It’s no news that Harvard students tend to be a bit narcissistic. For centuries, our egos have been as large as our endowment. But apparently, we’re now more self-obsessed than ever and, luckily, so is everyone else. According to a recent study by five psychologists reported in last week’s Boston Globe, today’s college students have a higher opinion of themselves than those of any previous generation. When asked to agree or disagree with statements like, “If I ruled the world, it would be a better place,” we assent in droves.

This extreme self-esteem can have some unfortunate consequences. The study goes on to claim that narcissists “are more likely to have romantic relationships that are short-lived, at risk for infidelity, lack emotional warmth, and to exhibit game-playing, dishonesty, and over-controlling and violent behaviors.” Welcome to Harvard.

Harvard’s students are particularly primed for narcissism. (How many Harvard students does it take to screw in a light bulb? One. He holds the light bulb and the world revolves around him.) We wrote admissions essays about how special we are and were admitted because someone believed them. Harvard, with its culture of hyper-achievement, is the perfect breeding ground for self-obsession and all its perils. We must bear not just our own narcissism but also the disappointment of being standouts for our entire lives only to arrive at college and become merely average.

So why do we like ourselves so much? The study’s authors hypothesize that the culture of self-esteem that has dominated parenting since the 1980s is to blame for our conceitedness. If you tell a kid that he is special enough times, eventually he believes it.

The unexceptional child is a thing of the past. Principles of diversity and cultural pluralism dictate that every difference is something to be cherished, and therefore even the most obnoxious, obtuse, little brat is a marvelous creation. These days, no child can be left behind. After all, these kids couldn’t possibly be stupid: They just have different learning styles. Quantifiable measures of intelligence like the SAT are falling out of fashion amid charges that they are racist, sexist, and don’t get little Johnny into Princeton.

American parenting has witnessed the institutionalization of a basic tendency in human nature: We like to find ourselves, well, pretty remarkable. To a certain extent, we are all solipsists, convinced that the universe is centered on our above-average selves. Mediocrity is a tough pill to swallow.

Even so, every proud parent’s insistence that his or her offspring couldn’t possibly be ordinary represents a bizarrely intransigent response to reality. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but just about half of the children in this country are below average. The world is a rough place. Some of us are weak, and some of us are strong; some of us are smart, and some of us are dumb; some of us really are destined to make a profound impact on the world, and some of us just aren’t.

Daniel E. Herz-Roiphe ’10, a Crimson editorial editor, lives in Straus Hall.