One of my most vivid memories of my grandfather takes place in the kitchen of his Mumbai apartment when I was around 7 years old. Seated at the dining table, we had just finished one of my grandmother’s exquisite meals, with my grandfather’s plate cleared off and mine still containing the last remnants of the dish, which I did not plan on finishing. As we cleared off the table, he kept looking at my plate with disappointment, and I couldn’t figure out why. There was nothing out of the ordinary for me – it was all but custom to toss a bit of your meal at my lunch table back home, and if anything, my grandfather’s refusal to leave even a crumb was strange to me.

That’s when he launched into a story about how he had worked in a textile mill when he was younger and had known men who had nothing. My family in India, in comparison, is relatively well-off, and as I learned during my most recent trip to Mumbai last December, to even have one room to yourself in that particularly overcrowded city is a privilege. That’s why the idea that some people who had worked the same job as my grandfather and lived in the same city as him had such different living conditions was foreign to me. These people, as he explained to me, were lucky to be able to afford even a meal for their families, and he pointed out that the amount of food I had planned on throwing out could be enough to provide a small child dinner that evening.

To be honest, I don’t remember all of the details from that conversation, but one key point has stuck with me ever since: don’t waste food. I’ve learned that it’s generally not that hard to do. It can be as simple as packing leftovers or just going back for seconds if you finish your first serving instead of overestimating what you will want to eat and wasting what you don’t get to. Of course, I’m not perfect, and I’ve learned the hard way that it’s sometimes better to waste a little than to force yourself to finish everything even if it means you’ll be overeating; however, these exceptions cannot justify the majority of food wastage that I witness here at Penn State.

That American custom of always leaving a little food on your plate is more noticeable than ever to me since I started college. Maybe it’s the fact that our dining halls are intentionally designed so that you can go back and take more from the buffet during your meal without paying again, but the waste I notice here is distinctly irritating because it’s so widely practiced. Can you imagine how much food could be saved if the 40 thousand people on our campus started being just a little more mindful about their eating habits?

This is not an issue that affects only children in Africa or workers all the way in India. My mom and I once volunteered for a non-profit organization called 412 Food Rescue that is designed to transport food scraps from restaurants and donate them to food banks so that they can go to people in need. It was such an important reminder that injustice exists everywhere, and being deprived of food is perhaps one of the most tragic situations to be in. I’d love to volunteer for a similar organization again in the future, and until then, I urge you to join me in being just a little more mindful about what we put on our plates everyday. The smallest change in our lifestyles can make the greatest difference in someone else’s.

By now, I know the conversation like the back of my hand. It usually happens when I’m speaking to men, and even more so when those men are STEM majors. The exact wording varies but it goes something along the lines of “you’re majoring in Psychology? Oh, so no science classes for you” or “what are you complaining about? You’re a Liberal Arts major!” It’s at this point when I usually clarify, “I’m studying Psych with a focus in neuroscience,” and then I revel in watching their faces fall as they take back the demeaning words they had just shamelessly said to me.

As much as I’m proud that I am studying a STEM (or at least STEM-adjacent) subject, these interactions bother me every time they happen. Throughout my life, I’ve always been considered smart. Even if I wasn’t at the very top of my class or taking the hardest subjects, people generally never questioned my intelligence when it came to school work, and I didn’t realize how much of a privilege that was until I got here. While at home, I was branded “smart” as a result of stereotypes about Indians excelling academically, here I’m labeled “less intelligent” before people even know me because of a different stereotype, centered around my major.

What the people who are questioning my intelligence fail to understand, however, is that even if I were in a field that was purely artistic, chances are that I could still outperform them in an essay contest or any communication-based exercise, just like they could beat me on a chemistry test or an engineering assignment. So why is my intelligence only being operationalized by the level math course I’m in and how difficult my major sounds? While I believe that STEM education is absolutely essential to helping people succeed in the future, I also think that our movement to enhance STEM studies has completely taken the importance off of artistic education. As wonderful as it is to be able to build a robot or write a new code, if the people who are in charge of these projects can’t critically think, then they risk their invention being applied wrong or failing to reach its full potential. The arts, humanities, and social sciences teach a whole different set of equally important skills, like writing and speaking, creativity, logic, empathy, social intelligence, and political literacy. Without these skills, even if someone is the best surgeon or programmer in the world, it would be difficult for them to succeed.

I love neuroscience and the concept of uncovering the intricacies behind every thought, movement, and feeling that we experience; however, I’m also grateful that my major also allows me to dedicate some of my education to learning about the struggles people face and how professionals in my field have tried to ameliorate those people’s conditions, including the times that they have failed. I think Penn State does a great job combining the natural sciences and critical thinking courses for students of all majors, but this is a much broader issue. While I believe that we should continue to push for STEM education from a young age, I think it’s equally as important that we place some emphasis on being well-rounded and that we recognize that every field provides its own value.

Without people studying a broad range of subjects, our society would not be able to function the same. Liberal arts education helps to preserve our morals, history, language, and culture, as well as placing a continuous emphasis on helping people, and for that reason, it is just as valuable and important as STEM education.

I grew up in the suburbs outside of Pittsburgh in a relatively privileged area and a school district that contained a large population of South Asian students. Because of this, I got to watch first-hand as stereotypes unfolded and proved themselves to be true, as well as how they could limit and hurt people. One of these stereotypes is the notion that all Asian parents are extremely strict. In my expert opinion, I would say that it definitely varies.

I’m lucky to have parents who prioritized safety and responsibility as I was growing up without being overprotective and saying “no” to me a lot. Not everyone I know, however, was as fortunate. After observing the behavior of my friends and peers for years, I’ve reached the conclusion that the stricter the parents, the more rebellious the kid. One of my friends, for instance, had parents who let her go wherever she wanted and do whatever she pleased, primarily because they trusted her. Today, she is attending a top university and rarely breaks rules or does what she’s not supposed to, at least compared to the average college student. She is the paragon of reliability, responsibility, and moderation, and I truly believe that it is because her parents allowed her to learn her own limits instead of dictating to her what they were.

In contrast, I watched as some of my peers became better at lying to their parents in real time as we went through high school. Girls whose parents wouldn’t let them date would go through ridiculous lengths to hide their relationships with guys who I suspected they didn’t even like. Parents who set unreasonable curfews had no idea that their kids were sneaking out and becoming more prone to drinking and substance use, while the kids of less authoritarian parents were safely in bed on their own accord. Stricter parents don’t raise more well-behaved children, they raise smarter ones. While this “misbehavior” might seem harmless, I’ve seen how it can lead to a life of irresponsible decision making, leading kids to lose track of their dreams, as well as those of their parents.

Some great examples of this phenomenon in the media can be found in Gilmore Girls. For instance, one of the protagonists, Rory, who was raised by the free-spirited Lorelai, is (at least at her high school age) a well-behaved, unproblematic daughter. At least, she doesn’t hide anything from her mom, allowing Lorelai to ensure her safety at all times. In contrast, Rory’s best friend, Lane, who has a totalitarian mother who is overly concerned for her safety, learns at a young age how to sneak around in order to live her life the way she wants. Her mother is unaware of the fact that her daughter is never truly accounted for, which could potentially be dangerous in real life.

There is a concept in psychology that explains this well: authoritative vs. authoritarian parenting. When parents allow their children to develop an intrinsic motivation for doing the right thing, prioritizing their well-being, and striving to achieve their goals, they set their kids up for success in the future. While structure and discipline are undoubtedly crucial as a part of good parenting, empathy, active listening, and a little flexibility can go a long way.