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Harvard students love to complain.

Whether it’s underwhelming dining hall food, classes that are somehow both too easy and too difficult, or occasionally pest-filled dorms, something’s always wrong. But why? Why do students at one of the best colleges in the world seem to hate it so much?

Admitted students come to Harvard expecting it to be perfect. The fact that it isn’t takes some getting used to.

From the outside, Harvard is the place to be. That acceptance letter is the key to a world of relative success, disproportionately high salaries, and (if all goes well) a lifetime of happiness.

Thousands of tourists flock to campus each year just to catch a peek of our fabled college. My mom brags to anybody willing to listen about the great things her daughter is doing at Harvard. The simple look of incredulity on people’s faces when I reveal just which small-liberal-arts-college-just-outside-Boston I attend only confirms the pedestal upon which our University stands.

It’s Harvard, after all. So why isn’t the food gourmet? Why aren’t dorms beautifully historic but still equipped with modern amenities? Why are the parties bad and the professors unforgiving?

Most of us have worked our whole lives for the opportunity to come here — countless late nights, boring classes, breakdowns, extracurriculars, and athletic excellence, all for the chance to be one of the lucky few picked from the pile of tens of thousands of applications. So, to face any modicum of mediocrity after all that effort and sacrifice can be quite disappointing.

That’s the thing. College is supposed to suck — at least a little. It’s our introduction into the adult world. It should push us out of our comfort zone for the sake of personal growth. When you’ve been promised perfection, though, normalcy is shocking.

Complaining culture extends to schoolwork too. I certainly contributed after I realized that — on my first day of class — I was already 100 pages behind on reading for one of my courses.

After four years of hard work in high school, it feels like we are back to square one, building a GPA for grad school applications or networking for a job. And with the swarms of students funneling into prodigious extracurricular programs and huge lectures like Economics 10 or Computer Science 50, comes the culture of hypercompetitiveness.

For many students, it’s the first time they haven’t been the smartest person in the room or that school has been truly hard. After their first real rejections or failing grades, no wonder Harvard students complain.

Pre-orientation programs, Peer Advising Fellows, and academic advisors help cushion the transition, but this “problem” doesn’t have a solution — nor should it. Failure is a fact of life. Learning humility is an important rite of passage for high achievers.

Hyper-careerism only makes things harder. With lucrative career opportunities comes immense pressure. The prestige of pre-professional groups coupled with the promise of secure high-paying employment upon graduation encourages many students to pursue a paycheck over passion. The certainty of success in consulting or finance attracts many to those well-paid, but often unfulfilling paths.

Even if one escapes those pre-professional whirlpools, there’s plenty of pressure to pursue other beaten paths like law or medical school. The overwhelming sentiment seems to be “What can I do to maximize my future salary?” rather than “What field most satisfies my interests?” It’s no surprise students who feel unable to pursue their passions aren’t always happy about it.

But at the end of the day, we’re at Harvard. The food isn’t that bad. It’s New England and the buildings are old — pests will get inside. It’s an academically rigorous institution — the classes will be hard. The clubs are prestigious — they will have low acceptance rates.

So why spend four years griping about every inconvenience? Why bring such unnecessary negativity to campus? We’ve been given a golden ticket, so stop complaining when the Annenberg chicken isn’t your mom’s perfectly seasoned home-cooked meal.

University life invariably comes with hardship. But this introduction to the real world engenders valuable personal growth.

We only get four years here. Let’s enjoy them while they last.

Katie H. Martin ’28, a Crimson Editorial comper, lives in Wigglesworth Hall.