Welcome to the Toolshed

They don't call people "tools" on The New York Times op-ed page--the words "ass-tool," "ass-clown," and "tool-face" generally stand outside the acceptable Times lexicon. Yet in his recent column "Stressed For Success," David Brooks had no trouble getting his point across. Although he never trotted out the phrase, his message was clear: he thinks you're a massive tool.

Mr. Brooks' pointed indictment of your outright toolery should alarm you. As the columnist sees it, your status as student at this fine university reflects little more than the successful completion of a resume-padding, grade-grubbing trek through high school. Your acceptance to Columbia comes not as a reflection of your true intellectual prowess, but rather stands as your most recent accomplishment in a long career of vapid hoop jumping. If, after all this, "you are still an interesting person," Brooks writes, "congratulations, because the system has been trying to whittle you down into a bland, complaisant achievement machine."

You might want to admit that he has a point. Given the difficulties of an increasingly lengthy and rigorous college admissions process, it's hard to believe that an applicant could waltz into Morningside without even the slightest taint of toolery--an SAT prep course, a hollow student government post or an insincere A to his or her name. As The Fed loves to remind you, you are the resultant victor of a somewhat revolting two-year college admissions spectacular that has become a new rite of passage for America's academic elite.

Yet before we write off Morningside as little more than a pseudo-classical toolshed for the next crop of rising yes-men, I suggest an examination of Brooks' allegations.

Aimed at college-bound graduates across America in an attempt to deflate the assumed importance of a top university acceptance letter, Brooks' piece makes a compelling case. The columnist systematically attacks each of the most obvious admissions criteria--grades, standardized test scores, and activities--by arguing that achievement in any of these areas carries absolutely no significance as an indicator of success later in life.

As such, those rewarded by the criteria, like my fellow first-years, have gained acceptance to Columbia based on little more than an ability and willingness to milk the bankrupt system--studying hard in subjects that bore them, memorizing stacks of SAT words, and joining student government. As Brooks would have it, Ivy Leaguers are merely conforming their way to a place in the upper echelons of the establishment.

He's only partly right. He observes correctly that those who gain admission to Morningside might be a tad insincere in their endeavors. Lord knows that the gulf between successful applicants' eager lip service to the Core and their actual completion of all the Lit Hum reading is monumental. Lord knows there are innumerable high school class treasurers in our midst, no doubt filled with genuine passion for funding class activities. Lord knows that the guy who keeps puking on the buttons of the Carman elevator didn't really mean what he said about civic duty in his application essay.

Yet most Columbia students are pretty sincere in their commitments to that which matters most to them--political science, painting, computers. Rather than a set of blind, conformist achievement-freaks, as Brooks would have it, I would argue that Morningside students are a set of clever, talented kids who have definitely wiggled a little in order to gain the advantages--real or illusory--of a Columbia degree. If pressed about some of their high school activities, most will shrug apologetically and tell you that they did what they needed to do to get here. They'll tell you that they jumped through the hoops--not for the sake of accomplishment itself, but instead to facilitate their pursuit of what genuinely matters to them.

After a year amid the survivors of the application process, Columbia undergraduates are neither a coalition of conformists, nor a clan of pure intellectuals whose path toward entirely noble aims just happened to bring them to Columbia. Most will admit that admissions criteria are somewhat bogus. Most did well in high school both through real talent and a drive to succeed. Most seem to be largely sincere in their genuine love for their courses, especially within their anticipated majors.

Brooks's larger point as to the trivialities of acceptance to a top university is well-said and timely. However, he unfairly extends his criticism of the college admissions process to those admitted under the absurdities of the system. Columbia students, as a whole, are a lucky, clever, and industrious bunch, committed to what they are doing, but indubitably favored for their four years of prior service to the establishment. I would hesitate to call this full blown power-toolery. But then again, as David Brooks might say, true individuals don't go to debate camp.

Abe Handler is a Columbia College first-year. He dedicates this column to his personal friend and longtime power-tool, Brendon Pierson. Looking Up runs alternate Mondays.