I grip the steering wheel tightly as the white spire of the chapel looms into view. Despite the excitement I feel for my last semester, a familiar stream of thoughts enter my mind: What if I don’t do well in my senior projects? How will I be prepared for a future career? What if I can’t demonstrate all I’ve learned thus far? What if I can’t get a job after I graduate? Embedded in this line of thinking are a number of assumptions: firstly, that anything I do in the future depends upon my success in college. Secondly, I must produce my best quality work because I’m an experienced senior. Most importantly, if I don’t meet these expectations, I will have failed.
It’s taken me four years to realize the point of college isn’t success, at least in a traditional sense. I’m not implying that performing well in college isn’t a worthy endeavor. The problem is that our American educational system places value on rigid, linear career pathways with a narrow idea of success. As a perfectionist thinker, I tend to fixate on my goals rather than my learning process. Over the last four years, I’ve had to retrain my brain to challenge this kind of thinking.
It wasn’t until my friend slipped a bright yellow book into my hands two years ago that I realized how widespread my experiences were. “This seems right up your alley,” she said to me as I stared down at the cover with a mixture of joy and relief. “The Effortless Perfection Myth” is by visiting professor and speaker Caralena Peterson. She had given a talk earlier that day about the mental health challenges affecting collegiate women.
“Effortless perfection,” a term coined by the Duke University Women’s Initiative Report in 2003, is the “expectation that one would be smart, accomplished, fit, beautiful, and popular, and that all this would happen without visible effort.” Perfectionism is not a new subject of talk at Middlebury. Renowned feminist Courtney Martin visited back in 2014 to discuss the harmful aspects of this high-achiever mindset.
As an academically rigorous institution, Middlebury expects a lot from its students. However, it also means students expect quite a bit from themselves. Last year, I learned more about Middlebury’s academic culture from Matt Longman, the Dean of Sophomore Experience, who’d been a crucial resource for me when I struggled with severe anxiety.
“Behind that competition, it’s almost self-selecting that you have a higher percentage of people who, in meeting the profile to get into [Middlebury], have probably taken on a lot of perfectionist traits,” he said as I leaned back on the couch with his dog, Kylo. A surprisingly emotionally-attuned pet, Kylo looked up at me with imploring eyes, both paws resting on my lap. Matt’s words certainly made sense to me. I’d had dozens of conversations with my own friends about mental health, so I wasn’t surprised that he’d recognized this issue as well.
These struggles weren’t something I anticipated undergoing as a first year, and I’ve had to adjust my mindset frequently throughout my college experience. When it comes to academic work, practicing self-advocacy and giving myself the space I need has helped me deal with stress.
Other seniors have expressed that they feel a similar way. Lake Willett ’25.5 agreed that being vulnerable and genuine with her academic advisors has helped her challenge perfectionist thoughts. Striding alongside her in the cool night air, I listened intently to her words.
“I associate perfectionism with wanting to do what’s going to be perceived as the most perfect, which is sometimes incompatible with what you believe is the best [for yourself],” she said thoughtfully. Already, I realized, Lake had touched upon the most crucial aspects of perfectionism. For me, as well as the dozens of interviewees that Peterson interviewed for her book, perfectionism is an endless cycle that is deeply intertwined with self-worth. The conventional stream of thoughts goes something like this: I must meet goal A to succeed. If I do this, then I’ll be confident enough to take on goal B. If I can’t meet goal A, I’m probably not capable of meeting goal B. According to this line of thinking, achievement in the future is entirely dependent upon achievement in the past. It also suggests that you are not worthy if you don’t achieve your goals.
For many, this is an appealing way of thinking despite its false promise of success. Hearing Lake’s reflections over the past four years brought a smile to my face.
“I’m so much more solid in me,” she said confidently as she described leaning into the things that bring her joy. Her words reminded me immediately of something I’d encountered in Peterson’s book: the concept of pursuing an image versus developing an identity. Perfectionism is all about creating an image for others, while developing an identity is about doing the things that feel genuine even if they aren’t perfect.
Though perfectionism doesn’t present in the same way for everyone, it is nonetheless a difficult mental health challenge. At Middlebury, we have an opportunity to create more space for vulnerable conversations and to shift the educational culture towards one that values learning as much as achieving. As a senior, I am frequently asked the age-old question: “What have you learned during your four years here?” Several years ago, my answer might have been about challenging myself and pushing my limits. But now I can say with confidence, “I know what it means to give myself the grace and respect I deserve.”
If you have experiences or thoughts you’d like to share about this topic, feel free to do so at go/PerfectionismSurvey.
