One of our greatest hopes and fears was confirmed last week when the Princeton Review released another helping of its colorful college rankings.

Penn State made No. 4 on a list of the nation's "party schools." It also scored top-20 places for "lots of beer," "lots of hard liquor" and "reefer madness." Depending on your idea of a party, these categories may or may not go together.

If this designation comes as a surprise, you might want to get out more. But if you take these lists seriously, you also have a slightly skewed idea of reality at this university.

After all, when a company sets out to gauge the incidence of such phenomena as "Birkenstock-wearing, tree-hugging, clove-smoking vegetarians" and relies heavily on voluntary student interviews, it deals inevitably in stereotype and half-truth.

The huge fluctuations year to year don't add much to the rankings' credibility, either. A few years ago, for instance, Penn State was nowhere to be found among guests at the Review's top 20 "party."

We wouldn't go as far as the university spokesman who called the survey "bogus," but this label should not be reason enough to disuade (or attract) potential students.

The same should be true for other rankings, even ones with apparently more scientific methods such as the vaunted yearly nods from U.S. News and World Report.

So, what should you do when your school takes 10th in the race for students who "[almost] never study"? Why not rebel and hit the books a bit harder?

Class discussions are "rare," they say? Speak up early and often, starting today.

"Alternative lifestyles not an alternative"? Make the effort to practice a little tolerance.

You can even define "party" however you want.

Oh, and that part about Penn State having a "great college newspaper." Just ignore that; it's probably a fluke.