The moment I got the acceptance email I ran to my parents and screamed in excitement. My mom, confused of what was going on, asked, “What are you doing?” The adrenaline was pumping through my head, almost about to explode. “I got into Cornell!! The Cornell!!! I’m going to be an Ivy League student!”

Getting accepted to an Ivy League school was the happiest day of my life. As someone who came from modest means, I looked at it as a gateway to my future success. My acceptance helped validate all the sleepless nights and incessant stress in high school. Grades and SAT scores were things to show off, but getting into a top college was the real celebration. I was enamored by Cornell’s #15 ranking on the U.S. School’s College Ranking and the praise its undergraduate business program was receiving. Built on a storied history and an amazing alumni base, Cornell would have amazing resources, let alone one of the most beautiful campuses in the country. College would be my time to learn new subjects and get prepared for the real world. Cornell has world-class professors among diverse fields of study. But Ivy league schools also have the highest employment rates upon graduation. It seemed that my future was in good hands.

Fast forward three years. The bags under my eyes were battle scars left from several semesters worth of midterms and finals. My stomach ached from the beer and pizza that had been staples through my college tenure. Presently, I was stressing about pre-enroll and interviewing for the perfect internship (i-banking of course). College proved to be the opposite of what I had envisioned. My mind was focused more on getting an A in the class, than actually trying to learn and apply the material. In addition, many of the classes focused on theoretical situations, instead of real world problems. So even when I managed to apply some concepts, they were often too lofty to be immediately practical. College was supposed to be a time to prepare you for the workforce, but the only thing I got out of it was the ability to game the interview process. I learned how to have the perfect resume, sell myself in an interview, and network with professionals. Despite knowing these things, I lacked the knowledge or skills that could set me apart in the workplace. I had to learn these real world skills on my own.

College had become an escape from real life. It was an excuse to not take ownership of my goals. I was increasingly unsure of what college was even for. Some see college as a necessary step in life, and others — an achievement worthy of praise. But does this title really mean anything? In some ways, it helps you earn respect from elders and provides access to opportunities that many people don’t have. More fundamentally though, our society is built on such assumptions and quick judgments. Saying that you have a college degree is often the difference from being perceived as someone that has it figured out to someone that yet needs to figure it out. I really believed in the value of college. I thought that by going to a good college, I would figure out my life’s purpose, and from there, I would make my path to success. But after years in college, I realized that was not the case. College was actually holding me back.

The biggest difference between high school and college is the amount of choice you have with your time. Some people allocate that time to partying, others, to job searches. Some try to double major, and others just like getting a lot of sleep. I found that one’s choices around time often align one’s values. Some people think college may be the last time to have fun while others concentrate on attaining the perfect GPA, in favor of future security. I chose to figure out who I really was. I tried a ton of new things and met many interesting people. But I soon found out that college was not for me. I liked learning by doing. Endless hours of studying grew less bearable. It was a boring process and I ended up forgetting everything the next day anyway. Instead, I preferred to engage my own interests: I read books, listened to podcasts, started a few projects, and talked with actual experts.

For example, when I had an idea for a revolutionary product, I had no knowledge of how to actually turn that idea into a company. So I checked out online classes, like Stanford’s “How to Start a Startup” and listened to the stories of entrepreneurs on Jason’s podcast “TWIST.” I read all of the books they recommended and when I was through, reached out to other entrepreneurs to get their advice. It was this process of doing that helped me understand what I really wanted to learn.

Throughout that process, I was struck by how little actual learning came from school — which now seemed more about accepting structure and following directions than anything else. College pushes people to aim for that top grad school or high paying first job. It doesn’t promote making mistakes and taking risks. To me, school makes people more risk averse. Students seek opportunities where they want to be comfortable. And when you are comfortable, you won’t challenge yourself. Failing to challenge yourself ultimately prevents you from ever reaching your full potential.

Dropping out of school has been glamorized thanks to cases like Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg. It is something done by someone who has it all figured out, or by someone who has really screwed up. For me, it would have freed time to work on my company and be more productive in my personal life. Despite this opportunity, I could not justify dropping out to my parents. They worked too hard to get me here. Dropping out would have been to dismiss all that they had done for me. Instead I took the next best option: I graduated a year early. It gave me the opportunity to receive a degree, but also accelerated my life to where I wanted it to be. Although I didn’t drop out of school, I did all I could to learn what I wanted to learn and to put myself in a position to follow my passion.