Then, as the family-friendly version of the proverb goes, stuff happened. It didn't just happen; it hit the fan. The economy tanked as badly as my opinion of social networking sites when I woke up and found "New Facebook" on my computer screen. I mean, really, Mark "Stop Hating Me, I Went To Harvard" Zuckerberg, was that necessary? If it ain't broke, don't fix it. That is, if it ain't as broke as Wall Street.
Amid this broke and broken economy, however, lies Princeton University, a beacon of monetary calm, a place full of sunshine and ponies and rainbows where magical dreams come true. Students here are explicitly encouraged to dedicate their lives to doing good in the world. Major in classics, then go build orphanages in Africa! Enter the philosophy department, then spend your life working for nonprofit organizations! Major in English and proudly proclaim that you will close-read for food while starting the next charity to be touted by Oprah!
Oh yeah, then donate bucketfuls of money to Princeton each year.
... Wait, what? If you are confused by this contradiction, fear not. We need to go back to basics to figure out what the heck is going on. And by basics, I don't mean ECO 100 or ECO 101, mostly because I haven't taken either of these courses, but also because I want to go back to the real basics. I'm talking arithmetic. Math isn't exactly my strong suit, but I have utmost faith in my ability to count to 10, which is good enough for my current purposes.
Let's start with an example. Johnny has five apples. President Tilghman tells him to take fewer apples. Johnny obliges. The following year President Tilghman then calls him and asks him for apples. Johnny starts to cry because he is receiving mixed messages. He has a mental breakdown and becomes a case study in PSY 207: Abnormal Psychology. Princeton then throws lots of apples at both Johnny and the psychology department and basks in the warm glow of praise-filled media attention. How many apples does Johnny have? Don't ask me, and please don't ask Johnny unless you want to send him into convulsive twitching.
Unlike apples, however, money does not grow on trees. It grows in carefully monitored mints, where it is fed and watered by the government and thrown into the chaotic world when it is nice and ripe. How much we each end up with will be determined by our choices and our luck, both of which manifest themselves during our college years.
So what does this mean for all of us? All I can figure is that in a perfect Princeton-administration-created world, we are supposed to sacrifice a competitive salary to do good deeds but still somehow make enough to give money to Princeton. If I were a math major, I suppose I'd make a graph to figure out that exact amount, and if I were an economics major I'm guessing I would somehow know it intuitively because I would be a financial guru; being a politics major, however, I am content to remain as vague as possible, see what happens and justify it later. Personally, my charitable tendencies lie somewhere between Mother Teresa and Scrooge McDuck. I do plan to give money to Princeton every year because I want all undergraduates in later years to have the fantastic experience here that I am having now, but then again, my vision of the future involves law school rather than a nonprofit.
In the end, Princeton still wins by counting on us to, well, just be us. The students who intend to go to Wall Street will do so no matter what Princeton tells them, and the ones who choose to do good in the world will be lauded on the Princeton website with several flattering multi-syllabic adjectives. So take your pick, Princetonians, because this university needs you either way, whether or not it is willing to admit it. There is no right answer here, just a lot of bright minds with a lot of decisions to make, hoping that everything will work out down the line. In the meantime, however, let's save some of that hope for the economy.
Christine Brozynski is a politics major from Mendham, N.J. She can be reached at cbrozyns@princeton.edu.
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