It’s freezing cold outside. And so us Penn students have our Canada Goose jackets and chic wool scarves hanging pretty on our coatracks. But more importantly, we’ve shut ourselves out. Going outside feels like a Herculean feat, and I personally have been spending an extortionate amount of time lounging around my dorm.
The general malaise of campus has thrown me into an inexplicable wave of nostalgia for the warmer months, when campus would bustle hours into the night. The warmth seemed to draw people out, contributing to the constant hum of something going on, exuding an almost comforting sense of busyness. Under this lens, it’s then clear that the weather was not Penn’s only source of energy. For most Penn students, it was also the party scene. October and November found many of us oscillating seamlessly between midterm exam prep and the festivities of Halloweekend and Homecoming.
This work-hard-play-hard dynamic, grounded in equal commitments to both academic and social pursuits, is one of the most defining aspects of Penn, granting us the unofficial title of “the Social Ivy.” And for most, it seems to satisfy. Facing a week full of academic undertakings, the prospect of a night out is something to look forward to. Even an infrequent partygoer like myself can appreciate the lively buzz of people going out as early in the week as Wednesday.
But as temperatures have plummeted, the party scene has turned inward. On the heels of Greek rush, social gatherings have progressed to something more exclusive, as pledge classes seek to connect internally through an organized social calendar. In conditions too cold (and even too exclusive) to “play hard” outside, one would expect that at such a social school, even unaffiliated students would find a new mode of play.
But along with our parties has seemingly gone the outgoingness necessary to merit our “Social Ivy” status. I’ve noticed that most people who opted not to rush have decided to invest their time into academics and career prospects. We continue to cling to the extremes, where those who are pledging navigate packed weekends and those who aren’t pack their nights with homework and club applications instead. The intermediary, it seems, is completely foreign to us.
I see now that the Penn “work-hard-play-hard” lifestyle entails working hard, playing hard, and practically nothing else. Though it gives the impression of balance — in which play recharges you for work and work creates the desire to play — it instead represents an addiction to intensity and an inability to slow down. In truth, Penn’s form of “playing hard” is often just another thinly-veiled form of working hard.
While partying certainly can be fun, consider the ways in which it satisfies a Penn student’s desire to toil. A night out often requires you to carefully plan your outfit, to coordinate with your friend group, and most importantly assign it space in your Google Calendar. Getting into a party might require you to tap into your network, which in the context of Greek rush, turns the simple quest to find community into an arduous networking exercise. The objective strays away from finding brotherhood and towards joining the house with the most clout. In this light it’s almost glaring how quickly Penn’s social scene can become another means to scratch the incessant itch to plan and accomplish.
When we primarily spend our time on either end of the work spectrum, retreating to our rooms during gaps in our schedules, we unintentionally make work the exclusive venue for social interaction. When we limit our socialization to situations of work, whether studying, networking, or partying, our connections become contingent on productivity. This lends itself to the transactional feeling of many Penn relationships, and ultimately the sense that our school lacks community.
We don’t need to stop going out. Playing hard is absolutely still a form of bona fide fun. But we can’t afford to treat it as the only form or even the most concentrated form. Along with our partying, we all must learn to play soft. During nights in, go to your RA’s events. Stay up late with friends watching trashy movies and talking about nothing. We must exercise our ability to convert our free time into something other than goal-reaching or doom-scrolling. Balance doesn’t necessarily entail spending equal time on both ends of the spectrum. There’s endless untapped fun in between the poles of academic ambition and alcohol consumption, and it’s begging to be discovered. It’s the only way to make it through the winter.
DEW UDAGEDARA is a College first-year studying neuroscience from Long Beach, Ca. His email is dewdunu@sas.upenn.edu.