Jessai Flores

You know those things that you can’t stop complaining about, but it’s because, deep down, you love them? That’s my relationship with Directed Studies. You might say, “Eliza! How can you even write an article for the YDN about an experience only 100 first years can relate to?” And to that I say, whether you know it or not, everyone is affected in some way.

The reason that your friend who always lent you an extra tote bag got a bona fide backpack? DS. That one suitemate who can’t tag along to WOADS? DS again. And why did your date make you a charcuterie board with barley crackers and goat cheese, and who are these Epicureans he’s talking about? I think you know the answer. 

We might not have the enigmatic presence of secret societies or the revelrous reputation of Greek Life, but you have to admit there is a uniquely mystifying allure surrounding the program.

Come on, even if this is a little niche for most tastes, I know you’re a little curious. And if you’re a current or former DS-er, I know you’ll automatically do a close reading of this article anyway.

So I’ve compiled a list of some commonly asked questions interspersed with some hard, unshakeable facts. Also, here’s my informal disclaimer: I’ll stress that while this is all based on personal experience, I am not trying to target anyone. Most of the jabs I make could just as easily be directed back at me! And even though I might live in a glass house, I sure as hell am going to throw stones. It’s more entertaining that way. 

So enjoy my one-woman, Q&A, dramatic retelling of life in DS as I write the things that people are too afraid to say, but must be said anyway.

What even is Directed Studies?

DS is basically the equivalent of a Pre-Med track for humanities kids who are in WAY over their heads. We take intensive literature, philosophy, and history classes in an attempt to grasp the Western Canon. Translation: We read. We write. We discuss. Repeat steps one through three on a loop. In a typical week, we read sizable portions of three books, sit through three lectures, raise our hands one too many times in our discussion sections, and end it off with one 5-page paper due on Friday. Supposedly, college is the best four years of your life. And I’m spending it in my residential college library, basically in the fetal position, splitting the evening hours between frantically beginning to type up an outline for an essay due in 24 hours, and annotating whatever two immense texts I’m two days behind on readings for. Go figure.

Fact #1

We drown in books. It’s crazy. The vibes are dark-academia aesthetic. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves as we ignore the stray sheets of lecture paper haphazardly peeking out of our cluttered notebooks and the stacks of cracked spines accumulating in the dark recesses of common room corners. Shout out to all of the DS roommates and suitemates: you’re the real heroes for letting us store used paper-backs all over the place when our desk drawers are full. 

What kind of person actively chooses to be in DS?

Think of the kind of person who would be slightly more excited than normal to visit the Beinecke, crossing their fingers that the Gutenberg Bible is out for observation. Or the former Percy Jackson and Song of Achilles kids whose obsession with Greek mythology takes them even further than being a Classics major. Or the self impressed, private school educated “devil’s advocate” kid, from your history class who knows way too much about Alexander the Great. The program has a lot of characters that are larger than life, the worst of whom we’ve endearingly dubbed “section assholes.” 

So the stereotypes are true?

Well, yes and no. Depends on what stereotypes you mean. I know some DS people who boldly break the mold as student athletes and future Chemistry and Physics majors. As someone who’s only been to Payne Whitney twice and who hasn’t taken a science class since my junior year of high school, I really don’t know how they do it. But for every single anomaly, there are 20 overzealous future EP&E majors to make up for it. And you should see what everyone gets up to in the GroupMe. Since removing myself on Day 2 of the fall semester to avoid getting distracted by the fact that it is somehow active 25/7, I’ve only heard the wildest legends about the Thrasymachus “might makes right” memes. Honestly, someone should put me back on.

But for real, what does this aforementioned “mold” of a DS student look like? I envision it like the Cartesian wax thought experiment in The Meditations: transmutable. We come from various different backgrounds, but we all can still identify with one another over our nerdy interests, brought together by something intellectual and intangible.

“BOO! She’s making pretentious allusions to French philosophers!”

Okay, maybe I’m the problem. But hey! If it weren’t for DS, I might not have gotten around to reading Descartes. So that’s something.

Fact #2

 You won’t get through a philosophy lecture without hearing at least one of the holy trinity of terms that still confuse me: metaphysics, ontology, and epistemology. Well, I know now what they mean. I’ve read the definitions and used the words when it seemed right to. But nobody really knows anything though, right? I’m with Socrates on this one. I know nothing. 

Fact #3

Roughly 20 kids dropped out of DS after their first semester. Selfishly, I miss a lot of them, but I know they have their reasons. One friend of mine said she suddenly had all this extra time she didn’t know what to do with? I didn’t get to hear the rest because I had to rush to my study date with 200 pages of Milton’s Paradise Lost in a Bass cubicle. Shame.

So if you’re so busy, what do DS kids do on the weekend?

Thought we didn’t have any free time? Well, not really, it’s pretty scarce. But there is a light at the end of the 3-week torment tunnel! Let me introduce you to the novel invention of a no-paper week. If you thought WOADS has had weird vibes recently, or that the BDs get crazy crowded on Thursdays, wait until the rare week when we don’t have an essay due on Friday. Yale’s weekday nightlife gets engulfed by an avalanche of overworked DS kids attempting to unwind (key word, attempting). 

However, by far the most iconic tradition passed on through the generations of Directed Studies is the Toga Party. One daring first-year offers to host the best suite party thrown A.D. (after death), or at least of the century. Attendees must brave the embarrassment of walking across Old Campus in their cleanest white sheets twisted into a classic Roman toga. Not for the faint of heart, especially on a Friday night when everyone else looks good, and, well, modern. That’s all I can say about the matter— I’ve been sworn to secrecy. What goes down at these parties is strictly off-the-record activity, and I need to keep my journalistic integrity intact to make sure my invite to the next Toga Party doesn’t get lost in the mail.

Do people date within DS?

Interesting question, very juicy! The answer is yes, that has happened. But personally, unless you’re super confident your relationship will last, I do not recommend it. In most cases, I love the fact that I’m with all of the same friends for three quarters of my lectures. But in this particular case? I couldn’t bear to see an ex that often and actively have to avoid running into them every day. My advice? Treat DS like a work environment, and don’t mingle with your coworkers. 

I do have one exception to this rule, though. For all of my romance novel lovers — and yes, the DS people have trashy guilty pleasures too — if presented with an academic-rivals-to-lovers scenario, I might play along. Getting my claims challenged on a sound basis and still winning the argument? Palpable tension brewing as we make eye contact across the room while discussing Troubadour love poetry? Walking to Atticus to continue our discussion outside of the classroom? I wouldn’t be opposed. Like, if this romanticized and unrealistic scenario occurred in my life? I wouldn’t complain.

So, was it worth it? Did the ends justify the means?

Well, Machiavelli, you tell me. I guess people do look at me with extra pity in their eyes when they remember I’ve sold my soul to Directed Studies. And I understand why, it’s a stressful program that covers lots of material in a super condensed period. I mean, thanks to DS, my color-coded Google calendar has a separate “social” label. I literally have to schedule in my leisure time or else I won’t have any. 

But I urge you not to feel bad for me. I chose this life! Universities like Columbia and UChicago have core curriculums that cover a lot of the same material, but what’s special about DS is that we all opted in. We came into this reciting Petrarch in our spare time. This is our version of a varsity sport, our equivalent to mastery on a musical instrument. And that’s what makes it special. 

During reading week, the private rooms in the Humanities Quadrangle are ablaze with classical music and laughter that is so loud it is almost socially inappropriate. It’s kind of all a blur now, but I remember sharing Shake Shack fries as we went around in a circle, rapid firing one-by-one each philosopher’s stance on God in syllabus order. I think everyone that was present would look back on that time fondly. Some may say it’s sweet, others may say it’s trauma bonding. Like Sappho’s fragments, I’ll leave it up to personal interpretation.

My best Yale memories are undeniably marked by DS. It’s not a program for everyone, but it’s definitely the program for me (no matter how much I complain about it on a daily basis).