It was the summer of last year, as I cringed at my computer screen, that I realized what my school’s name might soon say to potential employers or even just to random people I would meet.

I pictured myself sitting in a job interview while these words were comically dubbed over my moving mouth like a translated D-rate Japanese action flick.

Confirmed by a long string of celebratory Facebook statuses on my news feed, I had just found out that Pennsylvania State University had been named to the No. 1 spot on Princeton Review’s “Top Party School” list.

If you’re interested in how the rankings are not-so-scientifically configured, take a look at this year’s press release from the Princeton Review.

However, what most people often don’t realize is that there are students at the school who are not saluting the number one status before taking shots of Vladimir vodka.

Here’s the thing: I party. I go out on weekends. I have a lot of fun, and my environment in State College, Pa., is very allowing of that. But I also work extremely hard and have goals that I am, frankly, working my butt off to achieve. And I’m not an outlier in State College. Sure, I have met some straight-up idiots here. You will find those everywhere, even at the most prestigious schools. But I have also met many more people, peers and faculty alike, who inspire me with their knowledge, work ethic and passion.

I’m definitely not trying to say that some incredibly drunk students don’t do incredibly stupid things. They do. I’m just saying that it’s not all 44, 000 students. Nowhere close. And it’s not just at Penn State. While I’m certainly not condoning it, you can expect to find rowdy and obnoxious behavior at any large university. And while it might not be the most graceful picture of higher education, it’s a reality, especially when you stick that many students in a relatively small, isolated, rural town.

And before you ask, “But, Haley, why did you choose to go to a school with such a reputation already in tact if you’re just going to complain about it?” (We’ve been in the Top 10 for a few years now). Well, in short, I knew that Penn State had exactly what I was looking for: top academics, large sports teams, a huge student body, THON (the largest-student run philanthropy in the world), an incredible network of alums and the strongest sense of community and pride I have ever experienced. Students at Penn State know we’re so, so much more than drinking.

No matter what school you go to, you choose how you act. Graduates of community colleges can, and do, succeed wondrously in life, while some Ivy Leaguers don’t do so hot. Just because you attend a “good” school, doesn’t mean you can kick back and be set up for life.

To be honest, I started writing this blog post with the intention of solely defending my school’s – and my – reputation. After listening to 70 painful minutes of an NPR This American Life segment titled “#1 Party School,” in which NPR reporters spent a football weekend in State College observing my school’s party culture, I was feeling a little frustrated. They managed to find the students toting a stolen traffic sign and the delivery boy who doesn’t get tips on when delivering wings to drunks. What they missed were all the students like me who aren’t ruining public property and would always hand over the extra cash and a “Thank you!” for some late night wings.

But what I realized is that, ultimately, it’s up to you to mute that audio dubbing and stop it from taking over when representing yourself in the job market, and anywhere else in your life. As much as I like to say that I bleed blue and white, it will be my actions, not my school, that define me.

I’m curious to know from all of you: What do you think about university stereotypes? How are you different than your school’s stereotype? If your school has a stereotype, do you think it deserves it? How did Princeton Review school rankings influence – or not – your decision on where to attend school?