I don’t know about you, but I changed my major about five times in my first two years of college. I started my college career as a biochemistry major. While I always loved science, the prospect of spending all of my time hunched over a microscope didn’t appeal to me. The fact that I nearly failed Organic Chemistry II was also a pretty good indication that I needed to look at something else – but mostly the microscope thing!

From there, I moved to the usual suspects of psychology, political science, and history. (No offense to these disciplines, but one has to admit that a number of students select these majors because they appear familiar—either because of high school courses or popular culture. How many first-year students declared criminal justice as their majors following the popularity of the CSI shows? A lot!) While aspects of each of these disciplines interested me, I couldn’t see myself pursuing any of them. One day, my well-intentioned mother mentioned occupational therapy as a potential career. It made sense and seemed like something that could interest me. After all, my mother knew me pretty well, so why shouldn’t I take her advice? Here was the rub, though: the occupational therapy program was only available at a neighboring English-speaking university. (Did I fail to mention that I was attending the Université de Montréal and French is my first language?) So, in order to improve my English and increase my chances of being accepted in the program, I registered for English courses at my university. In addition to the regular English composition course, I also enrolled in Postcolonial Literature and Twentieth-Century American Literature (What can I say? I didn’t know any better, and there was nobody to stop me). Immediately, a whole new world opened up to me. Here was a program that integrated psychology, history, political science and many more of my interests! Forget occupational therapy, I had found my niche! I became (cue the music) an English major.

Here is the thing, though. Even though my journey to a fulfilling major was a tortuous and indirect one, I am one of the lucky ones. As a first-generation, low-income college student, I was fortunate to have access to a family friend who informed me about her job in the biochemistry field, to have a mother who encouraged me without pressure to find a field that truly inspired me, to take courses that still counted towards my degree (thanks to an interdisciplinary degree), and to have found my passion before the cost of meandering became too great. Sadly, a number of my friends were not so lucky and, either because of the lack of cultural capital, family support, comprehensive degree plans, financial resources, and/or overall guidance, dropped out of college without completing a degree.

My personal experience, as well as my dedication to student success, is why I am so invested in advocating for higher education institutions to provide an onboarding experience that purposefully integrates career and major information. Too often, students declare a major based on what or who they know (popular culture, parents, friends) without necessarily understanding what they are getting themselves into or if their potential careers really fit their interests, aptitudes or values. Having a structure that would facilitate the student’s self-evaluation as early as possible, as well as continued support and information related to career options would prevent a number of students from changing majors, taking unnecessary courses, and accumulating expenses without getting closer to a degree.

Further, the benefits of having such an onboarding experience available to all students would significantly help eliminate opportunity and wage gaps. (I recognize that most universities may not have the resources to have personal conversations with all incoming students, but I believe that limiting outreach to undeclared students may not solve all problems. Students that have declared a major are not necessarily informed or decided.) Research shows that African American and Hispanic students are severely underrepresented in fields that lead to higher-paying careers, such as STEM, health and business – not because they do not have access to these programs, but because they may not know or be advised to pursue careers in these fields. We owe it to our students to give them all the tools and information necessary for them to make an informed choice and that aligns with their interests and aptitudes.

Through Purpose First, Complete College America is working on building an onboarding structure designed to provide information, support, and guidance to all incoming (or returning) students, helping them to make more informed decisions about their majors and careers. In the coming months, we will be working to fully scale this initiative across the country. I honestly can’t wait to hear about all of the students who, unlike me, will discover their true paths thanks to the support and guidance provided by their institution.