Before I came to University of Rochester, I had never heard its famous motto: “Meliora”- Ever Better.
When I arrived, it was part of every speech, every orientation activity, every thought about the school. No one could untangle the school from the motto- there’s even an annual “Meliora Weekend.” We all make puns with it, make t-shirts with it across our chests, patiently explain it to our relatives who don’t understand.
But what happens when it doesn’t fit your college life? What happens when you don’t think you’re living up to the hype? What happens when you’re not “ever better?”
Imposter syndrome is a very real thing- in that one feels like they are not deserving to occupy the space they do and people will uncover this fraud- even on this college campus, even when they are told by the Dean that their class was one of the most accomplished in the college’s history. I listen to other students describe their high schools and their application credentials and suddenly feel as if the admissions department made some grand mistake. Surrounded by those who seemed infinitely more qualified and able than myself, I didn’t disclose my own background.
Within the first three weeks of classes, I had to deal with the abrupt realization that I hated my intended major: I was not meant to be an engineer, despite everyone telling me I would be. Even though I dropped that class, I still had to struggle through hard math and sciences for the rest of the semester. I got my first-ever grade that wasn’t an A. I wasn’t better than I had been before coming here- I felt worse.
It was hard, at that moment, to see how I could ever really be a part of the university. I couldn’t even embody its motto. I was not an embodiment of this idea of becoming better always- rather, I felt the opposite.
I later switched majors, entering the humanities and finally being able to say I was studying what I loved. I joined a sorority, took on leadership roles in clubs, and even overloaded in classes. I feel at home in Rush Rhees, on the quad, with my friends. I can say I love it here. That doesn’t erase everything else, doesn’t erase the feeling I get when I hear our motto.
You can love something and recognize its faults.
Our motto is one that sounds nice, that sounds inspiring. And perhaps it is, to people who are always embodying it, who don’t doubt their place here, who already started their education thinking they were exceptional, who don’t struggle to exist in this place, who know their inherent worth to a place like this.
But what about the ones who don’t?
This concept of always being better creates the idea that what you are in any moment is not enough. There is always a better way to exist- that somehow, you can never be satisfied because there is always some mysterious “better” in the distant beyond. They are taught that in order to be “true” students and members of this community, they must be creating masterpieces and finding cures and changing the world.
That’s a lot of pressure for young people. We are not even full adults and yet expected to excel in ways most other adults don’t. We can make ourselves better- that’s natural human progress; we should be growing and changing. But there is a problem with expecting everyone’s better to look the same, with saying that someone’s best is not good enough, that there is always a way to be better. To learn be “ever better” is learning to never be satisfied, is never being able to take pride in achievements that may not seem spectacular. For some, passing a class is an achievement, yet our university seems to expect pristine grades and a changed world by the time we graduate in just eight semesters.
There’s also a problem that comes from an elite institution wanting everyone to be “exceptional” and “better”- one concerning vast amounts of privilege. It’s hard to be as exceptional as your peers if you’re working while trying to balance classes, if you come from a lower socioeconomic class, if you’re part of any marginalized group, if you can’t afford to do “amazing” internships and extracurricular activities over the summer. It’s hard to feel as if you’ll ever be as exceptional as those with far higher degrees of privilege than yourself. In creating an idea of ever better, one must seemingly overcome all other obstacles- far easier for cis white rich males than for other populations.
Not everyone comes here thinking they are exceptional. Not everyone on this campus studies the same things. Not every student can “do it all.” Not every student is in the same place in their life. “Meliora” is a motto with good intentions, but perhaps it’s time we all held ourselves to slightly different standards and realized our best at any moment is good enough. We are good enough.
Not everyone can be “ever better” all the time.
And it’s time we realized that’s okay, too.