The lost election

In high school, I was successful in extracurricular activities. After eight classes of suppressing my extroverted personality, extracurricular activities allowed me to unleash it. Clubs were an opportunity to make friends I would never have met otherwise. During my four years of high school, I was a student ambassador, captain of the ice hockey team, treasurer of Habitat for Humanity, and president of the German Club. At one point I even held an officer position in the sewing club, which was ridiculous because if I hadn’t switched places with my older sister, I would have failed the sewing course; She sewed my projects in exchange for me doing her chemistry homework.

Each of the 33,488 undergraduate students enrolled at the University of Michigan had to be admitted to the third largest public university in the United States. To be considered by the admissions office, prospective students must not only achieve excellent grades, but also participate in organizations outside of the classroom. After all, we all had the promise to be the “leaders and the best.”

At university, the clubs are far more exclusive than at high school. Belonging to an organization not only provides networking opportunities but also career development opportunities. Forget being president – ​​even membership in a club is excluded through applications and interview rounds. It is already known that every student who applies excelled in high school with a good GPA and impressive extracurriculars, otherwise they would not be on this campus. Potential members need more to stand out in the application process.

Despite the extensive list of 1,771 organizations on Maize Pages, getting involved on campus is not as easy as the Student Life Admissions homepage claims, resulting in students often struggling with rejections and on the Wait until the next application cycle to try again.

Once, I was a lucky fish in a small pond of about 1,000 students at North Hunterdon High School, where it didn’t take much to stand out. Nobody saw each other as competitors. I’ve now become a guppy, swimming among sharks – sharks who participate in extracurricular activities not for friends, but to get one step closer to the next opportunity.

While students spend the academic year trying to secure summer internships, connections through membership in elite clubs seem to offer the best opportunities. Since organizations and contacts are in high demand, charm won’t be nearly enough to get your foot in the door.

After my medical retirement from rugby, I found a way to stay in the team without having to risk my body. Grasping at straws to remain loyal to my on-campus community, I applied for the position of team fundraising chair. If I’m honest, I mostly did it because I thought I was uncontested.

Unlike high school, in student-run organizations there are specific tasks that must be undertaken. Sure, I was treasurer at Habitat for Humanity in high school, but I didn’t really handle the money. There was a teacher who acted as the club’s advisor and took care of everything that couldn’t be trusted to 16-year-olds, such as owning the money from the bake sale and investing it back into the club. I actually have no idea what we raised money for or where it went. Some treasurer I was.

Administrative positions in rugby, on the other hand, are like unpaid part-time jobs. I can remember how the joy of attending nationals turned into fear for the game secretary when he realized he was responsible for booking flights and hotel rooms for 30 players and coaches.

Of course, rugby secretary is just one of thousands of positions in student organizations that demand many hours of Michigan students’ time each week.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, LSA senior Erin Page, co-president of Theta Alpha Psi, shared her intensive time commitment.

“I would say 10 to 15 hours a week,” Page said. “And that’s also split between my co-president, so I think if it was just one person, there would be a lot more.”

Club elections were a low-stakes popularity contest in high school. I’m not saying I was unsuitable to serve as an officer for my high school extracurricular activities, just that my campaign strategy was more about making friends in the clubs than in actual politics. However, in college, a tremendous level of commitment is expected from all members. Take Page, for example, who joined Theta Alpha Psi in the fall semester of her freshman year. Her first leadership position was as one of the project leaders and she was later elected vice president of membership development. Now, as a senior, Page has worked his way up to the top spot. The only way to be taken seriously in an election and rise in the rankings is to invest time in college early on.

So when I gave my speech about why I should be the rugby team’s fundraising chair, the smile on my face didn’t hide the fact that when I was elected, I knew nothing about fundraising other than my role as high school treasurer , where I hadn’t done that. I don’t actually do anything. I couldn’t screw up my campaign like I had screwed up the sewing club.

When I learned that I actually had a competitor, I immediately accepted defeat. My sense of belonging to this organization disappeared the moment I realized I should quit rugby. Trying to stay in an administrative position wouldn’t concern me.

After my first election defeat, I only felt relief. Being elected fundraising chair would have tied me to a team that I had already decided to step away from and to which I had already given so much. Losing an election for the first time was a concrete expression of my breaking ties with my former identity.

The position of fundraising chair would probably have taught me a lot about the inner workings of the finances of a club sport, but nothing more. Managing merchandise sales would not benefit my post-graduate life in any way. What has served my life, however, is learning to lose. As I enter adulthood and soon head into the real world, I know how to find my identity rather than clinging to something I once allowed to define me.

After that rejection, I grieved, but not for the position of fundraising chair – I never really wanted it. Instead, I had to mourn my former self. Not only did I lose an election for the first time, I also felt the loss of my exuberant, committed side.

I don’t think I was ever interested in rugby; It just spared my identity as an athlete, which should have died when I refereed my last high school hockey game. At a school with 33,488 students, I desperately wanted to belong. I became so addicted to the dopamine rush associated with athletics that my identity became entwined with something I had no passion for. It wasn’t until I finally stopped searching for identities that I was able to start growing into myself.

Opinion contributor Mikaela Lewis can be reached at [email protected].

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