Once upon a time (and way before that), we humans developed these nifty little social conventions to group, re-group, sub-group, and un-group ourselves. From the times of serfs and knights (thank you, seventh-grade history) to modern-day, cliché movie-style high school cliques, Homo sapiens have been and remain positively infatuated with classifying ourselves.

Up to this point, I have avoided using the word labels, although this is clearly what I’m talking about. “But why? Isn’t clarity the pinnacle of good writing?” (That’s in quotes because you were thinking it in your head. And even if you initially weren’t, you just read it, so it was in your head anyways. Mwahaha.) Why, yes, dear reader, it sure is. But think back: before I distracted you with our telepathic dialogue, when the word “labels” first crossed your mind, with it came a world wide web worth of negative associations. Amidst a revolution of individuality with the added influence of the Internet, “labels” have attracted a stigma almost as bad as what they are accused of doing.

This is not an essay in defense of labeling. I simply want to acknowledge the existing perception in order to gain a broader understanding of the topic on which I am sharing my opinions with you. While there are many labels I could talk about, the one I am going to address is the one that has followed me for as long as I can remember:
Hi, I’m Lauren, and according to society, I’m a math and science person.

I believe these labels start forming in middle school, where classes are distinctly separate for the first time, and three types of people emerge: math and science people, English and history/social studies people, and those that classify lunch as a subject. (Did you notice that I just moved every single middle school student into one of three categories? Middle schoolers may be simple creatures, but even they cannot be restrained to three categories.) In these classes, we start noticing what we’re better (and worse) at, and which subjects we like more (although the “type” of student you are usually deals more with what you’re good at rather than what you like).

I’m a math and science person, and this is a label I’ve never argued with. When I first started hearing it said, it took a while to adapt. When I was ten, I was good at all my classes. Why should I now claim mastery of just two?
Telling students, especially impressionable middle schoolers, that they will excel in one subject area limits not only their potential to learn others, but their potential to enjoy them. Sure, science has always been my favorite subject and I find math fascinating, but does that mean I shouldn’t enjoy poetry? I was told that I should find history boring. And for a long time I did. It actually wasn’t until recently that I asked myself why. I enjoyed my U.S. History class, and I was good at it. It definitely wasn’t the same pace as my Calculus class, but why couldn’t I enjoy both?

Much to my surprise, one of my favorite classes this year has been AP Literature. Between my amazing teacher, a great mix of classmates, and riveting conversations, I look forward to class every day. But before this, I never enjoyed English class. Maybe it’s because I just hadn’t had the right one. But maybe it’s because I never allowed an English class to be my favorite.

Anyone who knows me understands my love for science. Physics excites me, and I spend my weekends in the lab. Last year my friends even joked that I would take my cell culture to prom as my date and wear a lab coat–style dress. (Joke’s on them, that’s not sterile.) I mean, I want to be a surgeon (and not because my parents want me to). On the spectrum ranging from math/science to English/history, it would appear that I lie at the very edge of the science end. And I think it is this assumption that has prevented me from enjoying other subjects.

I am not going to try and actively resist these labels, but I won’t follow suit either. I am going to do what makes me happy, not attempt to fit into someone’s preconceived notion of what I should be. Do videos on the string theory bring me jubilation? Sure. Does learning about the relationship of calcium channels and microtubule depolymerization excite me? You bet. But you know what else makes me happy? Writing this. And last time I checked, this kind of writing isn’t a learning objective for any chemistry class.

Obviously, there is some truth in labels. They evolved because of the fast pace at which society moves, where kids think they have to have a career picked before graduating elementary school. Many have arisen from a notion of Social Darwinism – sink or swim, eat or be eaten. We just want to belong to a group (because we all know that you’re less likely to be eaten in a group).
I just used Darwinism to explain a behavior that has graced humanity for the entirety of its existence, and only a science person would do that. So maybe I am a science person.

Or maybe I’m just a person.