Promise of an Unhappy Sophomore: I Shall Not Be Another “Excellent Sheep” (Dec. 21st, 2017)
I boarded my flight in Boston an unhappy undergraduate student of Tufts University. I was excited to head home, to be away from Tufts, but I did not know how to respond, if truthfully, when my parents were to ask me at the gate once I landed how my semester had been. With the high price that comes with higher education, it seems ungrateful to say anything other than “everything is fantastic it’s so worth it.”
The source of my unhappiness, however, was vague, it wasn’t that I wasn’t doing well academically — this was in fact my best academic semester so far, nor was it that I wasn’t happy socially — I still had good friends despite not being completely where I wanted to be socially. So why was I unhappy?
Sophomore year, commonly characterized by the so-called “sophomore slump”, is a time when the initial novelty of freshman year has well worn off, and the illusion of Tufts being “perfect” is shattered. I felt like I was scammed by the fancy advertisements Tufts Admissions boasted, I felt lost in this institution of privilege that is Tufts, an assortment of smart individuals that, for the most part, was following a predictable path towards prestige and wealth. I was part of that mindless flow towards a “safe” and stable career path. While I had my academic passions, I was following a double major path that was rigid and didn’t leave space for much exploration of other subjects or even classes within my majors I was genuinely interested in. I was forcing myself to make concessions on my intellectual explorations just so I’d have a “backup” in case my real passion “didn’t work out.” My “backup” major, of course, was Economics. Do I like economics? The honest answer is “I don’t know, but do I like being rich?” However, I didn’t feel engaged or encouraged to think critically in the economics classes I was taking. I did very well in those classes, but I never felt the desire to do more than the bare minimum to get an A, unlike my other classes. I knew that if I followed this path to graduation, my college academic career would be unexciting, but with potentially more direct job prospects. With that in mind, I ended my semester feeling empty, unsatisfied, and wondering whether paying all this money to come to Tufts was worth it.
Miraculously, on this flight, I didn’t sleep like I always did on flights or car rides. Instead, I read, which is surprising considering the copious amounts of college required readings have pretty much quenched my desire to read recreationally — the last thing I want to do over break is read more. I read a book recommended to me called “Excellent Sheep” and everyone attending a somewhat selective university/secondary school should read it. The author, William Deresiewicz, who himself went to Columbia and taught as a professor at Yale, diagnoses the “excellent sheep” phenomenon of US colleges. I saw myself in the painfully truthful, honest descriptions Deresiewicz said of the typical student at elite American colleges — privileged, entitled, groomed for conventional “success” from birth, fearful of failure, well-socialised within the system, and I saw Tufts from my experiences in his descriptions of the elite research university with a faculty system that rewards research instead of teaching and mentoring. He dissects the historical evolution of American universities and the social changes that lead us to where we are today, a meritocratic society obsessed about status, wealth, and prestige as measurements of success. He exposes the true self we ourselves are not willing to face, and it’s both hard to hear but also refreshing at the same time.
I walked off the plane reborn and inspired, I saw what was wrong in the system I’ve been compelled to believe and succeed in and was determined to change it. I knew exactly how I wanted to spend my undergraduate career and what I wanted to do when I graduate. I had decided that I would be an English major instead, following my true passion of unemployment.
Of course that didn’t happen. While the book didn’t suddenly make me certain of how I wanted to live the rest of my undergraduate years, nor did it give me a sudden epiphany as to how my career will play out. But recognising the problem is the first step to solving it, and over winter break, I’ll be doing a lot of self reflection and thinking a lot about concrete actions for myself.
When I see my parents at the gate, I will tell them what I read, what I felt. I will buy them this book for Christmas, and they will understand. I hope I will not be another “excellent sheep.” 🚫 👍🏻 🐑
