Earlier this week I caught a segment of Natasha Alford being interviewed on Latino USA (yes, I often listen to NPR while driving). She’s a Black-Latina woman born to a working class family, went to Harvard for undergrad and Northwestern for journalism school, and has worked as a journalist and political analyst. She published her memoir American Negra this year, so the show focused on her growing up and pursuing education in these elite institutions and how race, culture, and class shaped her formative experiences.
What perked my interest is a comment Natasha made toward the end of the show when the topic turned to her recent activities. She just completed a second master’s degree, a MPP (Master of Public Policy) from Princeton.
After laughing about being an overachiever for getting yet another Ivy League degree while working full time as a media executive, writing a book, and raising a child, she said this about her true reason for going back to school:
“I think I wanted a do-over. I had gone through college, undergrad, at Harvard University specifically, scared of being not good enough or smart enough. So I wanted to go and have an educational experience where I was truly free.”
She continued on by giving examples of what it means to be free: “If I had a question, I just asked it. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I took classes I was interested in, not what someone thought I should take to appear smart.”
She called it “an experience unburdened by other people’s expectations and my own fears” and “true to myself”.
There’s a lot to unpack in these brief sentences! As a fellow minority student who came from a working class immigrant family and went to an Ivy League school for undergrad, I can understand the fear Natasha mentioned.
I was the valedictorian of my high school, but arriving on Yale campus in the fall of freshman year, I was shocked to realize that everyone was a valedictorian and there were just so many really smart people. Not only were they smart, they were also world class musicians, they competed in the Olympics, and their parents were CEOs of multinational companies, federal judges, and publishers of major newspapers.
A natural thought that follows is “Am I good enough? Do I belong here?” It’s imposter syndrome. I’m sure it’s not an unfamiliar feeling for many who’ve gone through a similar educational path.
Complicating the matter, you can’t tell anyone about the insecurity you feel. How can you keep up with the guy who speed reads 500 pages an hour or the girl who draws the maze of interleukin signaling from memory? The natural instinct was to fake it until you make it. If I didn’t understand something, I didn’t ask in class in front of everyone. I looked it up on my own. If I couldn’t find the answer, I’d make sure it didn’t sound like a “stupid question” and go to the teaching assistant’s office hours.
The pressure to perform can counteract, or distract the self-doubt. I’ve definitely taken “classes someone thought I should take to appear smart”. Given the choice between a regular chemistry class and the notoriously demanding “frosh orgo”, you bet which one I signed up for (after passing the placement test), and which one made me lose a lot of sleep typing lab reports.
Being torn between fearing you’re not good enough and trying to prove you are indeed good enough is not the way to go through college. It restricts your college experience and changes into a means to an end – to get good grades and impress professors so you can get into medical school or secure a well-paying job upon graduation.
A truly carefree educational experience should be an end in itself – to stimulate and fulfill your intellectual curiosity and personal growth. This is what Natasha realized, in her 30s, and went back to school for.
The same logic applies to any kind of schooling. Why go through high school or college burdened by other people’s expectations and your own fears? If you are currently in high school or college or have kids who are, take Natasha’s lesson from the vintage point of 20-20 hindsight. Start now. Ask questions if you don’t understand something. Engage with professors and classmates without fearing embarrassment or judgement. Take classes in subject matters that interest you. Pick up something new and explore. Don’t wait until your 30s to go back to school to make up for the lost dream of a carefree education.
Of course, there’s the practical benefit of education. Natasha’s MPP will help pivot her career from journalism to political analysis and policy advising. But that should not overshadow the innate benefits. Rather, you should have confidence that if you follow your passion and curiosity and push yourself intellectually, the acceptance letters, and job offers, will follow.
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