The Dartmouth Mirror 09/21/16

MIR ROR 9.21.2016

I’M A BIG DEAL : TWO TAKES ON GLORY | 4-5

PAST DARTMOUTH OLYMPIANS | 8

Q&A WITH STACI MANNELLA ’18 | 2

ALISON GUH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

Q & A with Staci Mannella ’18

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Editors’ Note

FEATURE

Please forgive us for using a Ralph Waldo Emerson quotation (we know how annoying that is), but it had us thinking this week — “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” We like this quote because if this is, in fact, glory, then our survival this past week in spite of some rather pathetic shortcomings means that we have achieved greatness. Hayley lost her ID this week, and Lauren broke her phone, eliminating the possibility of meeting our needs for two of Dartmouth’s most important essentials: eating at dining halls and pretending to be busy on our phones to avoid awkward conversations. Contemplating our own mediocrity, we decided to make this issue about glory — what it means, who has it, who doesn’t and how close we come to achieving it. Enjoy!

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09.21.16 VOL. CLXXIII NO. 112 MIRROR EDITORS HAYLEY HOVERTER LAUREN BUDD EDITOR-IN-CHIEF REBECCA ASOULIN PUBLISHER RACHEL DECHIARA

EXECUTIVE EDITOR GAYNE KALUSTIAN

By Alyssa Mehra

Staci Mannella ’18 is one of the youngest members of the United States Paralympian Alpine National team. Mannella placed sixth at the Sochi Winter Olympics in 2014 and has been skiing since the age of four despite having been born with achromatopsia, a genetic visual acuity to three feet. At Dartmouth, Mannella is a member of the equestrian team, which won the Ivy League Championship in April. At the Ivy Championship, Mannella took first in the Intermediate Fences, fourth in the Open Fences Championship and sixth in Novice Flat. She sat down with Alyssa Mehra ’19 to discuss Olympic glory, balancing multiple winning teams and her plans for the future.

How did you get started skiing?

SM: I am legally blind. I have been skiing my entire life since I was four. I started competitively skiing when I was 12, and then it kind of escalated. My coaches caught the eyes of the national team coaches when I was younger. They took me under their wing, and then I set a goal for myself to make the 2014 team. So I competed when I was a senior in high school. It was a pretty interesting experience because I was so young and I was so new to the whole Paralympic thing. It was really interesting because of how political it was. You read about the political stuff in high school history, but I hadn’t traveled enough to realize that that was a real thing. I think while we were in Russia they were also moving into the Ukraine. The Paralympics as a whole are just really cool because everyone has a common goal. I feel like it’s one of the only things left where we’re all on the same page.

I was really young as an athlete and that was really good for me to get one under my belt.

What do you have planned for the future?

SM: The plan is to ski in Korea in 2018. I took a year off, and my freshman year here I didn’t ski. Then I thought it sounded like a good idea, so I went back to it last year and skiied some world cups. This year, I’ll ski some world championships and then the Paralympics next year. I take off in the winter, and then our senior year I’ll be off in winter.

How does being a varsity athlete compare to your experience training for the Olympics?

SM: I also ride for the equestrian team here.

It’s a much different mindset. It’s a very

difficult balance because I’m pre-med, too.

When I’m skiing, that’s my job. I’m a professional athlete. Every day I wake up, I train in the gym and my job is to be the best athlete that I can be. And when I’m here, it’s a little more difficult for me to balance because when do I draw the line? Sometimes I think, “Oh I should probably be studying for my organic chemistry final, but I didn’t do a workout today,” that kind of thing. So it’s definitely a little more difficult to balance when I’m in school.

How do you decide when to prioritize being a student versus an athlete?

SM: Depends how well I’m doing in class. I think there is definitely a mental health part of that. I need to be like, “I’m going to be much more human today if I go to the gym for an hour instead of just studying,” and, “How much better am I really do on this orgo final if I spend this hour studying or if I go and get my heart rate up and lift some weights and be an athlete?” This term I’m much more scheduled. I have four scheduled lifts every week. That’s much better for me because it’s not really an option for me, and I have to go.

Why do you think the Paralympics should get more coverage?

SM: We’re one of the only countries that doesn’t televise the Paralympics. In most countries in Europe, the Paralympians are just as well known as the Olympians. To me, every single Paralympian you look into has such a great story and has overcome so many things in their lives — not that Olympians haven’t. Having interacted with so many Paralympians, I know that the Paralympians and that group as a whole for the most part is down-to-earth, super dedicated, hardworking, and Olympians are, too. I just think that Paralympians have such a great balance in their life in terms of working hard, living in the moment, being able to overcome everything and come back stronger.

what I’ve wanted to do for the last six years.”

Skiing as a whole has been a huge part of shaping my character.

How do you intend on staying involved in athletics after graduation?

SM: Being an athlete is a big part of who I am. I’ll become a “NARP,” but I don’t think I’ll ever become a completely non-athletic person. I really think I’ll find something else that I want to work towards. I’m very goaloriented. I need a reason to go to the gym and a reason to work hard. I don’t know. I’ll do something for fun. Maybe I’ll take up the horse thing a little more seriously.

Have you thought about getting involved in coaching?

SM: I haven’t really thought about that. It would probably be a little difficult because I wouldn’t be able to see my students ski.

But I would think about it. I’ve actually had people ask me to teach them how to ski, and it’s kind of a weird thing, but I don’t think I could do it. I’ve been skiing since I was four.

For me, just skiing is pretty much like walking as far as I’m concerned. I don’t remember not being able to ski.

How did you get involved with skiing, specifically?

SM: There was a really good adaptive sports foundation. When my parents found out I couldn’t see they were like, “We need her to be athletic.” They wanted a sport that they could do as a whole family and so they started bringing me to Windham Mountain in New York. I skied with their adaptive sports foundation for all of my childhood and it escalated from there.

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

What was it like to be an Olympian so young? How did that shape your goals?

SM: I’m very goal-oriented, and I set that goal [of the Olympics] for myself when I was super young. It was kind of weird for me because I had been working towards making the team for so long that when I was actually there, it was kind of like, “What do I do now? I’m at the Paralympics. This is COURTESY OF ALLISON FRANTZ

’18 #1: “We’re leaving.” ’18 #2: “Where are we going?” ’18 #1: “I’m going to my bed. You’re going to…a bed.”

’18: “I want you to ride me in the most non-sexual way possible.”

’17: “Why do I need to write a 10-page research paper?

I’ll never need to write more than, like, a one-page email.”

’17: “Chivalry is dead!

I can’t even enter the workforce because I’m too busy carrying my own boxes!”

’20 pointing to FFB: “That floor is too quiet for me.”

TRENDING

@ Dartmouth

REJECTION

Trying new things in college is easy!...as long as you make a comeback.

DOMINO’S

Hear you can get anchovies on your pizza.

FAKERBERRY

Ruining your perfect back to school Insta since 2016.

SAYING “LET’S GRAB LUNCH” You filthy liar.

CAREER FAIR

Helping you find your dream job, so long as your dream job is consulting.

MORPHY

Our corpse flower is blooming, and we’re dying to see it.

MIRROR //3

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I’m a Big Deal: Two Takes on Glory at the College on the Hill

Masters, pong and the glory of the game Masters, a haiku:

The glory of mediocrity

By Lauren Budd

By Abbey Cahill

I am claustrophobic.

There is sweat dripping on me; It is not my own.

Here is the truth of it: The pong ball is equally a piece of equipment for a traditional Dartmouth game as it is a vehicle for dirt, mysterious fluids, old beer and, in the summer, squashed fruit fly remains.

Any basement utilized for pong is a moist, hot breeding ground for all sorts of decaying microorganisms, evidenced by the way that pong tables decompose.

A table from 2005 looks like it has been sitting outside, exposed to the elements for 20 years. In basements across campus, time is accelerated. Wood rots at an uncanny speed. One game turns into four.

Is it still light outside? What time did we start this harbor game? We do not know.

On top of the general air of grossness that it creates, pong also has a way of bringing out animalistic tendencies in otherwise civilized people. The alpha male tends to dominate “strong side,” or the left side of the table, where cups can be reached most efficiently by right-handed people. As a result of learning to play pong in a somewhat patriarchal society, I was immediately relegated to the less desirable “weak side” upon entering Dartmouth, and now I prefer it. Every time I step on table, I am reminded of it.

So, superficially, pong is pretty disgusting in every sense of the word. Then why do we love it so much?

Pong today is a campus unifier; it is much more inclusive than it used to be.

In the past decades, it has transformed from a one-table game essentially limited to brothers within the given fraternity to a multi-table operation in which all people are generally welcome to stay and play. Since its conception, pong has also spread to sororities (hooray for femaledominated social spaces), co-ed houses and off-campus houses across Dartmouth.

It is a non-intimidating rite of passage for freshmen because it provides easy opportunities for bonding and allows normal social conventions like eye contact and body language to disappear from the picture (for better or for worse).

TIFFANY ZHAI/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

Furthermore, it’s a relatively safe alternative to other drinking behaviors because it excludes hard liquor and confines drinking to regulated, public spaces.

Over sophomore summer, all the hype surrounding pong peaks. Dartmouth becomes our space. Pong becomes our game, and it’s this sense of pride that makes people so obsessive. Brackets are made. Tournaments are held. Even on parents’ weekend, moms and dads fill the basements.

It all culminates in Masters, where Greek-affiliated students fromre all corners of campus play for recognition, for glory and for fraternity or sorority. The seriousness surrounding the entire ordeal is comical. “‘It’s just a game’ — losers,” a winner asserted via Instagram this year.

Masters also creates a depressing sense of disillusionment once it’s all over. Later, over a cup of warm flat keystone in a subpar basement scene, a friend asked without a hint of irony, “What’s the point of even trying at pong now that Masters

is over?”

Pong disillusionment is real, and it comes with time. The infamous Generic Good Morning Message listserv included pong in their June 2, 2016 message titled “Goals I Had as a Freshman vs. Goals I Have Going into Senior Year:” Freshman Year Goals: Make it to Masters, kick-save in the finals, sink the final cup, rip my shirt off, boot into the crowd, show the fans “livin’ la vida loca” tattooed across my chest.

Senior Year Goals: Get three’s on line with nobody in the basement besides those four kids who are always down there. Wait out the line of three’s.

The Pong-Star illusion shatters for most as sophomore summer passes and graduation nears, but there are always those die-hards who regard beer pong as their main extracurricular activity.

The important thing about pong, though, is that it transcends generations, ages, and groups on campus — and that’s what’s special.

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This summer, during a dreaded icebreaking exercise at the beginning of class, I was asked what I like to do in my spare time.

Caught off-guard, I stuttered out something along the lines of, “Um, you know those cooking videos on Facebook…where there are these sped-up dismembered hands… making really unhealthy food really fast…I watch those every day…”

In my defense, those videos are mesmerizing. For me, however, this moment marked the completion of my slide into mediocrity. Had I been asked this very question as a junior or senior in high school, I would have responded first with a trademark stale joke (“Wait, what’s spare time? Ha ha ha! It’s funny because I’m sacrificing my youth!”) and then launched into a canned answer in which I detailed my numerous extra-curricular pursuits and shoehorned in a reference to the elite research internship I had scored.

This always elicited a smile and an impressed comment, which in turn convinced me that I was special, destined for success and somehow that much better at my core than my peers who opted to spend their days watching TV or having an active social life or treating themselves with love and kindness or whatever the hell it was those mysterious average teens did all day.

I did not graduate from high school as valedictorian or salutatorian, which should

have been a warning sign for average days to come. However, at the time, I justified this shortcoming by telling myself that I could have been at the top of my class, had I only studied hard like those poor, highachieving saps. I didn’t do that, though — I didn’t need to. I was precocious enough to sail through classes on my own genius.

Studying was for the moronic masses. I should know — I was Dartmouth-bound, after all.

I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment during my freshman fall when I realized just how painfully normal I had become.

Maybe it was during an in-class debate in which I was blindsided by a counterpoint that hadn’t even crossed my mind. Or during a conversation in which I nodded and smiled at a series of unfamiliar vocabulary words, only to Google them on my phone and realize they were the names of top investment banks.

Most realistically, it was a series of small moments, of scoring at or just below the median, of starting a sentence in class and realizing I had no clue where it was headed or of realizing there were entirely new standards for success that I hadn’t even considered when I matriculated that contributed to my newfound sense of mediocrity.

In a sense, adjusting to normalcy was more frustrating than true failure would have been. I wasn’t bombing tests, just seeing more red ink than usual. I had friends,

just not enough. I went out on weekends but frequently found myself drinking silently with my back against the bar, passed over by my crush and left to hook up with his less hot friend. Also unlike outright failure, a shift to mediocrity did not have a clearly defined path to return to success.

I would never be the smartest or the funniest in the room again, and all I could do was accept it.

But I’ve never been a zen person.

Attempting to own my okayness only resulted in complacency, taking the B or allowing myself to fall to the sidelines because I was so convinced that my new normal was devoid of any sort of achievement. This didn’t make me any happier or less anxious, it simply mired me further into the bland role I had prescribed myself.

Instead, what did help was redefining my definition of success. When I was very young, I admired people who were smart.

When I first got to college, I admired people who were effortlessly popular. Now, the people I admire most are those who are kind. It’s a less tangible sort of success, and yet somehow more achievable. I will never make Phi Beta Kappa, Goldman Sachs will not be sending any letters my way and I will probably never crack 1,000 followers on Instagram. But I can strive to become a person who leaves a conversation with a kind word, who smiles at strangers or who can be counted on for a laugh.

I don’t remember who made the

smartest comment during Gov 5 my freshman fall, or even what I got in the class. I couldn’t tell you what it is I said in another class that made my classmates snicker and me want to drop dead. Even Facebook can’t help me recall the name of the gorgeous senior I tried so hard to impress my freshman fall. I do remember the thrill of making a new friend laugh, the sole, unidentified lacrosse player who saw me slip and fall in Foco and promised not to tell and the encouraging note that an upperclassman I looked up to wrote on a paper during a peer review session — the series of small victories that coalesce over time and create a Dartmouth experience richer than I could have imagined when I was weighted down by my own ideas of conventional success.

To return to my classroom experiences, this idea of giving value to small victories has helped recalibrate my confidence in my own intelligence, which I once desperately wished was stronger. I switched studies to a discipline I love, which makes even the most challenging thinking feel effortless. I speak with confidence, and, when I’m off-base or outright wrong, I listen and correct myself rather than withdraw from the conversation in shame.

And, during the times when I really am in over my head, when everyone else seems miles ahead I remember that even if I feel like the dumbest person in the room, I’m still in the damn room.

How to accept mediocrity in your own life: 1. Hit snooze until it’s two minutes until class starts, or, alternatively, do not go to class 2. Eat yogurt you bought at late night for breakfast. Ignore that you forgot to refrigerate said yogurt 3. Enroll in a PE class and attend first day. Never speak of it again 4. Watch all 86 “Sopranos” episodes during midterms 5. Write final paper but do not turn in a bibliography. When asked by professor about the omission, claim that you do not know what a bibliography is GAYNE KALUSTIAN/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

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Shades of Glory

When Greenprint actually works.

Explaining the Dplan to relatives in fewer than five hours.

Not slipping on ice in the winter, spring, or parts of the fall. (There are plenty of opportunities).

Not having to give your presentation until next class.

Getting an unexpected flitz.

Getting a care package.

Perfecting your Collis stir fry order.

When your friend innocently stops to pet your former hookup’s dog, and you have to stand there and awkwardly wait for her to be done.

Dropping a cup down the Foco stairs... everyone heard that.

Not getting on table.

Getting Good Sammed before your Chem 6 final.

Forgetting to bring a study sheet to an open note midterm.

Being at the stacks.

Getting caught doing the seven.

Natural Glory

The Mirror photo editor captures the Connecticut River’s ‘glorious’ beauty over time.

PHOTO ESSAY

By Tiffany Zhai

MIRROR //7

8// MIRROR

Dartmouth Olympians Throughout the Years STORY

By Nelly Mendoza-Mendoza

John Carleton ’22 Carleton was born in Hanover. He attended Phillips Andover Academy before attending Dartmouth. He was an avid skier and an American pioneer who helped advance Alpine skiing. He participated in ski jumping and Nordic skiing events.

He competed in the first Winter Olympics games ever, held in 1924.

While at Dartmouth he was captain of the ski team. Later he became a Rhodes Scholar, and, while at Oxford University, captained the ski team again. He was a lawyer and also served in both World Wars.

Along with a friend in 1931, he was the first to climb and ski the Tuckerman headwall and later competed in the Eastern Amateur Ski Association’s first downhill race on Mount Moosilauke. Along with the Civilian Conservation Corps, he helped develop 15 ski trails in New Hampshire.

Cameron A. Myler ’92 Myler was a renowned luger. According to a New York Times article from 1994, her older brother Tim introduced her to the sport. The Times also referred to her as the “United States’ top female luger” at that time. Myler competed in the winter Olympics of ’88, ’92, ’94 and ’98. In the ’94 Winter Olympics, she carried the American flag at the opening ceremony. Myler is the first American woman to win a World Cup event in luging outside of the United States, and she won the U.S. National championships nine times.

She was also voted Female Athlete of the Year nine times.

At Dartmouth, she majored in Geography and was a member of Alpha Theta. She graduated in 1995.

She retired from the Olympics in 1998 and attended Boston College Law School.

Myler is also a photographer and has had work displayed with the Art of the Olympians. She is currently a professor at New York University, where she teaches a wide range of courses, ranging from legal issues in sports to international sports governance. She serves as an athlete ambassador for Kids Play International, an organization that uses sports to educate and empower underserved youth in several countries.

Chiharu Igaya ’57 Igaya won a silver medal in Alpine skiing for Japan. He is the first notable Alpine racer from Asia, and the first person from Japan to win a medal in Alpine skiing. He competed at the Winter Olympics of 1952, 1956 and 1960.

He came to Dartmouth after studying English for six months. During his interview with then-President James Dickey, Igaya only responded to questions with “yes” and “no,” as he lacked confidence in his mastery of English. Supposedly, it wasn’t until the next day that Dickey learned about Igaya’s talent for skiing.

Igaya was the first Japanese student to attend Dartmouth after World War II. Although he entered Dartmouth relatively anonymous, he left as a well-known skier. After receiving a silver medal at the Olympics, he arrived back in Japan as a celebrity.

During his time at Dartmouth, he studied geology and later attended Harvard Business School.

After graduating from Dartmouth, he worked in insurance.

After retiring in 2008, he founded his own information technology

and consulting firms. From 1982 to 2012 he was a member of the International Olympic Committee.

He became vice president in 2005 and an honorary member in 2012.

He also led the campaign for Tokyo as an upcoming Games site.

Edward G. Williams ’64 Williams wrote an article for the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine called “The Silver Fox,” which describes how he was initiated into the cross-country team by its then-coach, Al Merrill.

He recalls being surrounded by very talented and well-known skiers, while he was a bright eyed, bushy tailed student who showed up at the first meeting at Robinson Hall and “faithfully participated in all the fall training sessions.” He did well in these sessions, until the Hanover snow came.

Initially, he thought that he was off the team, but later Merrill asked him if he had ever considered cross country skiing. This won him the recognition as a bona fide Dartmouth skier, which eventually lead him to the Olympics.

By sophomore year he was skiing on the Winter Carnival Varsity team. He also competed in the Winter Biathlon in 1986, an event which includes skiing and shooting.

Crawford Palmer ’93 Palmer is one of two Ivy League basketball players to win an Olympic medal for basketball. He won a silver medal at the 2000 Summer Olympics for the French team. He was born in the United States but was allowed to play for the French national team after obtaining French citizenship. Palmer helped lead the French to a respectable loss to an American “Dream Team.” He was named a McDonald’s All-American in 1988. He attended Duke University before transferring to Dartmouth in his

THE DARTMOUTH

John Carleton ‘22 broke ski jump records while representing Dartmouth.

junior year, where he majored in History. After retiring from the Olympics he attended business school, where he studied sports management. Currently, he is working as an English, history, geography and physical educational teacher in France.

Cherie L. Piper ’06 Piper won three Olympic gold medals with the Canadian National Ice Hockey team and one world championship title in 2004. She competed in Canada’s Under-22 team from 1999 to 2001.

She played four seasons at Dartmouth, where she majored in sociology and English and graduated in 2007.

As a Big Green player, Piper scored 60 goals and 165 assists in 99 games. She injured her knee while at Dartmouth, which resulted in her taking leave from the Canadian team for over a year, and as a result she missed the 2007 World Championship. She was off the team in 2009 but regained a spot for the 2010 Olympic team, where she won her third consecutive gold medal.

THE DARTMOUTH

THE DARTMOUTH

While Cherie L. Piper ’06 played for the Big Green, the team climbed to the top of the U.S. College Hockey Online rankings, stealing the No. 1 ranking.