My first visit to the University of Pennsylvania campus was far from inspiring. The weather was miserable, and the only thing breaking the gloomy atmosphere was the aggressive flyer distribution. Nothing about that initial day made me eager to return.
Yet, when my acceptance email arrived, a part of me knew I was destined to be a Quaker. This revelation surprised my parents. After the initial excitement about getting into an Ivy League institution subsided, my mom questioned, “I didn’t even realize you wanted to go there. Do you actually want to?”
Looking back at my meticulously crafted 2014 Excel spreadsheet of college preferences, her question was valid. Among my top choices, Penn was ranked seventh. I also gained admission to the fifth-ranked school—a reputable institution boasting renowned political science programs and considerably better weather. However, two columns to the right in my spreadsheet lay a more compelling statistic at the time: Penn’s national ranking of No. 7 trumped the other’s No. 20. Hooray for the Red and Blue, albeit for a superficial reason.
This superficiality, unfortunately, underpinned many decisions throughout my college years. Every position I pursued, every influential student I tried to impress, and even every exaggerated, boastful insult playfully thrown at friends (I’ve probably uttered “You’re small” more than “hello” in recent years) stemmed from an attempt to cultivate a persona of unwavering confidence and supreme competence. The line between ambition and vanity is indeed thin, and I often found myself on the wrong side.
It’s a strange paradox to simultaneously be intensely self-absorbed and utterly detached from genuine self-care. My family and close circle witnessed my periods of deep sadness during college, yet they also observed my frequent choices to embrace unhappiness in the relentless pursuit of achievement and reputation. But to what end? Future career prospects? Personal fame? Or some elusive path to inner peace?
Here are a few insights I wish I had grasped sooner, much like SpongeBob’s comical revelations in boating school.
The Trap of External Validation: Ranking Over Real Value
For those of us at Penn, we are fortunate to attend a globally respected and truly enriching university. Life may not unfold precisely as envisioned, but countless remarkable paths await if we dare to venture off the beaten track.
Regarding personal fame, it’s a sobering truth that very few will recall the club presidents or prominent social figures of the Class of 2018 in the years to come. We will fade from the memory of most who nodded to us on Locust Walk, and our Penn accomplishments will hold little significance for those we strived to impress or sway. Instead, our lasting impact will be on those for whom we genuinely cared—the ones we comforted in tears or with whom we shared our vulnerabilities. To paraphrase Kanye West, one true friend outweighs a thousand acquaintances who merely know your name.
Carter Coudriet, senior columnist at The Daily Pennsylvanian, reflects on his college experience at Penn and the unexpected lessons learned, similar to humorous 'boating school' insights.
The Paradox of Self-Neglect in Pursuit of Self-Importance
And concerning self-worth, Penn’s most crucial lesson has been that external validation is meaningless without internal self-acceptance. This is not a novel concept—countless self-help guides echo this fundamental principle—but it’s a message that bears repeating, especially to Penn students who too often sacrifice self-love for a manufactured ideal of “success.” To borrow from “Hamilton,” a reference that may be cliché but remains poignant, the Founding Father who literally shaped a nation was tormented and ultimately disgraced by his insecurities. As he himself lamented, “I’m never satisfied.”
Re-evaluating Success: Internal Worth and Genuine Connections
Yet, seeking inner satisfaction must be our primary pursuit. Life is fleeting, and in the grand scheme, much of what we chase is trivial. I am still a work in progress—daily wrestling with guilt over past hurts, hesitations in trusting others, and persistent battles with vanity and insecurity—but regardless of whether my days are productive or filled with setbacks, I can now rest my head knowing that I, as I am, matter.
To my parents and family, thank you for demonstrating the vital importance of self-care and passion in one’s work. To the DP, thank you for challenging me, empowering me, and imparting the difficult yet essential lesson that leadership demands both strength and empathy. To my brothers, thank you for your unwavering support through failures and triumphs. To the College Office, thank you for providing a sanctuary amidst the chaos. And to my closest friends—especially Huge Eug, who ensured my transformative journey was also filled with laughter—thank you for the candid conversations that have shaped who I am today.
And finally, to dear old Penn, thank you for introducing me to the people and resources that transformed a college-ranking-driven decision into an experience far richer than I could have imagined. Because of you, I am genuinely, profoundly happy to have been here.
CARTER COUDRIET is a College senior from Franklin Park, N.J., studying political science. He served as the president of the 133rd board. Previously, he was digital director, creative director, ΔΠ chair, pizza editor, and an associate sports editor.
