Caltech Isn't for Everyone

I’m Antonio. I matriculated as a Caltech undergraduate in 2019. I will not graduate.

I write to share my perspective. “As scientists, I think we need to own our perspectives rather than pretend that we have some omniscient neutral view of reality.” (McGlynn, Terry. “It’s really hard to see things from other perspectives.” Science for Everyone. 2024 August 19.) My story will not reflect the experience of most Caltech undergraduates. The message I want to communicate may fail to resonate with most readers. That makes it no less true and no less valuable.

I write to share my gratitude. Like most students, my time at Caltech had positives and negatives. Highlighting the frustrating and challenging parts of Caltech is validating and cathartic. Still, this focus undermines the elements that make Caltech unique. I’m grateful for our community of young scientists. Thanks to them, I had intellectual growth I could not have elsewhere. I’m grateful for our professors. They have provided me with opportunities to explore curiously and courageously, even as I struggled academically. I’m grateful for our Honor Code and that the Institute trusts the students are here to learn. Caltech is remarkably special in the opportunities it provides to students, and those opportunities emerge from a collaboration between the faculty, staff, and students.

In gratitude for what Caltech has provided to me, I have spent my five years here doing my best to contribute to Caltech’s community. I mentored incoming students in and out of the classroom. I changed the curriculum to be more equitable, thoughtful, and effective. I thank those who provided me the opportunity to serve the campus community to the best of my ability.

I see this piece as a continuation of that mission. I give considerable thought to the experience Caltech provides to the undergraduate body and to who is best served by it. In the fall of 2021, I raised concerns to President Rosenbaum about the impact of Caltech’s pedagogical structure on existing and incoming students, who just returned from virtual classes where they had demonstrably learned less. Paraphrasing, he responded that he primarily worried about students that might fall through the cracks and get missed by the community.

I’m publishing to serve those students. Hopefully, to serve the student I was.

Therefore, I write to share my truth. More than anything else, I’m grateful for and enamored by Caltech’s pursuit of truth. When I first arrived, I learned Caltech’s motto: “The truth shall make you free.” Caltech exists to reveal the truth about the world. The truth can make you uncomfortable. The truth can be painful. Sometimes, it’s easier to reject the truth than to fully embrace it. I have had to wrestle with that discomfort, that pain, and that rejection in my time here. Despite that, Techers are unapologetic in their pursuit and disclosure of the truth. To that same mission, I publish this piece with only one apology.

I have spoken to friends, mentees, staff, and faculty about my departure from the Institute. I lied and told half-truths about my circumstances, and I’m sorry for that. I avoided difficult conversations. I tried to minimize what I perceived as harm to the Caltech community. Most of all, I wanted to reject what I learned about myself and my limitations. I did not want to bare the truth about why I left Caltech.

I could not do it.

I could not complete the undergraduate curriculum here.

I ask you, reader, to take a moment. Breathe. Ground yourself. I ask you to notice your instinctual response to that idea. What might you think if an undergraduate came to you with this idea? Maybe they are your student or your friend. How would you respond?

I am not capable of success as a Caltech undergraduate.

Perhaps you feel sad or shocked. You might experience validation or relief. If my gauge on campus culture is accurate, then for some, I evoked a visceral rejection or dismissal. “That’s not true.” “You should not think that way.” “Oh, that’s just impostor syndrome.”

New students often feel like they do not belong at the Institute. They feel scared: maybe they did not deserve admittance, maybe their achievements fall short of their peers’, and maybe they cannot be successful here. Caltech reassures students that this is normal, and nearly everyone experiences these thoughts; I completely agree. The research says that this thinking is not helpful; I completely agree. The whole community communicates that if a student has been accepted, then they can complete Caltech. Admissions does not make mistakes.

I no longer agree. I know that I gave my education here my complete and total effort. There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to graduate from the Caltech. I believed I could, without reservation or hesitation. I put five years of my time and eleven terms’ tuition of my parents’ savings on that faith in myself. I received my third and final academic ineligibility in the spring of 2024.

I am not alone, and I hope you can trust me on that. The best public data I can provide comes from Caltech’s IRO. After conditioning on students who began their second year (for cohorts matriculating in 2013-2017), Caltech’s six-year graduation rate averages to 95.1%. (https://iro.caltech.edu/data/gradrates)

Nearly everyone here is capable, and most are more than capable. The Institute responds to the fact that too many students incorrectly believe they are incapable, and so few actually are. But no individual student is negligible; we must give attention to the students that fall through the cracks.

If you accept my premise, then put yourself in the shoes of a student who cannot do it. I came to terms same as everyone else, and I watched my peers struggle and pass, while I struggled and failed. Shamefully, I returned to the deans to bargain to avoid an academic ineligibility, again. My peers moved forward, while I figured out if I would need to add another term to my expected graduation after the classes I dropped. All the while: “If I was accepted, then I can do it.” “Admissions doesn’t make mistakes.”

I saw inconsistency between my lived experience and the community’s messaging. I was accepted, so I should have success, but I am not seeing that. If I can do it, then why am I not? I am trying all these different solutions, but nothing seems to stick. I am sharing my story because that logical inconsistency has nasty resolutions.

I will wait until classes return in person. I will take time off to handle my mental health. I will sleep less. I should want it more. I should work harder. I need to stop being so lazy. Something is just wrong with me. This is all my fault. Why am I so messed up?

If a student cannot do it, they are liable to become miserable with the logical conclusions of their failure. This is not just an ego check because I failed to accomplish a goal. It’s the ego check reinforced with the belief that I could have and should have been successful. Such a combination frames the failure as a failure of character.

I fully believe that Caltech’s messaging of “If you are admitted, then you can do it” maximizes student morale and, therefore, student success. As a teaching assistant who spent four years making sure students felt accepted and empowered in the classroom, I hate to leave a legacy telling anybody that they are incapable.

I realize now I’m the only one who can. No faculty, staff, or successful alumnus is in a place to put people down. Any enrolled student needs to maintain the illusion for their own sake; they must make it through, and any challenge to the idea that they can needs to be swiftly rejected. The only person who can say that failure is a real possibility is someone who has tried and failed.

Yet even those students might be ashamed of their experience. They might feel obligated to perpetuate the myth. In my final term, as I continued to engage with students and peers, I intentionally hid the circumstances behind my departure. I felt I would be doing a disservice if I made them question their ability to complete the curriculum.

I am publishing this piece because those students that are incapable of getting through it, if they are anything like me, feel scared, frustrated, and worst of all, incredibly alone. Since few share their experience failing out, students very well might feel like they are the only ones. I am not asking the Institute to change so that it works for all of its students. I am writing so that those students are a little less isolated and, hopefully, so they can consider that their failure is not their fault.

I understand this will make some students feel terrified. Remember that this is one experience. Mine should not be the only perspective you consider.

I do not blame faculty or staff. I recognize some students are inadequately supported by the administration and faculty. Caltech has a long way to go to be an equitable institution. It can be equally true that Caltech is not designed for some admitted students for reasons that are neither Caltech’s fault nor the student’s fault. If an environment is built for everyone, it will fail to adequately serve anyone. Caltech’s curriculum serves a purpose; I was not suited for that purpose, and that’s OK. I am a human being. I have my limitations.

I do not blame admissions. I did impressive things in high school, and to their credit, I did so at Caltech too. I think it makes sense that Caltech admissions had a high level of confidence that I could be successful here; they have that same confidence in each and every student here. That confidence is not misplaced; even for those that cannot be successful here, there is a home for you and your talent.

Even if Caltech is not at fault, Caltech still has a responsibility to serve every student it admits, and the Institute refuses this responsibility by telling students they are all capable when that message is a lie. I genuinely believe this is the only way Caltech failed me.

Finally, I want to ensure I do not glorify leaving Caltech. I do not know what my future holds. I might not be OK in the way that Caltech students often mean it. This is a scary world, and a Caltech degree might be a golden ticket to a successful future. Candidly, my safety net privileges me to have this experience and to reflect back on it as positively as I am able to. For those who are truly grappling with their capability at the Institute, you are under no obligation to hold my perspective as correct. I just hope reading this makes you feel less alone and less miserable.

I owe my recovery from a dark place to dialectical behavioral therapy. This modality teaches radical acceptance: the ability to completely accept the world as it is. As a scientific institution, Caltech will challenge my argument. My view of reality is incomplete. At least, I ask the community to radically accept my experience, as difficult as it may be. In turn, I radically accept both Caltech, as it is, and my own limitations, and hold neither animosity nor regrets about my time at the Institute. After all, I found what I came here searching for: the truth made me free.

I would deeply appreciate any feedback or reassurance this piece landed the way I wanted. I can be reached at contact@antonio-caceres.com. My gratitude to you for your attention and to the Tech for publishing my writing.