This reading process has been full of nothing but disheartened sighs and still lingering thoughts of aiming lower. I genuinely felt that I’d chosen to read this book at the worst time possible—superficially, it’s done little more than plummet my self-esteem and make me doubt my potential. In fact, I gave up halfway and wrote Soliloquy Of a Romantic to retain what little faith I had in myself. But I rarely leave a book half-read, so I persevered through what has possibly been the most excruciating read of my life—simply because it was all too real.

William Deresiewicz dropped a bomb in the elite education field two years ago with the publication of this no-so-original but nonetheless impactful piece of social criticism. Personal experience of teaching in elite institutions, persuasive evidence provided by former students, and ideologies developed by others (Page Smith, Allan Bloom, Alexandra Robbins, etc.) were cited in order to substantiate the claim that the American elite are being miseducated. Many aspects regarding American education and society were covered, ranging from social classes to meritocracies, from the Ivy League to state universities... The content seemed to be separated into various parts, but they did seem a bit muddled up due to the fact that this topic itself is an intricate web of influential factors.

The major theme that spoke to me was the universal obsession with university rankings. I’d assumed they were tools of the mass media and concerned parents, but apparently the institutions themselves are paying growing attention to this annual grading—while their main concentration should be delivering a meaningful education to kids who’ve out-worked their peers to gain access. In fact, Deresiewicz alleges that some schools have intentionally altered the grades or scores delivered to the media, just so their ranking might elevate. This wild assumption that a simple array of numbers can truly define a type of education is, to me, utterly absurd. From a broader perspective, I see an obsession with numbers. Let us not kid ourselves—we, as outsiders to the American elite education system, see no fundamental difference among the most appraised institutions. But in the eyes of Deresiewicz, who’s been a faculty member at Yale, there is yet to be a distinction: “I recently heard from a high school student who was trying to decide between Harvard, Stanford, and Yale. Could I give him some advice? I don’t know, I asked him, do you think you look better in crimson, cardinal, or royal blue?” Some of my friends who’ve been busying themselves with college application the last few months complain that they’re clueless when answering the same question posed by each school: why us? Everyone knows almost every student applies to any institution for the same reason: the ranking is decent, and nothing too bad is dragging down that number. This was my personal moment of truth—I have, too, become distracted by superficial numbers. But I’ve also been consciously fighting that intuition—I urge myself to look past numbers and into the education that I will be able to receive.

This frenzy exists not only with students selecting schools, but also with schools selecting students—a focus on scores is demonstrated. Of course, this is the optimal method given that schools don’t have enough time to get to know applicants—efficiency is guaranteed with everyone hurling in scores that represent a mere fraction of their academic success. But we are to question ourselves: what do we all gain from this efficiency? Do hard-working students that are looking for an education (instead of a satisfactory GPA) obtain the coveted spots in prestigious institutions? Or are blind over-achievers thrown into classrooms full of their counterparts—excellent sheep with honed edges? There is no black-or-white answer. I’ve become growingly aware that no individual can represent a group, and every persona we perceive is more or less a stereotypical. Nonetheless, it is true that the diversity of the alleged elite is declining as the numbers of graduates pursuing careers in economics, trade, consulting, law etc. are rocketing. This results from, in Deresiewicz’s words, helicopter parents pushing and pulling, and most importantly, students’ fear of failing in fields they truly aspire to. I have too many friends that devote themselves to their hobby so passionately that it could be their future major, but the same group of people turn, instead, to the typically parent pleasing and well paying occupations. I feel quite blessed to have realized earlier in life that I am free to become whatever I want, and that my parents have no expectations for me other than to be genuinely happy.

This leads to Deresiewicz’s categorization of majors: some are purely for the enrichment of the soul—the liberal arts and sciences, and others are purely occupational—law, economy, clinical training etc. It is evident that this black-or-white differentiation is severely biased. Some people are born to do business, and some boast talent in language. It would be counter-discriminatory to declare all students majoring in, say, economics, to be lost in life. But it is certainly unnatural to have such a dramatic rise in the percentage of Ivy League graduates going straight to Wall Street and its counterparts—a ghastly 30-something percent. These people will undoubtedly be endowed with coveted social statuses and high incomes, but I’m also certain that quite a few will later regret not learning what had made their souls come to life in their teenage years. So in this respect, it seems as if Deresiewicz’s suggestion that we all major in what interests us most is rational. He moves on to provide compelling evidence that studying the arts will build our capacity to comprehend and our ability to learn, whereas vocational skills easily date and can be attained whenever one wishes. At this point my feelings are mixed. Half of me is glad that I have similar opinions, but the other half feels underprepared for whatever awaits.

This is when I sat down with myself and pondered what specific part of this was frightening so much. Its extremity was what I attributed this intimidation to. Indeed this is such a controversial book that many argue for it while many strongly oppose. I’ve always believed that not every HYPSter student is a soulless overachiever, and not every prestigious institution sucks the life out of students. Being confident in whatever form of education we choose relies on our full understanding of ourselves and what we’re hoping to add to our character. There is no need to fret over numbers and scores, nor is there a point in comparing ourselves to others. The only approach that’s logically valid, and will prevent us from becoming excellent sheep, is being clear-minded and persistent. Originally I thought this was the worst time for me to read this book. Now I’m thinking, better now than ever.