"I lost count of the number of times I thought that Penn Admissions made a mistake in admitting me. (Of course, former Dean of Admissions Lee Stetson mysteriously resigned last year, so I guess now I'll never know the truth.) I felt like everyone else was the real Penn kid, and that I was some kind of imposter. I was the dumb kid.
So when I was faced with what seemed to be the culture at Penn, I drank the Kool-Aid. I started fretting about anything and everything - the grades, the careers, the future. I missed the forest for the trees, as the old cliche goes. And it made me miserable. By freshman year's end, I was depressed. By the end of sophomore year, I was contemplating not returning to school. And by the time junior year rolled around, the only thing enticing me to return for my fourth and final year was the thought that 365 days later I would be done.
Contrary to what I thought a year ago, I don't regret coming to Penn. I
also don't regret joining the DP - even though it destroyed my grades,
cost me some friends, earns me a glare whenever I mention it and likely
took a toll on my physical and mental health.
But I do regret the anxiety and the worry I had, and if I had the four
years to do again, I would do a lot of things differently.
Even now, I still don't know what I'm doing with the rest of my life. I
never pursued a summer internship. I'm not going to medical school, law
school or some sweet I-banking gig. And I definitely don't see a house
and three kids in my future.
