For most students at Princeton High School, it is not surprising to hear in casual conversation, “Hey, but it looks good on college apps….” The shadow of college constantly follows students at PHS and plays a large role in shaping their high school experience. At some level, every student is driven by the urge to get accepted into the most prestigious schools so that they may enter society with theoretically the best opportunities. We are reared with the notion that our college education will decide our success further on; however, we need to ask: “At what cost?”
When we tailor our identity specifically to this prestige and organize it around the very thing that is supposed to define us, we lose sight of the enjoyment of learning and of being teenagers; we enter a bizarre cycle that distorts the purpose of education. It becomes less an institution of improvement and learning than it does one of position and standings. Think about it this way: an Ivy League school does not offer a better education compared to many other liberal arts colleges, or other private universities. Why then, does the notion of acceptance into these institutions connote a sort of prestige? We’ve developed a sense of facsimile consumerism about these things—we desire the flashiest “product” no matter the quality of it. In a system that spoils us for choice, we often overlook the more modest yet better education for the purportedly “top tier” schools.
With a similar abundance of extracurricularsat PHS, students may feel pressured to sign up for as many as possible with no regard for their attraction to the activities they choose. The PHS club list itself is a daunting read, with inadequate space for clubs to truly reach potential members. In an environment meant to encourage students to explore their interests, the opposite happens. The tendency to pad one’s resume is only reinforced by the myriad of options provided by the extensive club list. 
Other PHS extracurriculars like Sports and Performing Arts are not exempt from this mindset. In what are meant to be genuine expressions of enjoyment reside the same looming advantageousness. Much commotion is made about getting onto particular teams, or into particular musical ensembles, or claiming particular performing roles. We don’t mean to proclaim that “art and expression are dead”; however, they are undeniably shadowed by a peripheral motive (Indeed, even when writing this piece, we were quick to consider how it would look on our own applications). This atmosphere creates, at its extreme, an overwhelmed shell of a student galvanized between myriad poles, with no foundational axis; or, realistically, a student ill-prepared and wrongheaded about their true passions—rather than seeking to partake in clubs or activities that we enjoy, we look to join those that society deems the most “impressive.” Sure, they look good on a resume, but they provide no real fulfillment. Is this the identity—acting not out of enjoyment but out of the illusion of “duty” to one’s future—that which we, as emerging adults, wish to create for ourselves?
	Moreover, it breeds in the individual genuine anxiety concerning their own future and the way they are perceived. Joining the right clubs, having the right talents, and building the right resume becomes a twisted competition - a necessity, really (or a presumed one). Whether we actively participate in it or not, there is an undeniable culture of competitiveness at PHS that is damaging to the flourishing mind. And, at the center of it, the student suffers most.
None of us want this. We should not allow ourselves to play into a culture of unhealthy competition. We should each purpose to encourage the pursuit of real interests, as opposed to the foppish fabrication of make-believe merits. There are those of us, and there are elements of this in each of us, that find real fulfillment in intellectual, artistic, and athletic expressions. That is the behavior that we should encourage. Rather than encouraging a race to the top, we’d do best to create a collaborative, educational atmosphere. We all see past these foolish pretenses, yet think ourselves immune to such a critical eye. Really, they just detract from why we’re here: to learn.

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The Tower