The Ivy Lie

I received this today:

“Dear Clayton,

My name is [redacted] and I am a rising freshman at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, majoring in computer science. I came across your blog after doing research for a final AP macroeconomics project on college grad unemployment. After being done with high school and information to be filled out as requested by college, I finally had the time and thought to write to you.

Your blog posts are well-written even if they rant – it is very hard to give logical arguments in the midst of anger and misery. Your collection of elite education “warning stories” are rich and convincing. Most importantly, think back to your past words:

“In the end, my goal is to help people make better decisions and to avoid making what could well be a catastrophic choice purely out of ignorance and naïveté. This is something my academic advisors never did for me, and I paid the price. It sickens me to see this happening to other people, and I want to put an end to it. My cause is as noble as any can be.”

I believe that you did what you intended to do with your blog, for me.

Pre-college deposit deadline month was a rough time for me. I felt inferiority complex over a handful of classmates’ acceptances into a handful of elite schools when I didn’t fare as well (and I worked very hard for college admissions in the past). At the same time, I was worried for surviving college with a good GPA and internships, but even more for the future post-undergrad job hunt of dread. This resulted in a vicious indecisiveness between McGill University, reputed to be “the Harvard of Canada” to major in nutrition and food science, and UMass Amherst, which is much below tier one, to major in computer science. McGill represented prestige and a passion for something that had an uncertain future for employment. On the other hand, UMass Amherst stood for a lack of prestige but an underlying practicality.

My parents were indifferent to prestige, since they knew full well of how it didn’t guarantee employment. So they left the choice to me.

After an info session with McGill, my parents pointed out that the university’s system was so rigid and didn’t allow for electives, as indicated by the many requirements for each major. Also, since I was accepted into a separate campus on McGill (MacDonald), it was so isolated, and didn’t provide wi-fi or a meal plan in the dorms. Were these all worth it for a big name?

These aspects scared me into putting my deposit onto UMass. I definitely thought I would regret the impracticality of McGill, but I still lacked confidence in my decision and had trouble letting go. This showed as I still kept the email that provided McGill account information, and I avoided telling people where I was going for college by changing subjects in conversations and putting off writing “UMass Amherst” on college rosters in the classrooms. And there was still the lingering inferiority complex.

But then I read your blog entries. I felt the emotion pouring from your reminiscences of college and was solidly convinced that prestige has the potency to ruin. Just because my classmates were accepted by many elite schools and going to one of them, does not mean that they are superior to me in every way possible, and will only keep soaring above me as they go through undergrad. The pride of being in the top 10 will easily succumb to potential debilitating workloads and cutthroat neighbors. Even if one may not get to major in a passion and instead in something practical, I think it is better to have a steady job that allows time and resources for other passions. Poverty is crippling and has greater and more numerous cons, as shown by your story.

With my renewed confidence in choosing a state school, I would like to thank you with all my heart for having the will and effort to help others evade the same misery you experienced. I hope that the thought of knowing that you gave great solace to someone will ease the burden of having to remember bitter memories. I am very happy that you found success later on, but at the same time, it breaks my heart that the monstrous past keeps clawing at you. It is a fact that you made a difference for me, no matter how much disbelief you may be in.”

I responded:

“Thanks for writing and you’re very welcome. It’s touching to know that the blog has made a real difference for you, and I think you’ve made a prudent decision. One of the things that shocked me when I stayed on the Princeton campus back in high school was how incredibly rundown the dorms were… I stayed in a four-person room, which was stocked with rock-hard bunk beds, crank windows (many of which wouldn’t open), and wobbly grade-school desks and laughably worn-out wooden chairs that looked as old as the campus itself. Our entire floor was serviced by a single communal bathroom, which was tiny, with far too few showers and toilets for the number of students in the building. And you can forget about air-conditioning. But they told us we were in one of the nicest buildings on campus. It blows my mind that a university can succeed at building a multibillion-dollar endowment, but they can’t bother to do basic renovations to the students’ living facilities. I’ve heard very similar stories from Yale.

Anyway, I think you also made a good choice in terms of major – the software industry is vibrant; unlike many sectors of our economy these days, there are a lot of secure and well-paid jobs available. With respect to curriculum, one of the things that has surprised me, particularly with computer science, is just how standardized the coursework is between schools. If anything, it seems like state schools offer a more practical set of classes, perhaps because their students are more focused on the vocational aspect of their educations.

Best wishes and best of luck at Amherst. I think you’ve made the right choice in going public, and rest assured that you have nothing to be ashamed of in doing so.”