A single individual's legitimate review, below, is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- rings too true for them, I guess... pathetic! I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders often confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

A single individual's legitimate review, below, is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- rings too true for them, I guess... pathetic! I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders often confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. A very small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. The vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. But Reed is best suited for students who, coming out of high school, are confident they want to become academics. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - are likely to mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this expensive and elite school, yet only a minuscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is the vibrancy of real-world engagement and service to society. The Greeks and Romans are fine, but Reed makes little room for developing leadership skills, understanding and wrestling with contemporary problems, learning from prominent experts, and interacting with local and national interest groups. It also does little to prepare graduates uninterested in graduate school for decent, well-paying jobs. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and promotes a sense of purity about it. The usually-cited example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask to see them. Reed also eschews grade inflation. For example, I worked very hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. But such virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean a great deal because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest than other schools. Unfortunately, this situation seriously disadvantages its graduates. Even if Reed students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, and MCATs, computer screening algorithms and admissions officers in graduate and professional schools simply don't know or care that Reed has more stringent grading standards than other schools. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed students are generally too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking they believe themselves to be. The self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma quickly gets old. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate a bohemian image also yield an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, rampant political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is intolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

'm a Reed graduate. The College is insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. A very small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. The vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. But Reed is best suited for students who, coming out of high school, are confident they want to become academics. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - are likely to mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this expensive and elite school, yet only a minuscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is the vibrancy of real-world engagement and service to society. The Greeks and Romans are fine, but Reed makes little room for developing leadership skills, understanding and wrestling with contemporary problems, learning from prominent experts, and interacting with local and national interest groups. It also does little to prepare graduates uninterested in graduate school for decent, well-paying jobs. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and promotes a sense of purity about it. The usually-cited example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask to see them. Reed also eschews grade inflation. For example, I worked very hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. But such virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean a great deal because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest than other schools. Unfortunately, this situation seriously disadvantages its graduates. Even if Reed students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, and MCATs, computer screening algorithms and admissions officers in graduate and professional schools simply don't know or care that Reed has more stringent grading standards than other schools. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed students are generally too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking they believe themselves to be. The self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma quickly gets old. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate a bohemian image also yield an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, rampant political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is intolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. A small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. The vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. But Reed is best suited for students who, out of high school, are confident they want to become academics. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Just read the Alumni Notes section of any Reed Magazine to get a flavor. Or ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus. He or she - and even the admissions office - is likely to mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this expensive and elite school, yet only a minuscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is the vibrancy of real-world engagement and service to society. The Greeks and Romans are fine, but Reed makes little room for developing leadership skills, understanding and wrestling with contemporary problems, learning from prominent experts, and interacting with local and national interest groups. It also does little to prepare graduates uninterested in graduate school for decent, well-paying jobs. For what it emphasizes - the mind - Reed does well and promotes a sense of purity about it. The well-worn example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask to see them. Reed also eschews grade inflation. For example, I worked hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. But such virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean a great deal because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest than other schools. Unfortunately, this situation seriously disadvantages its graduates. Even if Reed students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, and MCATs, computer screening algorithms and admissions officers in graduate and professional schools simply don't know or care that Reed has more stringent grading standards than other schools. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed students are generally too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking they believe themselves to be. The self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma quickly gets old. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate a bohemian image also yield an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can feel comfortable. In fact, rampant political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is intolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was true: there was plenty of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't regret attending Reed yet I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with more sunshine and more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

This legitimate and thoughtful review of one individual is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- pathetic! I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Quite a few Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders sometimes confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, values, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

This legitimate and thoughtful review of one individual is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- pathetic! I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Quite a few Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders sometimes confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, values, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

A single individual's legitimate review, below, is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- rings too true for them, I guess... I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders often confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

A single individual's legitimate review, below, is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- rings too true for them, I guess... I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders often confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

A single individual's legitimate review, below, is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- rings too true for them, I guess... I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders often confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

A single individual's legitimate review, below, is repeatedly flagged for filtering by the Reed College admissions office -- rings too true for them, I guess... I graduated from Reed in the mid-90's. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic: if you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which outsiders often confuse with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, non-ironic, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. Reed prides itself on being "different," but it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate or professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs (especially during Renn Fayre). Reed provided a tolerant atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some referred to "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is strange, insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. Reed is best suited for students who want to become academics and know this with a high degree of certainty coming out of high school. A very small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. A vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - will immediately mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this elite school, yet only a miniscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is an ethos of real-world application and service to society -- the development of leadership skills, seeking to understand and solve contemporary problems, engaging with local and national interest groups. This is a major deficit in a college education. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and tries to promote a sense of purity about this. The usually-cited example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask. Reed also touts its avoidance of grade-inflation. For example, I worked extremely hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. Without question, these would have been A's in most other places. But this virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean more at Reed than at other schools because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest. Unfortunately, this situation can put its graduates at a disadvantage when they seek entry into graduate and professional schools. Even if students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers and computer algorithms simply don't know or care that Reed has much more stringent standards in terms of grade assignments. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed is much too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. This self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma is wearying. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate an associated bohemian image also yields an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is not tolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of the observations above reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is strange, insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. Reed is best suited for students who want to become academics and know this with a high degree of certainty coming out of high school. A very small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. A vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - will immediately mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this elite school, yet only a miniscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is an ethos of real-world application and service to society -- the development of leadership skills, seeking to understand and solve contemporary problems, engaging with local and national interest groups. This is a major deficit in a college education. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and tries to promote a sense of purity about this. The usually-cited example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask. Reed also touts its avoidance of grade-inflation. For example, I worked extremely hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. Without question, these would have been A's in most other places. But this virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean more at Reed than at other schools because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest. Unfortunately, this situation can put its graduates at a disadvantage when they seek entry into graduate and professional schools. Even if students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers and computer algorithms simply don't know or care that Reed has much more stringent standards in terms of grade assignments. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed is much too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. This self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma is wearying. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate an associated bohemian image also yields an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is not tolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of the observations above reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate who found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. The most recognized category of Reed graduates are those who earn PhDs and become academics. It is for these students that Reed is best suited. A much smaller number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. A majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - will immediately mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months. Over many decades a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this elite school, yet only a miniscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, of course, but it does bespeak Reed's single-minded over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is an ethos of real-world application and service to society -- the development of leadership skills, getting one's hands dirty, seeking to understand and solve contemporary problems, engaging in local and national interest groups. This is a major deficit in a college education. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well. And it tries to promote a sense of purity about this. For example, students receive grades that appear on transcripts, but the school doesn't disseminate report cards. Reed also strives to avoid grade-inflation. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked extremely hard. But this situation actually amplifies the importance of grades: these mean more at Reed than at competitor schools because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest. Unfortunately, noble though it might seem at first glance, this can put its graduates at a disadvantage when they seek entry into graduate and professional schools. Even if students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers and computer algorithms don't know or care that Reed has much more stringent standards in terms of grade assignments. Thus, again, Reed is virtuous but on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Certainly, the prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. It's all a bit much. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate an associated bohemian image present another irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is not tolerant of many kinds of diversity. One stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad opportunities for a more balanced life, socialization and friendship, and the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many big state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of the observations above reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work very hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. A very small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. The vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. But Reed is best suited for students who, coming out of high school, are confident they want to become academics. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - are likely to mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this elite school, yet only a minuscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is the vibrancy of real-world engagement and service to society. The Greeks and Romans are fine, but Reed makes little room for developing leadership skills, understanding and wrestling with contemporary problems, learning from prominent experts, and interacting with local and national interest groups. It also does little to prepare graduates uninterested in graduate school for decent, well-paying jobs. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and tries to promote a sense of purity. The usually-cited example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask. Reed also eschews grade inflation. For example, I worked extremely hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. But such virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean more at Reed because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest than other schools. Unfortunately, this situation puts its graduates at a disadvantage. Even if Reed students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, computer screening algorithms and admissions officers in graduate and professional schools simply don't know or care that Reed has much more stringent grading standards than other schools. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed is too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. The self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma quickly gets old. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate a bohemian image also yield an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, rampant political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is intolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of the observations above reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is insular and depressing, although academically demanding. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. A very small number of Reed graduates become doctors, lawyers, engineers. The vast majority go into sundry careers like alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, freelance writing, and beer-making. But Reed is best suited for students who, coming out of high school, are confident they want to become academics. These are fine vocations but a critical part of the spectrum is missing. Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Ask a Reedie to name a prominent alumnus, he or she - and even the admissions office - are likely to mention, and only mention, Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out in less than 6 months over forty years ago. To reiterate, for a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this elite school, yet only a minuscule number have attained even minor renown. This by itself is a lousy metric of educational value, but it does bespeak Reed's over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. Missing is the vibrancy of real-world engagement and service to society. The Greeks and Romans are fine, but Reed makes little room for developing leadership skills, understanding and wrestling with contemporary problems, learning from prominent experts, and interacting with local and national interest groups. It also does little to prepare graduates uninterested in graduate school for decent, well-paying jobs. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and tries to promote a sense of purity. The usually-cited example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask. Reed also eschews grade inflation. For example, I worked extremely hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. But such virtuousness must be celebrated on an island isolated from the rest of humanity. Rather than not mattering at all, grades actually mean more at Reed because Reed is supposedly more rigorous and intellectually honest than other schools. Unfortunately, this situation puts its graduates at a disadvantage. Even if Reed students are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, computer screening algorithms and admissions officers in graduate and professional schools simply don't know or care that Reed has much more stringent grading standards than other schools. The prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but Reed is too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. The self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma quickly gets old. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate a bohemian image also yield an irony: while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In fact, rampant political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is intolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed was absolutely true: there was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. In awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try some of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, small spaces, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. I don't absolutely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with a bit more sunshine and a bit more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of the observations above reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. A very small number become doctors, lawyers, engineers. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the quality of the education. This is problematic. If you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself to the pool of self-selected students and to the marketing historically promulgated by the administration. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which is sometimes confused with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate and professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. And again, the prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. There's tremendous peer pressure to endorse this perspective and the associated image. Yet, ironically, while Reed prides itself on being "different" in these ways, it's not a place where someone who's different from or disagrees with the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly isolated and inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I'm a Reed graduate. The College is academically demanding, although insular and depressing. Take it to heart: Reed is not for everyone. A small number of Reed graduates go into medicine, law, engineering, finance. The majority go into sundry careers like computer programming, beer-making, library science, and freelance writing. But Reed is best suited for students who, out of high school, are confident they want to become academics. Over a century a large number of students have had the privilege of attending this expensive and elite school yet, in comparison with its peer institutions, only a minuscule percentage have attained significant prominence or even minor renown, even in academia. And Reed is not known for graduates who start businesses, invent things, go into politics, or lead organizations. Just read the Alumni Notes section of any Reed Magazine to get a flavor. Fame is a lousy metric of educational value (there are talented, successful and happy Reed graduates), but the paucity of major stand-outs after a 100 years does bespeak Reed's isolation and over-emphasis on intellectualism for its own sake. The place is an ivory tower. The Greeks and Romans have their place, but the vibrancy of real-world engagement is missing. Reed makes little room for developing leadership skills, understanding and wrestling with contemporary problems, learning from prominent experts, and interacting with local and national interest groups. It also does little to prepare graduates for decent, well-paying jobs. For what it emphasizes - the life of the mind - Reed does well and promotes a sense of purity about it. The well-worn example is that while grades are conferred and appear on transcripts, the school does not disseminate report cards or divulge grades to students unless they ask to see them. Reed also eschews grade inflation. For example, I worked hard to receive a B in almost every class I took. But this principled and contradictory orientation to grades (not important enough to report because they distract from education yet of such great importance that they must not be devalued) seriously disadvantages its graduates. In looking at life beyond college, Reed students who are capable, ambitious, and have significant talent and superior scores on GREs, LSATs, and MCATs, will face computer screening algorithms and admissions officers in graduate and professional schools who don't know or care that Reed has more stringent grading standards than other schools. Reed's prioritization of scholarship over grades, fraternities, and team sports has merit, but the college ethos is characterized by students who are too extreme and self-congratulatory about this, and who have an exaggerated belief about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking they are. The self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma quickly gets old. "Communism, Atheism, And Free Love," after several decades, is as stale as hard tack. Peer pressure to endorse these values and to cultivate a bohemian image also yield an irony: while Reed prides itself on being off-beat, it's not a place where one who disagrees with aspects of the Reed norm can feel comfortable. In fact, rampant political correctness notwithstanding, Reed is not very self-critical and is intolerant of many kinds of diversity. A stereotype about Reed is true: there is plenty of marijuana, alcohol, and hard drugs. In my day, students spoke of "Bromo," a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere to try all of this. Finally, there have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. Whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges I don't know, but one wonders about the influence of near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, small spaces, recreational drugs, unrelenting pressure to study, and a sizable number of socially awkward students. I don't completely regret attending Reed but I would have been happier and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school with more sunshine and more resonance with the rest of society. There are myriad alternatives for a more balanced life, for friendship, and for the development of critical thinking skills: any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and also many state schools, some of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college. Some of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. Perhaps Reed has changed. I've gone on to have a wonderful family and a fulfilling and successful career. But as much as I benefited from, I also had to work hard to overcome my Reed experience. Most telling is that I would not encourage my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more

I am a Reed graduate. I found the College strange, insular and depressing, although academically rigorous. I've read the Reed College alumni magazine for years. The alumni notes are underwhelming when compared with those of Oberlin, Swarthmore, Harvard. Ask a Reedie to name a famous graduate, he or she will be unable to mention anyone other than Steve Jobs. But Mr. Jobs doesn't count -- he dropped out after 6 months. Many Reed graduates pursue PhDs and become successful academics. A very small number become doctors, lawyers, engineers. Others go into alternative medicine, computer programming, library science, and beer-making. These are fine vocations but there is a lack of spectrum. It's not a place known for graduates who also start businesses, invent things, go into politics, lead organizations, or stand out socially in other ways. Of course, there are some that do, but far fewer than one would expect given the high quality of the education. This is problematic. If you have the privilege to attend an elite school, do something that leaves a mark on the world, or at least try -- there's simply too much emphasis on how "intellectual" Reed is! The situation owes itself as much to the pool of self-selected students as to the marketing and culture historically promulgated by the administration. That said, Reed does promote serious engagement in ideas and has a demanding curriculum. Grades are de-emphasized, which is sometimes confused with the notion that there are no grades at all. The school doesn't disseminate report cards, but students do receive grades which appear on transcripts. With the exception of a single A-, I received a B in every class I took. And I worked my butt off. The lack of grade-inflation, although noble in a way, can put graduates at a tremendous competitive disadvantage when they attempt to gain entry into graduate and professional schools. Even if a graduate has high scores on GMATs, LSATs, MCATs, and so on, admissions officers do not know or care that Reed has different standards in terms of grade assignments. And again, the prioritization of scholarship over grades is laudatory, but Reed is too self-congratulatory about this, and about how iconoclastic and liberal and free-thinking it believes itself to be. There's a pervasive, studied, self-indulgent, counter-culture miasma. Sometimes it's all a bit much. There's tremendous peer pressure to endorse this perspective and the associated image. Yet, ironically, while Reed prides itself on being "different," it's not a place where someone who's different from the Reed norm can easily feel comfortable. In this way, it's not very tolerant of diversity. There was no shortage of pot, alcohol, and hard drugs. Reed provided an accepting atmosphere for me to try some of this. There was also lots of admiring talk about designer drugs (in awed tones, some spoke of "Bromo" -- a strong and scary, mind-altering substance that a Reed student had supposedly invented in a chemistry lab). On campus, there was exceedingly little conversation about contemporary societal issues or much linkage with the wider Portland community -- the place is incredibly isolated and inward-looking. Fortunately, campus is pretty to look at - green, ivy-covered, even stately. Unfortunately, it's also a bit run down. I walked through the grounds a couple years ago and saw neglect - broken basement windows, cobwebs, peeling paint, and litter. There have been spates of student suicides during Reed's history. I don't know whether this is a bigger problem than at other liberal-arts colleges, but it's hard not to wonder about the influence of perpetual cloudiness, near-constant drizzle, low skies, prolonged winter darkness, recreational drugs, interminable pressure to study, insularity, and the number of socially awkward kids who enroll. Without question, I got a very good education at Reed. I would have been happier, however, and received an equally good education if I had attended a more conventional school where there was a bit more sunshine. There are many fine schools with better opportunities for a more balanced life (any of the Ivy Leagues; most of the highly-ranked US News and World Report liberal arts colleges; and even lots of big state schools, many of which have liberal arts programs that try to capture the feel of life in a small college -- if this is what one wants). Many of these observations reflect personal experience, predilections, and the nature of my adolescence. They also reflect the Reed of a specific era - perhaps the place has changed. While I had happy times, adventures, and great friends at Reed, somehow these just don't figure as prominently in my memory as how forlorn and angst-ridden I felt. I've gone on to have a wonderful family, and a fulfilling and successful career. But most telling is that I would not encourage any of my own children to attend Reed -- or even visit it. read more