The Golden Rule

The golden rule is to treat people how you want to be treated. It’s certainly valid- you should treat others well. However, the rule focuses on the other versus the self. In order to be successful in life (and you can interpret successful in whatever way is most applicable to you) you must start with yourself. 

The first time I heard Kanye West was probably on the radio in the mid 2000s. I’m sure it was the radio version of West’s hit Heartless and I didn’t think anything of it. I was only 8 or 9, and his music was overshadowed by the financial crisis and his debacle at the VMA’s (when he had his famous “imma let you finish” line.) But I’ll never forget the first time I heard Kanye and his cry for self-love and an unwavering respect for yourself. My dad and uncle had somehow found a leaked version of West’s anticipated album Yeezus, and my dad was playing this album religiously. On the car ride to school, in his art gallery, on the way to my Bat Mitzvah. For those of you familiar with this album, you know it’s provocative, and goes way over the head of a 12-year-old. Frankly- I didn’t understand any of the lyrics, and I’m unsure why my parents felt comfortable with me listening to such explicit versus at such a young age (actually I know why but that’s another story) but I know how it made me feel. While my personal analysis of the music and his lyrics seldom happened for years after my initial listen of Yeezus- the first time I heard Guilt Trip I cried. I can’t explain why. I just felt- really fucking good. I felt sad, happy, grateful, connected, all at the same time. I felt what best could be described as in tune with myself. From that moment forward- I told myself I always wanted to Chanel that energy. That feeling of connectedness with one’s self. And as I grew older I began to realize that connectedness comes from self-love and respect, and an unweaving belief in yourself. Here’s my story.

I didn’t attend Horace Mann or Harvard-Westlake, where the push to go to an ivy is at the forefront of your high school experience. I went to Westminster- a small, yet very competitive, prep school in Simsbury, CT, where the emphasis on college doesn’t happen until Junior year and the counselors push a “don’t stress it will all workout” mentality on the students. Candidly- I just wanted to get the best education, make the most connections, and pave a clear path for my future. Naturally- this would mean attending an Ivy League Institution. When I talked to my college counselors about this bold idea of mine, to go “Ivy”, I actually don’t think they thought I was being serious. Despite being president of The Debate Team and a highly involved member of Model UN as well as a variety of other extracurriculars - they were unsure I had the gumption or the standardized test stores to go to my dream school, Cornell. I tuned them out, told my counselors and advisors that I was applying and that I would get in, would leave the meetings stubbornly, put in my air pods, and listen to Can’t Tell Me Nothing, a Kanye classic. 

Fast forward to a few months later- and after weeks of agonizing over the impeding decision I finally heard at low and behold, a pizza shop. Dear Sarah, we regret to inform you, I read. I know what you’re all thinking at this point. I didn’t get in and this story will pivot to my experience at another school. Well- that’s kind of true. You see, at the bottom of my “rejection” there was a clause. “Your school has decided to extend you a conditional admission offer to Cornell University for the following academic year after you complete coursework at another institution.” Honestly, after being deferred during Early Decision rounds, I knew this outcome was plausible. However- in my book- this was success. I would be graduating college with a Cornell Degree. An Ivy League degree. My heart was full. I had worked hard, believed in myself, and was awarded. Since the admissions was conditional, I had to go to another institution for my freshman year, and then transfer. So naturally- I chose the most fun school I had applied too. The University of Wisconsin-Madison. Why not have some fun before I spend my next three years with my head in a book, I thought to myself as I paid the deposit fee. Plus, my best friend Jenna was also going to Wisconsin, so it would be, hopefully, a pretty seamless transition. 

And so it was. Perhaps maybe too seamless. Within 48 hours of being at UW, I truly fell in love. To be surrounded by so many people who were enthralled in their surrounding is just a recipe for true happiness. By all accounts, I was thriving. Great friends, solid academics, etc. So, in March 2020, when COVID hit, and we had to go home, I was devastated and conflicted. Fuck. I didn’t want to leave; my home was in Wisconsin. I was happy, comfortable, truly living in the moment. Connected with myself.

If this story ended with me being in Wisconsin- it would be too easy. Although I wanted to go back, desperately, I thought long and hard about what it would mean to graduate with a Cornell degree. Endless opportunities, an incredible alumni network, rigorous courses, etc. I said yes to the transfer option- my ambition got the best of me and, reluctantly, I decided to transfer to Cornell. I was miserable about my decision. The thought of not returning to Wisconsin was almost unbearable, and I spent my summer complaining to anyone I could about how I knew I would just hate the competitive environment and being in the middle of nowhere (Ithaca.) 

Let me cut to the chase- I lasted at Cornell for about a month before transferring to NYU. Now I’m three months into NYU and could not be happier. Cornell didn’t work out for a variety of reasons- most of which are as simple as “it just wasn’t the right fit for me.”  I knew it wouldn’t work and yet I still pursued it relentlessly. Why? I’m not sure. For the clout? For the world-class education? To prove to everyone, I could just get in? Who knows. But I do know this. I knew in my heart I wasn’t ready to leave Wisco, and instead of listening I pushed that feeling away in order to do what conventionally made the most sense, and what would satisfy my ambition. My advice- listen to your heart and yourself. And as always, believe in yourself! Krush it!

By Sarah Levine, NYU ‘23