Going to Yale has made me a worse person. I would not be surprised if this was true of you, too. Before I explain why, a few preliminary statements: I am grateful to be here. My experiences here have been overwhelmingly positive in terms of intellectual growth and even overall happiness. The fact that I have started with such a negative tone, yet I claim to be happy might surprise some of you. After all, this is a stressful place, and we don’t often feel very happy while on the grind. However, the joy I’ve felt while making memories with my friends here far outweighs the despair that overtakes me anytime I descend into the bowels of Bass Library, not to mention the satisfaction I get whenever that hard work pays off in the form of a good grade. 

The stress in the life of a Yale student is the problem, though. Couple that with a lack of character-oriented education, and you have a recipe for a very selfish person. This has at least been true in my case. I won’t level any accusations at you, my peers. Instead, I’ll let you decide for yourselves whether the moral of your story is similar to mine.

It was 2 a.m. and everything was soon to close. It was nearing the end of my first year here, and, as is typical of any semester, I was drowning in a final deluge of assignments. I had taken a quick break from work to play some ping-pong with a friend, when I decided I was hungry. I needed to act fast before even Brick Oven shut its doors for the night, so I ordered pizza via Snackpass and went to pick it up. I reached the restaurant parking lot, and a homeless man approached me, asking if I would buy him a soda. 

Many times before then during my time at Yale, people less fortunate than I had asked me for something that I presumably could more easily afford. In fact, if you spend much time around the Shops at Yale, you know this is a common occurrence. I personally have not witnessed many students acquiesce to these requests. I’ve heard justifications from “I just don’t ever carry around change” to “It’s not a viable long-term solution since it only encourages them to ask for more.” I had always used the former rationale to avoid giving, but that night would be different. 

I knew I was running low on money. I had saved up for the semester by working at my local music store over winter break. The cost of living in New Haven is much higher than that of my hometown in rural Tennessee, though, and my family has never been especially well off, so I could only stretch that cash so thin. What would it hurt me, though, I thought, to not worry so much for once about penny-pinching? My financial state hadn’t stopped me from buying that pizza, so what would a little more frivolity for a less selfish cause hurt? 

I told the man that I would buy him a soda. He grabbed two from the cooler. When I approached the counter somewhat awkwardly, the cashier asked me with obvious sarcasm if I was a senior at Yale. I replied that I was a first-year, and he said condescendingly, as the homeless man retreated to a corner with his sodas, “Well, welcome to New Haven.” Then, I discovered I had accidentally ordered two pizzas on Snackpass, and my budget for the night was blown to smithereens.

I was bitter about that night for a long time. That was perhaps the only time in my life, at that point, where I had done what was “right” and felt nothing but regret after the fact. I begrudgingly ate my pizzas — yes, both of them — and returned to my work, feeling like nothing I had done brought any net good into the world. I was embarrassed by the cashier’s tongue-in-cheek comments and felt like I had been taken advantage of. Also, I realized there were still plenty of other people asking for help that I had ignored, and not all of them would be good stewards of any aid they received. 

The real tragedy of this story appears when looking at me now. I understand that satisfaction doesn’t always follow every act of goodwill and that people can misuse the gifts you give them. I don’t resent the homeless man for taking an extra soda, and I don’t care all that much that the Brick Oven cashier thought I looked like a chump. The saddest part of the story, though, is that not only do those thoughts never enter my mind anymore; thoughts of generosity don’t either. Before that night, I was always racked with guilt whenever I denied someone’s request for money or a meal. I don’t need a rationale anymore, though; I’m indifferent, because my mind is more preoccupied with my own work. The end of the semester has come again, and the deadline floodgates have opened once more. 

This is why I place the blame for my moral decay on my entire Yale career and not a particular bad experience. As a Yale student, so much of my mental energy is exhausted by heeding the instructions I leave myself in my Google calendar. I take the plunge into the torrent of work every day because I have to get this degree. I need a career. I have loans to pay, and I’m sure some bills will accompany them soon enough. I need to make good grades, establish connections with professors that will write me good rec letters for grad school. How can I fight against this current of selfish thinking? With everything I have to do for myself, how do I have time to think of other people? When self-preservation dominates your thinking, all it takes is a single bad experience with generosity to become subconsciously convinced that others-oriented thinking is not worth the mental energy anymore.

The weight of future success hangs heavy on the shoulders of any Yale student. The future is so uncertain, and so many opportunities that a Yale degree makes more attainable are still incredibly difficult to secure. The anxiety of the college grind is a parasite on my psyche. Perhaps if Yale presented itself more often as a place where not only one’s intellect is cultivated but also one’s moral character, my situation would be different. The truth is, though, I hear much more talk around campus of students’ crushing workloads than the plight of those less fortunate than them.

 I don’t know if that means you suffer from the same malady as I do. If you do, I encourage you to fight the current and spare yourself some change. 

ELIJAH BOLES is a Sophomore in Ezra Stiles College. Contact him at elijah.boles@yale.edu.