If New Student Orientation is about one thing, it’s about hearing speeches. Most of them are self-congratulatory, recounting that percent-admitted statistic that just keeps getting smaller or the veritable Model U.N. that makes up the international-students subsection. My year, at the Discover Stanford assembly, Etch first went into great detail about the kid who had already been published for his research in robots, then talked about six more people before he mentioned Michelle Wie. It’s a good little ego stroke or insecurity provoker, but mostly it’s a setup for where he goes next: an exhortation of the entire freshmen class to fail, because failure promotes learning.

It’s a jarring piece of advice in the middle of an otherwise inspiring speech, partially because of the arrogance it betrays: that we as Stanford students really have succeeded at everything in our lives, to the point that we need to intentionally fail in order to be proper human beings. Thank God there aren’t any undercover Kal fans in the audience. It’s a piquant suggestion, though, because even though Etch mostly just means, “Take hard classes so we can look good,” he’s kind of got a point, though you won’t really need to try in order to fail. Even if you make it out of here without a dreaded “NP,” or even an “RP,” on your transcript, you will fail at something, and you will fail someone.

How do I know this will happen? It turns out college is not just four years of learning or “self-discovery,” but also four years of growing up, which you can’t do without making mistakes, sometimes huge ones. Remember the last four years of your life you just spent in high school. I have serious questions about your character if you’re not thoroughly disgusted with your 14-year-old self and his/her/per conduct.

What’s more, you’re finally on your own and riding high on that wave of vindication that’s been lasting ever since you loaded up your application Web page at 6:00:00 PM EST on March 31. After all, you had already spotted the cognitive dissonance from a mile away. They keep trying to parent you while they’re in and out of therapy or in the middle of a divorce proceeding. Eventually you learn to tune most of it out and just recognize that all their advice about how to treat other people is really just about how to treat them, since they’re the only people you know inside and out at this point in your life anyway, and they’re your parents. That letter of acceptance is proof that throughout it all, you knew what you were doing, so you’re going to trust your instincts from now on.

But the failure will come, rest assured, and soon enough you’ll be back longing for the days when lying to your parents about going to the library was the greatest moral compromise you ever made. You’ll be on the receiving end first, probably from your dorm mates, who never knew anything but Stern Love. If you’re lucky, it’ll be followed by a “Sorry, man,” but chances are that person will continue on like nothing ever happened, most likely because he/she/ze’s got a huge midterm coming up. And then, soon enough, you’ll pay it forward.

You’ll become the Person Who Booted All Over the Hallway and Didn’t Clean It Up or the Person Who Mooches Way Too Much Weed but Gets Self-Righteous When Confronted About It. Or maybe the Person Who Flakes Out after Over-Committing Himself, Leaving Everyone Else in the Group Holding the Bag. Or the Person Whose Excessive Criticism is Driving Your Close Friend Deeper into a State of Depression. Or the Sober Guy Who Kept Going Even Though She Was Far Too Drunk to Respond to Anything, Much Less Consent. In some way, you will do something that will reveal that the thread count of moral fibers in the oh-so-unique tapestry of you is far closer to 150 than to the 1,500 you were so sure it was during ethics class.

And you’ll probably get away with it.

You’ll also move on from it, as will the main target from your damage, and you’ll both go on to realize all that brilliant potential that you carry. With any luck, you’ll use it to solve all the other problems you see around you, the ones everyone else is too absorbed in to notice.

Don’t get too down on yourself just yet, because you’re not a bad person, I don’t think. You just have some growing up to do. Eventually you’ll learn to despise your 18-year-old self just as much as you despise your 14-year-old one, and that’s all Etch was really asking of you in the first place.

Want to learn what type of person Peter was as a freshman? E-mail him at [email protected].