I Studied English, Am Pursuing an MD—and Cherish the Humanities

While the marketplace may not value interdisciplinary studies, I’m determined to stay connected to arts and literature

“POV” comprises brief first-person essays by young alumni. Do you have a topic in mind? Email us at cornellians@cornell.edu!

By Serin Koh ’26, BA ’25

Three years ago, I trudged up the Slope under a scorching sun and an oversized backpack as I imagined with thrill the day I would graduate.

Flash forward to eight months ago, when I said farewell to the College of Arts & Sciences in true Ithaca fashion: huddled under a dripping umbrella to shelter myself from stormy clouds and cold rain.

Now, with a BA in English, I am continuing my journey toward—to most people’s surprise—a career in medicine.

Serin Koh

As I toggled between calculations, laboratories, Shakespeare, and literary analyses, it was undeniable that my STEM coursework was far more laborious than that of my literature classes.

Fast-paced lectures sent me scrambling to submit homework on time and to spend long nights at the library; inevitably, more of my time and energy were consumed by my science classes and, gradually, the number of novels I read or writing I worked on outside of my English classes dwindled.

As I toggled between calculations, laboratories, Shakespeare, and literary analyses, it was undeniable that my STEM coursework was far more laborious than that of my literature classes.

Despite this clash between my two interests, however, I learned to value such interdisciplinarity, which universities often hail as the future of higher education.

Cornell itself manifests this ideal: all nine undergraduate colleges require students to pass first-year writing seminars, along with math and science courses. In fact, CALS codifies such academic diversity through its unique interdisciplinary studies major.

This educational fusion extended to all my four years of college. While the demands of each course were challenging, I ultimately learned to cherish the interdisciplinary skills and knowledge gleaned from both ends of the spectrum.

Serin Koh reading as a child, holding a book in a bookstore
A young Koh indulges her love of reading.

Molecular symbols from organic chemistry lectures resurfaced in my poetry discussions, and literary analyses aided me in understanding complex biology concepts. Over time, my coursework range exposed me to a philosophical epiphany: that all disciplines, along with people, are interconnected.

As Cornell celebrates, an interdisciplinary education did indeed teach me to wonder, think, and question through a nuanced, layered perspective.

Hence, with high hopes, I graduated and jumped into the stern reality of job applications.

As most recent graduates can agree, this process can be daunting, draining, and even humbling. I realized an alarming contradiction: while universities emphasize the significance of an interdisciplinary education, professional institutions tend to reward narrowly focused trajectories and experiences.

In my own pursuits in healthcare, my English degree was often met with puzzlement, and my work with writing deemed irrelevant.

I realized an alarming contradiction: while universities emphasize the significance of an interdisciplinary education, professional institutions tend to reward narrowly focused trajectories and experiences.

In the “real” world, I quickly learned to introduce myself as an aspiring physician rather than an English major; my degree was reduced to a mere line on my CV. The interdisciplinarity that had been prioritized for so many years cowered beyond school walls.

Of course, professions require expertise. Even so, I ask: why must interdisciplinarity equate to inadequacy?

I regrettably admit that doubt and uncertainty infiltrated my mind: am I surrendering my identity as a reader and writer by committing to a career in STEM? Will my degree lay untouched in the decades to come?

How can I play my part in upholding the humanities as they decline in popularity—especially when artificial intelligence is threatening to redefine art?

And finally: in today’s productivity-driven culture, is it even possible to maintain both interests equally as I pursue one of them for a career?

For the past months, I have grappled with such questions. In this self-reflection, I traced my adoration for English literature to its origin: a hobby. Throughout my childhood, reading and writing liberated my curiosity, creativity, and imagination.

Serin Koh wearing a lab coat and blue latex gloves
The author in the lab during her current postbac studies.

Yet with age, the amount of time I dedicated to such hobbies was whittled away; even on the Hill, they were rapidly replaced by essays and deadlines.

In a society in which both students and job applicants must sharpen themselves into hyper-fixated, specialized agents of their respective fields, hobbies—often labeled as “unproductive”—are a dying-yet-crucial space of creative and intellectual identity.

With this understanding, I have begun to read and write more. In these small efforts, I began to answer those gaping questions; perhaps my own conscious decision to commit to my hobbies is my own resistance to the productivity-driven culture of the workplace.

In today’s productivity-driven culture, is it even possible to maintain both interests equally as I pursue one of them for a career?

By admiring one book or illustration, I am nurturing my personal devotion to the arts—one that I was so fearful to lose. While hobbies certainly will not reform the one-dimensional culture of the professional workspace, perhaps the mere recognition and celebration of them is a first step.

So, return to that book that is lying facedown on the table, or that bookmarked recipe, or that painting on the easel. I implore you: preserve the hobbies that complete you.

A former opinion columnist for the Daily Sun, Serin Koh ’26, BA ’25, is currently enrolled in a pre-health post-baccalaureate program in NYC. She hopes to contribute to both healthcare and storytelling through her work.

(All images provided.)

Published March 17, 2026

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