Free Candy, Fake Commitments: The Activities Scene at Hopkins

Winter Szarabajka ’27 Op-Ed Editor

Imagine it’s early September. The leaves are starting to change, and everyone has that fresh, back-to-school glow, naive to the burnout most of us face later in the school year. On Thompson Quad, you’re met with an onslaught of sticker-covered poster boards and plastic bowls filled with snickers. Upperclassmen shout to be heard above the chaos as they pitch their ideas, droning on far longer than anyone is actually listening. Freshmen race to put their names on as many sign up sheets as possible while seniors steal candy from their friends’ tables. Yep, you guessed it, you’re at the activities fair. But although this day is supposed to be inspiring, most of us are left with one question: Are these students really invested in the activities they sign up for?

Whether you jam-pack your Wednesdays with seven different clubs, commit hard to one, or have bagged out entirely, there’s no avoiding the monster that is the Hopkins extracurricular scene. I’ll be the first to admit it: just like most other Hopkins students, I overpack my schedule. My mailbox is constantly filled with new emails reminding me to show up to a (constantly changing) room at 12:30 next Wednesday, insisting I show up because “there will be cookies!!”

The fact is that students often feel pressure to join extra clubs or take on leadership positions only for the purpose of supplementing college applications. Beyond the absurd range of activities this produces on our campus, it stimulates a lack of commitment among club leaders to live up to their roles.

Part of the way lackluster leadership manifests itself is through the infrequency that most clubs actually meet. I can’t even count the number of times that I’ve hauled myself from the Dining Hall to a random room in APAC only to discover that Spaghetti Club has been cancelled for the third time in a row. Unfortunately, this isn’t the exception, it’s the rule. A vast quantity of our clubs and activities are inactive, existing only once college applications roll around.

Based on last year's activity page, Hopkins has around 115 clubs, all of which have different attendance rates and require varying levels of dedication. But after a deeper look into the extensive list on the LMS, I realized a couple things. On paper, I would love to join half of these clubs. But in reality, the vast majority don’t meet in the first place, and the rest are often duplicates. Take DivBo and SURE (Students United for Racial Equity), or MSEP (Medical Specialty Exposure Pipeline) and Heart & Hands.

There’s often bizarre distinctions made to justify new clubs as well, like the Mental Health Awareness Club vs the Mental Health Awareness for Athletes Club. And let’s not forget the History Club and the Hopkins History Club; I don’t know which came first, but surely this one takes the cake.

There’s no doubt that empty leadership runs rampant on our campus, but it’s largely a product of social stigma dictating our interests. With enormous pressure to “do it all” in every wake of academic life, Hopkins students like myself are overwhelmed with a deep-set fear that we aren’t doing enough. This explains the phenomena of students lining up for clubs like yearbook, Model UN, and even the school paper, all of which have structured hierarchies or are seen as classic extra-curricular boosters. Clubs like debate and Model UN that involve public competition are also widely popular, as the opportunity to gain recognition and awards is seen as the ideal supplement to any college application.

When looked at this way, leadership positions are a disguised facet of this very thing. Getting appointed titles like “president,” “founder,” or really “lead-anything” is the gold at the end of our college-bound rainbow. But when this desire to game the leadership system outweighs our desire to pursue our passions, it creates a low commitment environment where leaders have no incentive to step it up. As a result, clubs lose focus, momentum, and authenticity as members’ enthusiasm fades and everyone involved becomes more discouraged.

While this issue may seem grim, there’s several ways our community can combat the disappointment of the Hopkins activities scene. Requiring interest forms or applications before joining a club could be a great way to ensure that members are sincerely interested, and produce increased attendance as a result.

Limiting the sheer number of clubs Hopkins has in the first place would be useful too, as long as it’s in communication with club heads and the student body. At the end of the day, these are band-aid solutions for a much bigger problem, but both could help drive more committed leadership by helping students pursue genuine interests.

The fact is that we’re approaching a deficit of meaningful leadership within our extracurricular scene. Something that should exist to promote change, inspiration, and empathy has turned into resume currency on Common App. But in the long run, participation in a club that you have no interest in benefits nobody.

Don’t let the illusion of prestige deter you from joining Dance Crew if you enjoy performing, or the Yearbook staff if you love to create. At the end of the day, high school should give you the opportunity to explore the things that could shape your future beyond your university acceptance letter—even if you’re not a Model UN delegate, or a national debate champion.

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Free Candy, Fake Commitments: The Activities Scene at Hopkins