Ihaven't written a tutorial paper that was due last Monday, and I don't want to write it--not because I am a delinquent, not because I am ill, but because I don't feel as though I will be maximizing my education by writing it.

Talking to a friend who went to a recent religious retreat, I realize that the discussion he had was one which struck to the heart of the same issues of faith and ethics that I have recently been considering. The discussion is one which I well might have remembered for the rest of my life. Whether I submit this very overdue paper tomorrow, the next day or not at all is unlikely to make any indelible impressions on my memories of being 19 years old and surrounded by the richest intellectual environment I may ever encounter.

Everyone around me seems to be working especially hard, reflecting on the past "week of hell" and preparing their rattled psyches for the one coming. I wonder if these people who call their lives here hell are really enjoying themselves, really appreciating their educations, really gleaning all they can from Harvard.

The resources here far exceed simply those of our classes. The professors, the students, the performances, the social events, the lectures, the sports, the scenery and the organizations are all equally a part of this great "Harvard education package." For this package deal, we are exchanging four years of our lives and lots of our families' money.

But I challenge you to think of how many times you felt yourself performing a meaningless exercise such as regurgitating information for a paper. Now consider the other things that you may have done during that time and ask yourself if you really maximized your education by making the choice with your time that you did. I asked myself this question recently and decided that I have not, at all points, gotten the most out of the fleeting time I have spent here. Even if I have in general, in a life that will last an uncertain number of years and a college education that we know will last only four, those lost moments, hours and days are too much.

The single biggest reason for my educational time lost is that I denied my intuition. I resigned myself to believing that my professor or TF was better suited than I to make the very personal decision of what I would learn most from.

Why do I deny my intuition? Why do I write a paper or sit around feeling guilty about not writing it instead of not going to a Harvard museum? Because I am susceptible to peer pressure and everyone around me is working. Not handing in the paper has made me feel so guilty in the past days that I have announced the sin to almost anyone who will hear my confession. The responses have been very telling:

"Oh no! Won't this kill your average? You might be kicked out of school," one friend said.

What I think is that this single paper is not going to kill anything or anyone. I plan to remain happily at Harvard, and failing to submit this paper will not condemn me to being a babbling bag lady in the Square who never finished Harvard. But thank you for your concern.

I went for a beautiful walk today and learned that there is a large Portuguese population near Inman Square that makes wonderful bread. I am happy, and I learned more than I could have by writing the paper.

It is unfair that when we weigh the options for our education that are presented to us here and choose one outside the system of out formal education, we are made to feel unnatural, unhealthy, reckless and in danger. Our choice implies none of these frightful condemnations, but only that we may have used our intuition and done what we felt was best. I want to focus my time here not on classes or assignments or grades, but on my education, as deliciously expansive and difficult to define as I (perhaps arrogantly) fancy myself. I believe that that is what, we all should be doing, but because I am so susceptible to peer pressure, I am waiting for you to take the lead. Please help us all out and do a service to the learning environment here at Harvard. Trust your intuition.

Jeannie A. Lang '00 is a history concentrator in Lowell House.