why do we hate our humanities classes?

Earlier this week, while walking through the halls at school, I overheard a couple of people discussing how they simply could not care less about their English class. I believe their exact words were, "Why should I write my essay if Chat GPT could just do it for me?" Later that day, I nodded along as one of my friends talked about how unimportant she considered every one of her liberal arts classes. Neither of these ten or twenty second interactions were particularly out of the ordinary; I hear these types of conversations on the daily. However, they got me thinking: what made so many people decide that these classes had almost no value whatsoever, when truly, I believe it to be the opposite?

I don't consider myself to be an extraordinary writer, or the fastest reader, or someone who possesses the perfect level of intuition required to craft a remarkable thesis. Nevertheless, I believe that I value my history, language, and literature classes significantly, and often more than the people around me. I tend to feel a bit discouraged when I hear my classmates brag about how little effort they put into their latest analytical writing piece, and more often than not, I'm hesitant to admit when I put several hours into outlining, analyzing, and annotating something, and enjoying doing so. I can understand how these classes might not be inherently enjoyable to some people, yet, when I hear others gleefully boasting to anyone who'll listen about their indolent nature towards anything involving reading or writing, I do not hold that level of understanding towards them. I have my own preferences in my classes, of course, but there will never be a moment in which I'll think it's impressive to laugh over choosing to give nothing to an entire subject.

If I'm being fully honest, I myself often fall victim to this exact mindset. I attend a rigourous, well-rounded, but nevertheless very S.T.E.M. oriented school. When I look around me, I'm certain that a majority of my peers will end up as wonderfully successful doctors, CEOs, software engineers, or private equity partners. I do not look down upon them for this – in fact, I strongly admire each person around me who challenges themself, who exhibits a strong work ethic, and who will undoubtedly attend an Ivy league college. It's a hugely motivating environment to be around, and I cannot deny that. There's a reasonable outlook here, where someone could argue that you'd want to prioritize S.T.E.M. classes if you wanted to get a secure, well-paying job. You can't argue that the average doctor makes more than the average novelist – it is a fact, and it makes sense. You also can't deny the impact of careers in healthcare, or science, or finance – they are indescribably important and have changed our world in priceless ways.

But, if I were to imagine a hypothetical scenario, in which I had both a history and chemistry exam the next day, I don't think I'd find myself putting more work towards that history exam. It wouldn't matter if I was better at chemistry than history (what a world to imagine), or if the exams were weighted the same, because I think I'd still put more of my time into that chemistry exam. When I think about this, it confuses me a bit, because, between the two, I believe that I'm more likely to pursue a career closer to history than to chemistry. So, logically, that chemistry exam shouldn't matter to me as much, right? But for some reason, a C on a chemistry exam feels catastrophic compared to a C on a history exam.

Similarly, in casual conversation with my close friends, I might say something along the lines of, "Oh, I couldn't get into that college. I'm not smart enough!" to which, many of them would reply, "But you are! You're really smart. You get A's on all your essays!" and I'll catch myself responding by saying that doesn't mean much, that my essay wasn't as important as that trigonometry test, that at least they're "math and science smart," and I'm not, so who even cares? I don't even consider myself that poor of a math or science student. Yes, I have to work much harder to do well on labs or exams, but when I put my time and effort in, I can get a B+ or an A-, maybe even an A in those classes. I find those classes quite interesting and enjoyable, until I'm left feeling like something that's a stretch for me is effortless for everyone else, which tends to be why I automatically say that I'm not good at these classes. They don't come naturally to me, and I often ask questions that make me feel entirely incompetent compared to everyone else. Sometimes it feels difficult, or even unachievable, but I'd never deem it fair to scoff at these classes and not even put a drop of my time or effort into them. So it tends to puzzle me when I see others do this for two, maybe three, of their 5 core classes.

Thinking back to one of the conversations I overheard, sometimes I wonder if it's the prevalence of AI nowadays that leads to this. Many people seem to view AI as a replacement for writing or critical thinking, but the reality is that an AI is more likely to complete your calculus homework faster and more accurately than you are, as opposed to writing a sincerely well-done essay. Yes, your essay might take longer if you completed it yourself, it might require more abstract thinking, rather than quantitative analysis, and it might feel a lot harder. But when did this stop being a good thing? When did challenging yourself to write a beautiful interpretation of a piece of classic literature become "boring" and "stupid"? Why did a robot, who can't react to the word choices or emotions conveyed through a story, become a replacement for doing it yourself? It just doesn't make sense.

I'm thankful to have met people who have devoted their lives to studying Greek tragedies or ancient history, or classical languages like Latin or Sanskrit. Several of these people have been some of the most interesting and honorable people I have ever spoken with, and they're like a breath of fresh air amidst a world devoted to mathematics and computers, and little more. I hope that we, as a society, can one day learn to value art and literature in the same way that we once did. Thank you.