For my valedictory end-of-the-year column, I originally planned to write that I myself was insane. But a far more interesting and far less self-indulgent topic emerged. There’s been considerable talk in the pages of The Daily over the past week about Stanford’s supposedly “pre-professional” character, which is portrayed in a negative light. I’m not convinced that Stanford is nearly as pre-professional as some other writers make it out to be, and I’m even less convinced that it’s a bad thing.

Apparently those going off to jobs in consulting or investment banking next year should feel bad because they don’t contribute as much to society as someone teaching in an inner city or working at a clinic in India. Never mind that the civic culture of all major cities — museums, opera houses, universities and symphonies depend on the largesse of the wealthy. Never mind that a lot of the wealth of the rich gets redistributed downward. And never mind that many people who work in high-income fields are happy, and that many people who work in low-income public service fields are unhappy, frustrated with the smallness of their apartment and the dinginess of their car — if they even have one.

Money, lifestyle and income do matter to a lot of people. Some may have a desire to have a certain lifestyle after college that can only be maintained by high-income employment. A job isn’t everything, and it shouldn’t define who people are. Many people care far more about what they do outside of the job — if one has a passion for flyfishing, for example, or painting, it’s much easier to fund those activities when one has a lot of extra cash. Many students have debts after college or graduate school; those need to be paid off before these students can even think about doing something with a $30,000 annual salary. A lot of things in life have a price tag attached.

Public service is indeed an admirable career choice after college. But the moral superiority attached to public service professions doesn’t give the field a good name. The most compelling charge leveled at high-income jobs is the intellectual one — that brilliant Stanford students give up academics to become corporate lackeys. I’m not convinced by that either — for many people, hedge funds or corporate law is truly a challenging, competitive and stimulating field. And it’s unclear whether being a low-level assistant at an NGO is necessarily more stimulating than being a consultant.

The most stimulating intellectual field, academia, also seems to be something that is looked down upon. Because academics aren’t directly helping people in the real world, they should feel guilty. Academia, however, has an important role to play in the intellectual character of society. Here again, some people merely make the decision to pursue what they want to do after college. Even if academia doesn’t make a tangible contribution to the material well-being of people, graduates who choose to pursue this career path should not be condemned for their choice.

The job market has a remarkable way of sorting people efficiently. Those that want to teach children in Africa certainly can, but they have to make sacrifices to do so. And those that want to have a certain lifestyle can do that on Wall Street and elsewhere, and they, in the end, are the ones who likely fund the NGOs that put teachers in Africa.

The process of choosing a career after school should be free of moralizing. Certainly, if one signs up to be a loanshark or mercenary, his moral standing is dubious. But for the vast majority of professions, it’s simply a matter of personal preference. No one (or at least, very few people) chooses to enter the corporate world purely out of passion for spreadsheets and conference calls. Instead, many simply have a different set of priorities than those entering the public service, and they shouldn’t be judged negatively for that.

So that is my message to the seniors, and to everyone: don’t feel guilty. Do what you want. Don’t look back.

Stuart Baimel is guilty as charged. Send him a deposition at sbaimel "at" stanford.edu.