by Paul Dichter, Opinion Editor

It's a nightmare I often have. I'm wandering around a graveyard, late at night, and as I pass each tombstone the words jump out at me, scarring my soul. "William Albert Rochester, VERBAL 680 MATH 700," "Catherine Anne Berry, VERBAL 720 MATH 650." I dream of young men in business suits greeting each other in some mahogany-paneled room somewhere with a curt "Yale, Economics, Class of '91. You?" and I wonder what I'm doing with myself.

We have been training from a very young age to get into Deerfield. From about the fourth grade, I would guess, we have been the hard workers, the kids who do all their homework and stay late for extra help. From the SSATs in 8th grade through the SATs in 11th and 12th, we have been training for entrance examinations that lighten the load of the average college counselor. And, now that most seniors (except, of course, yours truly) are polishing up their last essay, and with the next phase in our lives whooshing up to greet us, I think it only proper to hit the pause button and come down out of hyper drive for a few seconds to see where we are.

Let me first say that I am not suggesting that we shouldn't work as hard as we do. Far from it. I am merely stressing that it is important to be sure that we know for what we are working so hard. And I feel like we should be reminded that we are working hard, very hard. In my estimation, none of us had a normal childhood, a consideration that all of our parents were fully aware of when they chose to send us to Deerfield. The fact that whenever I find myself not in class, not doing homework, not eating or sleeping or practicing for the big game, I cannot help but feel slightly guilty, proves this. This is not normal. But it is the life I have chosen to lead, a life where long stretches of time without something in the foreground simply do not exist, and doubtless ever will.

And do not think that all this work will end when we leave Deerfield. For many of us, it will not. At Harvard last year, 50% of the senior class applied for ten entry-level jobs with a Boston consulting firm. All of these students, presumably, had high grades and a long history of over-achievement. And the ten who were picked were picked because of class rank, grades, scores, all those things that colleges look at in their prospective students.

These days, having an Ivy League at the end of your name, like having good SAT scores, or the word Deerfield in a way simplifies the job of whoever thinking of hiring or accepting you. Because they assume that whoever has previously admitted you into their elite circle has done some of the work for them, and that one can assume that the Harvard filter automatically eliminates the bad seeds. Granted, you can still succeed without going to one of the 15 or so big names, and it should be pointed out that just about everybody does. But it might just make your life easier.

Easier. Fine. But is it worth it? Perhaps. It depends what you want to do with your life. If investment banking is your thing, then getting into a school with reputation is probably going to help. But for most of us, it should be remembered that college should be about education, not reputation. It is possible to have a fulfilling life, to be happy, without confining yourself to just twenty schools when there are hundred; of great, stimulating colleges out there. The same can be said of careers, and just about anything else you can imagine. And, if worse comes to worse, remember Tugboat Annie, who once said a million years ago in Mr. Baker's classroom, "In a hundred years what the hell difference will it make?"