The Mirror 05/02/14

5.2.2014

MIRROR

Departments forgotten?

weekend guide|2

party with tuckies| 3

overcommitment| 6

campus crushes| 8 KATHLEEN RAO // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

2// MIRROR

EDITORS’ NOTE

Parents’ Weekend Survival Guide story

ANNIE MA // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

Both of us agree that this upcoming weekend consistently proves one of the highlights of the spring term party scene. While Green Key is quite the sensational, wild experience, five days of raging can prove a tad exhausting.

Pigstick and Derby weekend has its own unique perks and acts as the perfect prelude to our big spring weekend.

The low build up of expectations, the smaller time commitment and equally merry level of raging is more up our alley.

Neither of us is cool enough to be invited to Derby this year or last. But we make do with whatever scraps of social capital we have. Last year, Jasmine experienced her first Pigstick. When she arrived at the scene, debuting a new floral romper, she was amazed at what she saw: beer literally flying through the air seemingly in slow motion, students dancing scandalously on a makeshift stage, Collis Ray whipping up masterpieces on the grill, the band playing a cover of a classic Queen song. It was everything she had ever imagined a college party should be but had never experienced before. So much facetime, so much pig, so much inclusivity. She was having so much fun that she didn’t even mind when an inebriated ’13 fell on top of her from atop the lifeguard chair.

At her freshman-year Pigstick, Emma was accompanied by several of her friends’ parents and did not get the memo about sundresses. Thus, she was excluded from the throngs of exuberant partygoers, left wondering why everyone in the yard next door was wearing weird sunhats. Last year’s Pigstick was slightly better, but the highlight of her day was shedding her sundress, diving into the BG mud pit and terrifying younger siblings visiting for parents’ weekend.

Pigstick has taught her two things: 1) she does not enjoy taking happy springtime pictures with everyone she has ever met, and 2) when caked in mud, she bears an uncanny resemblance to Gollum.

So go forth and frolic, whether you are the cool ’14 who will make an appearance at every invite-only party this weekend or the clueless ’17 who didn’t know that anything about this weekend was special until you read this. And start planning a hike for your parents from 1 to 5 p.m. on Saturday.

follow @thedmirror

MIRROR R PUBLISHER CARLA LARIN

EXECUTIVE EDITORS MICHAEL RIORDAN STEPHANIE McFEETERS

PLACES TO SEND YOUR PARENTS WHILE YOU’RE AT DERBY/PIGSTICK

Your parents have arrived, and it’s time to hide the empty liquor handles, vacuum the EBA crumbs off your dorm carpet and iron that shirt your mom says brings out your eyes. We want to take this time to impart a little wisdom. Here is a handy survival guide for those of you freaking out about the next 72 hours.

“Fancy” - Iggy Azalea featuring Charli XCX: This song may not

SONGS TO GET YOU THROUGH PARENTS’ WEEKEND relate to the situation at all, but it solves any problem at hand.

It will give you the confidence so you won’t feel sad when the ’rents ask if you’re dating anyone. “Have you learned anything useful in your classes this term?” “No, Mom, I just can’t worry about no haters, gotta stay on my grind.”

“Everything is Embarrassing” - Sky Ferreira: The title speaks for itself.

“Stacy’s Mom” - Fountains of Wayne: This will get you through long nights dreaming about your roommate’s hot mom. It will transport you back to a time when you could seduce your neighbor’s parents by mowing the lawn when they came out with just a towel on.

“I Got it From My Mama” - will.i.am: Finally your friends will understand how you got so damn fine. Show off that sexy woman who birthed you. Beauty overload, body out of control.

King Arthur Flour Factory: They won’t catch on because it’s not too far away, but they will definitely get wrapped up while viewing all the different types of flour that King Arthur has bestowed upon the Upper Valley. “Gee whiz, where did those four hours go? Why do you smell like a trash can and pigs and horse races?”

Hike: They will be thrilled that you’re concerned about their risk of cardiac disease and high blood pressure. “Dad, I know you’ve been trying to get rid of that gut forever. I’ve been on a few hikes to Gile since I’ve got here.” Little do they know that you haven’t actually hiked since Trips.

Ben and Jerry’s Factory: Pretend it’s right around the corner.

Send them off with complicated directions. They never learned how to use their iPhone map app anyway. Plus, you may get some melted ice cream out of it.

Grocery shopping: Tell your parents you’re worried about your dietary habits since you left their healthy bosom. You’re not even eating three to five servings of vegetables every day. Gasp! Mom is on it. Dad will tag along.

How to show them your “wholesome” dartmouth experience

HOW TO HIDE THAT HANGOVER 1. Shower. Let’s be real, your hair smells, and your armpits do, too. You probably have frat sludge all over your legs.

2. Pick out a great Sunday school outfit, preferably in a bright spring color like yellow or mint green. These colors complement the purple bags under your eyes.

3. You have those expensive, oversized Ray Bans. Time to put them to good use. When they inquire why you’re wearing sunglasses in the dimly lit Pine, tell your parents you’re literally too cool for school. You’re kind of a Dartmouth celebrity and need to protect yourself and your identity from your throngs of fans.

4. Under no circumstances should you accept a long scenic nature drive with them. You may get sick. Hint: this may or may not have happened to one of us.

MIRROR EDITORS JASMINE SACHAR, EMMA MOLEY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LINDSAY ELLIS

B y EMMA MOLEY AND JASMINE SACHAR

5. When your parents try to be “hip” and “with it” and “chill” and offer you a sip of wine, refuse. Tell them, “How dare you?

You know I am morally against underage drinking, Mommy.

Excuse me, waiter? Can I get a Shirley Temple?”

’15 Mirror Editor: No one on this campus says anything funny.

’16 Girl: If you’re an optimist, your eyes must be closed.

Introduce them to your professors: Double points. Your parents will see that you actually go to class, and your professors will consider you a charming, family-oriented student. Now that your professor can see your humble beginnings, they may be more likely to give you that citation. Ignore this section if you haven’t attended class since week one.

Top of Baker Tower: The College always opens up the mysterious green tower for special occasions. Climb those stairs, get to the summit, shout “Hallelujah!” Pull out that Nikon. Put your arm around mom and pop. Pick a cute Instagram filter. Prepare for all the likes to roll in. Consider making it your profile picture. Decide you don’t want to be that kid. Make it a Derby mupload instead.

Have them meet the frat puppies: They may have had their suspicions about frats, but after seeing the golden beauty that is Samson, all doubts will be erased. Just make sure you don’t venture below the first floor.

Bonus: If your parents are cool, teach them pong. Warning: If your dad just sank three cups in a row while you’ve been practicing for nine months and still can’t hit a cup, your parents have just upstaged you, which is embarrassing for all parties involved.

SOCY Prof: I have no personal connection with marijuana, but I’ve been told this would sound better with a bong in one hand. ’18: We went into all of the frats and there was nobody there! ’17: Did you go to the basements? ’18: They have basements?!

’15 Girl: I remain a disgusting cretin with no shame.

’15 Girl: My ideal form of beauty is strength. I want to look like I can f— you up.

What do Tuckies do for fun? story

B y MADDIE BROWN

MIRROR //3

Trending D @ RTMOUTH

friendsy’s random chat Worked for us.

pre-rush events ’17s, get your girl flirt on and polish your nametags.

KELLEY LIN // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

Do Tuckies rage?

When I lived in the River cluster my freshman year, I would capture little glimpses of the Tuck students’ social scene: I saw crazy costumes during Winter Carnival, volleyball matches in front of the Tuck dorms and people, dressed to the nines, walking to Murphy’s. Still, their social habits remained a mystery.

As the year progressed, I concocted elaborate plans to crash a Tuck party. I would wait for a night when loud music was blasting from the Tuck buildings, and then I would just show up and mingle with some older folks. I would play it really cool and mention fun facts that I learned in Econ 1. After I brought up supply and demand, they would be totally convinced that this random girl goes to Tuck. While I never worked up the courage to bang on Tuck’s door, one of my fellow River-livers, Steven Povich ’16, stumbled into a Tuck party his freshman spring after a long night hanging out with friends.

“I was only there for about five minutes,” he said. “But I could tell they had a vibrant social life. It was definitely classier than your average fraternity party. It looked really fun. They had a DJ, and I think there was an open bar.”

That description wasn’t enough to satisfy my curiosity. Being the intrepid investigative journalist that I am, I turned to the obvious solution — I waltzed into the Tuck building, arbitrarily sat down at a table with a few Tuck students and asked, “Soooo, what’s the scene like here?”

While this was probably not my smoothest line (or maybe it is, I don’t know), I was able to figure out a lot about what goes on at Tuck. The Tuck social scene consists of various organized social events, athletics, off-campus parties and hanging out at restaurants in the Hanover area — namely, Murphy’s.

“The scene is different for everyone,” Benjamin Moll Tu’14 said. “For the most part, the social scene revolves around campus. There is always something going on or there are always people at Murphy’s.”

There are several on-campus events organized by Tuck’s social chairs. No, that wasn’t a typo. Tuck students actually elect two social chairs per grade each fall to plan their social calendars as part of their student council. Last Friday was Tuck formal at the Hanover Inn. I met with two of them, Juliet Horton Tu’14 and Caitlin Moore Tu’15, at the coffee place in Stell Hall to learn more about their job.

Tuck’s social scene, Horton said, is not separated by class. “Most other business schools have different factions around the school, and it wouldn’t be practical to have everybody socialize

together all the time,” she said. “This sets Tuck apart.”

Tuck schedules one big event every Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

Mark Etchin Tu’15 said that Tuck has a special social scene because of Hanover’s remote location.

I WALTZED INTO THE TUCK BUILDING, ARBITRARILY SAT DOWN AT A TABLE WITH A FEW TUCK STUDENTS AND ASKED, “SOOOO, WHAT’S THE SCENE LIKE HERE?” “Unlike Columbia and other business schools that are located in cities, there is a large contingent of people that stay and do things locally,” he said. “There are many opportunities to do things with just our classmates.”

The Tuck social chairs aim to create a range of events that appeal to all of the students and their partners. The average age of Tuck students at matriculation is 28, with ages ranging from 24 to 37. Thirty-one percent of students have partners and 6 percent have children.

Because of these demographics, Horton said, the social chairs aim for mass appeal.

One of these events is Tuck Tails, which take place every Thursday from 5 to 7 p.m. in Raether Hall, a large common room that is part of the Tuck Living and Learning Complex. It’s a lot of classy mingling. Food and drinks are served, and Tuckies often mix with professors and families.

Tuck social chairs also organized theme parties. A group of Brazilian students planned a Carnival event, with traditional decorations, music and food, and this month a masquerade ball was organized to benefit Tuck Gives, a charity that raises money for graduate students looking for jobs or internships in nonprofit organizations. The ball included both a silent and live auction, hors d’oeuvres and lots and lots of dancing. Something tells me that this event

was a little less kid appropriate than tails.

Tuck’s scene tries to mix different groups of students together, too. Small group dinners bring together five or six randomly assigned students.

“It’s an important part of the Tuck experience because it is a way for you to get to meet people you wouldn’t have met otherwise,” Avanti Maluste Tu’14 said.

Moore’s favorite Tuck event is the scavenger hunt that occurs during the first few weeks of the fall. Students, in teams of five, run around campus doing tasks dressed up in crazy outfits. As a first-year student, she was immediately introduced to both her class and to the second-year students, Maluste said.

While there are many on-campus parties, there are also off-campus events — and even pong. Moll lives in a Norwich house called “the Coop” with five other Tuck men. He said that Tuck students always hang out at his place, which houses a pong table. They practice often so they can compete with the undergraduates and with the “Double Ds” — students who attended both the College and Tuck. This came of no surprise to me. I mean, beer pong was invented at Dartmouth.

Naturally the Tuck students are going to be playing it.

Of course,there’s not always a stark separation between graduates and undergraduates.

Though Jacqueline Panichello ’16 said the Tuck social scene is much more “low-key” and seems based in off-campus parties, she has spotted a few Tuckies mingling with undergrads.

“It was weird,” she said. “I was at a fraternity party and they were playing pong and picking up girls.”

My sorority recently hosted a mixer with Tuck at Three Guys. With two huge “X”s on my hand marking my underage status, it was a bit awkward to introduce myself to the Tuckies, since it immediately became clear to them that I was a lot younger than them.

In my experience, though a few facetimey Tuck students I once met on the Green said they had met me at a fraternity (they had no idea what it was called), it’s rare to see Tuck students at Greek houses or Collis After Dark.

If you really want to spot some, I’d suggest heading toward town. There seems to always be an abundance of Tuckies at Molly’s and Canoe Club.

Old or young, graduate or undergraduate, parents or bachelors, Dartmouth students are looking for a good time. Must be something about the Hanover air. Must be.

thesis presentations Carrot harvesting in Spain or an anthropological study of toenails?

Pick your poison.

pigstick, DERBY, antiderby Whether you’ll be wearing a sunhat or rolling around in mud, get ready for the second ragiest weekend of the term.

iggy azalea Okay, maybe this is just us. But first things first, she’s the realest.

Second, she has the top two songs on iTunes. #fancy

pride week

Events included an address from the famed Laverne Cox, the Transform fashion show and CookOUT.

dance and a cappella shows Where do your loyalties lie?

4// MIRROR

major numbers in the humanities r story

B y marian lurio

I’d take a class in the humanities over one in the hard sciences any day. While the majority of the classes I’ve taken at Dar tmouth fall under the “social sciences,” I have some regrets. For one, humanities depar tments often have lower numbers of students in classes. This seems ideal compared to my culminating class for one of my majors, which is capped at 30 students. But while the social sciences may have their drawbacks, many students in past years seem to be increasingly drawn to these academic disciplines.

At the College, economics, government, histor y and engineering sciences — mostly social sciences — were the most popular majors for the Class of 2013. The number of students graduating with major in the hard sciences over the past 10 years has remained steady.

Fewer students are majoring in the humanities, while the social sciences have become increasingly popular.

In relation, there have been fewer humanities full-time equivalent professors and more social science full-time equivalents since 2008.

What can account for this change? I spoke with a few professors in the humanities to get their take on these trends and whether they found them troubling.

While they acknowledged the fluctuating number of humanities majors, these professors can rest assured that their depar tments will remain intact for at least the foreseeable future, given the College’s financial resources and declared liberal ar ts mission. Shifts away from the humanities toward the social sciences, however, have impor tant implications for the quality of instruction, as well as the variety of courses of fered by depar tments.

Spanish and Por tuguese depar tment chair Raul Bueno-Chavez said the level of interest and subsequent number of majors among depar tments within the humanities changes over the years according to sociopolitical issues.

“Russia used to matter 20 years ago when I came here, not anymore,” Bueno-Chavez said. “Now what matters is Chinese and Chinese culture, Japanese, Arabic language.”

Spanish and Por tuguese professor Beatriz Pastor said approximately 1,900 students take one or more Spanish and Por tuguese classes each year, roughly 600 more than those enrolled in classes in the second most popular romance language depar tment, the French and Italian depar tment.

High enrollment does not transfer into a high number of majors, Pastor said. This could result from proximity to Latin America, tourism and immigration of Spanish-speaking people into the U.S., Bueno-Chavez said.

The Spanish and Por tuguese depar tment has actively sought to attract more students to the major.

Members of the depar tment are spread thin, Pastor said, due to the number of of f-campus programs offered by the depar tment — students can study abroad programs in Barcelona, Santander, Cuzco, Salvador,

Madrid and Buenos Aires — and high enrollment in the depar tment’s courses each term.

Additional tenure-track professors in the department would allow it to take on the extra work needed to engage in creative thinking and programming to better address the problem of major numbers, she said.

German studies professor Bruce Duncan emphasized that major and enrollment numbers in cer tain areas and depar tments fluctuate over the years. Just as the impor tance of cer tain languages changes, the high numbers of social science majors did not always exist, Duncan said.

Duncan attributes this to a larger national trend, with parents wanting their children to study employable disciplines. “Almost all our majors are double-majors, and they often say, ‘Well I’m doing one for my parents and one that I want to do,’” he said.

The German studies depar tment has five majors this year, a relatively standard number for the depar tment. Many students star t taking language classes too late to pursue a major, Duncan said. Fur thermore, the absence of German language programs in many American high schools today contributes to students realizing they might be interested in a major too late in their college careers, he said.

“One of the problems with a language depar tment is that the prerequisites are so huge — to go on the FSP in Germany you need five terms of the language before you go, while there are other ones that don’t have a language component where you take a course or two and are ready to go,” Duncan said.

Across academia, depar tments worr y about their enrollment numbers. Dar tmouth has enough money to maintain programs it deems valuable for its liberal ar ts mission regardless of the depar tment’s popularity, he said. Although some depar tments with many majors have a stronger argument for expanding their resources, the College recognizes that some fields, though they are valuable and may regain popularity in the future, will never be large, Duncan said.

Administrators do, of course, allocate tenure-track positions based in large par t on factors such as the popularity of a depar tment’s major, he said. Pastor said many non-tenure-track professors teach introductor y level courses in her depar tment, which may dissuade students from taking higher-level courses that focus on culture, not just language. Because programs like the Chinese program can only of fer cer tain classes, including introductor y level courses, during cer tain terms, those with no background or previous high school coursework in Chinese and other Asian and Middle Eastern Language and Literature programs may struggle to complete a major in the depar tment, AMELL professor Sarah Allan said, which may account for low enrollment numbers.

This year, there are 11 students with majors in AMELL, a number which has remained relatively stable over recent years, except for last year when

there were only two.

Tanya Budler ’15, a double-major in government and AMES, said it is dif ficult to obtain an AMELL major because courses are only of fered during cer tain terms. The government depar tment is more stable and straightfor ward, she said. However, though the government depar tment provides more classes and professors, AMES has significant research and funding oppor tunities because not as many students use them, she said.

Oscar R. Cornejo Jr. ’17 came to Dar tmouth intending to major in biology, but has found himself more interested in his Latin American, Latino and Caribbean Studies , Native American studies and sociology courses. One of his LALACS classes only had six other students, Cornejo said, and this intimate class setting allowed him to connect with his professor who will super vise his independent study next winter.

“We are for tunate to have this (LALACS) program on campus, and I only wish that other students would take advantage of the amazing professors and classes in this program,” he said.

However, due to the small scale of the program, Cornejo said it is hard to find classes on specific topics that he is most interested in studying. To show that interdisciplinar y programs are impor tant to the College, he said adminstrators should provide more funding and listen to the input of those interested in these programs so that depar tment chairs can create classes these students want to take, Cornejo said.

Some students have not found that the humanities depar tments are under-resourced or negatively impacted by low enrollment numbers.

The renovation of the Hood Museum and the Visual Ar ts Center are evidence of the College’s continued commitment to the ar ts, Christine Kiernan ’15, an ar t histor y major, said.

Kiernan said she knew she wanted to continue studying ar t histor y since her first day in Ar t Histor y 1, Introduction to the Histor y of Ar t in the Ancient World and the Middle Ages, her freshman fall.

The small class sizes, the approachability of the professors and the oppor tunities provided, including foreign study programs, influenced her decision, Kiernan said.

“I also honestly enjoy the subject — I’m enthralled during class and enjoy my readings,” Kiernan said. “I wanted my major to be something I truly appreciated on a personal level.”

As long as a student seeks variety in their non-major classes, the major they choose should not limit their employability, Kiernan said.

Having taken four years of Latin classes before Dar tmouth, Jennifer Joo ’17, who plans to be pre-med, was interested in the classics major. The staf f, faculty and students within the depar tment only made this decision easier for Joo. “Since there is no specific pre-med major, I knew

MIRROR //5

remain low

that I could major in whatever I wanted and still be on the pre-health track,” she said.

As Dar tmouth professors across depar tments are dedicated to their subject and are generally invested in their students, smaller enrollment and major numbers in cer tain depar tments allow students to find their place in a depar tment, Joo said.

Devika Bodas ’15 said that her upper-level courses for the classics major are often as small as 10 students.

This setting is conducive to collaborative learning, and students are less hesitant to speak up and ask questions, she said.

“Classics 1 is structured to cultivate an interest in ancient cultures while showing the relevance of the pursuit — inviting you to take another class,” Bodas said.

Bodas has found that other introductor y courses in hard and social sciences are made to “weed people out,” while her experience with classics seemed “much more in the spirit of the Dar tmouth commitment to intellectual curiosity and a liberal ar ts education,” she said.

The greatest strength of Dar tmouth is not that it has an excellent engineering program or a medical school, Pastor said. The dif ference between Dar tmouth and a science-oriented school is the liberal ar ts education that makes a Dar tmouth education so unique — the philosophy that faculty provide students with a complex world view that is going to allow them to deal ef fectively and creatively with the complexities of a globalized world, she said.

The humanities are essential for a liberal ar ts education but in strictly economic terms, it is dif ficult for humanities depar tments to compete with science depar tments, which bring an institution like Dar tmouth a large amount of money in a shor t period of time through large grants.

“In the humanities it’s really dif ficult to get big grants because there aren’t that many to go around whereas in the sciences they’re par t of the trade,” she said.

Channeling resources and students toward the humanities brings long-term benefits, Pastor said.

“They have to do more with the fact that people who have been trained at a ver y high level at a liberal ar ts institution like Dar tmouth will eventually in many cases end up occupying impor tant leadership positions that are going to benefit the institution as well as the countr y,” she said.

Despite the issues humanities depar tments may face, the College still at least seems to be maintaining its commitment to its liberal ar ts mission. And, luckily for students and scholars in what are today considered obscure fields, most of the professors I spoke with emphasized that what is seen as important today may not be impor tant in a few decades.

Humanities, the study of human culture, on the other hand will always be somewhat impor tant as society continues to evolve, shift and grow.

MAJOR BREAKDOWN

MOST POPULAR MAJORS

85

LEAST POPULAR MAJORS 4

ARMIN MAHBANOOZADEH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

6// MIRROR

Through the Looking Glass The consequences of overcommitment COLUMN

B y Don casler

Ever since The Mirror added its “Through The Looking Glass” feature during my sophomore year, I’ve given a lot of thought to what I’d say if given the opportunity to write one of these pieces myself. I’ve written thousands of words in this newspaper, first as a columnist and then as an editor of the opinion section.

I’ve also watched three graduating classes depart Dartmouth and fill these pages with prescient commentary, seemingly so much wiser than me and so profoundly different from when they first arrived in Hanover. Now that I’m about to walk in their shoes, I thought I might have collected some wisdom of my own to impart. I should theoretically be able to prove that I’ve learned something in my time here. Otherwise, what was the point of the last four years?

I’ve always been a little too focused on the future to totally live in the present. Yet we’ve now reached the time of year when seniors are expected to be reflective. One friend keeps reminding me how rapidly Commencement is approaching, a point after which I’ll have to start saying things like “I went to Dartmouth,” rather than “I go to Dartmouth.”

But as I reach back into these exhilarating four years, I am struck by how little good advice I have to pass on, in comparison to that which I have received. The image that I constructed of those sagacious upperclassmen has been mostly shattered by my own feelings of ineptitude as I face the impending doom of real life. I feel none of their great wisdom, none of the certainty about the lessons I should take away from Dartmouth.

What has remained is the lingering paranoia I’ve felt since freshman year about how I was going to find a way to do Dartmouth wrong, how I’d never be able to repay the debt I had accumulated from picking the brains of those who came before me.

Perhaps it began on Trips, when I was introduced to two leaders who seemed to squeeze every ounce of excellence out of their college years and were eager to help me do the same. Maybe it was reinforced when I joined a fraternity, where I met older students whose diversity of experiences convinced me that I too would be as confident, self-aware and respected as they were by the time I grew to be a junior or senior. It was almost certainly influenced by being on a Croo to start my junior fall, as I forged wonderful new relationships with a group of ’13s who seemed so sure of themselves as they began their senior year.

And it was definitely shaped by the executive positions that I assumed at The Dartmouth and in my fraternity as a junior, in which I was expected to be the one who held all the answers. I understood this to be the natural progression of your career in Hanover — the older you got, the more knowledge you accumulated and thus the more you had to give back to those who were coming after you.

This was just how Dartmouth worked.

On Green Key Friday at the end of my freshman spring, I was sitting on the lawn in front of the ABCDs with the two people who I would still consider my best friends at Dartmouth, along with an ’11 who had taken us under his wing. As we sipped some Knob Creek and puffed on cigars, he mapped out Dartmouth for three wide-eyed freshmen. He

told us that our jobs, first and foremost, were to learn and grow as people over the next three years. School was important, he said, but not nearly as crucial as what we were going to accomplish outside the classroom. I immediately internalized those words, which came from someone I deeply respected and who had clearly earned the wisdom he was dispensing. Attempting to maximize my personal learning and growth was the defining theme of my next two-plus years at Dartmouth.

But as I embarked on the journey from annoying freshman to wizened senior, I expected to unearth some profound revelations about what future Dartmouth held for me or pick up tidbits of advice that I could relay to some needy underclassmen at some point in the distance. I wanted desperately to pay it forward, to become the kind of person who a younger me would have looked up to. I owed him for my entire outlook on college life and since I couldn’t pay him back directly, I felt compelled to prepare for the day when I’d find myself in his shoes, speaking with some freshman that needed the perspective about Dartmouth that only a senior could offer.

In practice, I thought that meant seizing every opportunity to be involved and committed outside of the classroom. I had to collect the experiences that would be valuable to me and potentially to some younger peers at some nebulous place down the road. I didn’t find this impetus to be bizarre in the slightest, because nobody comes to Dartmouth just to go to school, right? I convinced myself that scheduling my day from the moment I woke up until I passed out at night wasn’t insanely masochistic, but rather good for my productivity, and more importantly, aligned with what I wanted to get out of and give back to Dartmouth.

So much has been written about overcommitment and the “busy trap,” and yet I managed to fall right into it. I finally broke down during senior fall. Over four days, I had to turn in my first assignment for my thesis, apply to more than a dozen jobs, finish over 300 pages of reading for a seminar and take a midterm, all while editing the opinion section and fulfilling my responsibilities as one of my fraternity’s social chairs. My worst fears had been realized.

Courtesy of Don Casler I’d become the poster child for how not to At Dartmouth, Don Casler ’14 learned the importance of focusing on the present. do Dartmouth. I was the type of person who future rather than the present. Make no mistake How to capture and internalize the essence of a spent all of his time thinking about where he — I have undying love for this school. But I also conversation with a close friend or an afternoon had to be next rather than simply existing in recognize that I let the ideal of the Dartmouth spent at the River, rather than merely trying to the moment, too busy to catalogue or share experience dictate how I approached these four check all of these boxes to say that I did them. much of what he was learning or doing. years.

With this, I do not mean to create a stereotype In hindsight, I guess I had an extreme case The only real wisdom I have for anyone who for the Dartmouth experience, but rather acof FOMO — I was so determined not to miss made it to the end of this column isn’t even original; knowledge that there shouldn’t be one. In fact, out on anything that I ended up missing out on it comes from a recording that most of us probbased on what I’ve seen in myself and in my a lot. For instance, I don’t have many distinct ably heard for the first time at Moosilauke Ravine peers, the only thing that can be stereotypical memories from my sophomore summer. I Lodge during Trips. As Baz Luhrmann has told about Dartmouth — and maybe all that I’ve used to routinely pull all-nighters on Tuesdays every incoming class for perhaps the last decade, learned — is how frighteningly natural it seems during my junior winter and stumble through “Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a to bite off more than we can chew in the name the rest of the week in a sleep-deprived haze. I way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping of constructing that idyllic collegiate career. never had those clichéd 3 a.m. conversations it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling I still don’t know whether the wise old senior with my best friends that I’m supposed recall it for more than it is worth.” Put differently, don’t is an illusion or if I merely did this all wrong.

30 years from now. I didn’t have time to stay make a habit of taking others’ experiences at their What I have figured out is that Dartmouth reup late unless I was working! word. Only you have the power to make this place ally boils down to time and how you choose to Dartmouth has taught me many things, but your own. spend it, and I wasted a lot of it focused on the I never learned how to get stuck in a moment.

MIRROR //7

What have we done? IN CASE YOU WERE COLUMN By Seanie Civale and Amanda Smith WONDERING COLUMN By Katie Sinclair

Did you know that you can purple something?

Why don’t we use purple as a verb more often?

Purple, like the way we feel about graduating: not quite blue, because at this point it’s kind of more funny than sad how little we know about where we’ll be in five months. Purple, like Amanda’s hair.

Because Amanda purpled her hair. An interesting tactic for job interviews, but we’ll go with it.

Amanda came up with the idea to dye her hair a while back. She blitzed Seanie about it. Subject line: Serious consideration, seeking opinion.

Content: the purple hair proposal, and a line that said, “Your opinion only. I am certain others will tell me no, so whatever.” Seanie’s reaction was intensely positive. She felt that Amanda’s hair should be purple. She felt it in her soul.

It took a night, a morning, five bottles of bleach mixture, two and a half bottles of dye, two bottles of conditioner, some shampoo and a lot of patience before the hair, which was throughout the process referred to as stubborn, difficult and really freaking annoying, finally turned purple.

Already having dyed her hair pink in the mildly distant past, Seanie offered her expert advice (“Yeah, it’s totally okay to leave the bleach in for over an hour!” — is it though?) and retreated to bed before the process began.

A text conversation between Amanda’s mother, Seanie’s mother, Amanda and Seanie the following day went like this: Amanda sends picture of purple hair to group.

Seanie: [Thumbs up emoji.] [Piglet emoji.]

Amanda’s mother: Sweet! [Heart emoji with the little yellow sparkling diamonds.] I guess the heart wants what the heart wants, but tell me ... does it wash out?

Seanie’s mother: Haha — but wait — is there another person’s photo I need to know about?

[Winky face emoji.]

There was more emoji use, more confusion and cautious and slightly panicked motherly support. The conversation ended as Seanie’s mother confirmed that the dye does not wash out. She later sent Seanie a private text: “Um — is your hair purple, too?” Seanie said no. Seanie’s mom sent a heart emoji. It was purple. Seanie had never felt more loved.

Back to the way we feel about graduating.

Beyond the purpleness of it. In case none of this week’s column makes much sense, that is because we don’t make much sense right now, either. All of these senior-y things and senior-y feelings are starting to happen. Like getting

nostalgic about the disgusting act of dancing barefoot in a fraternity with our dance group for the last time. And crossing things off bucket lists we never actually made, like going to pub trivia at Three Guys (Amanda, who admittedly contributed naught to the team) or going on a run for the first time since early 2012 (Seanie).

And having the urge to run around in the rain late at night, like we used to do during freshman spring.

It may sound like we are getting sentimental.

We are not! People are trying to get us to be sentimental. To them we say: cease and desist. We are rejecting sentiment. We are like two bulls in a china shop. After our last frat show performing with our dance group, a fellow member came up to Seanie, teary-eyed and nostalgic. Seanie pushed her as if she were a troll and not a close friend and ran away, chanting the word “no.”

In case you were wondering about our writing process, Seanie spent a long time coming up with that simile. Instead of “troll,” Amanda thinks she should have put “button,” “Push-Pop” or “in the ‘Push It’ music video from the ’80s.”

We are rejecting sentiment because we can’t afford to accept it right now. We still have to make it through a month of classes and will not be able to do so if we start thinking about how this is the end, how we feel like we’re staring into the abyss, and how next year we are likely to be somewhere around 2,048 miles apart, though there’s no way of knowing at press time.

This is what we do know: a formerly unidentified stuffed animal sent by Seanie’s mother has been ID’ed as a piglet. This implies that Seanie’s mom does not want us to purchase a real piglet, but rather be satisfied by a stuffed one. We will not settle. We accept the toy piglet but desire a live counterpart.

In case your interest was piqued by the window into our fine-tuned and sophisticated writing process above, here’s some more about it: we considered writing this entire column in emojis, but didn’t. We considered writing this entire column in text messages, but didn’t. We considered writing this entire column as an homage to our mothers, the only people who read it, and kind of did. We sent this entire column to our editors in purple font. If it appears black, that is because we chose a very deep, plum-like shade.

Yours, indigo, Lucy & Ethel

In case you were wondering, the Lord Howe Island stick insect (Dryococelus australis), also known as the tree lobster, was declared extinct in 1918, only to be discovered 80 years later in 2001 on a hunk of rock called Ball’s Pyramid, which is 13 miles of open ocean away from Lord Howe Island. The tree lobster is also one of the most hideous creatures in existence — half a foot long and armored, not thin and graceful like other phasmid relatives.

The future of the tree lobster species was uncertain: the whole species consisted of 24 individuals living under a single bush. To conserve this species, scientists had to climb a sheer rock face in the middle of the night, surrounded by shark-infested waters. This story has a happy ending. Since a breeding pair was recovered in 2002, the tree lobster population has grown to over 900.

At this point, you might be wondering what tree lobsters have to do with anything.

You wouldn’t be alone: my friends are sick of hearing me talk about them. They’re also tired of listening to me complain about a made-up island inhabited by imaginary people. Because, friends, I am writing a creative writing thesis, a novel titled (surprise!) “Return of the Tree Lobsters.” It’s about eight scientists stuck on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, working to reintroduce the tree lobster. One of the researchers has a secret, the uncovering of which leads to adventure and conflict.

It is by no means a literary masterpiece, but let’s see you write a novel in six months.

Strange as it is, because I am old, I often get asked for advice, although the first piece of advice I would give is you might want to find someone else to emulate. Several people have asked if it’s worth writing a thesis. My answer: it’s only worth it if you actually care about the subject. I have been excited about working on this novel since my sophomore year, and after cranking out 100 pages since January, I can say that my enthusiasm has waned. This is a common side effect for thesis writers. We’re all going to be really glad we did it, but right now it’s crunch time and some of us actually want to have lives again and the free time required to secure employment. Woe betide anyone working on something they’re only half interested in.

I have spent hours and hours in the library at weird hours, trying to finish a chapter on time. I have woken up at the crack of dawn (well, okay, 8 a.m.) for thesis meetings. I have acquired an unparalleled knowledge of meteorology, island geography, geology, tree lobster biology, time zones, the United States Minor Outlying Islands and the history

and language of Kiribati. I have found a way to block myself from the Internet and used the promise of late night as a prize for finishing revising.

Still, like organic chemistry or rush, writing a thesis is a great excuse to get out of things. Not going to tails? That’s okay!

You’re writing a thesis! (Even though you are actually in your PJs watching Netflix.)

Up until the crack of dawn? It’s not poor time management, it’s because you have a thesis! Dropped out of all your previous obligations and responsibilities? You’re not lazy, you’re writing a thesis! If there is a way to write a thesis by avoiding undue pain and suffering, I haven’t found anyone who’s managed it yet. The general consensus is that somehow, the thing always gets done, and then people will be impressed and give you honors, or so I’m told.

Despite how much I like to complain about the Pacific Ocean being several thousand miles too big for my plot to work out as I would like, I’m actually glad that I’m writing a thesis. It’s been quite liberating to devote two terms to working on a long-term project, particularly at a college where things are processed in easily digested 10-week chunks. I’m proud to be able to finish a book, though looking back I would have tried to be less ambitious. I also wish I had chosen to write a book set on an idyllic college campus in New England, which would have entailed a lot less research. And I know no one is actually going to care how big the Pacific Ocean is, or Google the exact geology of an atoll (and if you do, I’m impressed), but I like to strive for at least some semblance of accuracy. Despite my trials, I really like to say, with offhand, faux modesty, “Yeah, I’m writing a novel.” And then people flatter me by asking if it’s going to be published, to which my only response is a resounding “no,” because the plot leaves much to be desired and giant, critically endangered stick insects aren’t very marketable.

But I’m almost done, though God forbid my computer crashes. I know that’s not much of a ringing endorsement, but I’ve been told by my peers that the novel is actually quite funny. It has political intrigue!

Giant insects! Sharks! You guys should definitely go to my thesis presentation and admire my brilliant wit and command of the English language. If you’re not doing anything around 4 p.m. on Monday, swing by the Wren Room in Sanborn. It’ll be the best 20 minutes of your week.

8// MIRROR

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The Primal Scream Northwestern University Exam week is a universally stressful phenomenon across American college campuses. Unlike many of its peer institutions, Northwestern has found a productive way to deal with the stress.

Every quarter at 9 p.m. on the Sunday before finals, Northwestern’s undergraduates join together in a collective scream.

No matter where they are on campus, students release their stress in a loud yell to prepare for the most challenging week of the term.

It should be noted that this shared liberation of stress follows a week-long reading period. No comment.

of ever y ” details s u ic lo o iv e academ ore “fr on the m re attracted to th , the size d e s u c fo e od search, I ile they w of the fo not y college nts’ dismay. Wh out the quality ct: I did m fa g n in r w o e b r n a Du a k all p e e r m y tl o s uch to m cared m uirks. Lit hing and school, m r y institution, I chool’s minor q rgraduate teac uel-emitting e s eve fossil-f nd each mier und rigor of a giant, rooms a outh for its pre d n m u r o o r a d ing of the to r un Dar tm ever yth come to yearned unting?). a list of d e actually . I actually just o il c p ’s m co ho es 17, but w e search, I have ools. class siz mes (or g h ti c e s ll 7 o r 1 c e 1 y e th bonfir from o ce of m l n a a r te b s m ld In reme ar tmouth shou ink D a th t I th

CEREAL WALL BATES COLLEGE I am not going to take this opportunity to complain about Dartmouth Dining Services. In terms of college dining options, I think we are pretty lucky. Not many institutions have a make-your-own smoothie option.

Still, there is one area where we really have fallen behind, and that is our cereal. When I toured Bates, their top-ranked campus dining — specifically, their cereal — stood out to me.

My tour guide told me of a wall beyond my wildest, sweetest dreams, which displayed every possible option of cereal.

I was sold. Unfortunately, my parents decided that cereal was not enough of a reason to choose a school, especially one in the coldest part of the continental United States. Alas, I have since been stuck with the miniscule offerings of FoCo cereal, left only dreaming of the mythical cereal wall and its countless options. And the Cap’n Crunch. FoCo could really use some Cap’n Crunch.

A Mascot Every Other School A Rivalry Yale and harvard My high school liked to pretend that we had a rivalry with our neighboring town, but we haven’t beaten them in football since the ’90s. In the decades before I was born, the two high schools would prank one another in the week leading up to the game, but these traditions slowly disappeared with the loss of any true athletic talent at my school.

This disappointing absence of true rivalry seems to have followed me to college. Many students might get pumped about competitions against Harvard, but let’s be honest: Harvard students have their eyes on one school only — Yale — and on only one game — the Game.

I want the excitement of rivalries and all the traditions that come with them. Not only do they promote fun and friendly competition, but they also help unite the school around a common enemy.

Sure, there may be rivalries within individual sports — Puck Frinceton — but Dartmouth has no consistent rival across the board. It doesn’t seem like it would be too challenging to kick-start a rivalry at Dartmouth. Would it be weird if we just chose a random Ivy and serenaded them into being our rivals, in the style of a high school prom invite? I don’t think so.

This one is really self-explanatory, and I don’t think I’m alone in my desire for a mascot. Some of my favorites from other schools include the Webster University Gorloks, the University of California at Santa Cruz Banana Slugs and the Delta State University Fighting Okra. Having a mascot would give the Dartmouth community a central figure to rally behind in our sporting events, plus it would act as a symbol for the College. My recommendation for a mascot is the Lone Pine. Some of you may point to the induction of Keggy as our official mascot, but I’m advocating for a classier option that would not necessarily decrease the number of applications Dartmouth receives.

The Cannon Tufts University Dartmouth offers its students an array of options to express themselves — student art exhibits, musical and theatre groups, independent studies in the art department, student-hosted radio stations. However, as a first-year student and someone who is very outside of the artistic community, I am quite unaware of how students go about doing this.

While I attend shows and see exhibits, I don’t know how to express myself.

Tufts has an outlet for this need, and it comes in the form of a cannon. For decades, students have been able to spray this cannon however they please, whether with a message to the community or an advertisement for a group on campus.

There is one catch — any student who wishes to adorn the cannon must do so in the dark of the night.

As one of the only traditions recognized by the entire student body, decorating the cannon has become a rite of passage for Tufts students. Since the 1970s, the cannon has been sandblasted twice to remove the layers of paint that cover the historic artifact.

Assassins Duke University

Ski-Beach Day Pomona College Many Dartmouth students would gladly steal the alwayssunny weather from our California counterparts. I, however, actually enjoy the diversity of Hanover’s seasons. Still, there is

ERIN O’NEIL // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

one California school that I’m jealous of: Pomona manages to have all the seasons in just one day.

On Ski-Beach Day, busloads of Pomona students go on an unusual adventure. Their journey first takes them to a nearby ski resort where students spend the morning on the slopes. After lunch, the same buses take students to Newport Beach, where they enjoy the sand, sun and a seaside cookout. Who could want more than summer and winter in the same day?

Wait, just kidding. I totally just remembered that a couple of weeks ago, it started snowing while I was wearing sandals and shorts. Maybe Dartmouth actually does have its own less than satisfactory version of this tradition.

A large group of classmates in my senior year of high school came together to “kill” one another through the game Assassins. The rules were simple. We received a target, and we aimed to draw a five-inch-long black line across his or her neck. If successful, we received the name of our next target from our now dead classmate. It was everyone for herself, and seniors wielded ominous black markers for weeks.

Duke has taken this game to a whole new level. With a webpage-long list of rules and specific lingo dedicated to the game, Assassins has formed a major presence on Duke’s campus. The dedication to such a creative outlet sounds like an ideal way to relieve stress, and I admire its leaders for prioritizing this activity.

I can already see this game gaining popularity at Dartmouth. The Tower Room is really the perfect place for a mysterious “death.” Find me if you’re ready to play.