The Dartmouth Mirror 5/24/17

MIR ROR 5.24.2017

GUO: LETTER TO MY FUTURE SELF |3

ONE ACT: EVERYTHING FALLS APART | 4-5

ACADEMICS: Q&A WITH DEAN BRIAN REED | 7 ERIC WANG/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

2 //MIRR OR

Editors’ Note

Stepping into Identity STORY

ELIZA MCDONOUGH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

Happy week 9, Mirror readers! In keeping with the theme of “performance,” the intrepid editors reflected upon their personal experiences with the performing arts. Lauren described herself as a “theater child” — in her second grade play about the Oregon Trail, she narrated the entire production, serving as the critical character “Old Feller #1.” May recalled her experiences in her middle school’s improv comedy troupe, most notably the time she acted as an idle tree.

Lastly, Annette recollected her fifth grade Revolutionary War play in which each student impersonated a different historical figure. Annette, performing as Sybil Ludington, cracked an eye-roll-worthy joke: “Some people think of me as the female Paul Revere, but I prefer to think of him as the male Sybil Ludington,” generating quite a chuckle from an audience of videotaping parents. #peak At Dartmouth, the editors continued to dabble in the acting profession.

Lauren directed “The Vagina Monologues” her sophomore year, in which May recited a piece that entailed screaming profanities at a very surprised audience. On a much smaller scale, Annette and her roommate memorized and performed the iconic handshake from “The Parent Trap” for their sorority.

In reference to this past Green Key weekend, May said she performed sobriety, but quite ineffectively. Lauren agreed, explaining that she fell asleep at her Foco table — twice — over the weekend. Annette made her friend laugh with a rather embarrassing performance in which she tried to open a bottle of wine with a pair of scissors, resulting in her somehow spraying wine into her face and onto the wall behind her.

Anyway, this week’s issue further explores the theme with stories about academic performances, plays, step shows and historical productions.

Enjoy!

follow @thedmirror 5.24.17 VOL. CLXXIV NO. 88 MIRROR EDITORS LAUREN BUDD ANNETTE DENEKAS MAY MANSOUR EDITOR-IN-CHIEF RAY LU PUBLISHER PHILIP RASANSKY EXECUTIVE EDITOR ERIN LEE PHOTO EDITORS ELIZA MCDONOUGH HOLLYE SWINEHART TIFFANY ZHAI

By Eliza Jane Schaeffer

This weekend, Alpha Phi Alpha or chanting, because performing This support network extends put on the annual Green Key step in unison is associated with group beyond Dartmouth; alumni of BGLOs show. For some Dartmouth students, bonding. One explanatory theory continue to stay in touch with each this performance was just another championed by Emile Durkheim, other and with current chapters. event in a jumble of activities planned dubbed “collective effervescence,” Dartmouth has two active BGLO for Green Key weekend. But it was states that such activity results in an chapters: Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity a lot more than that — it was an outlay of positive emotions which and Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. expression of community, a method of causes individuals to increasingly “I’ve been able to foster bonds, even with the people who graduated … our communication and a continuation of identify with the group in question. a tradition older than Dartmouth itself. Psychologists at Stanford University GroupMe is definitely active for our Stepping is a highly technical offer an alternate theory. They chapter,” Reese said. “We have one dance involving stomping, slapping conducted a study in which participants that has alumni. They’re always open and chanting. The dancer’s entire engaged in synchronous group activity for us to reach out for them and ask for body is used as an instrument, uniting and then took a “weak link” test, which guidance.” visual, rhythmic and vocal elements. measures cooperative behavior. The Reese’s mother is an AKA as well.

According to Mariah Reese ’17, the experimental group chose to act more Scott’s father and Cheese’s father and president of Alpha Kappa Alpha, cooperatively than did the control grandfather are Alphas. stepping is multidimensional. group. In a follow-up study, they had “The point of becoming an Alpha “There’s a narrative, which is in of participants play a public goods game is that you are an Alpha for life and itself a performance,” she said. in which they could choose to keep a even beyond that,” Cheese said. “We The goal, according to Aaron given amount of money for themselves had a bunch of alumni come up this Cheese ’18, president of Alpha Phi or give a portion of it to the group. weekend.”

Alpha, is perfect unity.

Participants in the experimental group Scott discussed the perks of being “You want to make it sound like it chose to give a majority of their allotted part of a national organization. is one person stepping,” he said. dollars to the group, and as a result, “You can have Alphas who you’ve never met in your entire life, and Strolling is similar to stepping but everyone in the group was better off. is usually paired with music. Like T his latter point is key you’ll just be friends and talk,” he said. stepping, it is often a demonstration to understanding the appeal of “There’s almost always someone you of pride. synchronous performance: cooperative can call in any city and they’ll be willing “You’re in a line together,” Reese behavior and a group-oriented mindset to help.” said. “Usually there are signs of facilitate survival. The rise of political Former AKAs include Rosa Parks symbols that are characteristic of “bubbles” is evidence enough that and Maya Angelou, and former Alphas our organization. [It] has historical humans drift towards cohesive, often include Martin Luther King Jr. and relevance, as far as black women homogenous groups. The world feels W.E.B. Du Bois. Both organizations have long served as manifestations of defining our own standard of beauty. safer with a support network.

It’s all about moving forward.”

Jon Scott ’19 said he has found Black pride and vehicles for activism.

These dances, along with calling, a support network in Alpha Phi Just as Alpha Kappa Alpha and a vocal performance involving call- Alpha, one of the two “Divine Nine” Alpha Phi Alpha are more than just and-response reminiscent of African- Black Greek Letter Organizations on organizations students can join for three years, the Green Key step show was far American church services, have a rich Dartmouth’s campus. history. In fact, they connect back to “I think [being black at Dartmouth] more than just a performance. Cheese centuries-old African tribal dances. is something that you definitely notice, emphasized that stepping is part of a Traditionally, song and dance some people more than others,” Scott much broader historical context. have been used by marginalized black said. “You do realize that some places “Stepping is part of a performance communities to demonstrate solidarity. are almost entirely white. It’s a little that we, as a Black Greek Letter During the era of slavery, slaves would uncomfortable at times. There’s a Organization do, but our place and communicate in the fields through song. culture difference that’s not always our role in black America and society In South Africa, miners working under intentional. As a minority here in as a whole is much larger than that,” horrible conditions would similarly general, you have to look for places he said. “It runs much deeper than just what’s shown on stage.” communicate through dancing. They that you feel comfortable.” were forced to wear large rubber boots, colloquially referred to as “gumboots,” and were not allowed to speak. So instead, they danced, using their heavy boots to create a steady rhythm.

This “gumboot dance” evolved into modern-day stepping, the origins of which trace back to Howard University in the 1920s. Throughout history, stepping has served as an affirmation of black culture and a means of challenging oppression. For example, a “resistance step” evolved during the South African Apartheid in the 1980s.

How does a dance serve to challenge oppression?

Accordingtopsychologistsand COURTESY OF AARON CHEESE sociologists, there is tremendous power in synchronous group Members of Dartmouth’s Theta Zeta Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. activity, such as stepping, strolling performed a tripartite step routine at the annual Green Key Step Show last Saturday.

MIRROR //3

Letter to My Future Self COLUMN

By Clara Guo

Dear Future Me: I am stressed right now. I am taking the MCAT in a week, and I am worried

that I’m going to fail.

Future Me, are you less frightened of failure?

In less than three weeks, I will graduate. I’m ready — I think — to start a new chapter of my life. I believe it will be better, but I worry that I have fallen victim to fictional finalism.

When I was in eighth grade at Kilmer Middle School, we wrote a letter to ourselves that our English teacher, Mrs. Stacy, mailed us four years later when we were seniors in high school.

I wrote nearly six typed pages about boys (well, one boy in particular) and teachers and high school.

Even then, I was nervous about my future.

On First-Year Trips, we handwrote a letter that was delivered to our Hinman box a year later. I wish I still had mine.

It seems silly to write a letter to my future self when I have written for myself every week of every term.

Writing this column has instilled a habit of weekly reflection far more regular than my previous journaling.

Last week, my column was titled “When I Grow Up.” It felt like a finale — hopeful, excited.

But a part of me knows I have already grown up, at least a little. Dartmouth has forced my independence and selfsufficiency.

Future Me, do you still remember the stressful moments or has time painted your memories happy?

I was privileged enough to enter Dartmouth with a background in neuroscience. In high school, I dissected Aplysia, manipulated ganglia, analyzed habituation and wrote a mini-thesis (okay, an extended lab report).

At Dartmouth, I fell in love with neuro — not immediately, but gradually, exponentially. I’m frustrated that I have to leave so soon.

I am just now learning to clarify the discrepancies of amygdala response during extinction and question failures

of emotional identification via analysis of prosopagnosia.

Future Me, does science still excite you?

I am glad that I ran for captain of the figure skating team.

Being captain wasn’t always easy.

At our second qualifying competition, I cried. Everything went wrong that weekend, from Friday’s trip to Emergency Care to my disappointing performance to the 24-hour flight delay before finals. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. On Monday, after spending the night in a dingy hotel room, I stood in an airport bathroom stall for ten minutes, crying, my sister waiting outside. When I finished, I ran into another skater. My eyes were red and puffy. I was embarrassed.

I was supposed to be a leader.

Leaders don’t cry.

Eventually, I learned how to balance my priorities and those of the team. I learned how hard it is to veil my stress and how important it is to provide a strong foundation for others to rely on.

Future Me, what kind of leader are you?

As a freshman, I knew I was going to rush. The upperclassmen on the skating team loved their sororities, even if they were only minimally involved in them.

I was told that everyone cries during rush, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t.

I cried — during and after.

I didn’t understand why fraternity brothers treated me differently when I attended tails with my new sisters.

They were so friendly just a few months prior. Did this new label that I did not even consider a part of my identity really define how others viewed and behaved toward me? How naïve was I to believe that these friendships (or, rather, associations) would withstand the power of stereotypes?

Ignorantly, I believed that the prestige attached to in-groups would

fade. I learned how easily one is defined by membership in a Greek society, and I learned, even more quickly, how self-perpetuating stereotypes can be.

Dartmouth insists that I define myself with just a few nouns: premed, skater, Kappa Delta, consultant.

Future Me, what part of you do you value most?

Emma and I talk every day. She complains a lot, but I suppose I do, too, when we’re together.

I love her unconditionally. I would do anything for her.

Future Me, what kind of big sister are you? Do you still keep up with Emma? Has she fallen in love — with academia or her job or her friends or a special someone?

The night I saw my first shooting star was the night I realized that the one I fell for did not want me back.

My friend made me avocado toast in her apartment to soothe me. We talked about love and boys and the pressure to do sophomore summer right.

I walked behind Mass Row on my way back to Gile and decided to sit in the parking lot.

I missed stargazing.

The first shooting star I ever saw was beautifully otherworldly.

Future Me, are you in love?

Does time really heal all wounds?

Have your old wounds scarred?

What new wounds adorn your body?

Future Me, I hope you reflect upon your anger and heartaches and failures.

I hope you choose to document those moments, along with the laughter and warmth.

Future Me, I hope you choose mobility in the face of stagnation. I hope you strive for wholeness and happiness.

I hope you love and are loved.

But most of all, Future Me, I hope you are kind.

All my love,

Clara

MORGAN MOINAN/THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

4// MIRROR

A One-Act Play: Everything Falls Apart FEATURE

By Jordyn Fitch

CHARACTER LIST 1. MAN: Young man in his mid to late thirties suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s.

2. FRIEND: A man in his early forties. Loyal companion to Man. EVERYTHING FALLS APART [MAN faces a window with the blinds drawn.

He is trying to light a cigarette when there is a knock at the door.]

MAN: Come in, it’s open.

[FRIEND walks into the room through the door.]

MAN: I knew it was you.

FRIEND: When is it not?

MAN: I didn’t know you were coming today.

FRIEND: Neither did I, but here I am.

MAN: Yes, here you are. To what do I owe this pleasure?

FRIEND: You tell me.

MAN: Hm. No real reason I suppose. But the company never hurts.

FRIEND: No, but you always hurt the company.

MAN: Touché. Come on in. Make yourself at home.

FRIEND: I always do.

[FRIEND shuts the door behind him as he walks into the living room, picking up papers from the floor. He places them atop a shelf. MAN is visibly struggling with lighting his cigarette.]

FRIEND: Need a light?

MAN: No, no. I’ve got it.

[MAN continues to struggle, finally getting it to light. A paper falls from a corkboard to their left.]

FRIEND: I’d tell you that those things are horrid for you. But there’s really no point now, is there?

[MAN takes a long drag of his cigarette.]

MAN: None whatsoever. But why stop telling me now?

[FRIEND shakes his head. He begins to pick up papers from the floor and sift through them.]

MAN: So, how long will you be staying with me?

FRIEND: Not long I hope.

MAN: Well why not? Surely you have the time.

Why else would you come to see me?

FRIEND: I came to get you.

MAN: Why? FRIEND: You know why.

MAN: I really don’t.

FRIEND: You don’t remember why?

MAN: No. But that’s not the problem.

FRIEND: Oh? Then what is?

MAN: Um. Uh, the problem is that I’m hungry.

FRIEND: Hungry?

MAN: Yes. Hungry.

FRIEND: Fine. Dinner?

MAN: You read my mind.

FRIEND: That’s what I’m here for.

[FRIEND stands up and begins to walk back to the door, while MAN walks over to a bookshelf.]

MAN: Where are you going?

FRIEND: To dinner.

MAN: No. You can’t leave.

FRIEND: Well, why not?

MAN: I, uh, well I have too much to do. I mean, have you seen this place? It’s practically falling apart.

FRIEND: No arguments here.

MAN: Exactly, so there’s no need to leave.

FRIEND: But I thought you were hungry.

MAN: Yes, I am. Keep up.

FRIEND: Well, if you’re hungry but you don’t want to go out to eat, what do you propose we do?

MAN: Um, we’ll call for take out, of course.

FRIEND: Oh. Okay. There is a phone book downstairs. Let’s go grab it.

MAN: No! No, no, there is no need for that. I have one.

FRIEND: Oh! MAN: Yes, yes. I have one. It’s over on the bookshelf.

[FRIEND walks over to the bookshelf MAN gestured to. He scans it for a few seconds.]

FRIEND: It’s not here.

MAN: Yes it is.

FRIEND: No. It’s really not. The yellow one, right?

MAN: Yes. It’s on the shelf.

FRIEND: No. There’s only a bunch of textbooks and test tubes.

MAN: No, it’s there. Always has been, always will be.

FRIEND: Well, clearly, something’s changed.

MAN: No, nothing has changed; it’s there. You’re just not looking.

FRIEND: Okay, if I’m so bad at looking, why don’t you find it?

MAN: I will.

[MAN jumps over the back of the couch and marches over to the shelf. He doesn’t break eye contact with FRIEND as he points indignantly to an empty space on the shelf.]

MAN: It’s right there.

[A beat passes. FRIEND looks at MAN quizzically.

MAN looks at the bookshelf for the first time.]

MAN: Oh. [MAN quickly scans the room, locating the book on the kitchenette.]

MAN: See, look. There it is.

FRIEND: Well that’s not where you said it was.

MAN: No. Well. Yes. Oh, yes, that’s right. I was looking through the book during breakfast this morning.

FRIEND: Oh. [A paper floats down from a corkboard. MAN walks over and grabs the phonebook and begins to thumb through it.]

MAN: Good, so Mexican or Chinese?

FRIEND: Not Mexican. That place down the street, Senior Playa? Horrid. No need to relive that.

MAN: So Chinese it is.

[MAN speaks on the phone. FRIEND attempts to tidy up the mess of papers and files on the coffee table while listening to the conversation.]

MAN: Two orders of lo mein. Pint of fried rice ... No, no, no, not pick up. Delivery.

FRIEND: Why not pickup?

MAN: What?

FRIEND: Here, just tell him pickup. We’ll go grab it.

[FRIEND walks towards the door and attempts to turn the handle.]

MAN: No, wait!

FRIEND: Why have you locked us in here?

MAN: Why have I what?

FRIEND: Locked us in. I can’t leave, the door’s locked.

MAN: I don’t recall locking it.

FRIEND: Neither do I. MAN: Well, if it is locked, then it’s locked. It must be for a reason.

FRIEND: This may take longer than I expected.

MAN: Would you like some tea while we wait?

FRIEND: I suppose one cup won’t hurt.

[MAN goes to kitchenette and begins to prepare tea.]

FRIEND: I have the feeling this food is going to take a while.

MAN: 20 minutes, the guy said. 30 and it’s free.

FRIEND: We might just get that free meal.

MAN: Ever the optimist.

FRIEND: Realist, I prefer.

MAN: Potato, Potahto ­— cup half empty, cup half full. The question we should be asking is where did the rest of the water go? And who keeps poking holes in my cups?

FRIEND: Perhaps if you were nicer to people, no one would have any motivation to sabotage your cups.

MAN: But if I were nicer to people, then they would see it as an invitation to come over and help themselves to my cups. Then where would we be?

FRIEND: So then let them use the cups. That doesn’t mean they’re going to break them or poke holes. Hell, some of them might even wash them, dry them and tidy up your cabinets.

MAN:I like my cabinets just the way they are.

FRIEND: Your cabinets are a mess.

[Pause.]

MAN: Pardon me?

FRIEND: Your cabinets. They’re a complete mess. This whole flat is a mess, as I’m sure you’re well aware.

MAN: I invite you into my home, and then you criticize my cabinets? My cabinets? They’re doing the best they can.

FRIEND: Doing the best they can?

MAN: Yes. They certainly are. That’s all they can do though, isn’t it? Try their hardest. Do the best they can under the circumstances. It’s not their fault that this is happening to them. They didn’t ask for this. They don’t need this.

FRIEND: Wait, are we still talking about cabinets or are we talking about you?

MAN: No, of course we’re not talking about cabinets. How absurd.

FRIEND: Then we’re talking about you?

MAN: No, stop trying to make this about me.

This is about my apparently messy cabinets.

FRIEND: I thought this wasn’t about the cabinets.

MAN: Of course this is about the cabinets.

FRIEND: You’re not making any sense.

MAN: So? Are you going to leave because my cabinets don’t make sense?

FRIEND: When have I ever left because you don’t make sense?

MAN: You say that now. But what about when my cabinets have rotted away and the hinges have rusted and they sit barren and dusty? Will you still be there to admire the woodwork?

FRIEND: Yes. MAN: Liar.

[Pause.]

FRIEND: I’m leaving.

MAN: No, no, no! Please, don’t leave. I’m sorry.

FRIEND: Are you?

MAN: Yes, yes. I didn’t mean it. I’m just — FRIEND: Just what?

MAN: I’m just — FRIEND: Angry?

MAN: Yes. FRIEND: And scared?

MAN: No. What? What would I have to be scared about?

FRIEND: You tell me.

MAN: No, I’m not scared. I’m just ... You know what, you should stay. I’ll tell you what: I’ll pay for the both of us.

FRIEND: What?

MAN: The meal is on me.

FRIEND: Why? I really have no problem with pay — MAN: I need you to stay.

FRIEND: Okay. Just for a while longer.

MAN: Perhaps some music to pass the time?

[FRIEND nods and leans back onto the couch.

MAN walks across the room and digs out a violin from under a pile of junk. He walks back to the couch with the instrument tucked under his chin and begins to play. The notes are audibly off key.

FRIEND sits up, worried. MAN furrows his brow, but attempts to play again. More papers fall in the room. Cacophonous sounds erupt from the violin.]

MAN: Oh. Must be out of tune.

FRIEND: Are you sure that’s the problem?

MAN: Yes, that is the problem. I’ll get it fixed soon.

FRIEND: Yes, that would seem appropriate.

MAN: Yes, it would.

FRIEND: Did you want to go now?

MAN: No. FRIEND: Well, why not?

MAN: Well, the door’s locked for one. And the food hasn’t come.

FRIEND: At this rate, I don’t think it ever will.

MAN: And to think, I just called you an optimist.

FRIEND: And to think, I just told you that I am a realist.

MAN: Yes. Yes, you did.

[They sit in silence. FRIEND sips his tea while MAN puts out his cigarette. Sounds can be heard in the distance.]

FRIEND: Do you hear something?

MAN: No. FRIEND: I’m sure I hear something. It sounds like someone’s calling.

MAN: Calling for whom?

FRIEND: Seeing as where we’re sitting, I can only imagine it’s you.

[FRIEND walks to the window and begins to open the curtains.]

MAN: No! FRIEND: What?

MAN: Don’t open the curtains.

[A book falls from a nearby shelf. MAN rushes over, picks up the book and positions himself in between FRIEND and the curtain. He tucks the book under his arm.]

FRIEND: Why? [MAN walks over to nearby bookshelf and begins to push it in front of the window.]

MAN: Th — the light. It hurts my eyes.

FRIEND: It’s nighttime.

MAN: Is it? Oh. My clocks are broken.

FRIEND: Well they’re right at least twice a day.

MAN: Cheeky. Come up with that all on your own?

[MAN finishes pushing bookshelf in front of window, sets the book atop it and then returns to his seat on the couch. He grabs his cup of tea.]

FRIEND: Why? Did you like it?

MAN: That’s funny.

FRIEND: In that case. Yes. All by myself.

MAN: No. Not you. The tea.

FRIEND: What?

MAN: My tea. It’s cold.

FRIEND: Oh, I can reheat it for you. Hand it here — MAN: No, I don’t want it reheated.

FRIEND: Why not?

MAN: Reheating it is just a temporary solution to a much larger problem.

FRIEND: So you want it cold?

MAN: Heavens no. Who wants cold tea?

FRIEND: Oh, of course not. Because who on god’s earth has ever heard of something as obscene as iced tea?

MAN: Oh, don’t patronize me.

FRIEND: So you don’t want it cold. But you

MIRROR //5

don’t want it reheated?

MAN: Exactly.

FRIEND: Then what do you want?

MAN: I want it to stay hot in the first place.

FRIEND: Well, then you should have drunk it before it had time to get cold.

MAN: Well, what if I didn’t want it then?

FRIEND: Well, then suffer the consequences.

MAN: No, that’s not the point.

FRIEND: Then what is the point?

MAN: The point is there is a much larger problem here. This isn’t right.

FRIEND: No, it’s not.

MAN: Yes. There is a problem here.

FRIEND: So you see the problem.

MAN: Yes, of course.

FRIEND: Then you understand what we have to do to fix it.

MAN: Obviously.

FRIEND: Then let’s g — MAN: Blankets!

FRIEND: What?

[A few books clatter down off the shelves.]

MAN: Blankets, that’s the solution.

FRIEND: To what problem?

MAN: The draft, of course.

FRIEND: That’s what you think the problem is?

MAN: Yes, the problem is a breach in the window.

That’s what’s making my tea cold.

[MAN hops off the couch and runs to a trunk by the large bookshelf and retrieves from it sheets and blankets. He runs to the window, climbs atop the smaller bookshelf beside it and begins to stuff the edges of the window with the sheets, still not drawing the blinds.]

FRIEND: What are you doing?

MAN: What do you think I’m doing? I’m fixing it.

FRIEND: Oh, really?

[MAN attempts to hang the last blanket to completely cover the window, but falls. He catches himself on the drapes and hangs there limp for a beat.]

MAN: Yes. So are you just going to sit there or are you going to help me?

[FRIEND stands up and begins to walk over to Man, picking up fallen papers along the way, however he doesn’t make any attempt to help MAN.] FRIEND: But those sheets and blankets. Are those not just temporary solutions to a much bigger problem?

[MAN continues to hang. A book falls off a nearby shelf.]

MAN: I suppose they are.

FRIEND: Yes. MAN: So how do I fix it permanently?

FRIEND: We can go across the street to the hardware store.

MAN: No! [MAN inadvertently releases his grip on the curtain and falls to the floor with a thud. More books begin to fall off shelves.]

FRIEND: Why? Honestly, it’s a simple fix. Let’s just go.

MAN: No, no, no. I can’t. I just can’t.

FRIEND: Why not?

MAN: I can’t.

[MAN walks over to the couch and plops down.

He swaddles himself in the blanket so that only his head peers out.]

FRIEND: Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re in your burrito of sorrow again.

[MAN does not respond.]

FRIEND: Oh, you are.

[MAN again gives no response.]

FRIEND: Are you really being this childish? Fine.

If you won’t speak to me then — MAN: It’s not a burrito.

FRIEND: What?

MAN: It’s not a burrito. It’s a cocoon.

FRIEND: Really?

MAN: Yes, really.

FRIEND: Not that I care, but it’s clearly a burrito.

MAN: No. It’s not.

FRIEND: Yes. It is. A cocoon encloses everything.

Your head is popping out. You’re simply wrapped up like a burrito.

MAN: No. That argument is invalid because a burri — FRIEND: What am I doing? Am I really arguing over this right now? Oh, god, I’m losing it, too.

MAN: Excuse me?

FRIEND: We need to leave. Right now. Before it’s too late.

MAN: We go nowhere until you acknowledge this as a cocoon.

FRIEND: Oh, god!

MAN: Say it.

FRIEND: Fine! It’s a damn cocoon. Can we go now?

MAN: No. The door’s locked.

[Pause.]

FRIEND: Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to me.

MAN: Stop.

FRIEND: Of all the selfish things you’ve done, this one takes the cake.

MAN: Wow, cake sounds good right about now.

Should I order one — FRIEND: Oh, for once, could you cut the bullshit?

[Pause.]

MAN: I can’t leave.

FRIEND: Why not?

MAN: Because if I leave I’ll lose it!

[Pause.]

MAN: I’ll lose it.

FRIEND: Then lose it!

MAN: Just lose it? Are you kidding? I can’t. I just can’t.

FRIEND: Why not?

MAN: If I lose it then what do I have left?

FRIEND: Me. MAN: But I won’t. When it’s gone, you’ll go with it. I know you will. You say you won’t but you will.

It’s the reason you came and it’s the reason you stayed. It’s the only thing I have. The only thing that makes me who I am. And when it’s gone?

Well, so am I. FRIEND: That’s where you’re wrong.

MAN: How? FRIEND: It may be the reason I came but it is not the reason I stayed.

MAN: No. You say that. But you don’t know it.

You don’t know who I am without it.

FRIEND: Then let me find out.

MAN: No. No I can’t.

FRIEND: Why not?

MAN: Because I’m nothing without it.

FRIEND: You are so much more than just it.

MAN: Okay, then tell me. Tell me what I am without it! Without this?

[MAN flagrantly gestures to the room.]

FRIEND: You are a man.

MAN: Exactly what I’ve always tried not to be.

FRIEND: Well that is the problem of the century, now isn’t it? Everyone trying to be something they’re not. The lines are blurring. Soon there will be no distinction between friend and foe, reality

and imagination, man and god.

MAN: As a man, I am nothing. With this. I have made something of myself.

FRIEND: No. As a man, you are a man. First and foremost. Even when all is lost, that is still what you are. And that is all you’ll ever need to be.

MAN: Wrong. With this, I am so much more.

FRIEND: Then you’re a man playing God. MAN: It’s not playing if I’ve already won.

FRIEND: You need to let this go.

MAN: No, I can’t. You don’t understand. I need to keep it. I can’t lose it.

FRIEND: No, you don’t understand. Look at it!

It’s damaged. Degenerating. Dying. Even if you stay, it’s not what it used to be. What it used to be was amazing. Brilliant. Unlike anything this world has seen and will more than likely never see again.

It helped you become a hero. Gave you purpose, I get it. But that, is still in there.

[FRIEND places hand on MAN’s heart.]

MAN: That is not this.

[Places hand on MAN’s head, then gestures to the room.]

FRIEND: This. This is gone, and there is nothing we can do about that. But if you don’t let it go now, all you’re going to be is stuck. Stuck like the punctured cups in your rotting cabinets.

MAN: No, no, no, look. I can fix it!

[MAN unwraps himself from his blanket. He throws books back onto shelves and pin papers backwards and upside down onto corkboards.]

FRIEND: No, you can’t.

MAN: Yes, I can!

FRIEND: But you can’t! You know it, and I know it. You heard well what the doctor said — MAN: That so called doctor doesn’t know anything about me.

FRIEND: I know you don’t trust doctors. But he was right. He warned us about everything. He told us this would happen.

MAN: Stop it!

FRIEND: The memory loss, the confusion, the mood swings. It’s happening! It’s happening now, and if you don’t leave, its going to consume you.

If you can’t accept this then you’re going to be stuck in here and there will be nothing left of the real world for you.

MAN:No. No! No! Shut up! I’m fine. It’s fine!

Everything’s fine!

FRIEND: No! It’s not! And I’m sorry it’s not. And I know it’s not fair, I know. No one deserves this. Not a single man would wish this on even his greatest adversary, but you know what? S— happens. S— happens, and everything falls apart and the only thing you can do is let it. Let the world reap what it sowed and for once don’t try and outsmart it.

MAN: You’re asking me to do the impossible.

FRIEND: No. I’m asking you to do what’s right.

You need to leave it behind. Staying in here is wrong. Not only to yourself but more importantly to the people that love you.

MAN: There are no people who love me. They only love what I can do for them. All they love is this!

[MAN again gestures around him to the crumbling room.]

MAN: This is the reason why you’re here. This is the reason I’m not alone. And this is the reason I can’t leave. If I lose this ... If I lose my mind, I lose you, and I can’t be alone again.

FRIEND: You’re already alone!

MAN: No, I’m not alone. I have you. If I stay in here at least I have you. If I stay, I won’t be alone.

[Pause.]

FRIEND: I’m not even really here.

MAN: What?

FRIEND: I’m out there.

MAN: No, you’re not. You’re right here with me.

FRIEND: Don’t you get it? I’m outside right now.

Waiting for you. Waiting for you to leave this place and come back to me. I’m sitting at your bedside, and you’re just lying there. Staring into space. And just like you, I’m scared and alone.

MAN: No, I’m not alone. I have you.

FRIEND: No! You are alone! You’re alone right now and if you don’t walk out that door right now then all you’re ever going to be is alone.

MAN: Stop it.

FRIEND: So either we leave now and we’re together or you stay and we’re both alone.

MAN: I can’t leave. The food hasn’t come.

[Pause.]

FRIEND: I’m leaving.

MAN: No, you can’t. We’re locked in here.

FRIEND: Yes, you are.

[FRIEND walks towards the door and turns the handle with no resistance. He exits, shutting the door behind him. As the door shuts, several books begin to fall off the shelves. MAN runs over to the door and attempts to open it again to no avail.]

MAN: No. I’ve changed my mind. Please. Come back, I can’t be alone. You can’t leave me like this.

I can’t be alone. I’m alone.

[Books begin to fall from every shelf, several at a time. We hear the sound of crumbling. MAN tries the door one more time.

He pulls until the handle comes off.]

MAN: No. No. No. No! No! No! I can’t be here alone. I need to leave. I have to leave.

[MAN runs over to the window and pushes the bookshelf back out of the way then yanks down all the curtains. We see blackness through the glass. He attempts to open it, but can’t. Frantic, he pounds his fists on the glass, attempting to break it.]

MAN: I need to get out. I can’t be alone!

[Still failing to shatter the glass, MAN grabs the cups from his cabinets and throws them at the window.

They all shatter upon impact. He begins to throw books at the window. Still unable to break it, he grabs a large barstool from the kitchenette and hurls it at the glass. It breaks on impact.]

MAN: No. No. No. No. No. No! I have to leave.

I will leave.

[MAN runs around the room, dodging falling books and furniture. He rummages through various debris piles, eventually finding a rope. He grabs the large barstool and drags it over to back stage left. He climbs atop and with shaking hands, ties the rope around the rafter beam and pulls it secure. He slips his head into the noose and kicks the stool out from under him. At his weight, the rafter breaks.]

MAN: F---!

[MAN crawls out from under the debris of the rafter and looks around the flat and watches it crumble.]

MAN: I don’t. I, I can’t remember why I’m here.

[MAN gets up and runs to the door.]

MAN:Why did I lock the door? I can’t remember. I can’t remember why I’m hungry. I can’t remember where I am. I can’t remember who I am. I can’t remember.

[The bookshelves begin to fall over as the set caves in.]

MAN:Why am I alone? I ... I can’t remember.

[Set continues to collapse as the lights go out. The audience can still hear the sound of crashing.

These sounds are the only things heard for several seconds and then ... Silence.]

6// MIRROR

An Excerpt COLUMN

By Elise Wien

Latika Sridhar ’16 came back this weekend for Green Key and performed with her band, Half the City. This past fall, she had a cameo role in my play “The Game,” where she played The Kid Who Lives in the Fieldhouse. Her speaking voice is just as musical as her singing one. Here is her character’s monologue: THE KID WHO LIVES IN THE FIELDHOUSE There once was a runner so fast Broke records in every class So quick did she run Her atoms succumbed And turned straight from solid to gas.

People don’t really notice anymore. It’s one of those things where you show up one day and appear somewhere so regularly that you become part of the landscape. It’s like Jerry. You know Jerry? Of course not.

He’s this kid on the baseball team who was benched so often he actually became part bench. He’s in the dugout right now — his thighs just melded to the thing. Macguire spilled his Gatorade on him last Tuesday.

Didn’t notice at all. I go down there and talk to him sometimes. Funny how something as simple as changing elements will completely shake up your priorities. Now his two greatest fears are someone farting on him, and rust. Anyway, I guess I notice him now because we’re both part of the landscape.

The trees fraternizing with the mountains,

you know?

How I came to live here. Right. It started three months ago, yesterday. We were here — we were always here — practicing. I would run and she would time, then she’d run and I’d time. We’d go on switching off like that for hours. She had been inching toward a new personal best — having milliseconds off her 800 meter — and I knew she’d break the record. She was the fastest girl in the world.

The police are after me now, since I was the last one with her. The physics department claims it’s impossible, but I think that’s just because they haven’t encountered particles that move as quick as she does. The custodian’s been real nice to me, sneaking me blankets and water. They think — well, I think they think — I killed her. That’s been a real trend in these parts, men killing their wives and girlfriends. I don’t get that. It seems to me, loving someone, the last thing you want is for them to disappear. Fault in understanding, that’s why we fly over distant lands and kill other people. But to kill someone you know you love — maybe that’s too much understanding. Maybe you understand her too deeply and that scares you and the only way you know how to deal with it is to get rid of her altogether.

We were that type of in love where you can’t seem to pinpoint the moment you fell in love with each other — can’t even remember the first time you met, because your timeline is bent altogether. The image I have of it in

my mind ... she’s running, right? She’s on the track, and ... do you know Kepler’s law of orbital motion? That orbiting planets sweep out different distances at the same speed?

In my mind, I am the gravitational mass and — and every time she comes around to my side it’s like her pace turns to lightning.

It’s like, zeeeeeoou.

(Doppler noise and hand motion) You know? Zeeeeooou. And ... it’s the strangest thing, there’s this breeze. The windows and doors are closed, my glasses are all fogged up, that’s how hot it is in there — but the sensation of wind hits me all of a sudden. And somehow I know it’s coming from her. Then I thought again, and, no — the first time we met was before that. It was the first day of class; she sat in the last row and I sat in the second to last row and I could feel this heat coming from behind me, like when you sit with your back to the sun. But every time I think about it now, it’s as if I’ve known her even before this — like ever since I met her, my future actions have changed my past. On a quantum level, how photons change their behavior based on future obstacles. Their future affects how they behave in the present, which, once discovered, becomes their past. And it’s as though, on a quantum level, I knew this. Like my atoms were always leaning toward her; ever so slightly. And I can’t pinpoint a beginning. She had this capacity ... to direct the weather. That day, she was kicking up dust, paint chips. And she kept

running, and running, and running. The pile of hurdles in the southeast corner blew up in a flurry. And she kept running, and running, and running. The southwestern light fixture — that one — fell straight down and shattered, glass five feet all around the point of contact. And she kept running, and running, and running. And she ran so fast that the atoms in her body actually began to vibrate faster, and faster, and each time she made a lap they sped up, and sped up.

And she kept running, and running, and running. The wind started to circle around the track, her own personal tornado. And she kept running, and running, and running.

Until finally, she sublimated. Skipped right over liquid and just turned into gas. That’s why I live here now. You can’t see her, but sometimes when you feel a breeze in here, you know it’s her, just — running. She talks to me sometimes. Whispers statistics ... gossips about the nitrogen in the room.

Lots of people don’t believe me. They say the reason I can’t remember a beginning is because she never existed, that things without beginnings could never exist. But I saw it. I did. Anyway, that’s why I can’t quit. I want to stay on this team forever. I won’t graduate ... heck, I don’t even need to go home anymore. I’ll sleep in the sand pit.

I’ll eat the little black bits that hold down the Astroturf.

I get nervous every time the door is opened for a long period of time. Nervous that she’ll fly on out with the air.

The fraught history of LGBT performance at the College STORY

By Jaden Young

Nearly 30 years ago, a performance touched the hearts of Dartmouth students and community members. In February of 1988, the Dartmouth Players put on a production of Larry Kramer’s “The Normal Heart” met by what a 1988 Boston Globe article described as “a tearful standing ovation.”

Set in New York in the early 1980s, the semi-autobiographical play follows Kramer’s on-stage alter ego Ned Weeks as he struggles to organize around raising awareness for an unidentified disease killing off gay men: AIDS. Campus reaction to the performance marked the changing attitudes toward LGBT students in the previous decade.

Dartmouth’s Gay Student Association had formed just 10 years earlier, making Dartmouth the last school in the Ivy League to have a gay students’ organization. In the following years, LGBT students would push back against discrimination on institutional and individual levels, working to establish safe spaces on campus and update College discrimination policies.

Students who were openly out were subject to a wide range of hatred and condemnation from their peers; students received death threats, had their dorm doors urinated under and were targeted with derogatory slurs.

The GSA kept its membership secret in its early years. Nonetheless, it attracted the

attention of groups who continued to view homosexuality as morally corrupt.

In a 1981 Dartmouth Review article profiling the GSA, Dinesh D’Souza ’83 included the names of five of the group’s officers, whose involvement had been mostly secret before, alongside excerpts of letters written by group members. According to a 1981 New York Times article, “One student named, according to his friends, became severely depressed and talked repeatedly of suicide. The grandfather of another who had not found the courage to tell his family of his homosexuality learned about his grandson when he got his copy of the Review in the mail.”

Winter term of 1984 saw the campus in uproar after three members of Kappa Kappa Kappa fraternity were kicked out for their sexual orientation.

That same year, a Dartmouth Review reporter secretly recorded a GSA meeting and published the recordings, which featured attendees speaking about their sexual experiences and experience being gay on campus, alongside pieces questioning the group’s worthiness of its $475 in COSO funding. The incident sparked national attention and, of course, litigation.

Then-editor of the Dartmouth Review Laura Ingraham ’85 defended the publication’s actions in a 1984 United Press International article: “The big thing is what does this

organization [GSA] do with its money,” she said. “It seems they just have parties and talk about parties. There isn’t a heterosexual group that gets funding.”

Earlier in February of 1988, the Dartmouth Gay and Lesbian Association, formerly the GSA, held a vigil on the Green in remembrance of the “Tri-Kap purge” four years before.

Later that month, the College’s production of “The Normal Heart” opened.

The play received a favorable review in The Dartmouth: “Anyone coming to see this play (and everyone should), must be prepared for some serious drama, and should definitely bring along some Kleenex,” wrote Andrew Camp ’89.

Theater professor Mara Sabinson, then in her fourth year of teaching at the College, directed the production. Mark Retik ’88 played Ned Weeks, and Michael Fanning ’88 played his lover, Felix Turner. The play included the pair holding hands, caressing and kissing on stage.

Despite the cast’s apprehension over what campus reaction to the play would be, Retik and Sabinson reported in a 1988 Boston Globe article that response had been positive.

All six of the show’s original performances, as well as an additional matinee, sold out.

As audiences entered the Bentley Theater,

they were met by an interactive exhibit about AIDS, featuring a documentary by film professor Al LaValley following AIDS victims through their struggles and walls plastered with newspaper articles about the disease, prominently featuring pictures and names of victims.

According to the Globe article, 25 of Retik’s fraternity brothers attended one of the performances, joining in tearfully with a standing ovation and talking afterward until 5 a.m. about the issues raised in the play.

Of course, that’s not to say a production largely about cis-gendered white gay men marked the end of discrimination and hatred toward any marginalized groups on campus.

Two years later, Dartmouth’s first openly gay valedictorian, Michael Lowenthal ’90, railed against the exclusion experienced by him and others at an institution founded on traditions that are “sexist, racist, [and] homophobic.”

Campus groups today continue to work toward a Dartmouth that is more inclusive and respectful.

The experience within that theater, however, gave Dartmouth’s community a chance to sympathize with a group that had spent so long in the shadows on campus and a venue to mourn for the people who fell victim to a disease that was ignored by the majority for too long.

MIRR OR //7

Academic Performance: Q&A with Dean Brian Reed STORY

By Cristian Cano

Academic performance can be a touchy subject, especially for students that might not be doing as well as they’d like in their classes. This week, the Mirror interviewed Brian Reed, the associate dean for student academic support services and dean of undergraduate students, to learn more about what he believes are the greatest academic struggles students face — and what the Dartmouth community can do to help.

What have you observed to be some of the greatest challenges that students face when it comes to academic performance?

BR: I think some of the greatest things run a wide spectrum. Ten week terms are very challenging in terms of managing one’s time and managing priorities, and the skills one had in high school to manage courses don’t always translate well here.

Sleep patterns. Note taking. You name it. Some of the academic skill pieces need to get brushed up, and then there’s also the 10 week term. That’s one aspect of it that I think can be challenging: having to learn not only how to be a college student, but also how to be a Dartmouth College student given our D-Plan and 10 week terms.

There’s research that suggests that this is also a time when, for students who might not have otherwise been aware of mental health related challenges or emotional health related challenges, those things surface. I think that might be in some part fueled by the stresses of college. I’m not a clinical psychologist by any stretch, but we do see that a lot of academic challenges are byproducts of someone managing burgeoning, or even chronic, ongoing mental or emotional health challenges.

And then there are the physical health challenges.

There are also the challenges that I’ve seen particularly with first-generation, low-income college students. I was a first-generation college student as well. It’s the simple things, like how I didn’t know what a registrar was or did.

Understanding the lingo, the language and the flow of how postsecondary education works can be challenging for some students as well.

How important do you think high school preparation is in a freshman’s academic performance?

BR: I think it’s really pivotal, especially in the first term. If we look at the course outcomes at the end of the first term, it particularly shows up in mathematics: your Math 3, your Math 8, your chemistry and biology courses. Significant preparation in computational work can be really

pivotal to the transition to STEM courses at Dartmouth.

I think a lot of our students write well. One challenge where I see varying quality can have an impact is the mechanics of citations, paraphrasing and how to master a style of citation, whether that’s APA or MLA. That’s why we have our first-year writing sequence, to really help students learn how to be a college level writer in their first year.

But, I don’t think that high school preparation always has to determine how someone does here.

There are other pieces too. I think there are some intangibles, like someone’s fight, someone’s determination and someone’s grit — that they’re going to go to tutoring all the time, that they’re going to go to office hours. There are some unwritten laws about how to succeed here. Regardless of high school preparation, there are a lot of students who defy what, on paper, would suggest about them.

Under which conditions have you seen students most thrive academically?

BR: We really try to send this messaging in everything we do: when you experience academic challenge, that doesn’t mean you’re not a scholar.

That doesn’t mean you’re not smart or that you don’t deserve a place here. The entire learning process is challenging. It begins with something we don’t know, and that’s okay. I find that the students who really persevere through initial hurdles or roadblocks are the students who, first, acknowledge that just because they have a challenge doesn’t mean that they don’t belong here. And then, two, they’re willing to say that they need some help, whether that’s with their peers, with their dean or with faculty members and house professors.

The students who see their way through challenge acknowledge that there’s no shame in asking for help. Those are the students who go to tutoring, who go to office hours, who go to the Academic Skills Center, who go and see their dean, who come and see, if necessary, Counseling and Human Development in Dick’s House. A lot of it is attitudinal: “I’m going to see my way through this and then take advantage of resources well.”

Generally speaking, have you observed any trend with regards to whether Dartmouth students tend to either overexaggerate or underexaggerate the importance of grades?

BR: It depends on who you’re talking to.

To back up just a little bit, I do think that, independent of grades, this can sometimes be

’20: “I haven’t hooked up with anyone in two weeks.

At this point I’m basically a nun.”

Ling prof: “I did not realize that this weekend is Green Key weekend. I do not care. I see no difference. Oh, a weekend where Dartmouth students like to drink too much? I don’t see what’s special about that. Just call it a weekend.”

a very difficult place for students to acknowledge challenge to peers. What happens is that I get a lot of students here who go, “Hey Dean Reed, I’m really struggling.” And they almost whisper it. There’s this belief that no one else is really struggling in the way that they are. Well actually, this whole office exists because people experience challenge. I think there’s some convincing that has to be done that they’re not alone, but this is a really hard and difficult place to even acknowledge that there’s challenge, for stigma or other reasons.

COURTESY OF BRIAN REED I find that students Brian Reed, dean of undergraduate students, provides academic and tend to focus on their counseling support services for Dartmouth students.

GPA because they think it’s linked to access to a particular career field, college student, I had to work prior to coming to whether that be to get into med school or to get college to earn money. How do we offer that in a into the top financial firms. I think the thing that way that we can incentivize it for students, that’s we try to do here is focus on a student’s whole effective for students and is in keeping with some experience, this idea that you’re more than a GPA. of the best national practices for getting students It’s about internship opportunities, how to talk ready for college? I am under no illusions that a about the value of working on campus that you five or six week program is going to get students could bring to a job, maybe the difference between ready to do Math 3 or Math 8 if they haven’t had your major grades and your non-major grades that preparation. However, I think we owe it to and volunteer experiences. What we try to do is our students to try. go beyond the GPA with students and talk about Also, I work closely with [First Year Student their total experience and how they package and Enrichment Program director] Jay Davis [’90] and a handful of faculty and staff, and one thing market that post-graduation.

So, to answer your question specifically, I don’t we’re doing right now is really looking at financial find a general trend, per se, but I do find that there barrier removal. We’re looking at all the places in are particular post-grad plans that elicit that more the institution where finances might prevent some students from having the same experiences as other than others. students. Are there places where we can work with Right now, is there anything that you the Center for Professional Development and the believe Dartmouth, as an institution, could Advancement Division to find folks who could be doing better when it comes to helping help us — help students get suits and portfolios for job interviews? Where we can help students pay students succeed?

BR: I think one of the discussions that we’re having for application fees? You name it, we’re scouring right now is having a proper “summer bridge” the landscape to find where money comes in program. It would be a comprehensive academic and prevents someone from accessing all that and acculturation program where we really help Dartmouth has to offer. I think we do a good job students focus on boning up those certain academic as an institution, but I think we can do more. pieces, particularly computation and math. One of the discussions I’ve been involved in is, how This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity do we create that? Because as a first-generation and length.

’20: “That boy is wearing a JSTOR hat!”

Visiting ’20: “What’s JSTOR?” ’20: “You clearly don’t go to an Ivy League school.”

’20: “I had to leave my 10A to throw up in the bathroom, and on my way back I ran into Phil Hanlon for the first time ever. He looks just like the f---ing meme.”

Visiting student: “So you have sex with someone, and they have sex with someone, and you have sex w them … it’s just triangle f---ing, y’all Dartmouth people are nasty.”

’18: “Part of me is like, listen to your body! I want you to take care of yourself! But a much larger part of me is like ... if you really believe and push yourself you can get a funny story out of this.”

8// MIRROR

And Scene!

Photo

B y Ishaan Jajodia