It is often said that success at Cornell is nothing short of a heroic feat. It takes brave, strong, and savvy students—truly exceptional students, not the ones who merely think they have those qualities and join ROTC—to navigate the university’s harrowing challenges. This semester, I have confronted the school’s mythical academic rigor head-on as I struggle to vanquish the monstrous 12-credit schedule that stands in my way.
At the onset of the semester, I was confident and exuberant, certain that any coursework thrown my way would be no match for my studious prowess. In turn, I approached school with the audacious bravado of a cocksure young man. But my hubris was nearly my downfall.
Soon, I was barraged by terrifying beasts sprung from the depths of Hades’ realm. The endless problem set, impervious to any attempt to weaken its strength. The coding assignment that sprouted two new bugs whenever I patched one. The group project where, no matter what I did, there was always more shit to deal with. On and on they went, penance to pay for the unspeakable crime of completely forgetting about course selection.
Each task initially seemed impossible. But, in time, I have come to slay them all. I was forced to strangle the problem set with my bare hands (write it out by hand). I struck at the heart of the code (by finding a solution on StackOverflow). I cleared the shit by redirecting the one motivated student in the project group to do everything. The gods tested me, but I have emerged victorious—so far, anyway.
I am no demigod, and I have no desire to become a demistudent either (by dropping classes and going under the credit limit). My trials have been long and harrowing, the tasks normally reserved for only the noblest of prep school kids. Many times have I mulled slipping away, sacrificing my future for some temporary peace. But the draw of academic immortality—in the form of a piece of paper with some fancy typing on it—is too much to resist. I must continue to fight, to prove my mettle.
Many challenges still await. I dread the final projects, those descents into hell which only the stupid attempt and the lucky survive. But then why should I not prosper? There is little doubt about my intelligence (or lack thereof), and my luck thus far is similarly indisputable. So I shall proceed, stumbling blindly into hopeless situations and somehow emerging unscathed. If that isn’t the heroic Cornell way, I don’t know what is.
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