My daughter, Jasmin, asked me one day on the phone if I had seen running naked at Harvard, where I was currently enrolled.
“What is the nude race?” I asked.
“Mom, I can’t believe you’ve never heard of this when you’ve been at Harvard for so long.”
He explained to me that the nude race is where students run across the grass in front of their dorm the night before their finals begin. Surprised by this Harvard tradition, I asked him if he participated. She told me that she was just a curious observer of a good number of students running around naked.
I asked him what kind of tradition this was at Harvard and he told me that his friends said it was a way to help students forget the stress and fear of finals. Running naked and screaming at the top of their lungs is supposed to help them feel better and overcome anxiety and nervousness. I said, “Hey, let me know in advance when it happens again.”
“Why? Don’t tell me you want to run naked too!”
“Why shouldn’t I? It sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Mommy!”
“Hey, hey, calm down. I was just kidding, you know? But I sure want to see you guys live!”
I was a Harvard student for sixteen years, but had never heard of this “event” in my life until my daughter told me about it. This quixotic event apparently takes place before each quarter end, but I have not witnessed any of it myself.
It is not a huge exaggeration to say that Harvard is full of students who have been the leaders and leaders of their classes for as long as they can remember. The intensity of competition among these brightest students for the only top seat reserved for a single glorious student is unimaginably high and fierce. The amount of stress these students feel increases even more around test time and drives some of them beyond frustration and despair, into insanity and even suicide. Given the excruciating level of competition and psychological stress, these students are being wiser in dealing with their anxiety by running around naked and screaming at the top of their lungs.
When I found out about these students, I couldn’t help but feel sorry and pride for them as if they were my own children.
