When Excellence Becomes a Burden
An international student’s reflection on pressure, worth, and change
On Ivy Day, as acceptance and rejection emails flooded inboxes across the country, Lucas Lee—a bright, driven Korean-American student at a prestigious private high school in Andover, Massachusetts, didn’t receive any Ivy League acceptances, and took his own life.
His death sent shockwaves through academic communities, but for many students who have navigated the relentless pressures of elite education, the tragedy felt eerily familiar. Lucas's story is just one of many, pointing to a growing phenomenon of the dangerous obsession with academic prestige, the fragile connection between achievement and identity, and the suffocating silence around mental health in competitive academic environments. For international students, however, these challenges can be even more pronounced. Adjusting to a new culture, managing visa requirements, and meeting high expectations add layers of complexity—yet their struggles frequently remain overlooked in campus conversations.
The Anatomy of Pressure
At Lucas's school, Phillips Academy, and others like it, where a notable proportion of graduates attend Ivy League institutions, excellence isn't just encouraged—it's mandatory. College decisions become public currency, a metric for students’ value. In such a competitive environment, falling short of the highest tier doesn't just mean disappointment—it can feel like existential failure.
This pressure comes from multiple, intersecting sources. In many immigrant families, academic achievement represents repayment for parental sacrifice and can feel like a precondition for acceptance. As Terry Lin (SFS’26), an international student from Shanghai, China, observed: "In some cases, parents interfere aggressively... They make the calls, not the students." Even when love isn't explicitly conditional, the emotional calculus often suggests otherwise.
The school environment amplifies this pressure through constant comparison. Natalie Fung (SOH’26), an international student from Hong Kong, described how "it felt like everyone had this invisible scoreboard above their heads—who got into what school, who didn't, who failed." The message is clear: there's no acceptable alternative to winning, in the eyes of your parents, your peers, and your school.
Cultural expectations add another layer. For many Asian-American students, as Sun Ma, a third-year student attending Bentley College, noted, the first question after graduation is always "Where are you going to college?"—never "How do you feel about your options?" In this environment, education becomes more than an opportunity among many, which could lead to a successful life. It is the default next step, whether or not it feels right for the individual student
"I'm not surprised [about Lucas Lee],” shared Victoria Han (MSB’26) from South Korea, who attended high school in the United States, observing common extreme pressure within Korean American communities to attend Ivies. "My friend hid her college signing day because she was embarrassed [about] not getting into Ivies."
When Achievement Is Identity
In high-pressure academic environments, success stops being something students do and becomes who they are. Vinusha Narapareddy (SFS’ 26), an international student from India, explained this clearly: "You attribute a lot of your self-worth as a kid to your grades. Even how you choose your major is shaped by fear of uncertainty." Many students default to “safe,” prestigious paths—medicine, law, finance—not out of passion, but fear: fear of disappointing parents, missing ‘top-tier’ careers, or being dismissed for choosing ‘soft’ disciplines.
This merging of self and achievement is reinforced everywhere. Families may unintentionally tie affection to performance. Schools celebrate outcomes over growth, leaving students wondering who they are without their accolades. Cultural narratives often present elite education as the only valid path, dismissing other forms of success.
The danger is profound. When achievement equals identity, rejection isn't just disappointing—it's devastating. As Susan Huang (SOH’26), from China, reflected: "He probably viewed academic excellence as such a great part of his identity... So when he lost that, his whole identity crashed."
The Cost of Silence
Behind the perfect GPAs and impressive résumés, many high-achieving students struggle with anxiety, depression, and isolation. Yet few speak openly about it.
Families, often influenced by cultural norms, may discourage emotional vulnerability. Schools prioritize college counseling over mental health support. Cultural stigma leads students to hide their struggles, fearing they'll shame their families or appear weak.
"Everyone knew it was at the back of our minds," Vinusha said, "but people didn't even mention it. I don't know what's worse—openly talking about it or just dealing with it on your own." This silence creates a dangerous cycle: pressure mounts, struggles stay hidden, and students feel increasingly alone. This is the environment in which Lucas Lee received his Ivy Day rejections.
A Way Forward
Lucas's death was a tragedy, but it doesn't have to be meaningless. Students, educators, and families can work together to build a healthier approach to success.
Breaking Generational Cycles
Change begins with awareness. Those who have endured academic pressure must consciously choose different paths for future generations.
"I understand when some parents say, 'Oh, I never directly told them they need to be successful in academics,'" Susan said. "But being passive when they fail already contributes to what a kid feels."
Natalie added: "It has to start from our generation... or else it's just gonna end up in a cycle." This isn't about rejecting hard work, but expanding definitions of success beyond narrow, inherited expectations.
Redefining the College Narrative
For many students, college is presented as a default, not a choice. Few are encouraged to question why they're pursuing higher education in the first place. This may lead to future burnout, career disillusionment, and identity crises.
Nooria, a high school senior who fled Afghanistan with her family in the 2010s, shared her realization that college is just a transactional relationship - we're paying for access to opportunities. The real value isn't in the prestige of acceptance, but in what you gain: skills, connections, and better career prospects. “Don't romanticize the admissions process - it's ultimately a business arrangement where we're the customers investing in our futures.”
Sun came to a similar understanding that college does not and should not be perceived as a marker defining an individual’s skills and worth. "There's a difference between being good at school and actually being capable,” he said.
Ema Eguchi (SFS’27), an international student from Japan, offered a crucial framework, distinguishing between "Achievers" (focused on outcomes and validation) and "Explorers" (driven by curiosity and process). "College should be approached more like an Explorer," she suggested. "If you see it as a destination, every rejection feels like a failure. But if you see it as part of an exploration, then even detours have value."
Building Resilient Self-Worth
The most vital change involves developing identities that are not tied to external validation.
"You need to manage your expectations," Lin advised. "If I get in, I get in. If I don't, that's not the end of life." He spoke from experience, having faced his own crisis after being waitlisted for a transfer. "Everyone wants to be the best, but there is a cost—you suffer a lot of mental pressure. I've learned to find a position I'm comfortable with."
Sun redefined what true success looks like: "We think being a hero is winning everything, being perfect, going to Harvard. But maybe being a hero is choosing your own path, even if it's not glamorous. Maybe it's saying no to what everyone else wants for you, and still trying your best."
Conclusion: A New Definition of Success
Lucas's story forces us to confront difficult truths about our education system and cultural values. But it also points toward hope—if we're willing to make changes.
We must create spaces where struggle can be voiced without shame. We need to celebrate multiple paths to meaningful lives. Most importantly, we must teach students that their worth isn't contingent on acceptances or grades.
As Lin put it simply, "You are not your GPA. You are not your rejection. You just do what you do, and that'll be all."
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