The Price of Perfection: When Academic Rigor Becomes Too Much at Pacific

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Balancing ambition and mental health in a culture that glorifies overwork.

The Pressure Beneath the Polished Surface

Walk across the University of the Pacific campus on a weekday evening, and one will see it — students hunched over laptops in the library, coffee cups multiplying like lab reports, eyes heavy but determined. We often call it dedication. Some describe it as ambition. Yet lately, I have begun to wonder if it is something else: quiet exhaustion disguised as success.

Between classes, part-time jobs, clubs, and internships, Pacific students live in what feels like a constant sprint. We came here to learn, to grow, and to prepare for the world beyond Stockton. Too often, however, we find ourselves simply trying to stay afloat.

The Cult of Academic Rigor

Do not get me wrong — Pacific prides itself on academic excellence, and rightly so. Our professors encourage us to think critically, challenge assumptions, and meet high standards. That commitment is part of what makes this university special.

But somewhere along the way, “rigor” has come to mean “relentless.” The unspoken rule seems to be that if we are not overwhelmed, we are not doing enough. A 4.0 GPA, leadership in three organizations, and an internship may look impressive — but what must come next?

We have built a culture that glorifies overwork, where the individual who sleeps the least somehow “cares the most.” This mindset is toxic, and it is taking a toll.

When Achievement Hurts

Mental health struggles are rising across campuses nationwide, and Pacific is no exception. Anxiety, burnout, and depression have become common talking points among students, yet they are often met with silence or dismissal.

The Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS) team provides vital support, but the demand often exceeds the available resources. When students face long wait times for appointments or feel hesitant to seek help, it sends a clear message: mental health still sits in the shadows of academic expectations.

What is the value of “academic excellence” if it comes at the cost of our well-being? What do we truly learn if our greatest lesson is how to function while falling apart?

What Pacific Can Do

If Pacific aims to prepare students for meaningful, sustainable success, it must redefine what support looks like. First, mental health resources should be treated as essential infrastructure rather than optional services. CAPS requires additional staff, shorter wait times, and greater visibility on campus. Professors should also be trained to recognize signs of distress and respond with empathy rather than penalty.

Second, the University should reconsider how it measures success. Rigor and compassion are not opposites. Departments could explore flexible deadlines, alternative assessments, and restorative academic policies that reward learning, not merely endurance.

Finally, Pacific should cultivate a culture of community care. Peer mentorship programs, open conversations about stress, and student-led wellness initiatives could make a meaningful difference. When students feel seen and supported, they are not only more successful, but also healthier, happier, and better equipped to thrive long after graduation.

By redefining success through compassion and care, Pacific can model a healthier form of excellence for universities nationwide.

The Real Lesson

As students, we share responsibility in this change. We must stop romanticizing burnout. The late-night study grind might create a viral post, but it does not represent a sustainable life. Rest is not weakness; it is resistance against a system that too often equates exhaustion with effort.

Perhaps the true measure of academic rigor at Pacific is not how much we can endure, but how deeply we can engage while still caring for ourselves and each other.

We should continue to push boundaries and remain ambitious. Yet we must also remind ourselves — and our university — that the pursuit of knowledge should never come at the expense of our humanity.

If we graduate with honors, but lose our peace of mind along the way, we must ask: was it truly worth it?