A top-four list is unusual. Let me explain why this isn’t a top-five or top-ten sort of deal. I have kept a journal during my time at Stanford, and recently I went through my entries. I found that each year I seem to pick one thing to complain about and one thing to exalt in regards to my experiences at Stanford. And the things that I tend to harp on are not the usual suspects — sadly, President Hennessy, you are not a frequent presence in my journals. Below are my favorite and least favorite things about Stanford, ranked by the class year that I was especially fired-up about them:

The Bottom Four

Freshman Year: Failing. At everything. All the time. Remember being good at things? Kids in high school would ask you what you got on math problems and have you proof-read their essays. Then you got your first B at Stanford... and it was only the beginning. Lessons in humility are a valuable part of growing up, but getting your ego continually crushed by your TA can get a bit old.

Sophomore Year: Inhumane and poorly planned campus buildings. (Clearly, this was the year that I declared as Architectural Design.) Who decided that Stanford should be comprised of dorms that act like bunkers and buildings that are flagrantly irresponsible? Example: Manzanita. The complex may have its staunch following of studious inhabitants, but for the most part, Manzanita, well... simply put, it sucks. Where else is it okay to ignore your neighbor all year? If pod-people invaded Stanford, they would choose to live in Manzanita. The sprawling compound has no soul, no spirit. I know that it’s cheaper to build uniform dorms with high carrying capacity, but there’s a reason that undergraduates will claw each other’s faces off to get on the Row: It’s one of the few places on campus that can feel like a home. Greg Boardman, if you’re worried that students feel isolated at Stanford, please stop building dorms that treat people like lab rats. We were made to do more than eat, sleep and study in total isolation.

Junior Year: Cause Chasers. You know the type. Your freshman year they were the ones who joined SLAC their first week of school and covered your bathroom stalls in pedantic leaflets. They became vegetarians, then vegans, then missed meat and decided to move on to another cause. 2005 was a big year for them, what with the tsunami and then Hurricane Katrina. They make groups to battle one kind of social ill, serve as the founding President, quit when their term is up, and then promptly start another group on which to act as self-righteous dictator. They preach. They cajole. They judge your gas-guzzling car, your Nikes and your MS&E degree. Many then go on to sell their souls in Washington.

Senior Year: The Stanford Salad. Picture a salad left to sit out and settle at a BBQ. The dressing and the nuts fall to the bottom, maybe some dried fruit sifts to the middle, and the lettuce floats on top. We, the Stanford student body, are this salad. We came to Stanford hopeful to be interact as equals, but we leave as a separated student body. Diverse freshman dorms separate out into homogenous draw groups. Your friends from IHUM section get replaced by your chemistry lab partners. You join a sorority, an athletics team, The Daily. Suddenly, all of your friends are just like you. I get that it is nice to be surrounded by a network of friends who understand you, but it is eerie that no African-Americans live in my house and that I only have two friends who are listed as “conservative” on Facebook.

The Top:

Freshman Year: The people. Yup, completely cheesy and expected. But, come on! I will always remember talking to people in the J-Ro hallway during Admit Weekend, and realizing that I had found my new home. Granted, we have our quirks, but I am constantly and profoundly impressed by my peers here. Sure, they’re smart, but they’re passionate, creative, and damn funny, too. I met friends for life at Stanford.

Sophomore Year: Stanford never gives up on you. It is damn hard to get kicked out of Stanford. We have counselors, we have free tutors, and we have quite possibly the world’s most forgiving academic probation system. Even if you mess up really badly, few things are ever permanent — worst case scenario, you are asked to take time off. Bless the Stanford bureaucracy for supplying its students with every form of support they could ever ask for — we even have free psychological counseling, for goodness sake! When else in your life will you have access to free therapy sessions? Never, that’s when.

Junior Year: Money, baby. Stanford will give you money to do anything — all you have to do is ask, and ask in the right way. You want to go to Iceland and photograph thermal springs? Great! Here’s four thousand dollars. You want to go to the San Francisco Opera? Here are the tickets. Don’t know what to do this summer? How about a paid internship in Germany, working for whomever you want. I can’t believe the things that I have gotten to do while at Stanford, and I can’t believe how easily the money has been provided. My experiences outweigh the cost of tuition, hands down. And, as we all know, that’s saying a lot.

Senior Year: Stanford Secret Spaces. The magnetic wall, steam tunnels, the cave. The Jacuzzi, the cactus garden, the river, the roofs of certain buildings. Frost at night. Stone River. Places whose secrecy I guard so fiercely that letting you know about them would destroy their allure. We’re the Winchester Mystery House of college campuses, and it’s freaking awesome.

Jackie Bernstein can be reached at jaber@stanford.edu.