For most of my life, I have attributed my academic rigor to the pressure of succeeding brought on by my parents. My family has always been a bit of the academic elitist type, emphasizing that the prestige of an institution is important. Not necessarily because of the title, they say, it’s more about opening up doors. Regardless of the actual rationale, the aspiration of going to top tier academic institutions has played an important role in my life.

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Though I don’t like to admit it, the US World and News Report academic rankings are frequently googled during family dinners where each of us makes an argument as to why we went to the best school, even though it’s clear that I did. I didn’t. With my sister in her first year of medical school, and me preparing to apply to Law School these rankings have expanded to include graduate programs. In the past month that I have been home, my dad and I have perused the Law School rankings and admissions standards at least twice.

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Being smart, thoughtful, and hardworking was one of the most poignant values in my house. I was always eager to share good grades with my parents even though my dad would say “what happened to the other 5%” when I came home with a 95% on an assignment or exam. And, I was inclined to keep less superb or subpar grades from them.

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My high school experience was mostly without problems. I went to a huge public school where it was fairly easy to fly under the radar. I was a decent student, I got fine grades, and wasn’t disruptive in class. I rarely needed to approach teachers for additional support and was often the go-to person for my friends (or people who pretended to be my friend) when they needed help studying or homework answers.

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When on occasion I would struggle in class, namely 11th grade AP Biology, my parents were quick to work with me on how to be successful. They hired tutors, and instead of making my grades the center of the conversation, they focused much more on how hard I was working. This is, of course, directly correlates to the amount of privilege I have grown up with, getting a tutor just isn’t viable for most people. They would always say, “we don’t care how you do, as long as you do the best that you can.” A sentiment I appreciated but was nonetheless skeptical of its truth. I do think that they believed that what they were saying was true, but I wonder how they would really feel if I consistently came home with B’s and C’s.

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My sister and I have both been incredibly successful in the academic world, and it would be naïve to contend that it has nothing to do with innate ability, though that wasn’t clear to me for a long time. I used to think that my school success was simply a function of my dedication. If I work hard, I get good grades. I am good at school, that doesn’t mean I am smart.

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The college admissions process was a whirlwind. My parents, though capable of editing my essays and helping me with ACT prep, decided to outsource, spending copious amounts of money on a college counselor for the sole purpose of “avoiding arguments,” in their words, yet another indication of how privilege has played a role in my academic success. As a wealthy white woman from a very progressive family, I have had all of the academic support I could have ever possibly needed. That said, I’ve wanted to go to Michigan for as long as I can remember, which made my decision very easy. Coming from California, I have been asked “why did you choose Michigan” at least 200 times. A huge part of why I wanted to go was because of its prestige and standing on a world stage. Granted, that was a fraction of the reason I love Michigan, but it no doubt played a role.

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While I rarely struggled in high school, I was entirely unprepared for the rigor of Michigan. My parents have always emphasized the importance of never being the smartest person in the room, which is another one of their stated reasons for encouraging my sister and I do go to the best school we get into. I knew that Michigan was going to be exactly that.

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The value of surrounding yourself with smarter people than yourself cannot be overstated, but it is also the factor that led to a deep-seated case of imposter syndrome. The primary symptom for me was effectively giving up in my first-year Econ classes.

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When I would hit a road bump in high school, I knew there was a way out. If I could just study a little bit harder, or talk to the teacher, I would be fine. Michigan was a whole new ball game. Even when taking the necessary steps—actually reading the textbook, going to office hours, paying attention in lecture—I could not seem to figure out how to succeed. Suddenly, my prior academic success seemed solely the result of being “good at school,” which was no longer cutting it. While I have always considered myself decently smart, I seriously began rethinking that. If I was actually smart, I wouldn’t be having such a hard time right now. Obviously, that is not true, even the smartest people have to work hard, but to me, this felt like a concession. I found myself having meltdowns on the phone with my parents expressing, what was clear to me, that I wasn’t smart enough.

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As they did in high school, they talked me out of my spiral and helped me come up with a plan to succeed. At that point, it was probably too late for my grade to change incrementally, but with their help, I began navigating Michigan in a much more effective way. Moms are literally always right, dads are sometimes.

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It clearly worked because my academic record following freshman year is nearly perfect, which is not simply a reflection of my study habits, but also my affinity towards learning. I absolutely love school, and no, I don’t mean the parties and the football games. I love those things too, but I have surprised myself with how much I enjoy being challenged and pushed in academic spheres. Where I used to be intimidated by obviously smart people, I now lean into learning and growing from them. I am no longer quiet in group settings, rather I probably talk too much in class. As graduation looms, I am sad to be leaving everything, but I am mostly sad that I will never again be in an environment like Michigan, where students want to learn and grow. Work hard, play hard, right?

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Being the Type-A academic that I am, I have become accustomed to doing whatever it takes to get my desired grade, not in a mischievous or sneaky way, just in a refusing to sleep until it is done way. One specific time is especially illustrative of that. This past November, the day of my 22nd birthday, I decided that having not read a 300-page book that was due tomorrow, I would just say fuck it. In a class that reads 10 novels throughout the semester, I thought that one small quiz grade, after getting a perfect score on the previous six book quizzes, would not be a big deal. Ahh, a weight off my shoulders, I can actually enjoy my birthday. Well, at least that’s what I thought. But, that night, after a lovely birthday dinner, I was in bed tossing and turning with the anxiety of not doing a homework assignment. At that moment, I set my alarm for 7 am and decided to spend the following day in the library reading the book, cover to cover. Against all odds, I read 300 pages of a book, wrote a two-page response, and aced the quiz between the hours of 8 am and 5:30 pm. The funny thing is that I am not even that proud of myself, rather I am just reminded of how hard it is for me to let things go, especially when it comes to school.

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So, even with the benefit of time (heals all wounds, right?), I am still haunted by those two Econ grades from freshman year. While I often look at my transcript with pride, there is no hiding that my GPA is severely harmed by the tragedy of freshman year. Yes, I am being dramatic. But, in all seriousness, as I begin to apply to Law School, I cannot help but fixate on the two grades that brought my GPA down a whole 2/10ths of a point.

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While I know that my parents are incredibly proud of me, both in the academic sphere and outside of it, I am reminded of their expectations for me and my expectations for myself. When it comes to Law School, it is very important to me that I go to a highly-ranked program. Both of my parents are lawyers and have admitted that, especially for Law School, the prestige of the institution is important when hiring.

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Thus, I have it stuck in my head that it would be a failure if I don’t get into a Top 20 law school. My parents don’t feel that way. I know that they are and will be proud of me regardless, but I fear that I would be disappointing them if I don’t. Since beginning to study for the LSAT, my dedication and determination to get a very high score has not wavered, and luckily that seems to be going fairly well at the moment.

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The pressure that I put on myself to perform on the LSAT is in no small part due to the understanding that my GPA is not where I would want it to be, nor do I think it really reflects my intellectual prowess. If I can hit the LSAT out of the park, maybe my GPA will be less important.

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Having now studied for two canceled LSAT administrations due to Coronavirus, it is not hard to imagine that remaining motivated would be incredibly hard. And, while I have seen many of my friends ease up on themselves (probably for the better), I have not. I remain dedicated, and given my Type-A personality, I can’t not do what I think is necessary to accomplish my goal (see above).

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While these expectations have put tremendous amounts of pressure on me, I am grateful that I have grown to value education to the extent that I have. As I continue in my academic journey, I hope that I continue to be successful, but also that I can learn that US News and World Reports aren’t the end-all, be-all. But still, I do go to the best school.