Meritocracy: A Myth, A Mess?

On September 4, Dr. Scott opened the 215th Lawrenceville School year with the following remark: “Students … please rise. Look to your left, right, behind, and in front of you. You are not just excellent students…” As a new sophomore, still giddy from jet lag and confused by my unfamiliar surroundings,  I suddenly realized that a sparkling future filled with endless possibilities was unfolding before me. In my mind my ambitions crystallized  in the form of a list—straight-As, varsity sports, dazzling extracurricular activities—each element a step towards success and away from mediocrity. 

As I write this, I realize that my yearning for success and fear for mundanity is a shared yet deeply personal experience. In such a fast-paced  society, we frequently quantify success, seeking achievement without fully understanding what it means. Ultimately, we each define success differently and pursue it in our own ways; for instance, I composed my checklist of new extracurriculars to explore while my roomate carefully arranged and settled a statue of Nike on the edge of her desk.

So goes the question, what is “success”? 

Society commonly perceives success as the antonym of mediocrity. We strive to stand out amongst the crowd—whether through outstanding grades, a prestigious job, or a strong reputation—we chase to achieve what others cannot. In our minds, we imagine a plethora of cheers and acclaim, dreaming a prestigious award or position will fulfill us. To our disappointment, when we finally achieved the awards of our dreams, we only discovered rows of dark heads with neat parts bent over typewriters, clacking away, all successful and bright, all alike. So we end up upset, once again finding ourselves “mediocre” amongst a group of other “successful” people.

This scenario is likely to occur if we limit success to rising above the opposite of mediocrity. Indeed, no matter how distinguished one becomes in a certain environment, they can easily feel unremarkable in another. A graduating valedictorian, for instance, might find themselves in a sea of valedictorians from all around the world, all heading towards the same prestigious institution. Our current definition of success smothers us under the weight of constant comparison to others, persuading us that success is exclusive to one over-achieving individual, the“one and only”, an impossible standard that few can easily replicate. Such a cyclical, draining competition springs from our fear of leading meaningless lives, and resort to subjective standards of worth as a source of personal fulfillment. 

In truth, dear readers, neither you nor I are special. Receiving countless trophies for our achievements does not mean we are exceptional. We shouldn’t equate meeting the standards of others and attaining the personal satisfaction associated with success. This eventually leads to my plain and cliché definition of success: You define it. Success could mean overcoming an all-consuming goal, succeeding in a job or an institution that one pursues; but it can also be a collection of moments that light up your day, moments where you witnessed your positive impact. 

As student representatives carried the house flags, each virtue signifies how every one of us can  find success at some point at Lawrenceville. However, this success is not an exit ticket from meritocracy nor a pursuit towards elite colleges and other cultural markers, as is historically expected by elite prep schools—instead, success comprises the many self-containing moments where you have achieved the standards of excellence set by yourself.

 So I found myself assured by Dr. Scott’s conclusion of his speech: we are not just excellent students going to an elite prep school in New Jersey; among us are innovators, artists, performers, athletes, mentors, musicians, writers, poets, entrepreneurs… Indeed, one’s achievement shouldn’t be reduced to the dull, ordinary word s-u-c-c-e-s-s; it could be a vibrant celebration of passion, a firm recognition of diversity, or an unhistorical act fringed with joy, even in moments of mediocracy.