I was well acquainted with the names “Princeton,” “Harvard,” and “Yale” from a very young age. I vividly remember practicing spelling “squirrel” with my Dad while being told the prospect of going to Princeton versus Harvard versus Yale…which is, objectively, stupid and ridiculous. The idea of “mediocrity is deplorable” was planted and quickly sprouted into an ugly tree. High school fed this idea as classes were stratified into AP, Honors, and regular tracks. In the advanced classes, it was typical to see mostly the same crew of students, and we all became very familiar with each other. Shamefully, there was a sort of hush-hush “superiority” among the students in the advanced track as we felt like we were some elite group, destined for some successful, influential white-collar job.
I actually ended up not applying to Princeton, Harvard, or Yale. I knew that I was nothing spectacular, but as several of my friends went on to prestigious, big-name universities, I didn’t want to make it official. Although I only took the most advanced classes and did community service, my grades were alright, nothing spectacular, and the community service I did was nothing off the beaten path and also nothing I really cared about. In short, I was “mediocre,” but worse, I was “mediocre” and pretending to be something better.
Being at college was very tough for me at first because it became very apparent how unremarkable I was within the first week of classes; everyone was very smart, competitive, and they cared about the things they did. I couldn’t even pretend to be something better because it was objectively clear that I was not. Freshman year, BIOL116 (“Information in Living Systems”) with Professor Hicks broke me to some extent (don’t get me wrong though, Prof. Hicks is an incredible human being), but in a necessary way, like a rite of passage. I think everyone in college goes through this rite of passage, one that makes it clear you are nothing special and you are destined to struggle as hard as everyone else, or vice versa. But most importantly, struggling is okay. Long gone were my Harvard dreams; I just wanted an A in this class. I did not end up getting an A, but I did work very hard for my B, and I was happy with something I previously thought was “mediocre” (to which Prof. Hicks adamantly rebukes).
It was then (and after falling short of my expectations a couple more times) that I realized that “mediocre”, or being “average” at something isn’t the end of the world. It’s ridiculous and unhealthy to have grandiose dreams of being spectacular at everything you do. More importantly, be realistic in what you expect in yourself. The most we can do is our best, whatever that outcome may be.
Truthfully, this semester, I’ve been the least productive that I have been in my entire college career. To be fair, I feel like I have been quite productive in the semesters I’ve been at Kenyon so far. So, in contrast, I feel extra “mediocre.” Not to mention, it’s junior year, a critical year for preparing for postgraduate education. Some of it, I’ve just been lazy. But mostly, I feel like I have discovered many things about myself that aren’t strictly scientific, such as doing community service that I do love, spending time with friends that I love dearly, not feeling crushed by intense academic pressure to succeed, and not experiencing crushing dispiritedness and misgivings. It’s unfortunate that these experiences are happening during my junior year—I feel like these experiences typically happen earlier during our college careers. But, it is what it is, and even though I’ve been the most “mediocre” this semester, I can really say that I feel alive sometimes. Of course, I have to get my game up. But concerning “mediocrity”: it’ll be alright. The most we can do is our best. Always shoot for the moon, but don’t forget the stars are just fine.