Complaints About SAIS: A Commentary
By Neil Shenai
I’ve been affiliated with Johns Hopkins SAIS since 2006, first as an MA student (Class of 2008) and currently as a first-year Ph.D. candidate. As a TA for both the International Economics program and a functional studies program, I have a keen understanding about the average SAIS student psyche writ large. This psyche can be distilled into one simple observation: we, students, really like to complain.
Over the period of a week, I tried to do a non-scientific study about the tendency of SAIS students to complain. Here’s a sample of what I heard second-hand in public settings at SAIS:
- “Why do professors assign so much reading? Between four classes, a language, my clubs, and career services, I don’t have time to do it all!”
- “The printers in the computer lab never work. And I am already out of free pages!”
- “Professor X teaches too slowly.”
- “SAIS’ health insurance doesn’t cover my acne cream!”
- Etc.
It could be that I simply surround myself with pessimistic people. I’m not above sampling bias, after all. To prove this for yourself before you go on, perform the following thought experiment: when was the last time you said something resoundingly positive about SAIS? When was the last time you heard one of your fellow students do the same? Now, think about the times you heard somebody gripe about some aspect – any aspect – of this school. Count them in your head. Which category has more? I would bet the latter.
This complaining epidemic plagues our student body. And it has to stop.
Nearly all of us elected to come to SAIS. There’s no law of nature that says that we need to be enrolled in a terminal Master’s program in International Relations. We chose to be here. Period. SAIS is routinely ranked among the top IR schools in the world. In coming here, did you expect to earn this degree easily?
Among us, we are supposed to have the next Wolf Blitzers, Timothy Geithners, Madeline Albrights, Francis Fukuyamas, and yes, dare I say, even Paul Wolfowitzes. For most of us at SAIS, we have to learn a new foreign language, get the equivalent of a rigorous undergraduate degree in economics, read reams of theoretical political science academic writing, form a regional or functional expertise, and manage a social schedule of clubs, careers, friends, and family.
Think about your average day at SAIS. You probably interact with top scholars in their field. Your peers will soon be leading members of the foreign policy community directing the behavior of the most powerful country in the world. You might even attend brown bag lunches with elite government officials. All SAIS asks in return for providing this special environment to you is that you work hard.
Yes, hard work sometimes sucks. And it’s fun to complain about how much work we have. I should know; I am a reformed complainer. As a Master’s student, I would routinely complain about how much work I had – how unreasonable the myriad deadlines I faced were, and how much I hated the stacks of reading I had to complete. But then I left the SAIS bubble and entered the real world. Coming back to SAIS this time around, I have a unique perspective of the benefits and costs of attending an institution like this. Given my experience, I have a newfound appreciation for how special SAIS really is.
Here are seven things to keep in mind, then, to help you fight against your natural tendency to complain:
- Realize that top people in their field rarely complain about the hard work associated with it. They don’t have time to do so – they’re too busy succeeding.
- Understand that there’s a certain pedagogical approach of the school that its founding members envisioned. This approach is meant to stress you out, to give you more work than you can reasonably accomplish, and to push you in different directions. This cauldron of stress will help you push your boundaries, and this is a good thing.
- Being optimistic is the harder choice. I’m not saying you should walk around school with a faux smile, raving about how excited you are to sink your teeth into the latest edition of Keynes’ General Theory. But you should realize that being happy to be at SAIS is a choice. The easier choice is pessimism, but the more rewarding one is optimism.
- Complaining scales exponentially. As a corollary, complainers tend to move in herds. If you have friends who moan about their SAIS experience, you are more likely to do so yourself.
- This will likely be the last time in your life when your only job is to learn. Learning is a lot more fun than doing. As tough as SAIS is, it is far more sympathetic to your personal development than the real world.
- Do something about it – top students work in study groups, divide up readings, find new ways to practice their languages, and work the system in such a way to get the best results with an efficient approach. If you notice a grave injustice, mention it to the readily accessible deans and the SGA. If you don’t try to do something constructive to fix your own problems, you don’t have the right to complain about them.
- You being here means that somebody else isn’t. Many prospective applicants to SAIS would salivate at the opportunity to be a student here. Respect that.
In short, being a student at SAIS is a privilege. Yes, the school has some sub-par aspects. I wish we had a proper campus. I wish Nitze had wood paneled classrooms with mahogany conference tables. And I sure wish that all printing could be free. But by and large, things at SAIS are good. We learn from veritable geniuses in their fields. Our peers are some of the smartest in the world. And the SAIS name will be a badge of honor we will wear for the rest of our careers. It’s time we stop complaining and start appreciating the beautiful hand we’ve been dealt. Life could be a lot worse.
Neil K. Shenai is a Ph.D. candidate studying the political economy of financial crises.
Filed Under: Featured • News • November 2009
About the Author: 
Dear Sir,
I’m afraid I found myself whole-heartedly disagreeing with your Nov. 30 article on the complaints epidemic at SAIS. It is certain that chronic and excessive complaining is annoying to those who are exposed to it. It becomes irksome, tedious, and can make the complainer an uninteresting bore. Anything in excess becomes banal. That’s what marginal economics is all about. However, it must be recognized that you are wrong to have such a harsh and extreme view of complaining. I will try to be succinct as to why:
Firstly, your statement that “All SAIS asks in return for providing this special environment to you is that you work hard.” is patently false on its face. SAIS asks for a lot more than that. In fact, it asks all of us to pay a respectable sum of money and frequently (if not always) incur sizable debt to attend. Thus, we are paying customers of the service provided by SAIS. As such, we have a right, perhaps even a duty, to complain and demand better.
Secondly, you are quite right that we are all at SAIS by choice. However, there is no logical reason as to why that would preclude any of us from complaining.
Thirdly, you are quite wrong to say that “top people in their field rarely complain about the hard work associated with it.” In fact, such people often frequent psychologists and other mental health professionals. These sessions provide a confidential medium at which to complain and relive stress and personal counselling. For a price.
Fourthly, the idea that “[i]f you don’t try to do something constructive to fix your own problems, you don’t have the right to complain about them” is also erroneous. Our society is based on the idea of elected representatives and principle agents. That is to say, we elect or appoint people to undertake work that we are unwilling to be bothered with due to the principle of rational ignorance. Complaining to these individuals is often the only way for an otherwise engaged and busy person to see progressive social or communal action toward her favoured goals. Not everyone is a born leader, but voicing one’s complaints and concerns frequently results in true leaders realizing a common plight and taking action.
Fifthly, and most critically, the fact is, complaining is therapeutic. This is why psychologists make boatloads of money off of listening to people whine about their lives. Voicing your displeasures in life, whether to close friends or to those who are otherwise able to sympathise or empathise with your plight helps relieve stress and build bonds between individuals. Indeed, sharing in each other’s emotional and intellectual plights is the true mark of friendship which allows people to connect with one another by sharing in their collective or individual troubles.
Lastly, complaining and appreciating are not diametrically opposed actions. I can appreciate something and marvel at its grace and beauty, yet still complain about certain aspects of it which I may find wanting. Nothing is perfect. It’s only by noticing and pointing out the world’s flaws that we can have any hope in one day fixing them.