MIRROR 09.25.2015
TTLG: HOW TO STUMBLE|2
Binky Flees THE nest|3
A Ring By SPring|4-5
First IN the family|6 ALISON GUH /THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
2// MIRROR
Through the Looking Glass
EDITORS’ NOTE
How to Stumble with Grace Letter
For spring break 2013 (no regrets!!), Maggie visited Maddie and her family in Texas. Wearing shiny cowboy boots and a blue dress, Maggie blended in with the masses of people who were lined up to watch the day’s events. No one would have guessed that she hails from suburban Massachusetts — until she opened her mouth. “Yeehaw and howdy y’all! Let’s ride in pick up trucks and go down dirt roads…. with cows!” she said to nobody as Maddie and Maggie entered the rodeo. Born and raised in Texas (kind-of), Maddie knew what was to come — barbeque, baked beans and bull-riding. The lady sitting next to Maggie ferociously gobbled on a turkey leg slathered in barbeque sauce. Maggie (a devout flexitarian — google it) ner vously asked Maddie if they ser ved tofu (also google it) with a similar sauce. They didn’t. But you know who does have tofu AND barbeque sauce? FOCO! Life lesson — FoCo brings all sorts of people together no matter what your family background is. In this issue, we will explore different parenting styles, the M.R.S. degree and first-generation college students. There is also a quirky piece on what the parents do when the kids leave the nest. Bon appetit! — OL MADS and LIL MAGS
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MIRROR R MIRROR EDITORS MADDIE BROWN MAGGIE SHIELDS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF KATIE McKAY
PUBLISHER JUSTIN LEVINE
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EXECUTIVE EDITORS LUKE McCANN JESSICA AVITABILE
B y CASIDHE-NICOLE BETHANCOURT
To be honest, I thought I had it all figured it out. Being dropped off by my parents in the middle of New Hampshire was definitely nerve-wracking, but every one was in the same boat, right? I had a plan, and it was simple — school, friends, sleep and repeat. That was definitely doable. But I write this from a place of preciously secured wisdom that has been bestowed upon me as a member of the next graduating class. From this vantage point, I see how completely out-of-touch this so-called plan actually was. It did not factor in any kind of living — and by living I mean the sometimes dirty, messy, beautiful, ridiculous life events that occur without warning. At the time, the plan was all I had. I thought college was a neat little formula I could plug myself into and complete within the allotted four years. That first day I was excited about who I was, and I knew exactly where I was going. I saw four years ahead of me, four years and the opportunity to make of them whatever I decided. So I went on from that first day, and I decided some of these four years. Some aspects of my time here, though, I very much stumbled upon, and others I blatantly just crashed into. Example — my first exam in a Dartmouth course went so poorly that it was literally off the curve. Not only had this had never happened to me before, it had probably never happened to any of my peers either. It was impossible for me to believe. Classes were difficult and required real, committed work — and that work did not stop in the classroom. There were extracurriculars, volunteering, research, social obligations, meals to be had and even the need to get the occasional full night’s sleep. It was exhausting. The strange part was that everyone else seemed to be doing it so effortlessly — I could not understand what I was doing wrong. In my experience, there is something about being in New Hampshire, tucked into the Upper Valley in the town of Hanover that produces an idyllic glaze. As my freshman year went on, I realized that there was an interesting dichotomy between the charm of small town college life and my reality as a Dartmouth student. There were things people did not discuss, like the reason some choose to drink to the point of oblivion or engage in whatever harmful activity was considered the norm. Who creates these unachievable norms of perfection that we all
Presumably a ’19, at KAF: “Can I use a meal swipe?”
“Something funny someone said ’16: “I’m too old to shotgun a beer.” in Collis that one night.” —Drunk 17
PREETI RISHI / THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
Casidhe-Nicole Bethancourt ’16 reflects on lessons learned during her time at Dartmouth. seem to strive for? I realized most people were not simply coasting through their time here in an effortless glide, and even more alarming, an increasingly large amount of people seemed to be struggling. Not just struggling academically, but socially as well, trying to answer huge questions like who they were and what that meant in the scheme of this place — and the world. The stress of it all was debilitating. Personally, during the spring term of 2015, I felt like I was drowning most of the time. After having spent the two previous terms away from Hanover, I was eager to return to a campus that I considered my second home. In those terms away, in the so-called “real world,” I had challenged myself and succeeded. I felt empowered and in control of my path. Yet, somehow, within weeks of returning, I was reduced to feeling small and powerless. Everything seemed to be tumbling out of control and there were times where I had no idea where to even begin with fixing what seemed to be falling apart. My anxiety was the highest it had ever been. I seemed to be unable to go more than a week without crying over something. The worst was trying to hide these feelings, particularly because most people who know me as such an upbeat person. It got better when I started reaching out to people for help. When I al-
lowed myself to vulnerable, as terrifying as it was at the time, I actually found support, comfort and love from the people around me. I have come to realize that this network of support is how we should deal with all the messy things about life that get in the way of our so-called pre-planned and outlined college experiences. The superficiality of “being fine” is a phenomenon that does nothing but serve as an impetus for harmful norms and behaviors. I have learned to speak to others, to really discuss what excites me and what frightens me. I have realized my anxieties, though a quirk, make up who I am and what I strive to be. A brilliant professor of mine frequently comments that we all have a thing — a thing that seems a little odd to others. I think college is identifying that thing and working with it. As a freshman, I had read the blogs and books, but what I did not know was that college was supposed to teach about the actual world — things you do not necessarily learn and cannot necessarily learn in a classroom. The greatest lesson has been how to stumble, how to fall, with elegance and grace and even courage. It is the knowledge that everyone falls. That everyone has a thing that makes that feel a little out of control. That it is okay to feel that way at times. Things are difficult because they matter. Most importantly, I have learned that all we have is one another.
’18: “To be a Jewish nun all you have to do is be a Jew who doesn’t have sex, so you’re halfway there” Other’18:“IthinkI’mallthewaythere...”
‘16: “This is Dartmouth, not Princeton. You need to learn how to drink.”
’16: “Did you know who Cecil the Lion was before he died?”“Something funny someOther ‘16: “I don’t know who half oneStudent said in in Collis KAFthat line:one “Adderall is of the ’16s are, why the hell would one of my biggest17 assets.” night.” —Drunk I know a lion in Zimbabwe?” Check out Overheards and Trending@Dartmouth on
Binky Flees the Nest The Life of Empty-Nesters Dialogue
MIRROR //3
Trending D @ RTMOUTH
B y Mary-liza hartong and andrew kingsley
*Binky and his parents, Judith and Richard, stand on the front steps of their home. Binky wears a Dartmouth T-shirt and a frame pack. His parents fight back tears.*
some fun without me. Richard: Fun? That’s Satan’s word. Judith: As is moist. And Ke$ha. Binky: K bye.
Binky: I know transitions are hard, and I know you’re scared, but I promise you’re going to be just fine. Think of all the friends you’re going to make. And all the opportunities you’ll have. Besides, it will be Christmas vacation before you know it! Judith: We’re scared. Binky: I know you are. Richard: I feel lost here, and I don’t know where anything is. Binky: Dad, it’s the same house. I’m just going to Dartmouth. Haven’t you guys been alone at the house before? When I was at school? Sleepovers? Richard: There was that one time when you went outside to pick up the newspaper, remember? We were alone for three minutes. We sent out an Amber Alert. Judith: We thought you were dead. Binky: I’m not. I’m just going to college. You’ll be fine without me. Judith: We can’t live without our Pookie! Who will leave dirty socks around the house for me to pick up? And dirty dishes in the sink? And dirty movies on the family computer? It’s not like I have hobbies, sweetie. Richard: Of course we don’t have hobbies. What are we, Amish? You can’t just up and leave. What, am I just supposed to tell boring golf stories to the cornflakes? I bet the Tony the Tiger would love advice about bowties, condoms and V8 engines. He’s successful, and he didn’t leave his loving family to go to hoity-toity Dartmouth University. Judith: What a standup cat. Now, he’s successful, and he didn’t leave his family all alone in Iowa to go to some hoity-toity Dartmouth Academy for Negligent Sons! Binky: It’s Dartmouth College, Mom. Judith: EVEN WORSE! Binky: I have to get on the bus. Tr y to have
*Binky boards the bus with glee. Richard and Judith look on with horror. The sky darkens.* Judith: So what do you want to do? Richard: Golf beer? Brag cufflinks? Cholesterol snore? Judith, I don’t even know who I am anymore. Judith: Pull yourself together, Richard. We could always make another one. Richard: My back hurts, and I have a long day at work tomorrow. Judith: Ok, we won’t do that, but let’s do something fun. It’s what Binky would want. Richard: What did we say about that word, Judith? He’s dead to me now. I have no son. Only lies. Judith: What do we do with his room? Richard: A wet bar? Judith: Yoga studio? Craft room? Sex dungeon? Richard: What? Judith: Six onions. Richard: That’s what I thought. Let’s have lasagna tonight. Judith: You read my mind. *Three hours later* Judith, holding a blue onesie: He was so little! Richard: I remember his first word. Judith: Yes, it was, “waaaaaahhhh.” And he projected! A real thespian. Richard: He was so gifted. I feel so alone! Judith: There’s a production of “Cats” playing at the midtown theater. That’ll cheer us up. Richard: You think? Judith: Sure! Maybe it’ll be a gateway musical. We’ll start going to the opera and then
poetr y readings and then Paris! Richard: I’m game if you are. Judith: Deal. *Three months later: Binky returns.*
Saturday Classes Just No.
*Doorbell rings.* Binky: Mom! Dad! It’s me. Judith *opens door*: Richard, there’s a man at the door to see you. Richard: I’m watching the game. Tell him we’re not buying. We already have knives. Binky: Mom, it’s me. Judith: Doesn’t ring a bell. Binky: I literally just rang a bell. Judith: He’s aggressive. Richard, come here. Richard: Fine already. What’s your problem, kid? Binky: It’s me, Binky. Tinkie Wink. Honey bunny funny money. Baby bean burrito boy. Cookie pookie monster crispy critterkins. Tracy. Your son. Richard: We don’t have a son. Judith: We raise greyhounds. I’m barren, you see. Richard: It’s a sore subject. You should go. Binky: I live here. Judith: And I can have children. We all have dreams. Richard: Run along, sonny. Binky: I AM YOUR SON. Look, this is my birth certificate. Judith: He taunts me. Richard: Do you enjoy upsetting your mother like this? Judith: After all I’ve done for you. Binky: Yes! You are my mother. I do enjoy upsetting you. Richard: Go to your room. You’re grounded, Slinky. Binky: Close enough! There’s no place like home! *Binky goes to his room, only to find it filled with greyhounds.*
Fall clothing Bye bye sandals and sundresses
Homework I guess we also have to do school sometimes.
Farmer’s Market If I knew I’d have to wait a week for another batch, I would’ve gotten the jumbo-sized kettle korn…
Pre-Rush Cover Photo Candids, hiking group photos, Greek letters in the comments.
Girl flirting “I’m just so excited for rush!”
Guy Flirting (see above)
KATE HERRINGTON / THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
Mary-Liza Hartong ’16 and Andrew Kingsley ’16 a.k.a. Judith and Richard don’t know what to do when Little Binky goes to school.
A Ring By Spring
An Investigation of the Perception of the M.R.S. Degr STORY
Before walking into The Mirror’s weekly stor y assignment meeting last week, the so-called “M.R.S. Degree” was a completely unfamiliar concept to me. The meaning wasn’t exactly hard to discern after an introduction to the idea from my editors and a few context clues, but even then I was confused — does such a thing still exist in our seemingly modern and progressive times? The term — a play on the common honorific for married women — is used to describe a female undergraduate who attends a four-year college with the sole purpose of finding a husband, often with the intention of achieving a long-awaited dream of becoming a housewife and stayat-home mom after graduation. Historically at least, many of the M.R.S. candidates left their respective colleges after finding Mr. Right, often before finishing their studies. Even for those who did leave with an undergraduate degree, the goal was to also to leave with an engagement ring or wedding band. Women’s, gender and sexuality studies professor Giavanna Munafo noted that the term stems from traditional views about what a family unit should look like. “Historically, it’s presumed that the understanding would be women looking for men, a typical breadwinner role for a family in all of these traditional ways that we think about par tnership and family,” she said. Although I have previously mused, as I’m sure many of us have, on how a potential family would align with my future career plans, the idea that I would put for th the ef for t to attend college simply for the end goal of getting married, not to mention forgoing any professional oppor tunities, is a foreign one to me. Munafo said she had heard the term used as an old stereotype and joke, and once I had a grasp on the idea of an M.R.S degree, I would have expressed a similar idea — at least at first. The whole concept doesn’t seem like something that would fit into discussions in 2015. Yet, perhaps my lack of exposure to the degree isn’t necessarily because its outdated, but instead it may have some-
B y Caroline Berens
thing to do with my New England background. As it turns out, the term is still ver y much in existence for some. After inter viewing several students, it appears the term tends to be more frequently used in the South, par ticularly in association with larger state schools. Aaron Cheese ’18, who is originally from Atlanta, corroborated this. “The only real interaction I’ve had with [the M.R.S. degree] is when I’m back home,” Cheese said. “Girls would talk about going to a big state school and only going in order to find a husband.” Claire Beskin ’16, who also hails from the Georgia capital, noted that she had also heard the term back at home in high school, but said she believes most people were speaking about it in jest. Although Cheese likewise noted that he doesn’t know how seriously the notion is discussed, he said it’s preponderance is likely due to a dif ferent culture in the South, one he perceives where people tend to “go to school to go to school.” He said that the case is dif ferent at an institution like Dar tmouth. “I think [the M.R.S. degree] probably exists a little bit here, but I don’t think it’s a prevalent par t of our culture in any way,” Cheese said. Beskin spoke dif ferently, saying that she didn’t think the perception of the degree was distinctly dif ferent in the South than here in Hanover. She suggested that dif ferent familial dynamics, as she has seen, could perhaps engender a more frequent use of the word. “My perception coming here to Dar tmouth from Atlanta is that many more students here come from families where their mom worked, where back in Atlanta, a lot of my friends had stay-at-home moms,” Beskin said. Beskin noted, though, that many of her friends from home have career ambitions just as much as students here and don’t intend to be stay-at-home moms themselves. Samantha Cooper ’18 expressed a similar sentiment. “I think it’s uncommon for girls
to seek that out nowadays, especially at a school like this,” Cooper said. Cooper, in fact, opined that the idea is antiquated and even obsolete. “I think of it something from my parents’ era,” Cooper said. “Nobody would ever say that — I cer tainly wouldn’t — and I don’t know anyone who would choose a college for the express purpose of finding a husband.” Cheese said that he believes attending a highly selective school with such priorities would be hugely wasteful, especially since admissions are so competitive. He questioned why someone would invest a significant amount of money and time to learn material that would never be useful to them. “It’s taking a spot away from someone at an elite institution, and you’re wasting your time, your college’s time, wasting a lot of money,” Cheese said. For Cheese, the allure of an M.R.S. degree isn’t something to be proud of, and he noted that he would be extremely disappointed to hear a friend at Dar tmouth speak about her ambitions in such a way. Regina Yan ’19 spoke similarly, saying that she would be perplexed to find a student in the mindset of only searching for spouses here on campus. “I would be confused, because traditionally you go to college to learn and acquire the skills necessar y for a future career,” Yan said. Yan said, though, if someone told her that they their top priority was to find a husband at Dar tmouth, she would be suppor tive. “I’d say, more power to her,” Yan said. Cooper noted that if you put in the ef for t to get accepted to a school like Dar tmouth, you might as well use your talents and abilities instead of hunting for a spouse. “I’d say, you must have something more to of fer [professionally] if you got in here,” Cooper said. Munafo said that such ambitions could be perceived derogatorily here at the
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College, simply because of students’ passion and excitement for intellectualism and knowledge. “I guess any suggestion that there’s more than a ver y rare bird at Dar tmouth who would come here, enroll in classes, go through what it takes to be a Dar tmouth student with the primar y goal of finding a spouse, seems a little absurd to me,” Munafo said. Munafo said she hasn’t encountered many, if any, students who she believes would fit such a stereotype. Noting the term’s heteronormativity, she said that she believes that’s true of students of any gender or sexuality. “For any person of any gender or any sexual orientation, it seems that it would be out of step with what’s really going on with campus culture,” Munafo said. The term and its implications, however, are not foreign to campuses at elite colleges. In March 2013, Princeton University’s Class of 1977 president Susan Patton penned a letter to the editor in the Daily Princetonian urging the university’s female freshmen to spend their four years on finding a suitable husband rather than solely on professional aspirations. Much of her advice was centered on the notion that the undergraduates needed to capitalize on the concentrated brilliance and ambition surrounding them, as their options for spouses would be much slimmer after college. Patton’s remarks were met with significant controversy and backlash, seen as highly of fensive, sexist and outrageous. Patton herself was labeled an anti-feminist by many writers and activists. Despite af firming that they thoroughly disagreed with her foundational claims, Cooper and Yan said cer tain aspects of her advice contained some measure of truth. “It is true you’ll never again be in an area where it’s so easy to meet people who are your relative age and have similar goals to you,” Cooper said. She noted that it is illogical to completely rule out meeting your potential spouse in college.
Yan spoke similarly, explaining that the oppor tunities to meet a spouse are greater in college, where one is, ostensibly, surrounded by a large group of likeminded people. “College is a good place to explore because you’re on your own, you can make your own decisions, you’re with a new group of people,” Yan said. “And those people must have some similar qualities to you if you’re at the same school.” Cheese, although noting that to some extent many students are interested in finding their future spouse in college, said he found Patton’s attitude that girls ought to capitalize on the intelligence of men around them pretentious and toxic. “It’s ver y elitist,” Cheese said. “Just not a good mindset to have.” He noted that it loosely reminded him of eugenics, the notion that the human population should be improved through higher rates of reproduction between people with desirable characteristics. “It seems to me almost like eugenics, so to speak, like the cream of the crop — putting a bunch of people together and choosing a spouse only from that pool,” Cheese said. He also noted that college is a formative time intended for people to find themselves, and that would be rendered impossible if they dedicated their time solely to finding spouses. Despite the unusually high rate of marriage between Dar tmouth graduates — allegedly 10 percent in 2012 — Cooper and Yan also pointed out logistical barriers to a woman aiming to leave the College with a husband rather than a degree. Besides the possibility that people could meet significant others in places besides Hanover during their time at Dar tmouth, Yan also remarked that some people come into college already dating someone. Fur thermore, Yan noted the D-Plan’s notorious disastrous ef fect on potential relationships. “From what I’ve heard it’s ver y dif ficult to have long-term relationships
here because of the D-Plan — you’re not guaranteed to spend an entire year with someone, and for that reason I don’t think it’s feasible,” Yan said of coming to Dar tmouth with such a purpose. Cooper also explained that with the college hook-up culture, simply establishing a lasting relationship would be dif ficult. “Since dating isn’t as much a par t of college anymore, I think it’d be harder to star t with,” Cooper said. Although the goals associated with an M.R.S. degree might seem unsuitable or even impractical here, Beskin and Munafo said that such domestic ambitions are as appreciable as career-oriented aspirations. Beskin said that she knows some students here who plan to stay home with their kids — after perhaps working for a few years out of college — and such desires ought to be given deference. “I have friends here who want to be a stay-at-home mom, and that’s a perfectly respectable choice,” Beskin said. Beskin noted, though, that for most of her friends here, “work is in the cards.” Munafo spoke similarly, saying that we shouldn’t judge someone for whom finding a spouse in college was a top priority. “If there’s any par ticular individual for whom that was a priority, there may be a perfectly reasonable way to understand that person’s world and experiences, without having to judge that,” Munafo said. Ultimately, Munafo said, although in her opinion the ambitions associated with the M.R.S. degree wouldn’t match up with the “vast majority” of college students today, it’s natural for such questions to arise. “It is a time in life when people are thinking, ‘Who do I want to be with? Who am I attracted to? Who do I want to forge a relationship with that might stand the test of time? Who might I want to have a family with, however that family might be comprised?’” Munafo said. NORA MASLER / THE DARTMOUTH
6// MIRROR
First in the Family
First-Generation Students Reflect on Family Story
B y Julianna Docking
In high school, many of our parents had a basic knowledge of our day-to-day experiences and struggles out of sheer convenience. For many of us it was effor tless to come home, eat a snack in the kitchen and mindlessly tell our parents how the biology test went — because we had commiserated about it at 2 a.m. the night before — or talk about our per formance in the track meet — because we had just walked into the house in uniform. Before we flew the nest and tried to create lives on our own, it made sense for parents to know about our lives because, simply put, they were there. College, however, is dif ferent. Now we schedule phone calls in between our classes, “sorr y can’t talk right now” text messages with explanations that we are at the librar y and FaceTime calls tr ying to describe our clubs that are “kinda hard to explain.” When we’re no longer living under the same roof as our parents, for many of us, the intricacies of our lives inevitably and sadly become a bit foreign to our loved ones. Despite this disconnect, many of us have parents who can use their own college experiences as comfor ting references for what our day-to-day lives are like here in Hanover. For the about 10 percent of the student body ever y year, who have parents who went to Dartmouth, these comparisons are even easier. The vast majority of the student body has parents who attended four-year institutions. Although these parents might not fully understand the College’s quirks — the D-Plan, the quar ter system, DOC First-Year Trips, flair and Late Night Collis — they can connect to college in general as a phase of life that they themselves once experienced. They had their own late-night cram sessions, of fice hours, extra curricular activities and campus culture. They understand, in a ver y basic sense, what these four years of our lives will entail because they themselves have lived through their own version of it, no matter how long ago. But what about those parents who have not? The New York Times published an Aug. 22 column by Jennine Capó Crucet, an author and assistant professor of English and ethnic studies at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, in which she described her adjustment to life at Cornell University as a first-generation college student coming from a family with no knowledge of higher education. She wrote, “My grades were the first of many elements of my new life for which they had no context and which they wouldn’t understand. With each semester, what I was doing became, for them, as indecipherable as that paper topic — they didn’t even know what questions to ask.” Cr ucet’s account of her adjustment raises the question — what impact does attending college, especially an Ivy League university, have on first-generation students’ relationships with their parents? I sat down with several first-generation students and, predictably, found that there was no universal answer to this question.
Instead, I heard students’ remarkably distinct stories, with common threads woven throughout, detailing parents’ sacrifices, students’ motivation to achieve and the mutual desire in both parents and students to understand each other’s divergent experiences. Amber Webb ’18, a first-generation college student from a small town in Oklahoma, said that she has often felt a dichotomy between home life and academics, and that the split became more apparent during the college application process. Her mother did not graduate from high school, and her dad went to a trade school to become an electrician. “[They] didn’t really know anything about my ACT score — they didn’t know that it was notable,” she said. “They didn’t know the score I got was pretty high.” Webbs’ parents have always placed great impor tance on practicality, and she said that coming to Dar tmouth and attending a liberal ar ts environment where she is encouraged to branch out of her academic comfor t zone has at times been hard to explain to her parents. “It’s a hurdle for them to jump when I am telling them about which classes I’m taking because a lot of my classes aren’t ‘practical’ classes,” she said. “They’re like, ‘you’re taking a women and gender studies class, you can’t get a job with that!’” Teresa Alvarado-Patlan ’19, another first-generation student, described similar experiences, saying that pragmatism is of the utmost impor tance to her parents. Like Webb, she said that her parents have assumptions about the usefulness and practicality of a liberal ar ts education, and at times it can be dif ficult to adhere to their standards. “When I was younger, I would say I wanted to be a photographer, and my father said that he wanted me to be a neurosurgeon,” Alvarado-Patlan said. “[My father] said, ‘You’re not going to make money being a photographer.’” Alvarado-Patlan’s father grew up with 10 siblings in Mexico in a low-income household and often tells her about the exhausting days waking up at five in the morning to walk six miles to school. Although Teresa’s father graduated from his high school class as valedictorian, he could not af ford to go to college. “There is a divide just by me being here, because at my age my mom was married and taking care of her siblings,” AlvaradoPatlan said. “My dad was already working,” While Amber said that her conversations with her parents rarely center around Dartmouth-related topics, Alvarado-Patlan said that she does not want to keep her life at school and life at home separate. “I am going to go home and say that Dar tmouth is amazing because it really is,” she said. “Even if they don’t fully understand, [my parents] will want to hear about ever ything.” Yadira Torres ’19, who is from Orange County, California, said that she is currently still figuring out how the transition to college will influence her relationship with her mother. She said that there are small things that her mom does not understand
JESSICA FEDIN /THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
First-Generation Student Yadira Torres ‘19 is figuring out how to transition to college. about life at college, such as her course schedule. When Torres told her mom that she was taking the standard three courses this term, her mom asked, “’Why so little?’” Tor res, like other students I interviewed, said that even though her parents did not attend college, they are constantly striving to understand their child’s life at a post-secondar y institution. “[My mother] will want to hear about the things she can understand. She will ask, ‘How are classes going? Do you like the class? Do you like the atmosphere?,’” Torres said. Cesar Rufino ’18, the oldest of four siblings and the first person in his family to go to college, agrees that his relationship with his parents is increasingly based upon their desire to understand his life as a college student since matriculating. “The thing about first-generation parents is, yes they’re protective, but they’re extremely helpful,” he said. “They might not necessarily know what goes on on a daily basis in a young American student’s life, but they tr y their best to get through that barrier and ask, ‘How was your day? What did you do? How are your classes?’” Rufino said that while he is able to get an education and look at long-term goals, his parents did not have the same experience. “When [my parents] were kids, [they] had to look at the shor t term,” Rufino said. “They didn’t look so much at how to be successful, but how to stay above the pover ty line,” Rufino said. While Rufino said he feels incredibly lucky to be the first of his family to attend college, he echoed other students’ sentiments that being the first one in the family
to attend college can feel odd and slightly isolating at times. “Being the first in my family to go to college out of all my siblings, it’s a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing ’cause I’m here, but I do feel like a guinea pig sometimes,” he said, laughing. Although he is in some ways the outlier, or “guinea pig,” as he put it, in his family, Rufino said that since leaving for college he has gained a greater understanding of his parents and their life struggles. He said it was good for him leave home for college because when he returned home this summer and saw what his parents did, he felt a whole new appreciation and desire to help them. “There are so many ways in which I can help out the family, but they know it’s pretty stressful at school and they tr y not to bother me,” he said. “I always tell them, ‘No! I don’t mind at all. I don’t mind hearing from you guys and ordering something on Amazon. I don’t mind reading a contract for you guys.’ I don’t mind doing any of that because of what they’ve done for me.” Many of the students spoke of the immense and inevitable pressure they feel to succeed for the sake of their families and the sacrifices made to get them here, but Rufino said that throughout freshman year this pressure to succeed has slowly transformed into drive. His eyes light up when he speaks of how his mom and dad inspire him to do his best ever yday at school. “First-generation parents aim, I feel, harder than any other parent to make sure that their children do not live the same life that they did,” he said. “And that is really, really power ful. That is something to motivate me.”
MIRROR //7
JOE KIND, A GUY
COLUMN
By Sam Van Wetter
SCENE: Reed 105. S--T TOGETHER SAM is neatly seated with a notebook and pencil. A KAF beverage steams in his eco-friendly, washable and reusable BPA-free mug. His hair looks clean, and his outfit is on fleek. CALAMITY SAM careens into the room. He is bleary-eyed and attempting to swallow a Novack bagel whole.
COLUMN By Joe Kind
What a week. Senior year is here, and boy is it here to stay. After talking a bit about my adjustments to the beginning of college, it is only fitting that I divulge briefly into my end-of-college observations. I returned to Hanover mid-day Tuesday, Sept. 15. I had flown on my umpteenth red-eye, sweetly asleep thanks to my good friend Ambien. I had found and chatted with familiar faces last seen long ago, in both the San Francisco and Boston airports. What else can a Dartmouth senior expect? I mean, really. I had my “senior” moment early on into arriving on campus — that instant realization of newfound seniority sweeping over like a crashing ocean wave. Unanticipated, strong and beautiful. I was hauling my boxes on those bulky trolleys from North Fay to the River Apartments. These trolleys are somewhat shaky, largely due to aging wheels and stubborn handles. They aren’t exactly ideal compared to a car, but they get the job done. On any other hot summer afternoon, pushing a full trolley across the Green and down Tuck Drive would prove cumbersome, to put it mildly. Somewhere around the Blunt Alumni Center, though, I paused. Hands gripped hard into the trolley’s side rails, my body straightened. My nostrils opened for a hefty breath, and I realized that I had not felt a single stream of sweat running down my back. A cool, calm confidence suddenly took over my body. I was a senior, self-assured and finally ready. Out of nowhere, I physically felt great, like I could have moved boxes all around campus for a living — maybe even enjoy doing it. And then I saw heavyweight rowers heaving my roommates’ full beds up three flights of stairs. My senior self relished in the first impressions of my on-campus apartment. I was greeted with my roommates’ usual friendliness, and I loved the vibes of the open common room and kitchen. But as soon as I opened the door to my single, everything felt wrong. I had coincidentally just read a random internet article on my phone about the basics of feng shui, and I knew right away that the pre-existing layout of the room was not going to satisfy me and my inner chi. I spent the rest of my free time that day contemplating new ways to arrange the bed, bookshelf, desk and dresser. And at the end of it all, I could feel my senior self recoiling. There was still so much to unpack and so much to buy for the room and the apartment — let alone the classes that needed to be settled, the job applications that needed to be started (and submitted!), the almost-executed plans to catch up with good friends and everything in between.
SAM’S LITTLE LARKS
Their order of importance still bounces around frantically in my head of newly cut hair. In spite of the relative ease with which I have embraced the first few days of 15F, I still haven’t unpacked. Several boxes sit on various edges of my walls, waiting to be opened and examined and emptied. My three roommates, meanwhile, have all folded up their empty boxes and tucked them away under their beds. Their walls are adorned with new posters and old photographs. Their desks have been transformed into a minimalist’s dream. Their singles are vibrant and complete and utterly them. I pulled a similar stunt many years ago, when my family moved houses. My parents bought a three-floored house five minutes away from our cozy one-floored apartment. We moved in 2003. I remember making the announcement to my teachers and classmates one spring Monday. We were starting the week as any other in third grade — in a circle, sitting criss-cross applesauce, of course. I announced my family’s move to wide little eyes. “You’re leaving?!” They asked me. “No,” I clarified. “We’re just moving to a different neighborhood. I’ll be here next year.” I guess I told the news with a bit of commotion. When we first moved into that new house off of Geary Boulevard, I happily accepted my new larger bedroom — but I refused to unpack. I wasn’t ready to give up my old house and the memories I would be leaving there. I am old enough to realize now that moving into a new room on campus does not require any kind of memory sacrifice. I tell myself that my hesitancy to furnish my new living space is most likely a projection of my anxieties for change, only repurposed from my third-grade behavior. This year’s arrival to campus marks not only a hesitancy to really take on the inevitable changes to come in the coming year, but also a sheepish refusal to embrace the fact that the changes to come later this year will only lead to more changes next year. The result: a living space marked by paralysis. My attending college was, thankfully, never a question — more so an easy way out of the most difficult decisions I will face in my future. The next time I will be packing my things, I will be leaving Dartmouth for a while. On to bigger and better things, so they say. I’ll likely return for my class reunions, but who knows? In allowing myself to unpack this year, I will have to accept the inevitable fate for which that I am not at all prepared. Becoming a senior is a physical and emotional adjustment in and of itself. I’ll eventually decorate my walls, I’m sure of it. And I’ll eventually put the pieces of my future together, too.
CALAMITY SAM: Where’s the prof? S--T TOGETHER SAM: Not here yet. CALAMITY: Thank god. I’ve been an absolute bag of smash today. You know how it goes. S--T TOGETHER: I can’t say I do. CALAMITY: No prof, no class, right? Let’s go. S--T TOGETHER: (Checking his watch) She has another 19 minutes. CALAMITY: Who does? S--T TOGETHER: Our prof. If she’s not here in 19 minutes, we can leave. CALAMITY: No way. Fifteen minute rule, which has expired. S--T TOGETHER: Thirty minutes, minimum. It’s only polite. CALAMITY: That’s bonkers. A cancelled class is like, the best thing in the world. S--T TOGETHER: That’s a horrible thing to say. What in the world would you rather be doing than sitting in class on a beautiful fall day? CALAMITY: Oh, it’s not what I’d rather do, it’s all the stuff that could be done but I don’t have time to do. Like, I could go for a run! Or clean my room! Or go to Rauner and look at pictures of hot lumberjacks who went to Dartmouth in the 1950s! S--T TOGETHER: We are here to learn. CALAMITY: Of course we are, but there’s a lot of other stuff we have to do, too. And a cancelled class is an hour when you can do anything. S--T TOGETHER: You could start next week’s reading. CALAMITY: I should finish today’s first. S--T TOGETHER: You didn’t do the reading??? CALAMITY: I skimmed. Most of it. S--T TOGETHER: There’s no excuse for not doing the reading. CALAMITY: It’s been a real beast of a week. I lost my water bottle. S--T TOGETHER: What does that have to do with your homework? CALAMITY: I had it on Friday night, and when I woke up Saturday it had disappeared. Like, vanished. Maybe my room ate it, or someone took it or I put it somewhere while I was sleepwalking. But it’s been torturing me — everywhere I look I think I see it. I’ve been checking in the most ridiculous places: in potted plants and cupboards I’ve never opened before, just in case it’s there. S--T TOGETHER: I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose something. CALAMITY: You’ve never lost something? S--T TOGETHER: Never. CALAMITY: Never nothing? S--T TOGETHER: Never nothing. CALAMITY: A single sock? S--T TOGETHER: Nope. CALAMITY: Your temper? S--T TOGETHER: No. CALAMITY: Your cell phone in your bed? S--T TOGETHER: I literally don’t understand how that’s possible. CALAMITY: Don’t get me wrong — I’m not the kind of person who loses things. Or I didn’t use to be. Ever since I came to Dartmouth, though, things seem to disappear. Usually I can get over it. Like, if I lose a shirt or a fracket, I just hope someone else finds it and loves it as much as I did. But my water bottle is different. It’s a part of me. I just hope that if anyone finds a white opaque Nalgene covered in stickers with an orange shoelace leash, they’ll turn it in to the Collis info desk so I can get it back. I keep looking in the same places, under my chair and where I thought I
last had it, closing my eyes real tight *He closes his eyes real tight* and willing it to appear right here right away. *He opens his eyes to reveal SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE shimmering, mirage-like, on the table before them.* SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: Hey, Sam. CALAMITY: Hey, bottle buddy. SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: Miss me? CALAMITY: Stupid amounts. SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: We’ve had some good times together, haven’t we? CALAMITY: We did everything together. SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: I carried water… CALAMITY: And I carried you. SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: You’re never gonna have another bottle like me. CALAMITY: I only want you! I only want you forever! SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: Later, loser. CALAMITY: What? Come back! SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: You lost me, loser. I’m out. CALAMITY: But I want you! I need you! A CHORUS OF LOST WATER BOTTLES: He’s one of us now, Sam. He’s never coming back. CALAMITY: Come on, bottle buddy! Don’t do this! SAM’S LOST WATER BOTTLE: I’m sorry, Sam. I’m one of them now. And once something is lost… A CHORUS OF LOST WATER BOTTLES: It’s never coming back. *They roll away together, laughing.* S--T TOGETHER: Wow. That was rude. CALAMITY: You think you know a guy… S--T TOGETHER: Tell me about it. *Pause. They think about all the water bottles they’ve ever sipped from. Where are they now?* The prof’s only got another minute. She needs to come. CALAMITY: It’s chill, dude. I hope she doesn’t schedule an x-hour. S--T TOGETHER: No it’s really not “chill.” This can’t be the first. CALAMITY: First what? S--T TOGETHER: I’m only a freshman! This isn’t fair! CALAMITY: Settle down, dude. S--T TOGETHER: It’s approaching! It’s here!! A LOST LEARNING OPPORTUNITY: Which one of you thinks they have their S--T together? S--T TOGETHER: I do! I promise! That’s who I am! A LOST LEARNING OPPORTUNITY: Well I’m here to say… Later, loser! S--T TOGETHER: No! I’m not a loser! A LOST LEARNING OPPORTUNITY: That’s what they all say. But once something is lost… A CHORUS OF LOST LEARNING OPPORTUNITIES: It’s never coming back. S--T TOGETHER: *Crying hysterically* No! CALAMITY: Hey, hey it’ll be okay. S--T TOGETHER: Is this what Dartmouth feels like? CALAMITY: Yeah, but only sometimes. Let’s go jump in the river.
8// MIRROR ALISON GUH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
What Would Your Parents Say? An examination of different parenting styles STORY
B y SYDNEY HOUSE
While the transition to college isn’t easy for anyone, some students have a more difficult time adapting than others — some have trouble handling the college workload or spending their first few weeks away from friends and family, while others often struggle with meeting new people or making time for each commitment they take on. We all adjust and grow at different rates, but it’s undeniable that each student’s unique upbringing plays a significant role in how they adapt to his or her new environment. After all, for many of us, our parents were the ones who spent 18 years grooming us to be responsible, trustworthy adults. Not all parents are created equally, however, and some will play much more active roles in the lives of their children than others. Some experts see this overreaching or overbearing parental situation as a generational phenomenon. In an interview for an Aug. 31 article for The Chronicle of Higher Education, “An Epidemic of Anguish,” director of the counseling center at Appalachian State University Dan Jones criticizes students of our generation for being less resilient and more dependent on others. “They haven’t developed skills in how to soothe themselves, because their parents have solved all their problems and removed the obstacles,” Jones said in the article. Some say parents are now coddling their children more than ever, and many do so with the hope that their own son or daughter could win a coveted spot in an elite institution. Rather than letting their children fend for themselves and find the right path on their own, some parents want to carefully craft their children to be the absolute best. The media has even coined terms for these highly involved parents — tiger parents or helicopter parents. While it may be difficult for current students to reflect on whether they’re being pampered more than their parents might have been as children, many students felt the difference that came with being a college student without a parent around to motivate and push them. Pete Tran ’18 was one of those students who felt that tough transition when he first matriculated. In a similar vein to what Jones wrote, he said he was used to his parents helping him solve problems. “When you’re used to always talking a decision process out, independence was overwhelming at first,” Tran said. Tran’s sentiments were echoed by several students, who said that their parents had played a large role in motivating them to try new things and giving advice on how they should spend their time. Mike Perkins ’18, for example, said he has felt the absence of his parents in both his academics and extracurricular activities. “My mom was a big proponent of getting involved. We would take on projects like donating bagels to the homeless shelter,” Perkins said. “In college, I don’t have her around to push me.” Sometimes parents are just there to motivate students, but some also act as a resource for bouncing ideas off and discussing ideas for new interests and ways to spend free time outside of the classroom. Alexa Green ’19 remembers brainstorming ideas of activities to get involved in with her parents at the dinner table. “It’s definitely been overwhelming starting my freshman year juggling clubs and sports and deciding whether to try the new things versus doing the old activities,” Green said. Finding themselves without parents or some other form of authority living in the same home, students found various ways to fill in the gap left behind in trying to find a new, independent life. Tran found friends that acted as mentors for him because he was used to discussing his decisions with others. The lack of guidance and authority in a parental figure, however, can also lead to students feeling overwhelmed and isolated at times. Without something there to motivate them, students said they had to find the ability to make decisions and solve problems on their own. “I went with the crowd a lot last year, but now I’m learning to make decisions for myself,” Tran said.
Perkins reiterated a similar point, and said he believes his freshman year forced him to learn to become intrinsically motivated. Not having someone there to motivate him, he said, was detrimental to his grade point average and overall academic performance. This newfound independence that came with separating oneself from highly-involved parents wasn’t, however, limited to the classroom. Along with it came the responsibility and privilege of choosing how one spent their free-time and the ability to choose what activities they would be involved in. Growing up, Tran was unable to participate in extracurriculars or athletics unless his parents gave him permission. He spent most of his afternoons taking care of his brother, who has autism. Tran looked forward to college as an opportunity to get involved in extracurricular activities during his own time. “I joined Street Soul and followed my interests and passions,” Tran said. “I’ve learned to work my activities into my schedule.” Each parenting style is different, though, and the idea of having parents who are involved in nearly every detail of their child’s life isn’t necessarily the norm for everyone. Many of those interviewed whose parents took a more hands-off approach or gave their children independence early on believe the transition was fairly smooth — they had already established the traits needed to be fairly autonomous. In many ways, Oscar Friedman ‘16 became independent from his parents when he started high school. He said his parents let him decided how to budget his time and determine his own curfew. Coming into college, Friedman said, he already had many of the skills necessary to live on his own. Friedman’s parents worked full-time, and he didn’t see them often during the summer before entering college. As a skier, he often spent time away at ski camps and was accustomed to living with roommates and cooking for himself. His parents actually saw skiing as a distraction from music and school— this drove him to prove them wrong. “I resented them and took skiing very seriously to show them I could do it,” Freidman said. “My family is full of professors and scientists, and I became obsessed with exercise and athletics.” While his parents may not have intervened in every aspect of his life, Friedman said he respects his parents for letting him decide how to manage his time early on because he feels that it prepared him for college. Several students who described their parents as having a hands-on parenting style said they had to learn to develop independence after coming to college, but Jennifer Wray ’16, like Freidman, said she feels her parents helped shape her independent work ethic as well. “They didn’t help me with my actual schoolwork. They definitely prepared me to be intrinsically motivated and independent,” Wray said. Thomas Cornew ’18 also describes his parents as hands-off in terms of letting him make his own decisions. “My parents always gave me a lot of space,” Cornrew said. “I grew up in a Mexican household, so they definitely commanded respect, but I never relied on them for help with my homework or activities.” For many of us, both growing up more independent or having parents with a stronger influence on how we spend out time, at the end of the day, our parents were still at home when we came back from school. Even if they worked or spent time away from the house, we were almost guaranteed to see them at some point considering we shared the same house. Abby Agwunobi ’18, however, had a different experience. She attended boarding school. She said spending her high school years living away from her parents prepared her for a smooth transition to college both academically and socially. “My parents only saw my report cards. They were
proud of me if I did well and asked questions if I didn’t,” Agwunobi said. Yet, despite how independent some of us may feel, we are still young and learning how to be adults in this world. Even those of us who feel completely self-sufficient often need help from our parents at times, particularly in the competitive environment here on campus. Jack Kirsch ’17 was rejected from a campus organization his freshman winter. “I had poured a large amount of energy as well as time into the organization. I felt alone, worthless and thoroughly down on Dartmouth,” Kirsch said. “My dad was the ear into which I poured many angry rants, and confessions.” While Kirsch ultimately faced rejection, its is something that almost everyone at here experiences at some point. As part of the transition to college, Agwunobi highlights that as students we must learn to handle this independently. “The truth is that each of us are alone when we get to college and we all have to figure out how to be self-reliant rather than relying on our parents,” Agwunobi said.