“Where are your fun books?” I heard a student ask at the information desk at Green Library. The librarian looked confused. “That depends on your definition of fun,” she replied. The student  looked up, deadpan, “Non-homework books.”

I rarely read for fun when I’m on campus taking classes. Partly because I don’t have time, partly because reading for fun feels illegitimate. It’s not intense enough for Stanford standards. Students here are intense about ultimate frisbee, intense about a cappella, intense about partying. I feel guilty taking a study break to listen to the radio in my room, but I feel okay if I do something actively unproductive. “I can’t study–I have to listen to NPR” doesn’t cut it. “I’ll study tomorrow because I’m going out tonight” does.  I have a variety of tools for staying sane while being busy, and virtually no tools for just being sane.

I was talking to a guest lecturer who has a fresh perspective on the campus climate. She told me it baffled her that students didn’t just say no to an opportunity when they were too busy to accept it. When I am offered an opportunity, I forget that I have a choice to take it. I do logistical backflips in my head to figure out how I might be able to squeeze another commitment into a break on Friday afternoons, between 4:00 and 4:05. Instead, I might choose to decline the offer. I know, shocking.

The attitude of intensity students adopt towards much of campus life does not bode well for life after school. When you live in a bubble of people working themselves ragged all week only to party themselves ragged on the weekend, it feels normal. Of course you would look forward to getting drunk on Friday to cope with the anxiety of midterms. Outside of the bubble, the same behavior sounds like workaholism tempered with alcoholism. Work hard, have fun, but learn to say no when you have too much on your plate, and find where they keep the fun books in the library.

Amused? Confused? Outraged? Share your thoughts with Renée at [email protected].