When applying to be the photo editor here at North by Northwestern, I thought it was going to be a breeze. I’d get a standing date with 7-10 new best friends who would think I’m beautiful, smart, funny and talented (All of which I know I am. I don’t need any affirmation but it’s also nice knowing that I’m right). We’d laugh and be witty for thirty minutes while pitching National Geographic–type photo essays. We’d compare the best shots we took this week and wax poetic about ever being able to buy a real–life, vintage Leica. All of our profile pictures would be in black and white and have more than 100 likes on them and they’d all be taken by the person sitting next to you.
But after two quarters, I know how wildly I was romanticizing the situation. At approximately 2:30 p.m. every Sunday, my inbox floods with messages, sounding a “ping!” “ping!” every two or three minutes with e-mails. I sometimes forget to turn the sound off. “Sorry, can’t make it! I have an exec meeting.” “Forgot to tell you! I’m at a leadership retreat!” “Whoops. I’m meeting with another campus group. Can you send over meeting notes?” And there I am, alone, cold; reading Atlantic articles outside the McTrib forum while CNN plays the ballad of Miley’s Best Year Ever. No one ever comes to the photo meetings. I’ve tried exclusivity. I’ve tried inclusivity. I’ve tried puns. I’ve tried snacks. Nada.
I would like to think this experience is not an uncommon one here at Northwestern. And I think I’ve discovered why it happens: In a school so intent on creating leaders, there are very few “followers” in sight.
This past week, The Atlantic ran “Why Are American Colleges Obsessed with ‘Leadership’?” In it, author Tara Isabella Burton questions if the American catchall leader – or one who is mature, motivated and self–confident – is as desirable a student as we’ve been taught to think. She writes that this mentality “eschews other potential [leadership] roles: that of the ‘natural follower,’ a ‘natural team player,’ a ‘natural lone wolf.’”
In high school, it was easier to be a leader. Granted, I didn’t go to the most competitive high school; if you wanted to be a leader, the opportunities were widespread. And in wanting to get into a “good” college, I had heard the rhetoric that becoming a leader was a part of it. So I took those opportunities. I grew to be a leader because Northwestern University told me I needed to be. But I was able to do it because there were people not trying to be a leader, but trying to learn or be part of a team or just enjoy the activity.
Now let’s flash forward to McTrib in 2014. My listserv contains 20 of those people who had the exact same experience. It also contains 20 names signed with “editor,” “executive” or “president” used as either an adjective or noun. We’re all leaders… but whom are we leading?
In many cases, the answer is no one. We have the leadership position, but we’re really just doing the work of a team all by ourselves. We do all the work ourselves. And what do we get in return? An epitaph on our post-collegiate headstone. One that might lead us in to the mighty salvation of post-grad employment, or be so undistinguishable from all the other recent graduates that it might just say, “Rest in Peace.”
That might be too dramatic, but I think we’ve gotten to a point where we can recognize much of what we do is leadership for leadership's sake. It’s a weird side effect of the time between college application and job application also known as college. We’re so scared of becoming the little (wo)men again and we’re afraid to admit that we’re not the high school superstars we once were. Many times we’d rather take a leadership position than contribute, even when contributing might be more worthwhile for everyone. I think as students, we need to reconfigure what we think leaders are.
We need to lessen the pressure on being what we’ve been taught to think of as a leader and instead think about those other types of leadership, those that don’t come with it in the title. This can come from checking ourselves when we call our cooperative jobs as “just” a writer, or “just” an assistant or what have you. Though these jobs don’t lead everyone, they do lead by example and by getting the work to a more efficient place.
I think it's only by re–aligning our strengths into new, appropriate roles that we can create work many students can be proud of. And although this might sound idealistic, I think it’s what can set us apart in the real workplace. Showing solid work and the ability to find a new role in a team can be a more desirable asset than just leadership skills.
That is, I’m not to say that we don’t need leaders, either – we just need to think about whether or not we’re forcing ourselves to be.