Should I join the finance club? Should I be pre-med? Should I apply to McKinsey & Company? Should I major in philosophy politics and economics? Being a Penn student means pondering such questions eventually. The unit of contemplation is “should.” You feel like you “should” do things. But where does this “should” come from? You? Your parents? Your peers? What if the flock of upperclassmen constantly giving advice was inadvertently birthing a deafening noise of “shoulds” at the expense of “coulds” and genuine mentorship?
Sure, I can tell you to avoid 1920 Commons and to take MKTG 1010 with a certain professor, but what happens when you start relying on me to answer the momentous questions of your life? Does having been at Penn for two years truly make me more qualified to give you advice?
There exists one kind of mentor who believes the answer is conclusively yes. They sermonize: “If you want to do X, you should Y” or “Z is the best community on campus, you should join!” They impose rather than expose and respond rather than listen. When they talk about the “best” class, the “best” career, and the “best” path, they forget to mention whom it is best for. A mentor does not conclude for you; a mentor elevates you to come to your own conclusion, meaning you can figure out what you want to, not should, do.
Of course, I recognize mentors save years of mistakes and regrets by sharing the hidden curriculum of college and life. More importantly, they validate experiences. That is invaluable. As a teaching assistant to the Wharton School’s first years, I must admit mentoring is exciting, but becoming a trusted reference point for lost first years creates a puzzling power dynamic. Some use this power to rationalize (i.e. feel good about themselves) that because they went from A to B, this is the best way — or even worse, the only way — to reach B.
The issue with this phantasmagoric view is that it creates a culture of inadequacy. My friends in linguistics got it from the introduction: If all you hear is a “should” echo chamber, you will internalize the narrative that now, you are simply not enough. Is anyone telling you that you are doing a good job in one of the hardest transitory rites of passage of your life?
Let’s instead make you think of your life in terms of a competition and a performance! Like gosh, what verbs are you using? You talk about getting “into” clubs and companies instead of feeling drawn or called to them. I do not believe in any of that stuff. I refuse to believe there is anything to get into. My first-year students are already “into” their lives. Some of them may just not see it yet.
I cannot presume to believe my mentorship is superior, but let me offer some observations and reassure you because acknowledging the problem is the easy part. What you may be struck by is the amount of energy required to go against this carrying current.
Instead of telling my first years what clubs to get into, I tell them what questions they should ask themselves to know if a club is worth wanting in the first place. Instead of prescribing them a laundry list of opportunities, I guide them in mastering the art of trade-offs by making decisions, which by its Latin definition means literally to cut off, to let go.
If I instruct them, it is only to turn outward to breathe the fullness of Penn’s opportunities and later turn inward to reflect on those experiences, to see them as data points. I hope that after each interaction, each club meeting, and each weekly lecture, they check in on how they are feeling. I want them to have visceral reactions to this mess we call Penn because this is how they can get closer and closer to knowing what their values are. I hope they use emotions, curiosity especially, to guide where they are going.
Frankly, I aspire to do the laborious but more transformative job of sitting down with them at the same level. Call me delusional, but I deprecate the view that there is only one way of doing things and demand more for my first years.
There is too much noise. We are experiencing a proliferation of upperclassmen bellwethers indispensably delineating bogus advice. First years are so lost and assailed by mentorship programs that they have no option but to succumb, absorb cheap solutions, and emulate religiously.
Put simply, you listen to everyone’s advice to the point of annihilating your identity until you do not know who you are anymore or what you want. This is just not how the real world works. When you graduate, no one will tell you what you should do. How many “shoulds” are enough for you to realize life is not made of “shoulds” and not even “coulds”? Life is made of what you do daily and where you are here, right now.
I want you to take what any upperclassman tells you hubristically not with a grain of salt but with an abundant pound of it. Stop being indoctrinated by someone who is equally, if not more, confused about life than you. I am not advocating for “you will figure it out” individualism. I am advocating for empowered self-efficacy.
At the end of the day, mentors, just like universities, are training you for a skill — a job if you are lucky — but certainly not a philosophy of life. And what you need, my dear friend, is a philosophy. One that is not mine or your mentor’s, but yours. So stop this nonsense and go out there and get it, or ignore everything I said. Who am I to speak? I'm just another upperclassman too …
FRANCESCO SALAMONE is a Wharton junior studying decision processes from Palermo, Italy. His email address is frasala@wharton.upenn.edu
The Daily Pennsylvanian is an independent, student-run newspaper. Please consider making a donation to support the coverage that shapes the University. Your generosity ensures a future of strong journalism at Penn.
Donate