I dropped out of an Ivy League school with a 4.0: Regrets, Self-doubt, and more
Please read part 1 of this story here if you have not already.
tl;dr: What’s driving your current life decisions: dwelling on the past or wanting to move forward?
No one knows you better than you know yourself: Make your own decisions, and do what makes you happy. It will all be worth it in the end.
Arriving at Cornell University as a freshman, I was amazed. I’ve never seen such a beautiful campus and scenery in my life. I immediately started meeting new friends, was checking out different clubs, and was attending all the fun social events. You know, the usual college stuff. It was everything I could’ve hoped for and more.
In the second term, all the fun and luster of the orientation semester had died down, and I started focusing more on my academics and career. I joined one of the largest finance clubs on campus and was learning about investment banking and other finance topics. After all, it was my goal to be an investment banker, and that’s why I chose to come to Cornell!
But I struggled to get myself to be interested. I was finding it harder and harder to enjoy and focus on my classes and to stay motivated. I kept wondering what was wrong with me for being uninterested in a field that everyone else seemed to be. I forced myself to read books about the stock market, participate more in my finance club, and network with industry professionals, but the more I did, the more exhausted I became.
At the time, many of my friends happened to be in engineering and other STEM fields. As I watched them show me the games they built in their computer science classes and study guides they put together for their math courses, I couldn’t help but feel like I was missing out. I reminisced about the time in high school when I loved and excelled in such classes.
Ironically, the experience of going from an average to top student in high school (which had taken such a big toll on my self-confidence before) now made me believe that if I just put in enough work, I could achieve anything. I knew no matter how hard a class or a major might be, I had the discipline and ability to push through and succeed. Because of my experience in high school, now I began to believe in my potential and competencies to succeed in STEM more than ever.
I started searching for ways to transfer internally at Cornell to engineering or other science disciplines. I reached out to advisors, but all I got were emails filled with “Unfortunately…”, “You cannot….”, “You don’t have…”, informing me of my missing requirements. Even if I was successful by mere chance, I would have to spend a total of 5 or 5.5 years to complete my degree, rather than the 3.5 years planned.
I was devastated. I had finally realized what I wanted to study and pursue and built up enough confidence to do so, but I couldn’t. I felt a wave of guilt come over me and I started blaming myself for my past decisions.
If only I had the chance, I was willing to do anything it would take for me to be successful. Whether that be pulling multiple all-nighters in a row or spending all my free time at the library, I was willing to do it.
Each day I became more and more unmotivated, lost, and unhappy as I forced myself to become interested in what I wasn’t. I was constantly wondering “What if…” and “Only if…”, and soon I started to believe that I was being punished for blindly pursuing such superficial goals in high school.
By the time my freshman year came to an end, I felt more lost than ever.
The summer after my first year, I was in New York with my father for an internship. One day, we were sitting at a busy cafe in NYC and I built up enough courage to bring this issue up to my father. I was hoping to get his support with the extra years it would take me to stay at Cornell or in transferring to a different university. He had always been my biggest supporter, but this time to my surprise, he was quick to shut me down.
I was stunned. As we argued and argued, tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I’ve never felt more lost and alone.
Throughout that summer, I continued to struggle. Every day, my head was filled with regrets and voices blaming me for the decisions I made.
When I went back to school for my sophomore year, things didn’t get any better. Finally, I reached out to my mom for support, and she was genuinely worried about me. She said “Can’t you just transfer to UBC (The University of British Columbia)? Come stay here in Vancouver with me.” And I answered, “Don’t you remember how hard I worked to get here? I can’t do that!” and hung up the phone.
For many more weeks, I continued to push myself to keep up my grades, network, and find job opportunities. But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up for. And I thought back to what my mom had suggested. Because I couldn’t ask my father for financial support, I knew returning home to Vancouver was my only option.
All the sleepless nights I spent in high school crossed my mind. All the hours I spent preparing for my SATs and AP exams, how much I dreaded writing all those college essays, how excited I was when I got my acceptance to Cornell… Those all crossed my mind.
If I gave up now, all the work and hours I put into getting here would go to waste. “Your father will think you’re an embarrassment”, “What will your friends think?”, “You’re giving up already?”, “Think about all the people who helped you get here.” All of these thoughts plagued my mind and gave me a hard time.
After a while, I still found myself wondering about this decision. But this time, I reminded myself to start thinking objectively. I told myself that what’s past is past and that I have to focus on the future. Soon, the decision became easier than ever. Putting the past aside, I couldn’t find a single reason to remain at Cornell. I already knew what was right for me and what I had to do.
I wasn’t giving up. I was moving on.
Without consulting with anyone, I made a decision to withdraw from the university.
Soon after, I began informing my closest circle of my decision to leave Cornell. The majority of the responses I got were “What do your parents think about this?”, “You’re telling me you don’t want a diploma from Cornell?”, “You know what you’re giving up right?”, “ I would think again if I were you.”
I was saddened and discouraged. But I already had my mind made up.
After finishing my exams that month, I packed up my things in Ithaca and left, knowing I won’t be returning.
A lot of people assumed that I left Cornell because I thought it was toxic, too competitive, or too rigorous. But none of these are true.
I truly cherish the memories I had there, the life-long friendships I built, and the valuable lessons I learned. I love Cornell dearly and it will always have a special place in my heart. We just didn’t meet at the right time, and that’s okay.
Dwelling on our past deters us from making the right decisions in the present. It holds us back and blinds us from thinking objectively. If you ever find yourself struggling to make a decision because of what had happened in the past, consider what’s more important to you: the past or the future?
So where am I now?
Transitioning to STEM and transferring schools posed its own set of challenges, but I’m happy to say that today I am able to take classes that genuinely interest and challenge me. I marvel at the fact that if I hadn’t transferred, I would not have had the chance to learn about all these advanced topics in STEM, and it truly makes me happy.
The doors and opportunities that opened up for me amaze me every day. I met incredible friends and mentors throughout my time at UBC. I found my passion in product management and social impact technology. And most importantly, I’m at a place where I can share my stories and help other students who may be struggling with self-doubt and limiting beliefs.
Let me know if a sequel article on my experience transitioning to STEM and transferring schools would be interesting.
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