Your academic praise kink won’t keep you fulfilled

Rachel Veen, Graphic Illustrator

The desire to achieve propelled me through school, a theme entwined with academia. You’re in constant competition with the people around you, struggling for internships, class ranks or graduate school acceptance. Even after starting a PhD program, students are still fighting for limited lab spots and TA positions, for grant funding to research the topics they care about.

Success in higher education requires you to prioritize personal achievement and awards, but fails to emphasize how performative all of it can be out of context. And it certainly doesn’t teach you how to feel self-worth outside of an academic space.

But you can’t feel fulfilled with an academic praise kink. When trying to show that you’re special, you forget how to be relatable.

Whether it was summer classes, extracurriculars or working alongside a full-time courseload, I felt a constant pressure to prove to others that I could succeed.

Academia is more of a necessity than an option to those without a financial safety net. If my GPA had dropped in undergrad, I risked losing financial aid and grants I needed to complete my degrees. As a teaching assistant, an additional academic pressure is necessary to maintain funding under the Graduate Student Support Plan.

Intersectionality for historically marginalized communities will absolutely compound this pressure in an academic space. From my lens as a disabled woman without economic privilege, I have seen how both escalate an addiction to success; you see systemic injustices stacked against you and want to overcome society’s expectations.

I busted my tail for years to maintain my financial security, but can only imagine being an international or first-generation college student where citizenship or family wellbeing may ride on a college degree.

Through all of this, I took on way more academically than I needed to. The more recognition I received, the more addicting this praise became. Every achievement led to more opportunities, more awards and accolades I could add to my resume.

But a performative LinkedIn post for every minor accomplishment is as shallow to write as it is annoying to read.

Even volunteering, an amazing way to practice humility, risked becoming another opportunity to receive congratulatory comments. The struggle for recognition in higher education also pushes people to become reliant on large grants, GREs, GPAs or an amount of publications to achieve success.

Why are we numerically quantifying anyone? Why are we ranking people on a hierarchy that has nothing to do with their character or values?

Losing sleep for numbers and titles that only hold this level of significance within an academic space has become the norm. I have been genuinely harming my health trying to keep up with impossible expectations, trying to prove myself to myself.

I didn’t get burnt out, I got fed up. Not just with the system, but the person I had become, and the realization that no level of performance would create a healthy sense of self-worth. I wanted other people to see my success and acknowledge it, but hadn’t taken the step away to understand my value outside of school.

Our generation has brought to light the cringiness of “pick-me” behavior, where personal insecurities and desire for approval reflect in annoying attention seeking. A never-quenched thirst for academic excellence is the same, since it doesn’t really help you get positions you want. Funding cuts have made internships and job opportunities extremely limited, and nothing written on your resume reflects your value as a team member.

That said, I get why people are more commonly hired based on prior relationships; a long list of credentials tells you nothing about a person’s interests, ethics or personality. If anything, a primary focus on personal success could make you more difficult for others to be around.

Our culture has always valued the relationships between people over individual performance, but we often overlook this in academic spaces. A positive workspace comes from people who enjoy working together, not individuals focused on personal advancement.

I realized the consequences of this praise addiction on my personal life. When you’re too busy with work, you miss out on the memories you could be making. You’re too tired to maintain your relationships with your friends and family, but those that genuinely care about you deserve your intentional time.

It’s okay to say no, to reject an opportunity in favor of a hobby or socializing. You’ll probably be better adjusted when you start to focus on life outside of school. No one is expecting you to be superhuman. It’s okay to watch YouTube, play video games, doomscroll and spend money on entertainment. Your time is not wasted on entertainment and connections with those around you.

The people that matter most thought I was worthy before the accolades, and will still care for me if I stop chasing them. The reasons you may pursue success in higher education are valid, but you can’t let any of it define your self-worth. Your value will not come from a list of academic achievements.