Defying perfection

College reminds me of high school. Well, not exactly — the lectures are much bigger, the assignments are tougher, etc. — but the people are quite similar. There are the jocks, the popular kids, the geeks, the freaks and everything else you can think of. It's just like high school. Sometimes, I even see people that look scarily similar to somebody I went to school with or whose voice catches me off-guard because it sounds just like somebody I used to know. It gets even worse when I'm in lecture or precept and I'm reminded of the know-it-all girl in high school who used to answer every single question, even when whatever she had to say made no sense at all. Or the guy who could easily ace a test, but made sure to announce, "I'm so nervous. I don't know anything. I'm gonna fail," before every exam. Or the one who disagrees with every opinion expressed by anyone, including the professor. I despised those people, and here they are again.

This gets me thinking: I wonder how people see me. I actually don't care, but it's interesting to think about it. Am I the know-it-all and talkative one or the quiet and mysterious one? Am I a hard worker or a major slacker? I guess it depends on what class they see me in. Most of us alter our personalities or demeanors when we walk into different settings. For instance, you may be a language person, who can easily learn, speak and write a new language. You're not afraid to make mistakes in speaking, so you talk, talk, talk, and are therefore seen as the smart, obnoxious one. Or maybe you're a mathematician or a scientist, who turns in perfect problem sets, finishes every exam first with ease and corrects the professor when he makes an error in his calculations. Or perhaps you're a theorist, an academic, an intellectual with the poise and the knowledge to speak and act confidently in front of your classmates and professors about any topic.

So what if you're a language person in a math class? Math may be difficult for you, and you never speak up or ask a question. And what if you're an academic trying to fulfill the language requirement, but you just cannot do it? You feel so out of place because you're used to leading discussions and being highly regarded all the time, and now, you're the one being corrected every time you speak. A friend of mine recently told me how he feels in French class, when he stresses over answering a question about whether a pen is on the table or under the table. To anybody in such a situation, it is so hard to accept that you don't know something so simple, and that you have to really try to think about the correct answer. Does that make you stupid? Not at all. It just means you're better at other things.

The problem is — wait, is there a problem? I don't think so. We can't be expected to be perfect at everything, to be undefeated. But are we expected to be the best? It is Princeton, isn't it? The way I see it, it's more of a battle with ourselves, over our own expectations. We can't think of ourselves as not good enough in something. We can't stand being unable to speak a second language with ease. We can't stand having to work our asses off on a problem set and still be at the bottom of the class. We can't stand not being the best. Why? It wasn't like this in high school. In high school, we didn't have to worry about grade deflation, about precept participation, about being the dumb one in a class of brilliant people. In high school, we were the best. But we can't all be the best here, and it kills us. The pressure we put on ourselves makes us feel inadequate and incapable, whereas in reality, we are all highly intelligent and capable — we're just in situations that are less than ideal for us. Whether we're inside or outside of our comfort zone makes a big difference and there's nothing we can do about that. Well, I mean, we can just do our best, and forget about everything else. Yeah, that sounds good. Angela Bardes is a sophomore from Lake Como, N.J. She can be reached at abardes@princeton.edu.