The intense academic environment at Cambridge creates a culture that thrives on obsession. From the outset, students are inducted into an ethos of relentless academic striving – eight weeks of rigorous study followed by a “collapse” at the end of term, as Eloise aptly describes it. While this model encourages productivity in short bursts, it does not allow for rest, reflection, or recovery in between. The idea that students should work themselves into the ground before taking time off is ingrained into the culture of the university.

What is often overlooked, however, is the psychological toll that this takes on students, making them feel that any pause is a form of failure or laziness. In this atmosphere, burnout is not just a possibility; it becomes an expected outcome. As one student Eloise admits, “I don’t think it’s particularly easy to balance the two [productivity and well-being] at Cambridge.” Amy highlights this, stating, “It’s hard to maintain balance when the culture constantly pushes us to perform. I’ve noticed that it’s almost a badge of honour to be overworked, which can make you feel like you’re failing if you take time off.”

“Burnout is not just a possibility; it becomes an expected outcome”

The pressure to constantly perform academically forces students into a never-ending cycle of overwork, during which any moment of rest feels like an indulgence. “I just try my best not to put too much pressure on myself and take each day as it comes,” agrees Kezia. Even when students have physically stopped working, the pervasive culture of toxic productivity doesn’t let them rest – the very act of taking time off becomes a source of further stress. This internalised guilt comes from a culture that constantly signals to students that if they are not actively working, they are somehow falling behind.

Perhaps the most insidious aspect of toxic productivity is how it blurs the line between what is genuinely productive and what is simply activity for activity’s sake. At Cambridge, the pressure to always be doing something can lead students to mistake motion for progress. As Eloise notes, “When my writing becomes unreadable, I have to give up and accept the un-productivity for a couple of days in a row.”

“The pressure to “keep up” persists, fed by an institutional culture that places value on visible busyness over sustainable productivity”

Amy offers a valuable counterpoint to the relentless pursuit of productivity by emphasising how doing something beneficial, even if not traditionally “productive,” can be just as important. She tells me, “For me, even if I’m not working in a traditional sense, I try to focus on things that nourish me mentally, like going for a walk or doing something creative, to help break the cycle of stress and allow my mind to reset.” However, the real question remains: why do we only recognise this unproductive state when we reach a point of total collapse? Why do we push ourselves to the brink of exhaustion in the first place, only to learn – too late – that we could have been more efficient, or even healthier, by allowing ourselves to rest sooner?

This cycle of forced productivity is exacerbated by the way students internalise academic comparison, a topic seldom discussed openly. Despite being pushed to the back of our minds, we’re constantly measuring our worth against the achievements of others. “You just can’t compare yourself here. Everyone is doing so much and is so talented,” Kezia admits, revealing the intense social pressure to keep up, even at the cost of our mental or physical well-being.

The real danger lies in this constant comparison, which magnifies feelings of inadequacy when we’re not as “busy” or “productive” as our peers. The university attracts high-achieving individuals who place immense value on academic output, where rest becomes a luxury reserved only for after an overwhelming amount of work is completed. This distorted mindset creates a harmful feedback loop, where students push themselves to their limits, only to burn out and feel even more pressure to perform better next time. At times, it feels as though Cambridge itself rewards this obsession with busyness. The most troubling aspect of this relentless cycle is how it distorts the very definition of success. The lines between meaningful achievement and mere activity blur to the point of invisibility.

The irony, of course, is that the pursuit of excellence through constant effort ends up undermining the very quality that students are striving for - genuine intellectual growth. The harsh reality is that this pursuit often comes at the expense of mental well-being, relationships, and personal fulfilment, leaving students to question whether the high price of success is truly worth it. And yet, despite these profound costs, the pressure to “keep up” persists, fed by an institutional culture that places value on visible busyness over sustainable productivity.