What Student Graffiti in the Library Carrels Tells Us About Mental Health
By SAM ALTMAN and JINMIN LEE
Many Exonians—day students and boarders—go to the library to study. As we all know well, studying often comes with anxiety, which culminates in desperate times of tests and papers and labs. How do Exonians deal with stress? Scrolling online? Talking to friends? Asking upperclassmen for advice? Or etching what comes first to mind into the library walls?
There is a myriad of student graffiti etched into library carrels; we pass over the fact that such harm to private property is vandalism and tackle these two questions. Are there any themes and patterns to what students say? Should the school make an effort to remove this graffiti? Because people inscribe words anonymously in times of most genuine revelation or desperation, examining the content on the walls gives insight into the unfiltered student mind.
As we walked through the corridors of floors 2M and 3M of the library, we noticed three notable recurring themes: self-affirmation (or lack thereof), self-identity (or lack thereof), and vulgar dumping.
First, on self-affirmation. Anyone who has been lucky enough to sit in the right sort of study carrel in the library knows that there are often words of encouragement inscribed into the wood. Common occurrences were “U r loved” and “You’re doing amazing,” often circumscribed by one or several red hearts. In some cases, phrases appear that simply encourage the reader to keep pushing. “Grind” appeared several times.
Photo Courtesy of Sam Altman
Still, many provide ominous words of warnings, usually referencing upper year. One inscription read, “Quit before upper year.” Another traced a correspondence between two separate people (presumably over a longer period of time): (Writer #1) “F*ck you, upper year” → (Writer #2) “You’ll survive” → (Writer #1) “I didn’t.” Perhaps the most common engraving, though, had to do with simple and plain dejection. One read “depression,” another, “I’m lonely,” and another, “I want to go home.” They were all followed (presumably by different writers) by an emphatic “SAME.”
Sometimes, we find much longer messages. One such message read, “I’m currently having a mental breakdown because 1. I have so much homework 2. I do not know how to do said homework 3. I like someone and don’t know what to do about it 4. I hate someone and don’t know what to do about it.” One can only imagine the lonely Exonian writing these things as they are weighed down by a thousand different stressors, connecting with letters on a wall, the only place on the whole campus, it can feel like, that echoes their true feelings.
These instances illustrate how, despite the teenage desire to shun such blatant positivity, Exonians need more positive reminders to continue with their lives. This pattern also demonstrates how the library’s effort to place big banners with positive affirmations such as “this too shall pass” and “I am valuable” are effective ways to support the student body.
Secondly, on self-identity. Exonians often write down their sports activities, dorms, and other communities they are part of. “Ewald,” “Amen,” and “Abbot Hall” were observed. What might have been the most common finding through our whole experiment were the many series of initials—some indicating a relationship—that were written down, usually accompanied by the graduation year of the student. These examples depict how being in communities is a reliable way students cope with anxiety. The impact of this understanding is that students should often be aware of how even the smallest dorm events, club meetings, and sports practices could be a stabilizing pillar for another student; don’t treat these activities so lightly.
Thirdly, on vulgarity. Students write random, unprocessed words containing profane language and insults. There are often references to sexual imagery or anger toward someone or something. Without being too vulgar ourselves here, many students simply used curse words to express their frustration with a specific teacher, class, or piece of homework. “Sports suck” and various verbal attacks against the famous 333 paper were found.
The most common transcriptions in this category, though, were phrases referring to sexual vulgarity or meaningless jokes you might read in an online article. This phenomenon is akin to what psychologist Sigmund Freud would call the id. Freud believed everyone had this id, an innate and powerful will to pleasure, which was the foundation for all human desire. This id, according to Freud, is often suppressed by the human mind, which is called the ego. For instance, many people choose to control their brutish, perhaps sexual language in public. Freud claimed this ego was controlled by the superego, which is a synonym for societal conventions or morality. [elaborate more]. Clearly, the ego breaks down in times of desperation and reveals the true id of students. For instance, the id could beg an Exonian to gossip about someone else or complain about homework. However, the id would be suppressed by the ego and superego that deem these qualities to be unfit. However, the id proliferates with flying colors in the library, which only happens if people are truly despairing, and if people are without shame (they are anonymous).
The Academy needs to note that students are actively struggling. These inscriptions are a frozen piece of history, a relic that provides a rare non-filtered student perspective. They are not the cause of a problem at the Academy, but a result of one. Indeed, the purpose of this essay is not necessarily to prescribe something for the Academy to do—we all know there are prevalent mental health issues—but rather, this phenomenon should serve as yet another wake-up call. We can only do so much to describe what it all looks like in-person, but if you ever need to remind yourself how all too many Exonians feel below the surface, you need only go to the library and read what everyone is too afraid to say out loud.