Debunking the myths of American college culture

In April, The Atlantic Monthly published "The Organization Kid," claiming to reveal the true nature of America's Ivy League elite. Author David Brooks met with students at Princeton and concluded that while they are gifted, kind, and responsible, Ivy Leaguers are also overworked, more interested in accomplishment than virtue, and easily swayed by authority. From his observations at Princeton, Brooks draws wide conclusions about an entire generation of "future leaders."

Still, there's something vaguely ludicrous (even at Princeton) about Brooks' descriptions of students who schedule appointments to meet with their best friends and learn to solve problem sets in their sleep. Surely these students must exist, but I have a hard time believing it (and I am a chronic overachiever). There are a fair number of workaholics at Yale, but as packed as the library gets during the week, Naples always overflows come Thursday.

Nor are Yalies the compliant and socio-politically inactive group that Brooks describes. Brooks writes that he didn't see a single Gore or Bush banner anywhere at Princeton, even in the height of the election year. This was far from the truth at Yale. There was at least one banner hanging beneath my former common room window. Nor do I sense that political and community involvements at Yale are simply a means for resumé building or personal enrichment, as Brooks suggests. Yalies may occasionally seem cut off from current events, but every now and then, they do in fact emerge from the library to unite for workers' rights, women's rights, human rights—the list goes on.

EUGENE WONG/YH

From the opposite end of the spectrum, there's always Animal House, the classic John Landis comedy about the Deltas, a fraternity of underachievers. Under "double secret probation," they decide to take revenge against the administration and a rival fraternity. Without a doubt, Animal House is an over-the-top portrait of college life, but the movie works because it strikes a chord with the viewer, both as the idealization of and inspiration for college as a party without end or consequence. Surely, this is the world high school students dream of.

And while Yalies may occasionally resemble the overworked drones Brooks describes, many (well, at least one of my suitemates) still hope for the carefree, rebellious life enjoyed by the Deltas, if only on the weekends. The food fight scene is like a glorious release of youthful energy, one that I could never imagine happening anywhere at Yale, but I kind of wish would.

I also even sense the occasional current of underachievement here—should underachievement simply be accepting a B over an A-minus. But through it all, faith remains that life will work out, as it does for most of the Delta frat. Even John Belushi's "Bluto" goes on to become a senator.

Many movies have tried their best to reproduce the success of Animal House. Dead Man on Campus follows two flunking freshmen in search of a suicidal roommate so they can automatically receive straight A's when he finally kills himself. In Road Trip, four friends hit the road to intercept a sexually explicit video accidentally mailed to one's girlfriend.

Both movies are fairly ridiculous. But while Animal House may be funnier and purer in its caricatures, the characters in both Dead Man on Campus and Road Trip are less static.

In Dead Man on Campus, Tom Everett Scott's character starts off as a straight-A student, but slowly trades merit for mediocrity and gets dragged down by sex, drugs, and alcohol. This temptation certainly looms over many students as they face freshman year—the dreams of the underachiever threatening to overshadow the dreams of the overachiever.

The tension between those dreams plays out less disastrously in Road Trip. Kyle, the resident dork played by D.J. Qualls, comes along only half-willingly at first, and his car is quickly destroyed. He relaxes more and more over the course of the movie, finding love and popularity at an all-black fraternity and rebelling against his demanding father. Corruption here leads to liberation, and though Kyle's sudden transformation may be less than realistic, there's still something inspiring about it.

Perhaps this is the true goal of any good college student, to balance those dual instincts to over- and underachieve. Some students, but not all, do find this balance; they know that they need it to survive.

This is what's so difficult to capture ei-ther in a magazine article or on film. Balance is less dramatic than either extreme—it doesn't make for an exciting headline or trailer. Realistic portraits of college life are rare, as college doesn't always resemble the dreams of most high school students or their parents. For every "Organization Kid," for every Delta, there are many more students who fall somewhere in between.

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