Living & Arts

Buried in studies, ignoring society

In print | April 9, 2009

Maybe this is simply because I’ve been a little bit behind on work recently, or maybe because I’ve just been lazy, but I’ve been lamenting the amount of work that academia demands. It’s not that I don’t feel that classes should be rigorous, but there is a limit to what one human body can take. And I’ve watched so many of my classmates and myself consistently choose work over being healthy. Now, I know that there exist professors who know damn well that their students are not going to do all of the work that they assign. And, while I would argue that it is a bit silly to be assigning work that is obviously not going to get done, there is something else that I have found not just here at Swarthmore, but at home as well.

This is the need to put work ahead of self ‘til the point of mental, physical and spiritual exhaustion. It’s something that I fear will grow only more common, and it’s something that seems to be a running theme in academia, especially given what I’ve seen at Swarthmore. Even with the caveat that most professors know that they assign a bit more than can really be expected to get done, there’s no ignoring the guilt that I feel sitting in a classroom discussion about such-and-such author of such-and-such article that I haven’t read. Listening to my peers eloquently spin off such-and-such anecdote about Merleau-Ponty (whom I haven’t read either) that really elucidates the frameworks set forth in said article, and then listening to my professors praise said students who spins off said anecdote – it’s just not fun. It makes me feel guilty, as already said, but it also sets off another emotion in me. One that is far more ugly than guilt: it provokes my competitive edge. I feel that I need to participate in order to not just raise my grade but to be stimulated, to truly learn, to get my money’s worth. Which might not be totally untrue. But there’s such a difference between the girl who stayed up until 2 a.m. the night before, worked her ass off studying for a quiz and decided that instead of pulling an all-nighter, it would be alright to just brush off the reading this once and go to sleep, and the girl who beats herself up the next day for not having pulled that all-nighter and doing all that reading. It’s as if how exhausted, bleary-eyed and dazed you were is just a figment of your imagination. You were just lazy. If your peers read the text, why couldn’t you? Why is everyone so much smarter than you? Will such-and-such professor know that you didn’t do the reading? Will s/he think you’re just a slacker?

The sad thing is, I am not the only one who has felt this way, though the stress perhaps does affect everyone a bit differently. So what’s the point? Yes, higher education is difficult. Work sucks, like, a lot. But what I am talking about is more than just the actual work itself. It’s the feeling of inferiority that comes with being unable to get everything done to the best of your ability. I wish that we, as students, could be more open about our frailties, and when I say frailties, I’m not only talking about medicalized conditions such as depression and anxiety, though believe me, those need to be brought out into the open as well. I’m talking about the everyday mundane stress that regularly afflicts students at Swarthmore. Now, academia is a world of privilege. For millions of Americans, working to the point of exhaustion is a necessity, especially given recent developments, which leads me to ask the question. For all the work that we do, how are we benefitting the world? With all the unrealistic piles of work that we’re assigned, it seems as if we’re all too busy to answer the really important questions.

Lauren is a sophomore. You can reach her at lramana1@swarthmore.edu.