It’s as if we feel apologetic. From day one, Stanford students know the score. Drive down Palm Drive, approach the Oval, stroll beneath the Romanesque sandstone arches, ogle fellow students’ luxury automobiles on Escondido Road. And how could we not? Elite higher education is enjoyed by the cream of society; Stanford is the head on the foam.

When the student body’s physical surroundings form this infamous “bubble” and the intellectual environment turns intensely recondite — combined with the fact that some Stanford students come from remarkably well-off but sheltered backgrounds — there is danger of ignorance about the real world, and worse yet, the nauseating apathy of the privileged.

And so we volunteer.

The onus to volunteer is justifiably heavy, not only at Stanford but across all institutions of higher education. School administrations nudge students toward community service. Employers look kindly upon well-rounded resumes. Teach for America advertises that its graduates often land jobs with lucrative firms like McKinsey and Goldman Sachs. Public service is universally recognized by high school applicants as a “must.” A 2003 satire in The Onion (http://www.theonion.com/content/node/38616) described an insufferable resume-padder apparently trying to get into Stanford.

The volunteering, perhaps thankfully, doesn’t end upon matriculation, as East Palo Alto remains one of the most popular extracurricular destinations for students. The mantra is familiar: We are enjoying the benefits of extraordinary privilege, and it is only right that we give back. We are uniquely poised, due to the gift of our talents, and we should give back to our community. There are poor, underprivileged people, and we should give back and help lift them out of their condition. We are told that we are, after all, at Stanford, where future leaders and world changers are groomed, and we need to dream big things and change big things. Why not start today with a bit of public service? Feels good too, doesn’t it?

Yet when the reality is examined, our hubris suddenly seems just as overbearing as our idealism seems lofty. The truth — as some organizations in East Palo Alto would readily admit — is that for all their enthusiasm and good intentions, Stanford students often leave very little positive, or sometimes even a negative, impact. In some cases, students spend two hours a week with some children, but leave the program just as real bonds are formed. As for overseas endeavors, isn’t it conceivable that a middle-aged Tanzanian woman, who has lived through uncountable hardships, might feel a slight tinge of irony as she watches a fresh-faced, 20 year-old upper-middle class suburban American student teach her how to better her life?

As one sees photos of Americans surrounded by undernourished but giddy children, one might think, “If you had just donated the $1,000 you spent on your airplane ticket here, we’d all be much better off for the next five years.” The cynic could suggest that real capital, in this instance, is worth much more than enthusiastic labor.

Then why do the organizations continue taking students? Political Science Prof. Rob Reich, who teaches the popular course “Ethics and Politics of Public Service,” says that organizations such as those in East Palo Alto hope to educate Stanford students about the less fortunate through a good dose of exposure, not actually elicit our contributions. The service is, in reality, going in the opposite direction of what we students would like to admit.

The Associated Press reported in 2006 that a remarkable 30 percent of American college students are volunteering, and the current attitude among America’s middle-upper class is commendable. While misguided volunteering is better than no public service at all, the worry remains that when students are lulled to believe that a brief service stint represents genuine work and change, the original purpose of the education is defeated and the service is rendered altogether worthless. The only plus of doing service, in that case, would be to that qualm that distinctly fuzzy guilt about driving one’s BMW down Escondido Road. And if Stanford students are to truly realize the change we envision, that would be a moral trap we would do well to avoid.