Today, I faced a question that most recognize only in hypothetical discussions. Today, I was given a choice between an easy path and a right path. While combating my mental illnesses throughout the semester, I failed all 6 of my registered classes, 3 of which I intended to drop. Speaking with MIT’s Student Support Services yielded me the two options:
- Path One: I submit for Medical Leave with MIT Medical’s support. I will be refunded the entire semester’s tuition. All failing grades are wiped off my record. I do not attend MIT in the Spring, but I continue to receive treatment from MIT Medical, either directly or indirectly. I am expected to cut myself off from the rest of MIT, and to continue treatment and engage in a stable activity to ground myself until Student Support Services deems me ready to continue my education when I have, “Pulled my act together.”
- Path Two: I file for Late Drop petitions with my professors to drop all of my extra, failing classes and take three failing grades. I must justify why I am dropping the classes late to the Council on Academic Performance (CAP). I continue to attend MIT with an Academic Warning – meaning, if I do not drastically improve my performance, I will be barred from MIT until I am deemed qualified to reapply. I continue, unimpeded, as a continuous student into the Spring.

MIT versus Lusby
My immediate reaction is that Path One is not an option. I quickly choose Path Two. The dean is taken aback not only by my decision, but also the swiftness with which I delivered it. He further explained that the effect this would have on my GPA would be devastating, and that even significant improvement across all sectors would still merit me doubtful glances by employers or fellowships that eyed my transcript.
“Grades are not important to me,” I reply.
He stammers, “B..But what about when employer’s request your transcript?”
“It’d be quite an interesting story to tell,” I state.
I was not going to be noncompliant, however, so I agreed to take some time to think about the decision, and research each option. Further investigation with the dean and the head of the CAP, revealed something interesting: The fact that my mental illnesses rendered me so unstable, before the official drop date, I could have, theoretically, dropped all of the classes in question. Doing so would cease my status as student of MIT, forcing me to reapply, but retaining a single class would allow me to remain as a continuing student.
There is more to life than this.
I am satisfied beyond belief. Everything has gone according to plan. I acknowledged early on that focusing intently on my treatment would result in failing classes. I acknowledged that I would pay a cost in the form of a GPA. I understood the costs of my actions, but I understood the benefits of my actions. I would regain myself in life. I would remove the taint that has held me back for so long, and I would be reborn to live life anew, to fulfill that aching pain which moaned, “There is more to life than this. This is not it.”
Now, I must pay the cost and accept the consequences of my actions.
Well, I did it, and now I must pay the cost and accept the consequences of my actions. My time was invested in researching the psychology and cognition behind full recovery of individuals like myself. I thought through every ideal, value, and goal I held. I got my act together mentally, and the recent medication has supplied the biological answer. So, I see the easy path, Path One, where I take 8 months off to work and earn money, even move back to Maryland. I could have all of my grades erased. I could have all of my connections to the class of 2012 severed and stalled for 8 months. I could take this time to ensure my treatment is fully realized and that my illnesses will not relapse. There is more stress at home, though, than MIT. A return to Maryland would cause a relapse, not MIT.
Maryland would cause a relapse, not MIT.
Or I can choose Path Two, the difficult path. I can go on with life without a hiccup, without an asterisk. I can maintain my flow with relationships and direction. I can risk relapse, and have only confidence to support my treatment’s realization.
The dean does not understand my decision because it is not logical based on his assumptions: 1) Easier is better. 2) Safer is better. 3) Students want high GPAs. And because he has not given me a chance to explain my decision fully, nor been been informed on the situation entirely.
Part of my decision to choose the right path, the hard path, over an easy one comes from some of the most powerful and motivating words I have ever heard,

John F. Kennedy, a giant trapped in a man's body.
“We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.”
-John F. Kennedy, thirty fifth president of the United States of America
Such is the nature of true men. I choose the higher path because I will not live like a sorry soul who knows not the passions of great triumph, nor the sadness of great defeat. I will test my new resolution and capacity against this challenge that life throws at me – and I will succeed.