Malaise on Campus
what prefrosh don't know about freshman year
For the past two weekends, Columbia’s campus has been inundated with wide-eyed high school seniors, all here for Days on Campus. Their schedules have been crammed full of bus tours through New York, activity fairs, campus tours, performances in Low Library, a special preview of the Varsity Show, and countless other activities. It’s Columbia’s chance to show prefrosh just how fun the University can be, and according to Vincenzo, they’re succeeding.
Jessica Marinaccio, dean of undergraduate admissions, says that about 30 percent of accepted students head to Morningside Heights every year to participate in Days on Campus. In addition to all the pre-organized events, students are invited to attend classes, stay over in dorms, eat in John Jay, and party in Carman. In short, they get to experience all the elements of any first year at Columbia—sort of.
“The purpose of Days on Campus is to expose admitted students to the options one might have ... should they choose to come to Columbia,” Marinaccio says. “It is not meant to present a portrait of a typical day.”
Vincenzo made up his mind about Columbia long before his weekend here. And, like many other Days on Campus attendees, he left with a strong sense of Columbia that had nothing to do with what classes he wanted to attend or what the dorms are like. Instead, prefrosh like Vincenzo come away with what they believe to be an accurate understanding of Columbia’s overall sense of community and on-campus social atmosphere.
What Vincenzo doesn’t know yet, though, is that according to an alarming number of current Columbia students, his impressions are dead wrong. The average Columbia weekend is far more likely to consist of a bar-hopping trip downtown or a dinner at a nice restaurant than a football game or a school-sponsored dance. The attitude of independence is pervasive—every aspect of campus life, up to and including a laissez-faire advising system, encourages students to try to make it on their own.
“The type of people who go to Columbia, I think, are typically independent,” says Jenny Shen, a Columbia College first-year. Sara Jacobs, also CC ’11, seems to feel more negatively about the same issue. “I feel like the Columbia community in general is not very cohesive,” she says, “and this extends to the social life.”
The emphasis on independence is great for students who are “typically independent,” but it leaves others in a lurch—and Days on Campus does nothing to warn accepted students.
(Other) Alma Maters Dear
Students at most other Ivy League schools—along with the institutions themselves—are bound by their locations to create a thriving campus social scene with a tightly knit community.
“I think that, especially freshman year, it’s really easy to make friends because you’re put in this microcosm of the university,” says Gabe Friedman, Yale ’10, citing his school’s residential college system in which students are separated into smaller groups within the larger college. Yale students share many aspects of their lives—including residence halls, dining halls, and classes—with the other members of their residential colleges.
Zack Malet, Brown ’10, feels that “because there is no core curriculum [at Brown] ... it’s very possible to not cross paths with people who have different interests than you.” He does not hesitate to add, though, that “Brown definitely has a close community.” Cornell, too, leaves no doubts in the minds of its students. “I absolutely feel that a ‘Cornell community’ exists,” says Lauren Engelmyer, Cornell ’10, “which is essential on a campus as big as Cornell’s.”
“The Brown campus and the area surrounding it offers about everything you need,” Malet says, “and not a lot of people leave campus.” Columbia, on the other hand, is located in a city very different from New Haven, Providence, or Ithaca—and even before they have decided to apply, prospective Columbia students are encouraged to stray from campus. “The Blue Guide,” a lengthy pamphlet available to anyone who stops by the Visitors Center, makes a pretty good case: “New York City is home to some of the world’s most beloved and awe-inspiring landmarks,” asserts one blurb, arguably stating the obvious, “and it’s all just a walk, taxi, bus or subway ride from campus.”
But Columbia isn’t just changed by New York’s presence—it’s fractured. Students have so many options off-campus that they’re highly unlikely to choose any on-campus happenings.
Even tour guides alert high school students to the sprawling nature of Columbia’s social scene. “I usually tell them [the students] that, like, Columbia’s ... in New York City so everyone’s kind of doing their own thing,” says Akosua Ayim, CC ’11, a tour guide. Not only does this lead to the decentralization of the social scene, it causes students to reject the very idea of an on-campus social life outright.
On the weekends, for example, students from other schools are apt to attend school-sponsored social events. “Frats/sororities and school-sponsored events factor into many students’ social/party life,” says Matt Tann, Brown ’09, in an e-mail, “but there is also a vibrant social scene outside of these venues. It seems to me that the balance between the two is rather even.” Yale students also seem to put a lot of stock in institutionalized partying: “I think school-sponsored activities are definitely a big part of the social life,” Friedman says.
“The prevalent attitude on campus toward them [Columbia-sponsored events] is negative,” Jacobs says. Victoria Diaz-Bonilla, CC ’11 and a Spectator copy editor, agrees that there is a stigma of sorts attached to official social events. Though she goes to a Lerner party every now and again, she is quick to jump to her own defense about doing so: “I’m not above Columbia-sponsored events,” she says, laughing.
As for prefrosh, they may read “The Blue Guide” and hear about the heavy emphasis on off-campus life, but clearly they don’t quite grasp the extent to which this affects students’ lives. They must be getting ideas from somewhere else—namely, from Days on Campus.
Early Decisions
Though Vincenzo’s description of the campus atmosphere as “warm” and “personal” was probably the most extreme reaction, other accepted students were basking in a similar afterglow following Days on Campus.
Many were looking forward to a vibrant on-campus social scene. Carolyn Matos, CC ’12, says that she plans to split her social life “half and half,” between Columbia-related events and New York City. “I think I will attend a lot of Columbia-sponsored events,” agrees John Goodwin, also CC ’12, “but I will certainly try to branch out and see what the city has to offer, as well.”
None of these students is oblivious to New York City’s existence, and they all show a desire to take advantage of the city. But at the same time, their expectations betray an inherent lack of understanding of the way Columbia’s social scene works—or doesn’t, as the case may be. Instead of giving them a realistic look at the school, Days on Campus has created a belief in a kind of on-campus community that doesn’t really exist.
Out of the prefrosh interviewed, Elliott Grieco was both the only one who was accepted regular decision and the only one who was ambivalent about his Days on Campus experience. “I did feel a little bit like the school was just using its name and location in order to convince students to come,” he says, though he maintains that he enjoyed himself overall.
As for life on campus, Grieco isn’t overeager to take advantage of Columbia’s resources, but he is still confident that the social scene will be lively enough to provide for him—something that isn’t necessarily true, according to current students.
Aside from Grieco, who detected the lack of a “centralized social scene” despite a “strong Columbia community,” the prefrosh generally felt welcomed into the fold of a close group. In Vincenzo’s words, Columbia is “definitely like a community in every aspect.”
Broken Social Scene
Somewhere between Days on Campus and the start of freshman year, though, the feeling of being part of a community of any sort seems to dissolve. Instead, many students end up feeling like they are operating more or less separately from one another.
“You have to learn how to be independent,” Shen says. “It might be a little hard adjusting at first, so it’s not for everyone.” Shen, at least, seems to be enjoying herself. Sitting across the table from her in John Jay dining hall, Dilini Lankachandra, CC ’11, shares a similar sentiment. “Not as much as I’ve seen at other schools,” she says, when asked if she feels the presence of a Columbia community—she attributes this to the school’s location in New York. That being said, does she like Columbia?
“Definitely,” she says. “I don’t think Columbia needs to be responsible for me finding things to do on the weekend.”
There is a certain type of person to whom Columbia caters well—the driven, self-reliant student who is ready, willing, and maybe even excited to “learn how to be independent.” But what about the Columbia students who have more than a little trouble adjusting? What about the ones who don’t mesh with a system that seems only to have the independent student in mind?
“I think it [Columbia’s campus] kind of has a little bit of a cold feel,” says one former Columbia student, who has recently withdrawn from the school. “I just wish there was more of a community feel here.” Originally a member of the class of 2010, this student, who wishes to remain anonymous, took a yearlong leave of absence after one unpleasant semester. After returning this spring for a stretch, she decided to leave Columbia once and for all. Chief among this defector’s complaints are the lack of cohesion and warmth on campus, and the need for self-sufficiency.
“When I was here,” she says, “I kind of just felt like I was a robot like everyone else, who was just functioning and doing things ... and not really feeling.” Unable to break into what she saw as a “cliquey” campus atmosphere and feeling disconnected from the student body, this student decided to confide in her peers—and made a surprising discovery. “Once I started telling people I was leaving, they were just like, ‘Lucky you, I’m so unhappy here, you’re getting out!’” she says. “Once you start telling people you’re unhappy here, they’re eager to tell you about their unhappiness here too. There are a lot of unhappy people here.”
This student, who is still deciding what to do now that Columbia is in her past, is an extreme example of what happens when someone finds it impossible to fit into the Columbia mold. Many students who have miserable starts to their Columbia career, though, do end up adjusting—but not without harboring some feelings of bitterness toward the institution.
One Columbia College sophomore, who has also requested to remain anonymous, remembers her “completely horrible” first semester as being greatly aggravated by the lack of a centralized Columbia social scene. “It was just hard to make friends because Columbia’s not a social campus. After like the first week on campus when there were all those parties, the party scene kind of died down and it was the normal Columbia campus,” she says. “Pretty much nothing was going on unless your specific group of friends did something. So if you didn’t have an ID, that meant you couldn’t go out to bars, and then you didn’t have shit to do.”
The way this student describes the “normal Columbia campus” speaks for itself—according to her, Columbia’s natural state is enough to hinder one’s ability to make friends. As for the few Columbia-sponsored events of which she was aware, this sophomore says that they were widely considered “super-lame.”
“I guess that the general response was that, ‘Oh, Columbia’s doing something—we’re not going,’” she remembers.
After a long while, she managed to find a small group of friends despite the obstacles, which ended up making all the difference. But, even though she’s happy with her current situation, she still goes as far as calling Columbia’s community “non-existent.” “No, that’s a little extreme,” she adds hastily. “I would say ... not there, but there is a possibility that I just don’t know it’s there. If it is true that there is a Columbia community that I’m somehow missing, that’s pretty fucked up, because why do I have to look so hard to find a community, you know?”
Organized Living
Certain students, though, have an altogether different understanding of Columbia’s community—they’re so distant from those who are marginalized by the fractured social scene that they don’t even see the problem.
“Personally,” David Zhu, CC ’11, says in an e-mail, “I feel that Columbia-sponsored events dominate the social scene on campus. ... These events are also generally well-received because a lot of them are established traditionally ... and students KNOW without even attending that these events will be great, which in turn encourages students to organize more events.”
How does one reconcile Zhu’s understanding of Columbia’s social scene and community—“Of course there is a Columbia community! It’s what we live and breathe everyday.”—with the common sentiment that Columbia’s pretty lacking in that department?
One answer is that Zhu is on the organizational side of Columbia’s social community, as opposed to the receiving end. A member of Columbia College Student Council, Zhu served as the Engineering Student Council liaison for the class of 2011, and is currently his year’s director of alumni relations. Deeply immersed in the organization of on-campus events, Zhu has “attended countless numbers of events at Columbia.”
Of the 10 current students interviewed—all with widely varying levels of happiness at Columbia—only one other, Ayim, attends official events more than every once in a while. The reason? “I’m on campus committee, so I go to all of them,” she explains.
The students who organize events also attend them, so it’s easy to speculate that the organizers may actually make up the majority of the attendance at their own events—after all, so many others claim to spend most of their weekends avoiding them.
If members of CCSC and other related student groups—those that have the most direct hand in creating Columbia’s social scene and shaping its community—go to every Columbia-sponsored event, they’re bound to make their friends there. “I met most of my friends through Columbia-organized events or through the organizations themselves,” Zhu says.
To the knowledge of the students who organize the Columbia-sponsored social scene, the community is great—even centralized. School-sponsored events are full of all their closest friends and are the places to be if they want to have fun on the weekends. These organizers are bound to feel warmly toward Columbia’s social scene, lacking—even alienating—though it may be for others.
The Future, or Something
“I don’t think it’s a lot of people,” Ayim says, of the students who attend school-sponsored events, “but it’s enough that it works.”
The students on the organizational side of the on-campus social scene see no reason to enact any major changes to the extent that they have the power to do so. After all, before they can understand the problems that result from it, they have to be able to see the campus’s disconnectedness.
It’s likely that Days on Campus will continue to be a misrepresentation of Columbia well into the future—but not in its flaunting of Columbia’s academic or residential resources, or even in the touting of Columbia’s prime location in New York City. Rather, because the organizers of the event are happy with their own sense of a Columbia community, that general feeling will continue to be communicated to impressionable prefrosh, however inaccurate and misleading it may be.
And until the opinions on Columbia’s community become more consistent and united, the community itself will be unable to do so—and first-years with high expectations for the social scene and no desire to be forced into total self-sufficiency will continue to be let down.
So, then, what is to become of the many students like this, who aren’t as naturally independent as Columbia needs them to be? They will probably continue to fall victim to Columbia’s fragmented community—and many of them feel that there’s nothing they can do about it.
“I still feel insecure sometimes,” says a current sophomore, who also wishes to remain anonymous, “but have made use of health services and am now aware that that’s just the way Columbia is—I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” This student halfheartedly suggests that he may have been happier if access to Counseling and Psychological Services had been more widely publicized and if there had been no caps on appointments. In the end, though, he clearly feels that Columbia is essentially unchangeable on the social front.
Independence Day
There is a vast disparity between the lives of those who organize campus-sponsored events and the rest of campus—namely, those who are supposed to be in attendance at those events. The organizers may choose to respect their peers and go to every Lerner party, they may go to have fun, or they may be required to do so—as in Ayim’s case. But much of Columbia’s student population sees school-sponsored events purely as an afterthought or a last resort, compared to the resources and experiences offered by New York City.
At its core, this discrepancy contributes to the overall sense of disconnect that many Columbia students feel. With opinions on the community ranging from it being “non-existent” to Zhu’s “close-knit,” attitudes toward the campus’s social scene are just as divided as the community itself.
Perhaps this discrepancy can help explain the one between the attitudes of prefrosh who have just gotten back from Days on Campus and those of actual Columbia students.
The students in charge of organizing events are happy with Columbia’s community—and, most important, they feel that there actually is such a thing. As a result, the prefrosh populating Days on Campus—essentially a series of organized events—get the impression that Columbia has a thriving campus social life and a close community. “I had a good time,” Jacobs says, retrospectively, about her own Days on Campus experience, “although I must say that I was given a very distorted view of Columbia.”
Marinaccio may feel that Days on Campus is not intended to represent Columbia on “a typical day,” but the students who attend it are getting a different message. Their reactions demonstrate that they do expect the feeling of a campus community and centralized social life to carry over into their freshman years. As for the administration’s view on the subject, Marinaccio declined to give her own description of the Columbia community, and the students who help organize Days on Campus were not permitted to answer any questions.
Could it be that this “distorted view” contributes to the all-too-common feeling of discontent among Columbia first-years? It makes sense—a student who is excited about the possibility of an active campus social scene and a visible community is bound to be disappointed by a vastly disparate reality. And this type of student is not likely to be the sort who would be equally excited by the immediate need to “learn how to be independent,” as Shen puts it.
There’s no denying that it’s possible to be happy at Columbia—numerous students attest to that. But it’s harder to find a foothold quickly at a school that encourages independence and shunts most socializing into the surrounding city. This is likely to be even more difficult for students who, perhaps urged on by Days on Campus, come in expecting Columbia to play a larger role in their social lives than it actually will.
“Everyone seems to ball it inside,” says the former member of CC ’10 who recently withdrew, “but there are a lot of people who are very, very, very unhappy and just dealing with it, because it’s Columbia.” \\\