn't awful, it isn't good either. It was simply average. I then stumbled across NYU, and I immediately fell in love—the culture, the sleek name, the location, it was everything I dreamed of, and more. Because of NYU, I decided to take my studies exceptionally seriously, and I finished high school with nearly a 103% average.

But still, I was rejected—what a slap to the face.

Here, I enrolled in St. John's on a full scholarship, which was the light in the very dark tunnel. I registered as a biomedicine major and contemplated tacking on a chemistry minor. That summer, I couldn't contain my excitement. It wasn't NYU, but it was still college. I was finally going to be a college student and begin my endeavor to become a doctor! And remember, not only a doctor but the best doctor the world had ever seen.

At 9:05 am on Thursday, my first college class began—general chemistry 1. Not only was it my first college class, but it was my first pre-med class. I woke up extra early to get ready. I planned out my outfit a few nights before, fixed my hair, and even meditated. This would be the beginning of my career, and I wanted to remember every second of it.

I walked into class with my bookbag full of the essentials, my laptop, notebooks, a million different colored pens, and a whole lot of optimism. As I usually do, I chose a seat right at the front, and the clock hit 9:05.

Within 20 minutes of my professor speaking, I had a sick gut feeling. This wasn't for me.

And not only was it not for me, I absolutely hated it.

What I believed to be my passion for half of my life, within 20 minutes, I discovered I hated. I hated studying chemistry, I didn't have a care in the world for biology, anatomy was alright, but this was what I would be studying for the rest of my life? No way.

I couldn't fathom what else was out there for me. I had been preparing for this moment for my entire life, to finally sit in a college and study medicine. That entire week, my mind was a mess trying to reassure myself.

"This is just the adjustment period, of course you love medicine."

A nearly two-year battle of trying desperately to gaslight myself into believing medicine was for me had just begun. What was supposed to be the beginning of my career was really the beginning of the end.

With my minimal options growing up, I had already decided I did not want to be a lawyer, and I had just now figured out that my passion for medicine was nothing more than a fantasy. I had romanticized being a doctor to such an extreme degree that I was completely detached from its reality.

I contemplated taking a gap semester, but I knew my parents would have crucified me. Being a first-generation American and college student, I held the extreme weight of being a "conventionally successful" child of immigrants that I could be bragged about to my other family members.

So here on out, I decided I would put on a brave face and carry out what my parents wanted—I was going to be a doctor whether I liked it or not.

As the semesters progressed, my dismay for medicine only grew. I couldn't believe that something I deeply cared for became something I hated. I despised the days when I had to sit down and study for chemistry or when I had to participate in a four-hour lab that didn't excite me in the least. To accompany this, I was surrounded by excited pre-med students who were in love with what they were doing. They complained about the stress, but there wasn't a shred of doubt in their minds that the path they were on was the correct one. This was the first time in my life that I had ever felt this alone, but all I could do was manipulate myself into believing that the love would come and that I'd find my way.

COVID-19 had reared its ugly head, and we were in total lockdown out of seemingly nowhere. My anxiety had already been at an all-time high; I was in a perpetual state of anger, sadness, and loneliness. As you can imagine, quarantine only exacerbated these emotions.

After a couple of weeks of wallowing in my misery, something finally clicked. To this day, I'm not particularly sure where this came from—I had been studying philosophy, so maybe this is who I have to thank. Still, almost instantaneously, I finally became comfortable with the idea that I needed to change.

My daily routine is straightforward: I wake up, go to the gym, study, make food, and go to bed. Sometimes I'll have a fun day out with loved ones, but typically, I abide by my rigorous routine. Any change makes me extremely uncomfortable, whether it be missing the gym, eating an unhealthy fast food meal, or going to bed unreasonably late. However, I began visualizing what the next decade of my life was projected to look like. I would wake up, get a brisk workout, study, study, and study more. The studying aspect wasn't something I shied away from, but rather, I entirely placed myself in this imaginary world that I would live in a couple of years to come. The emotions I felt in this projection were precisely how I felt at that moment but magnified to the extreme. I couldn't stand feeling this way for another second, let alone another decade.

What was it that I wanted in life? I am admittedly a materialistic person—I have always loved the finer things in life. I began to think deeper, though. What was I chasing after? Would a flashy watch or fast car provide me with what I longed for? Don't get me wrong, as someone who grew up in a low-income household, I believe that money can unequivocally aid in happiness, but did I have to be a doctor to obtain these nice things at the expense of my happiness? Indeed I didn't have to sacrifice my happiness to live a fruitful lifestyle?

"I have to make a change." To what? I wasn't sure yet, but I had finally admitted that a change needed to be made.

When I have an idea, it consumes every fiber of my being. I work relentlessly at it for a couple of days, and then the spark begins to wear off, and another idea takes its place. It has been a flaw that I've worked on, but at the time, this was the state my mental capacity was in. That very moment I decided I needed to change; I ran to my laptop and went to the DegreeWorks "What If?" section. I spent over an hour scrolling through the list of majors and made a list of those that piqued my interest. Finance, philosophy, actuarial science, and management were at the top of my list. I went through the list one more time and made direct eye contact with the words "computer science." The only experience I had with this field was a bunch of ominous-looking letters on a colorful IDE screen, but I felt compelled to dig deeper for some reason. Onto the list it went…

Thereafter, I discovered edx.com, a website offering thousands of free online courses.

I tried out a finance class, and it was fine, but not a passion. The lack of work-life balance was a significant deterrent.

I looked into philosophy, a huge passion of mine, but did I want to make philosophy a career? Could I even make a career out of philosophy? I didn't want to take the risk. I needed certainty in my life.

I tackled each field I had written down, and many fundamental flaws came my way. Finally, there it was. CS50: Introduction to Computer Science. In a course offered by Harvard University, I had flashbacks to those colorful IDEs my friends would love to show off. To this day, I'm still not certain as to what compelled me to try it out. This subject hadn't crossed my mind since I first encountered it in high school, and yet, here I was, taking this CS50 course.

The very first program, a traditional "Hello, world!" code, had me completely and utterly hooked. I built a program that spoke to me! Of course, it was only three lines long, but still, it talked! And I built it!

I then learned about user input and had a field day with that. My Eclipse IDE was stuffed with programs that read simply the users' age and spat it back out. Slowly but surely, within a week of programming, I had fallen in love. It was hard, unlike anything I had ever done before, but I loved it. Truly, for the first time, I felt passion for the work I was doing. It had a purpose, and it was something that I looked forward to. It ticked off all of the boxes, and most importantly, I felt happy. I sent in a major switch application within a week of following the course. I had to consult with my advisor, who was shocked I was making this change, but it felt right. I followed my gut, and I hadn't felt this degree of happiness for a very long time.

Here I am now, finishing up a software engineering internship where I have been offered a parttime role while I complete my senior year. I have another exciting internship this summer and in talks with many different recruiters about fall opportunities. I no longer dread the idea of studying; I welcome it. I am by no means the greatest coder, but I truly believe my passion for the field is one in a million. I used to possess so much regret for sticking in an unhappy major for so long, but it was a painful lesson I needed to learn—I had to experience total dismay for my career path to fully appreciate what it means to be in a field that you truly love.

Maybe you're just reading this out of curiosity, or you are also struggling with the path that you're on. Still, regardless of the reasoning, I have one cliche quote from one of my favorite people to have ever existed—"If you are working on something that you really care about, you don't have to be pushed. The vision pulls you" — Steve Jobs.

On the off chance that even one of you is struggling with the path you're on, I hope to give you a little more confidence, too; at the very least, consider what else is out there. Whether you are a college student with zero work experience or in your 40s with decades of experience, it is never too late.