Living Deliberately

So the final column of the school year was upon us, and it begged for an essay with closure. Wasn't there some kernel of wisdom we'd gleaned from four years at this erstwhile institution that was worth imparting to the masses? Some definitive word on some subject so we could go out with an ideological bang?

Well, it's easy to be dogmatic in column format. But we didn't want to be too preachy in our final words; no one listens to preachy liberals. We did, however, come up with one request. We'd like to ask one thing of our fellow students (not to mention each other)--something that shouldn't be too much to ask of the intellectual elite, but often seems lost in the blizzard of papers, meetings, OCS visit and general melee that is the Harvard schedule. That is: Don't forget to keep questioning. Everything.

To illustrate with a story: This past summer, Andrea did Let's Go in New Zealand. It sounded plush: traipsing through a lush English-speaking land of sheep and bungee jumps while breaking fresh territory for LG. But when Abby, en route from a semester in Australia, joined the party for a few days, she found nothing even resembling "party." Andrea was doing things in quintessential Harvard style--overdoing them, to the delight of her editors and at her own mental, physical and emotional expense. Repeated exhortations that this was "only a job", that Let's Go was as much about enjoying one's time as it was about meeting deadlines, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Despite the horror stories, approximately zero of our acquaintances heeded our dire warnings about applying to a certain exploitative travel guide company this spring. If you too have been seduced by the apparent wonders of getting-paid-to-travel, at least don't do it Andrea-style. This is the message: Keep reevaluating. Don't get stuck in the rut of mindless achievement, a routine that we are all so undeniably good at. Intrepid explorations in gorgeous foreign lands should not feel like a never-ending Core paper.

So if you find yourself stuck in some dingy hostel late in an Australian night miserably pounding out paragraphs about stultifying historical museums and bad restaurants, in a desperate attempt to meet deadline--stop. Sit back for a moment and rethink why you feel enslaved to a bunch of uptight Harvard kids trapped in a Cambridge office thousands of miles away, when Guatemala awaits; ask yourself again why you wanted to go to India or Ireland in the first place. Go for a beer, go to bed, go do anything rather than cutting and pasting your fun away, because you're supposed to be doing this job for you. It is painfully lame not to at least try to enjoy where you're at here and now.

Of course (and speaking firsthand, obviously), reevaluation is easier said than done. It's simpler to put our lives on auto-pilot and not stop to consider what we're doing and where we really want to go. We know we can excel at doing what's expected of us, what we're told is worthwhile. We've been doing that all our lives. It's asking whether those things are what we really want--and being true to ourselves if the answer is no--which is more difficult.

For instance: Do you really want to be an investment banker? We put this question to you back in December in an op-ed about the insidious allure of recruiting. Again, no one listened to us. So now that half our acquaintances are migrating to J.P. Morgantype places to begin collecting paychecks like they collected university accolades, we say once more--remember to reevaluate. Have a great time in New York, enjoy the company of many others like you, do a good job. But in a year or so, ask yourself whether you enjoy 90-hour work weeks, corporate culture, big city lifestyle. If you do, terrific. And if you don't, remember you're not stuck: You've got a college diploma and skills coming out your ears and your life is yours to design.

Of course, this doesn't apply only to I-bankers and consultants. No one wants to wake up 10 years from now and wonder where the time went, but it's scary how easily this can happen. Adults tell this story again and again. Four years of college went by fast enough; life patterns only get more intractable from here on out. Not thinking about what you're doing and why will only lead to a mid-life crisis long before you've saved up enough for the accompanying sports car.

Harvard kids are notoriously good at doing a good job, whatever the job may be. And we love this; we wouldn't be here if we didn't somehow crave the recognition of success. But to mistake the accolades with self-worth, to conflate outer success with real satisfaction and be lulled into complacency, is to do oneself a profound disservice.

This isn't directed only to seniors. The rut of achievement is debilitating here as well. We are too young to already be trapped in lives that leave us unfulfilled and exhausted. At the risk of triteness, a Thoreauvian dictum needs to be trotted out: Live deliberately. If you're not enjoying yourself now, you certainly won't be as a third-year medical student. Take time off if you need a reminder that there's life outside the Ivy League; it was one of the best things both of us did. While you're here it's all too easy to feel like you're trapped in a trajectory not of your own making.

We'd like to demand the same questioning attitude of our institution. Change comes around so glacially here that it may seem pointless to press issues, but even a place whose ruts of achievement are so well-trod they've become valleys should not be allowed to move forward unthinkingly. This is especially relevant in light of the changes in House life we've seen in the last four years.

With this year's graduation, the last vestiges of the pre-randomization student body will disappear--but that emphatically should not mean it's an issue the administration can shut the book on because no one remembers the good ol' days anymore. University Hall and the Houses have the responsibility to continually reevaluate their efforts to improve student life. However, this won't happen without student demand.

This campus should be asking itself questions about who benefits from the homogenization of House life. Is it the students, for whom "House stereotypes" often meant a caring, tolerant community within the larger, straighter, whiter Harvard world? Or is it the administrators who no longer have to deal with the unseemly issue of self-segregation? Perhaps if the administration is intent on eradicating any semblance of a minority community in house life, they should at least ponder the idea of a cultural center. Randomization shouldn't be accepted by undergrads simply because it's the status quo.

Question the status quo: That seems to be the conclusion, whether your issue is grapes or capitalism or a crappy summer job. We've learned and forgotten a lot of stuff in four years. But finally, we've gleaned from our experiences with this Harvard achievement rat race one thing: the smartest people in the whole affair are the ones who remember to keep thinking.

Abigail R. Branch '98, a social studies concentrator, and Andrea E. Johnson '98-'99, an environmental science and public policy concentrator, live in Quincy House. This is their last column.