The Miscellany News April 9, 2020
miscellanynews.org
Vassar College’s student newspaper of record since 1866 Volume 153 | Issue 8
Two weeks into distance learning, students navigate virtual Vassar Senior capstone projects go digital
A look at digital nonstandard classes
Isabel Braham
Delila Ames
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Contributing Editor
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Reporter
avigating the shift to online learning has proved disorienting and challenging for students and professors everywhere. At schools like Vassar, which emphasizes the importance of community and personal connection in learning, the transition to online classwork can feel even more unnatural. Some departments found the shift less organic than others— there are not many existing models of virtual teaching for studio art, dance, theater and music. Without a canvas, barre or band in every student’s home, how can they practice? Departments and students alike are struggling with the task of recreating in-person experiences that they depend on to learn. Most students are united in mourning the loss of a semester of college. Even mustering the motivation and focus that school work requires becomes a herculean task, particularly given the level of high performance and engagement that is the norm at Vassar. But as a studio art student, the transition to distance learning has See DIGITAL on page 5 Juliette Pope/The Miscellany News.
lasses, office hours, group projects, dorm rooms, lectures, parties, commencement, the Deece—in the wake of the virus, these are all parts of college life that have been canceled or modified radically. For seniors who don’t expect to return to Vassar’s campus, these cancellations bear a particularly heavy blow. Unfortunately, the tirade of changes also affects some of the most serious aspects of their academic worlds. Senior theses and projects—core components and long-standing traditions of many departments— are undergoing substantial adjustments. At a time when a live performance is a public safety risk, the Drama Department has been forced to implement some of the most drastic changes. While many senior projects had fortunately taken place earlier in the year, the play “H.B. Floating Palace,” written by and starring Rahul Makwana ’20, has been canceled. “One of the best things about theater is that it is ‘live’ and takes place in the present,” said Makwana. “This is See THESES on page 4
Student feature: seniors reflect on end of athletic careers
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n a Friday afternoon, March 13, Athletic Director Michelle Walsh informed all spring athletes that they wouldn’t have a season. Vassar student-athletes had been waiting with bated breath as other institutions shut down their remaining practices, competitions and championships. The Ivy Leagues were the
first to make the call, then Tuesday night, March 10, NESCAC schools followed suit. By Thursday night, the news seemed inevitable. In a statement to all Vassar student-athletes, Walsh wrote, “[T]he college has decided to suspend all varsity and varsity club practices and competitions until
further notice, with the exception of teams completing their spring break trips.” Vassar had joined the rest of the NCAA in canceling the remainder of all spring seasons. The sudden cancellation disheartened coaches and athletes alike, many of whom were just beginning their season or on
the precipice of unprecedented playoff runs. The men’s volleyball team, for instance, was top ranked and primed for a postseason run, but the fallout flattened those hopes. Whether a team expected to be a powerhouse or was vying for some underdog victories, the loss of a season was frustrating and disappointing
for all spring athletes. But for senior Brewers in particular, these cancellations spell the end of Vassar athletics careers. We invited senior student-athletes to reflect on this bizarre end, and the lessons learned throughout their time as Vassar athletes. See SENIORS on page 6-7
Collecting fragments: 24 March 2020 Sophia Anjali Kapur
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Courtesy of Sophia Anjali Kapur.
Guest Columnist
he two of us sit at the dining room table, reading for class. Around 10:40 p.m., I turn over my printed art history reading and scrawl, “And what if one day, we look back on this time with an idyllic gaze, and miss the closeness of confinement?” I don’t show anyone, just myself. I am getting used to this. ••• This morning we cook breakfast together. I fry the eggs (she likes her yolk runny), she toasts the toast (she knows I don’t like mine very toasted). It’s the little things. The routine. The small details we silently learn about each other, the small details we remember. She fills a glass with water for me, and fills my need for social closeness. Ever since she moved in, I hardly notice the distance. ••• 2008, I overhear my neigh-
bor say, “We are living in the worst state.” I don’t know if they are referring to a state of being, or the state of Michigan itself, but I think to myself: If I ever run for office, I’ll use this story in my campaign. I guess it was an election year after all, now that I think about it, so maybe that would explain why my eight-year-old mind was working in that way. ••• It’s an election year again, and people are talking about 2008. And I’m not running for office but I’m thinking of that line. And as I FaceTime a professor from my bedroom this morning (something I never imagined doing) there are two points in the conversation where I think I might cry. Before spring break, I couldn’t even recall the last time I shed a tear. ••• I write with a new obsession. On paper. But this morning, I am
barely awake, so I open the notes app on my phone instead. “I’m glad Angus convinced us to go to Acrop at midnight, even though we had so much work. I’m glad we went to Olivia’s, and stayed long enough for all of the laughs, even though we were only going to stop by...” the list continues, reminiscing, maybe documenting, the events of the last two weeks of normalcy. We unknowingly stocked up on moments that, at the time, seemed easy to postpone. Screenshot. Send. ••• Fall semester, a friend and I spend time together every Monday evening. One specific Monday in October, we pause our aimless stroll around campus. Crosslegged on the bench between Cushing, Kenyon and Blodgett, we talk about how everything can change so quickly in this uncertain life. She tells me quite sincerely, somewhat out of nowhere, See MOMENTS on page 4