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Record numbers of high-achieving intellectuals have been admitted to the class of 2014, reinvigorating the long-standing debate: are academics an essential part of the college landscape?
“I just don’t like the culture it fosters,” said Dirk Dowen ’12, talking louder than a regular person. “These brain-head academics stay up all night, chugging coffee, learning in groups with each other like a bunch of animals.” Dowen looks angry. Then scared.
“Plus, they’re intimidating,” added Dowen. “I feel like they look smaller and smarter every year.”
A higher percentage of students with good test scores, months of community service, and compelling essays were accepted in favor of the physically strong.
“My buddy Todd, he’s huge, can put up like huge numbers on the bench and
on the leg press, and he got a huge rejection!” said Pug Groger ’13, sprinting to gather momentum to hurl a javelin. “Then I see these fools walking around with calculators and notepads, going to class. It makes me sick.”
Some athletes argue that academics only siphon time and money from the school. Some don’t know why students are recruited for academics at all. Others do know. Because their parents told them.
“I know this is all for donations,” said Gurt Gurterson ’13.5, chucking basketballs from the half-court line. “They just bet that one in every few of them will go professional with this academics stuff and turn back a whole bunch of donations. But guess what? We athletes won’t see any of that money. You know where those donations go? Books. Classrooms. Better professors. C’mon! Seriously, if I thought that was what college was about, a gym membership would have been a lot cheaper.”
Some of the borderline athletes, and those better able to express themselves with words, have criticized the academics. “An implicit social hierarchy maintains their delusion of dominance,” said Barry Bork ’11, who was barely visible behind his enormous biceps.
Athletes feel like the academics are living the easy life: they can get into any female professor’s class they like, they smell fantastic, and they’ve figured out how to play Frisbee without smacking it into the big can.
“These nerds will do anything to stay healthy for a test. They think we don’t know about the Vitamin C. But everyone knows these guys are juicing. Juicing oranges,” said Ed Eddy ’12 as he dove to the ground and appealed to the referee for a foul. “They always sit together at meals, gulping Minute Maid, and on weekends, they disappear into each others’ rooms, probably pounding back strawberries and Airborne with other academically driven students.”
Despite the divide, many athletes say that they covet the academics’ glamorous and substantial college experience. “Maybe they really are living the good life. Maybe I could get a thinking job out of college. Maybe I could read a chapter book. Maybe I could be the next Einsteil and win a No-Bell Peace prize. I love trophies,” said Jim Jork ’13 between mouthfuls of raw protein powder. “But then I see the boys sweating at practice or shirtless in the hot tub and say to myself, fuck that, learning to read ain’t that big a something.”
At the time of interviews, no academics were available because they were all in class. “Beer,” Jork added, then punched the reporter in the arm.
