Optimizing Deerfield: What’s the Cost?

HEIDI LIANG/DEERFIELD SCROLL

Time is limited at Deerfield. Between academics, co-curriculars, extracurricular activities, socializing, and engaging with the Deerfield community, there is a lot that we need to fit into our 24 hours each day. 

I chose to come to Deerfield because of this business, reflective of the countless diverse opportunities that Deerfield offers. Throughout my freshman year, I chased these opportunities as fast as I could: I challenged myself to pursue excellence in every facet of my life. How well could I work in tandem with my chamber music group to produce our best possible performance? How fast could I improve as a writer for the Scroll? How special could I make my friend’s first birthday away from home? After hearing Head of School Dr. John Austin’s speech, in which he told the Deerfield student body that we were all here for a reason,  I was eager to prove that I was worthy of my heritage. 

However, entering into my sophomore year with a heavier course load, bigger goals, more commitments, and a deeper involvement in programs and clubs, I’ve found that this pursuit has begun to feel more and more overwhelming. My commitments have begun to conflict, and I’ve felt like I have less energy to spend on pursuing excellence.

When I spoke to my dad about this issue, he told me that I was trying to do too many things. He said that I should quit the Scroll, as I’ll likely be applying to college with an intended major in STEM, and recommended that I be practical with the activities I choose to continue. Similarly, when I asked one of my friends for advice about which co-curriculars I should sign up for next year, he told me that “sophomore spring and junior year is where you have to start being really logical about what you do.” He told me that if I don’t think that an activity will further my college application, I shouldn’t continue doing it.

For the majority of my sophomore year, this mindset made sense. While perusing the internet during the summer, I’d come across a website called PrepScholar where a Harvard alumnus named Allen Cheng writes and publishes articles advocating against the well-rounded student archetype. In the particular article I stumbled upon, he wrote that “[t]here's no question that my work in science was my ‘spike’ and was the strongest piece of my application.” He argued that an activity doesn’t matter much in a college application unless you’re extremely good at it.

As a result, I pared down my activities. I stopped going to French club meetings because I wasn’t particularly good at French. I stopped signing up for the rock climbing trips to the Central Rock Gym because I didn’t believe that rock climbing was an integral part of my identity. Quitting these clubs gave me more time, but recently, I’ve begun to regret leaving them behind.

To an extent, I agree with Allen Cheng’s claim about the usefulness of extracurriculars, and at Deerfield, a college preparatory school, I’ve often found myself falling into the trap of believing that getting accepted into a prestigious college is the end goal. However, I also believe that this mindset, which results in rapid specialization early in life, is detrimental to long-term success and happiness.

Take early sport specialization (ESS) as an example. ESS is when a young athlete focuses, often exclusively, on participating in a single sport, training with high intensity year-round. While committing to a sport early might seem like a good way to give an athlete a head start, setting them up for success, recent research has revealed its negative long-term effects. An Adelphi University professor who studies youth sports named Meredith Whitley said, “There’s this push to specialize earlier and earlier. But at what cost? For those young people, you’re seeing burnout happen earlier because of injuries, overuse and mental fatigue.” Research on ESS is still preliminary, but as more and more studies are done, results only seem to support her statement more. 

In the same way that early sport specialization limits young athletes to a particular lifestyle, specialization in high school limits us to specific engagements and interests. I have felt that my specialization has limited the scope of what I allow myself to participate in. Looking back, this is exactly the opposite of what my freshman self wanted me to do. Deerfield offers so many opportunities. Why shouldn’t we take them? At its core, high school is meant to be a time of discovery, of exploring interests so that we can figure out what we enjoy and want to dedicate more time to. Rushing through this process compromises this crucial goal.

Further, specialization also restricts us to interactions with specific, set groups of people. I believe that the connectivity of the Deerfield community comes from students’ sometimes leisurely participation in a variety of activities; the reason why I miss the activities that I quit this year is partially because I miss the subjects, but mostly because I miss the interactions I had with people I wouldn’t normally talk to. What makes the Deerfield community a community is students’ willingness to take time out of their busy days to interact with people they may not know well. The narrative of specialization pushes people away from opportunities for these interactions.

The Deerfield administration already recognizes the value of having multifaceted Deerfield students with their policies: underclassmen aren’t allowed to do concentration as a cocurricular, and upperclassmen aren’t allowed to do concentration for more than one term. As students, it’s up to us to change the narrative. If you ever find yourself feeling rushed to find something to focus on or externally pressured to quit an activity you genuinely enjoy doing, I would urge you to think carefully about your decision.

Kristen Faulkner is an Olympic cycling champion. She started cycling when she was 24. Mira Potkonen is a two-time Olympic medalist in boxing. She started boxing at the age of 28. They found success in their sports, despite beginning later than their competitors, because they truly loved them. Time at Deerfield is limited. But spending it on building community and finding our passions is worth it.