8 a.m. May 2006. Bleary-eyed and yawning, I dragged myself toward my computer. I refreshed an open browser window that displayed "Penn application in process." The new screen came up with a long letter in its place that began, "Dear Arushi."
I was in.
Like most students who enter a competitive college after a unique level of performance in high school, I was used to making "top grades." But I was never one of those people who blinked and got an A, if those people really exist. A lover of learning, a bookworm and everything in between, my efforts in high school were not the best, but they were unique.
My grades were an expression of my identity and I thus began college with great expectations of becoming an Ivy scholar in the most romantic sense of the word.
I soon found out that being a "scholar" was not enough. The volume of work I had gave me little time to put Kant and Lovejoy in my papers. Furthermore, the feeling that every other student at this school had similar academic credentials led me to believe that my grades were just one necessary mechanism to prove my competence. How I got them was not quite as important.
The numbers and letters that represent "grades" have always been a questionable indicator of scholarly motivation. In general, they are a quantification of academic effort, natural ability, student interest and the idiosyncrasies of the course grader, to name a few.
Even if we assume that a GPA is a valid metric to rank student abilities, the unique experiential value of, for example, extracurricular pursuits has an undeniably positive effect on a student's intellectual development. And if that wasn't enough to doubt that grades are an indicator of success, Wharton MBA student Prashant Hemady testified to the fact that when undergraduates get to graduate school, the name becomes more important than the grades anyway.
As Hemady said, "diligence, standards and intrinsic motivation" are the more tangible indicators of scholarly strength. Case in point: I had a paper last semester for which I read numerous materials outside of the prescribed syllabus. Like in high school, I put myself in my paper. But now, I got an A+ and so did a friend who spent half the time on the paper, using only class notes and one reading.
Rather than begrudging my comrade's success, I thought instead: Was my erudite behavior simply a waste of my time?
Another recent experience left me wondering whether I really needed to achieve academically at a level that was more than the required bare minimum.
Last week, I received a letter acknowledging my admission to the international relations honors society, Sigma Iota Rho, and also a general invitation issued to undergraduates by the National Society of Collegiate Scholars.
NSCS, as outgoing chapter president Viktor Shepelen said, is a "multidisciplinary honors society that puts heavy emphasis on social service." SIR's letter informed me that as a member, I must have a commitment to "advancing the study of international relations not only on campus, but in the community and the world at large." Both require a minimum GPA hovering around a B+, and beyond that, personal qualities like leadership and active campus involvement have much more weight.
Even if the requirements for these societies were to maintain an A as they are for applications to competitive professional schools, it boils down to the fact that like all students at this college, I have a choice in how I want to make the grade.
For the nasty, brutish purposes of the real world, I can make a cursory effort because it is the ends that count. After trying out this method last semester, I was left with a competitive transcript, but also a feeling of complete indifference and ennui with my performance.
This semester, I have gone back to my pedagogical roots, spent time on the means and gained the personal satisfaction of being the intellectual that Penn admissions recognized me to be. Because I have more than numbers to gauge my intellectual worth, I see honors society membership as much more than another easily attainable line on my curriculum vitae.
After experience with both "winging it" and "living it," my advice to fellow students is to do the latter. You may be happy just making the grade, but it is a different feeling to have intellectual energy in your coursework. A stellar academic record and the "cum laude" citation commoditize academic success. The work behind the GPA is what you will always appreciate as a personal, scholarly achievement.
Arushi Sharma is an College junior from Rockville, Md. Her e-mail address is sharma@dailypennsylvanian.com. A Case of the Mondays appears on Mondays.
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