The Dartmouth Mirror 5/10/13

MIR ROR

MAY 10, 2013

THESISPIRATION // 2

ADMISSIONS ABROAD // 3 TTLG: DON’T BE AFRAID TO CARE // 6

HIERARCHIES: EXAMINING CLASS AT DARTMOUTH // 4 LODGED IN OUR HEARTS// 8

DENNIS NG // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

2// MIRROR

EDITOR’S NOTE By the time my first off-term came around, I was ready to get out of here. Erring on the side of extreme for my D-Plan, I spent an entire year in Hanover, then fled for over six months.

An ocean away from the town I called home for two years, I was surprised to find myself not really missing Dartmouth. I missed my friends and a couple of my routine Hanover activities every now and then, but, for the most part, I was thrilled to have broken out of my mold, experiencing something new.

If nothing else, Dartmouth is a crash course in transitioning. Our Dartmouth lives occur in blips of class, parties and terms. Coming back from such a long Hanover hiatus was in some ways easy — Dartmouth had long ago taught me to not get too comfortable in any one environment. I clicked right back into my old routine with my best friends, but something felt slightly off. I had changed, or Dartmouth had changed. In all likelihood, we both had.

This week, we look at international students’ experiences through the lens of admissions and profile the place that gave us our first (and for some of us, only) home-cooked meal at Dartmouth. We examine the impact of socioeconomic class on our community, and a brave senior expresses her hesitation to raise her voice when she first arrived at Dartmouth.

Second-round midterms and a slight bout of rain may have some of us down, but Green Key and more sun are mere days away! Happy Friday!

follow @thedmirror

MIR ROR MIRROR EDITORS AMELIA ACOSTA TYLER BRADFORD EDITOR-IN-CHIEF JENNY CHE PUBLISHER GARDINER KREGLOW EXECUTIVE EDITORS DIANA MING FELICIA SCHWARTZ GRAPHICS EDITOR ALLISON WANG

OVER HEARDS

THESISPIRATION DENNIS NG// THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

BY MADDIE BROWN AND MAGGIE SHIELDS Sitting in the 1902 Room, I pull out a bag of Stacy’s pita chips. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I slowly open the bag, but I can’t avoid the inevitable crinkling. A pair of eyes shoots up from the pile of books across the table and gives me a glare so evil that I wish I could disappear. Why so serious? The sleep-deprived, hunched-over thesis writer looks back at his papers.

To many underclassmen, thesis writing is a complete mystery. Maya Wilcher ’16 doesn’t understand why anyone would undertake the daunting task of writing a paper that typically spans over eighty pages.

“Are theses graded? That’s really depressing,” she said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

But a lot of people do write theses. For many, it is an obvious choice. Luke Peters ’13, an English major, is completing a screenplay for his thesis because he wants to pursue writing as a career.

“Doing a creative writing thesis and wanting to be a writer gives you a great opportunity to focus on one work throughout your senior year,” he said.

Creative writing theses require writing a manuscript of fiction, nonfiction or poetry. Science theses involve lab research, while those in the humanities involve more traditional research. All theses require a huge time commitment senior year, which often deters many students. The history department website warns, “Keep in mind that a successful thesis requires a substantial commitment of time, energy, intelligence and especially self-motivation.”

Jamie Mitchell ’14, an economics modified with computer science major, decided not to write one because of this commitment.

’13 Girl: You can Good Sam me when you’re dead.

Blitz overheards to mirror@thedartmouth.com

“It seems like a lot of extra work for little reward, and it’s not a requirement,” he said.

Chidi Anyadike ’13, a history major, consulted with older students in the department.

“During my junior winter, I started talking to a lot of ’11s to ask about the process,” Anyadike said. “They said anyone can do a thesis and that you don’t need to have an esoteric question. It just needs to be something you’re interested in and want to know more about.”

Anyadike emphasized the importance of community among thesis writers in the department.

“We really took it upon ourselves to socialize outside the academic context,” she said. “We learned that you can really benefit from talking to your peers about the writing process. Not only does it help you think about ideas, it also helps keep you sane.”

In order to be eligible to write a thesis, students usually need a certain GPA in the department and a thesis advisor. Departments require thesis seminars, usually in the winter and spring of senior year. Some departments also require seminars in the fall to begin thesis research.

The research component itself can take many forms. Jane Cai ’13, a government major who received a Hopper grant and funding from the Rockefeller Center and the Undergraduate Research Center, will travel to Beijing to conduct research on the evolution of Chinese national identity in the post-Communist era.

To research for his creative writing thesis, Peters received a grant last summer to live in a cabin where he spent his time fishing as his screenplay is about the life of a professional bass fisherman.

ANTI-FEMINISM ’16 Girl 1: Do you ever have that feeling when you’re staring at a plate of fried rice that you just want to stick your head in it? ’16 Girl 2: Yes.

’16 Male: Dude, we should block rush the Lodge.

We could turn it into a frat.

Dan Marcusa ’13, a chemistry major, explains that he just had to find a professor who was willing to take him on.

While researching and writing a thesis is a lot of work, the process can be rewarding. Marcusa said he enjoys working in a lab developing a new organic chemistry reaction.

“If you do work every day toward something, you make progress that is really fulfilling,” he said. “This is a somewhat important contribution to organic chemistry and it was all my work.”

Writing a thesis, however, is not for everyone. Ali Oberg ’13, an Asian and Middle Eastern Studies major, decided not to write a thesis, explaining that she would rather take advantage of the opportunity to work with a group of diverse peers at Dartmouth.

“I was thinking about the ways that I can get the most value of my time and have the most fun with my time as a senior, and I know that based on my experience the past three years that I thrive more in a classroom setting with groups than I do by myself doing research,” she said.

Marcusa said that writing a thesis has been a fulfilling culminating experience of his education.

“Writing a thesis is a fun experience in which you are aware you are going to go crazy and you are aware as you are going crazy, but you enjoy becoming crazy,” Peters said.

Although thesis writing is not for everyone, it certainly creates a community by pushing students beyond their intellectual boundaries.

Maybe the only way to truly understand the eyes hidden behind the piles of books is to hide behind them ourselves.

’15 Guy: I’d be down to observe some nude beaches.

’16 Girl: One of the things on my friend’s bucket list is to poop at every school in the Ivy League.

’13 Guy: They bought their Derby hats at Goodwill?

Is that even allowed?

MIRROR //3

ADMISSIONS ABROAD

Despite its small size and rural location, Dartmouth manages to

BY MIN KYUNG JEON attract students from across the globe.

Time and time again my painstaking college search process, I came to the dismal realization that the vast majority of universities in the United States do not offer need-blind admissions to international students like myself.

Though the definition varies slightly among institutions, the term “international students” refers to foreign visa holders who do not possess U.S. citizenship or permanent residencies. Born and raised in South Korea but having attended high school in Pennsylvania, I belonged to a peculiar category even within the elusive blanket designation of international students.

In addition to battling the information shortages that arose from my status as the only international college applicant in my graduating class, I grappled with the gravest issue of all: affordability. Since my parents did not command the resources to pay for a notoriously expensive U.S. college education, I was naturally intrigued by the six institutions in the nation, including Dartmouth, that guarantee need-blind and full-need admissions to not only American applicants but their international counterparts.

These admirable admission policies promise to evaluate all applicants solely on their credentials and fully meet their needs if admitted. This policy, combined with Dartmouth’s excellent undergraduate teaching, small size and scenic location lend an incomparable charm to the College on the Hill. Thus sprang my decision to apply early.

If my admission saga seems too convoluted for you, imagine applying to Dartmouth from countries thousands of miles away from the U.S. June Yuan ’13 attended a girls’ high school in Singapore that operated under the British A-Level system. She first heard of Dartmouth through her roommate, who in turn had learned about the College after perusing an autobiography by Wall Street financierturned popular Chinese TV show anchor Zimo Zeng ’96.

At the behest of her roommate, Yuan read Zeng’s autobiography, “Traces of Ink,” and discovered that Dartmouth might just be a perfect fit.

“I always wanted to go abroad to explore something different,” she said.

“I didn’t want to stay in Singapore for sure.”

While Zeng’s famous autobiography molded a faraway, dreamlike image of Dartmouth in Yuan’s mind, her high school counselor confirmed her strong attraction to the College by informing her of its broad fields of study.

“I started college hoping to major in math, physics and philosophy, but now I’m interested in German and theater,” she said. “What attracted me most to Dartmouth is its diversity of academic programs and its flexibility to allow students to change fields.”

Her other top university choices required her to choose a major before matriculation, and this policy drew her away and instead toward Dartmouth.

Its need-blind and full-need admission

TRENDING @ Dartmouth

MINT RAIN You knew the weather wouldn’t stay perfect forever.

LIVE MUSIC

ANNA DAVIES// THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

International students feel their applicatio process would have been better with more direct outreach. policies were appealing as well.

“I’m very satisfied with my financial aid here, and I’ll donate a lot of money after I graduate,” she said with an appreciative chuckle.

During her application process, she was able to locate all the necessary application materials on Dartmouth’s website, but found its layout and structure were not effective. She said that a more clear-cut and condensed, common database for prospective students would have been much more helpful. The Admissions Office could also benefit from having current students send information about various aspects of campus life to prospective international students.

Dari Seo ’16, who attended a British high school in Costa Rica under the International Baccalaureate curriculum, agreed that admissions could use greater outreach to international students throughout the long, often frustrating application process.

“It gets to be very overwhelming when you’re just navigating from website to website,” he said. “It’s really hard to make sense of what you’re looking for.”

Seo gathered information about U.S. colleges primarily through his independent searches, with limited guidance from his high school counselor. He mentioned that the lack of promotional materials about Dartmouth in the counselor’s office can be explained by the fact that his high school was chiefly geared toward European universities.

The lack of first-hand support from admissions, however, did not deter him from committing to Dartmouth.

The College’s liberal arts tradition, quarter system, the D-Plan and needblind admission policy stood out in particular.

Though Dartmouth is not at all well-known in Costa Rica and he was not even aware of its Ivy League status

prior to his research, Seo simply did not care about the College’s low visibility at home.

“It was not about name or reputation,” he said. “It was really about what matched my interest.”

Seo said that the International Students Association and the Office of Pluralism and Leadership’s international student programs, which range from the international orientation to a student mentorship program, have provided him with an “essential” welcome and support networks.

Soccer player Elijah Soko ’16, who hails from Zimbabwe, finished his last two years of high school in Massachusetts. He decided to attend high school in the U.S. after speaking with former head coach Jeff Cook at a Grassroots Soccer talent showcase near his hometown several years ago.

After seeing Soko play, Cook suggested that he finish high school in the U.S. and connected him to a few boarding schools on the East Coast.

After arriving in the States, Soko stayed in touch with Cook, and a formal recruiting process began near the end of his junior year.

Though his family could not afford to send him to an American university, they wanted him to apply regardless.

“I found out about the need-blind policy only after deciding I would apply to Dartmouth,” he said. “What attracted me to the school was mainly the faith that Cook had in me, and when I visited, I liked it here.”

International student mentor program coordinator Pavel Bacovsky ’13, who attended the Red Cross Nordic United World College in Norway before applying early, said his love of everything Dartmouth dwarfed his concern about financial aid, especially because he had already secured some outside funding.

Bacovsky did not receive any specific international student outreach

materials from admissions before his acceptance.

“That said, for regular decision students, there might be a real value in Dartmouth’s international student outreach, mainly through the emailing sessions,” he said. “It probably makes a lot of difference getting a warm and friendly email from someone other than admissions.”

My first arrival in the U.S. and enrollment in an American school about five years ago originated entirely from my father’s appointment as a visiting scholar at the University of Pennsylvania. When my whole family accompanied him on a 13-hour flight to the mythical “land of opportunity,” we had no idea that his research would continue for much longer than the initial two years.

During the summer of 2011, I visited my home country for the first time since moving to the U.S., and my parents gave me the choice of either finishing high school in South Korea or returning to Pennsylvania to apply to American colleges. In one of the most momentous decisions of my life, I opted for the latter and subsequently took the risk of applying to Dartmouth through its early decision program.

Not enough international students know about the hidden gem that is Dartmouth, a green haven for those with amazing talents all the world over that remains one of six American universities with need-blind and fullneed admissions for all applicants.

Though I encountered an incredible group of helpful, reasonable and considerate admissions officers in my agonizing yet rewarding application process, there exists a great need for admissions to expand its outreach efforts for international students making college decisions.

Representatives from admissions could not be reached by press time.

From fraternity porches to the steps of Collis, our small College is a little more musical these days.

Rain or shine, anyone looks better holding a guitar.

PROF PIC UPDATES

With last weekend playing host to the quadfecta of Derby, mud Derby, Pigstick and First-Year Family Weekend, we spent a lot of time looking cute outside and getting photographed doing it. Extra points if you instagrammed!

SWUGs

For those without Urban Dictionary saavy, the SWUG is the Senior Washed Up Girl. A rogue character we both fear and admire, expect to see the SWUG anywhere and everywhere in the next few weeks.

ROOM DRAW

From the Fays to the Masses, another year of residential life is upon us.

We hope you all found a home sweet home!

MIKA

4// MIRROR

HIERAR

Examin

BY REESE RA

“

WE ALL COME FROM DIFFERENT ETHNIC BACKGROUNDS, SO IT’S HARD TO UNITE EVEN THOUGH WE’RE ALL AFFECTED BY CLASS

ALLISON WANG // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF JULIAN MACMILLAN // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

MIRROR //5

RCHIES

ning Class at Dartmouth

AMPONI

W

hen I asked upperclassmen about the guys walking around with their matching Timberlands, gray sweatshirts and blue jeans my freshman fall, I was told that it was pledge term, and that they were dressing like the working class because they’d never have to be part of it again. Dear Psi Upsilon pledges — you look like my dad. My uncle. My high school boyfriend. Your uniform reminds me, and everyone who doesn’t come from an affluent background, that they do not fit in here.

I talked to Psi U member Duncan Hall ’13, who explained that these problems have been brought up and reconsidered each fall, and that the rumors about their meaning are just that — false rumors. While members of Psi U may explain the real meaning behind their outfits, a symbol of unity and recognition, when

asked, it is difficult to spread this message across campus.

“For those who don’t talk to fraternity members, it’s hard to get an updated view,” Hall said. “Hearsay feeds hearsay, which feeds judgments that are uninformed.”

Those most affected by the presence of Psi U’s outfits are not likely to be the ones asking about their real meaning. In truth, Dartmouth does have a problem with classism — a deep-seated, complex problem with no clear solution or definition.

Lisel Murdock ’09, who worked as a Hopkins Center ‘class divide’ intern at Dartmouth, described classism in terms of cultural capital.

“It’s this set of ideals and views and philosophies that give people social standing, like knowing what fork to use at the Hanover Inn,” Murdock said.

For Taylor Payer ’15, classism is the assumption that “everyone has enough money to be a certain kind of Dartmouth student, one that goes on fancy spring breaks in other countries, eats at expensive restaurants and wears J. Crew.”

While programs like the First Year Student Enrichment Program and Quest Bridge Scholars, which matches low-income students with colleges and scholarship providers, offer resources for lowincome students, these organizations may not reach all community members interested in discussing and addressing issues of classism.

For Hui Cheng ’16, Dartmouth did not offer a space to discuss financial concerns.

“Coming in as a ’16, I didn’t want to self-segregate as Asian, I didn’t qualify for Quest Bridge Scholars or FYSEP and I didn’t feel like there was a community I could go to,” Cheng said.

There are few places to discuss class on Dartmouth’s campus, especially for non-minority students. Discussions within minority groups often leave out a key contingent of students at Dartmouth — low-income white students.

“It’s tough that it’s assumed that if you are Native you are poor, but it’s also good because I have a space to talk about [class], but white people don’t,” Payer said.

Ivan Hess ’15 noted the difficulty of coming together based on socioeconomic status.

“Being of low socioeconomic class is very intersectional,” Hess said. “We all come from different ethnic backgrounds, so it’s hard to unite even though we’re all affected by class.”

White students from working class families may feel particularly alienated on Dartmouth’s campus. While racial or homophobic slurs would raise a red flag, Emma Orme ’15 said that a party with a ‘white trash’ theme may slip by.

“I’d feel like it’s politically incorrect, but I might convince myself it could be an ironic funny theme,” Orme said.

Hess stressed that despite pervasive stereotypes and misconceptions about poverty in the U.S., race and class are not inextricably bound.

“Many racist stereotypes that affect Hispanic, Latino or black individuals are grounded in bias against the poor, because there is an assumption that if you are a person of color you are poor,” Hess said. “Racial criticism based on classism is discussed as racism, not classism.”

Poverty crosses “every single line, every single identity,” Hess added. “Your family could have been in this country 400 years or arrived four days ago, you can be any color, and age, live in any community, from Nome, Ala., to Miami, and you can be poor.”

Hess noted the way that his class interacts with other aspects of his identity.

“I can’t overlook the privilege I have as a white male at Dart-

mouth,” Hess said. “It allows me to exist unquestioned. No one will assume anything negative about how much money my family has.

They will assume I’m just like them, that I will understand their background and the culture of privilege they come from.”

Class divides become especially apparent when working a campus job, said Payer, who worked at Late Night Collis her freshman year.

“It’s such a power dynamic, serving your peers who have the luxury to get drunk and not care about anything while you are working,” she said. “You become unequal to those you are serving the moment you put the apron on.”

Many Dartmouth students are acclimated to simply not acknowledge service workers.

“I often noticed that people would speak to me while I was at Collis in a totally different way than they would later that same night in the basement,” Steve Elliot ’11 said.

The lack of unity and conversation surrounding class may be based both on the small number of low-income students and the invisibility of class.

“Only 10 percent of Dartmouth students receive Pell grants, and only 3 percent of students are in the lowest income quintile,” Hess said. While nearly half of students are on financial aid, “the number of truly low-income students is very low.”

For Orme, the invisibility and silence surrounding class makes engaging in constructive dialogue difficult. While she can make an effort to venture into communities that are obviously foreign to her based on culture or ethnicity, it is harder to detect communities united by similar socioeconomic status and thus harder to engage with them.

“There is no space here to be a poor person at Dartmouth,” Janet Kim ’13 said. “There is no celebration. Even with support and resources, the social culture requires people to be ashamed of being poor, to deny where they come from and assimilate to elite culture.”

Students interviewed agreed that Dartmouth fosters a sense of shame about one’s socioeconomic status, telling students that they should escape their class rather than embrace it. While many diversity groups on campus unite around aspects of their identity to create a sense of pride, no such group exists for those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds.

“You hear about cultural pride, gay pride, etcetera, but you never hear about lower class pride,” Orme said. “Of course, that has more to do with the fact that our country is founded on this notion of rags to riches.”

Despite Dartmouth’s influence, many students hold strongly to the cultural aspects of their socioeconomic class.

“The working class background comes with cultural richness,” Murdock said. Instead of running from flute lessons to soccer to SAT prep, Murdock learned the importance of unstructured time, of creating fun out of the things in her environment.

For Shelby Jackson ’13, the ability to enjoy life doesn’t come from money, but from knowing how to create a meaningful life without it.

“Not having online shopping as an option makes me more able to enjoy living,” Jackson said.

For both Murdock and Hess, the importance of family is integrally tied to their class backgrounds.

“The data shows that low-income students major in things that lead to money,” Hess said. “We don’t waste our time, because we can’t. My Dartmouth degree is about the things I can do with it. It’s so that if my sister gets her diploma she can go to art school, so my mother can retire before she’s 65, so my cousins have opportunities, so my grandparents are taken care of in their old age. I’m not here just for me, I’m here for my family.”

Elliot and Hess are former members of The Dartmouth.

MIRROR //5

RCHIES

ning Class at Dartmouth

AMPONI

W

hen I asked upperclassmen about the guys walking around with their matching Timberlands, gray sweatshirts and blue jeans my freshman fall, I was told that it was pledge term, and that they were dressing like the working class because they’d never have to be part of it again. Dear Psi Upsilon pledges — you look like my dad. My uncle. My high school boyfriend. Your uniform reminds me, and everyone who doesn’t come from an affluent background, that they do not fit in here.

I talked to Psi U member Duncan Hall ’13, who explained that these problems have been brought up and reconsidered each fall, and that the rumors about their meaning are just that — false rumors. While members of Psi U may explain the real meaning behind their outfits, a symbol of unity and recognition, when

asked, it is difficult to spread this message across campus.

“For those who don’t talk to fraternity members, it’s hard to get an updated view,” Hall said. “Hearsay feeds hearsay, which feeds judgments that are uninformed.”

Those most affected by the presence of Psi U’s outfits are not likely to be the ones asking about their real meaning. In truth, Dartmouth does have a problem with classism — a deep-seated, complex problem with no clear solution or definition.

Lisel Murdock ’09, who worked as a Hopkins Center ‘class divide’ intern at Dartmouth, described classism in terms of cultural capital.

“It’s this set of ideals and views and philosophies that give people social standing, like knowing what fork to use at the Hanover Inn,” Murdock said.

For Taylor Payer ’15, classism is the assumption that “everyone has enough money to be a certain kind of Dartmouth student, one that goes on fancy spring breaks in other countries, eats at expensive restaurants and wears J. Crew.”

While programs like the First Year Student Enrichment Program and Quest Bridge Scholars, which matches low-income students with colleges and scholarship providers, offer resources for lowincome students, these organizations may not reach all community members interested in discussing and addressing issues of classism.

For Hui Cheng ’16, Dartmouth did not offer a space to discuss financial concerns.

“Coming in as a ’16, I didn’t want to self-segregate as Asian, I didn’t qualify for Quest Bridge Scholars or FYSEP and I didn’t feel like there was a community I could go to,” Cheng said.

There are few places to discuss class on Dartmouth’s campus, especially for non-minority students. Discussions within minority groups often leave out a key contingent of students at Dartmouth — low-income white students.

“It’s tough that it’s assumed that if you are Native you are poor, but it’s also good because I have a space to talk about [class], but white people don’t,” Payer said.

Ivan Hess ’15 noted the difficulty of coming together based on socioeconomic status.

“Being of low socioeconomic class is very intersectional,” Hess said. “We all come from different ethnic backgrounds, so it’s hard to unite even though we’re all affected by class.”

White students from working class families may feel particularly alienated on Dartmouth’s campus. While racial or homophobic slurs would raise a red flag, Emma Orme ’15 said that a party with a ‘white trash’ theme may slip by.

“I’d feel like it’s politically incorrect, but I might convince myself it could be an ironic funny theme,” Orme said.

Hess stressed that despite pervasive stereotypes and misconceptions about poverty in the U.S., race and class are not inextricably bound.

“Many racist stereotypes that affect Hispanic, Latino or black individuals are grounded in bias against the poor, because there is an assumption that if you are a person of color you are poor,” Hess said. “Racial criticism based on classism is discussed as racism, not classism.”

Poverty crosses “every single line, every single identity,” Hess added. “Your family could have been in this country 400 years or arrived four days ago, you can be any color, and age, live in any community, from Nome, Ala., to Miami, and you can be poor.”

Hess noted the way that his class interacts with other aspects of his identity.

“I can’t overlook the privilege I have as a white male at Dart-

mouth,” Hess said. “It allows me to exist unquestioned. No one will assume anything negative about how much money my family has.

They will assume I’m just like them, that I will understand their background and the culture of privilege they come from.”

Class divides become especially apparent when working a campus job, said Payer, who worked at Late Night Collis her freshman year.

“It’s such a power dynamic, serving your peers who have the luxury to get drunk and not care about anything while you are working,” she said. “You become unequal to those you are serving the moment you put the apron on.”

Many Dartmouth students are acclimated to simply not acknowledge service workers.

“I often noticed that people would speak to me while I was at Collis in a totally different way than they would later that same night in the basement,” Steve Elliot ’11 said.

The lack of unity and conversation surrounding class may be based both on the small number of low-income students and the invisibility of class.

“Only 10 percent of Dartmouth students receive Pell grants, and only 3 percent of students are in the lowest income quintile,” Hess said. While nearly half of students are on financial aid, “the number of truly low-income students is very low.”

For Orme, the invisibility and silence surrounding class makes engaging in constructive dialogue difficult. While she can make an effort to venture into communities that are obviously foreign to her based on culture or ethnicity, it is harder to detect communities united by similar socioeconomic status and thus harder to engage with them.

“There is no space here to be a poor person at Dartmouth,” Janet Kim ’13 said. “There is no celebration. Even with support and resources, the social culture requires people to be ashamed of being poor, to deny where they come from and assimilate to elite culture.”

Students interviewed agreed that Dartmouth fosters a sense of shame about one’s socioeconomic status, telling students that they should escape their class rather than embrace it. While many diversity groups on campus unite around aspects of their identity to create a sense of pride, no such group exists for those from lower socioeconomic backgrounds.

“You hear about cultural pride, gay pride, etcetera, but you never hear about lower class pride,” Orme said. “Of course, that has more to do with the fact that our country is founded on this notion of rags to riches.”

Despite Dartmouth’s influence, many students hold strongly to the cultural aspects of their socioeconomic class.

“The working class background comes with cultural richness,” Murdock said. Instead of running from flute lessons to soccer to SAT prep, Murdock learned the importance of unstructured time, of creating fun out of the things in her environment.

For Shelby Jackson ’13, the ability to enjoy life doesn’t come from money, but from knowing how to create a meaningful life without it.

“Not having online shopping as an option makes me more able to enjoy living,” Jackson said.

For both Murdock and Hess, the importance of family is integrally tied to their class backgrounds.

“The data shows that low-income students major in things that lead to money,” Hess said. “We don’t waste our time, because we can’t. My Dartmouth degree is about the things I can do with it. It’s so that if my sister gets her diploma she can go to art school, so my mother can retire before she’s 65, so my cousins have opportunities, so my grandparents are taken care of in their old age. I’m not here just for me, I’m here for my family.”

Elliot and Hess are former members of The Dartmouth.

6// MIRROR

Through the Looking Glass

DON’T BE AFRAID TO CARE B Y CAMILLA ROTHENBERG

I gave a speech at my high school graduation lauding my teachers, administrators and peers for creating an environment that had fostered critical thought and taught us to value our voices. I went to one of those “alternative” public schools. I celebrated the strength of my class’ voice and the passion we put toward activism, activities and academics. I implored my classmates not to become paralyzed by the fear of being somewhere new or to lose their voice when they exited the Beacon hallways.

I cannot speak for the rest of my classmates, but after getting to Dartmouth I was pretty terrible at taking my own advice. I was excited to come here, because I knew it would present me with a ver y different view of the world than my small school in New York. In my mind, college would expand my voice and help me use it on behalf of the issues and activities I cared about. Instead, I was deeply academically intimidated; I believed absolutely ever yone was smarter than me. It was as if ever ything I learned in high school and thought I understood were no longer legitimate. Even though I could form what I thought were intelligent connections, I felt unqualified to make them. More importantly, I believed it was impossible anyone would ever want to hear them.

Despite my own better judgment, I did in fact become paralyzed. Rather than finding ways to share my opinions about things I cared about, I just wanted to find something I could succeed at.

Things also seemed to be coming easily to ever yone else. But that wasn’t what confused me. It was that no one seemed to care too much. I had an unconventional freshman experience in that a significant portion of my friends were ’11s and ’10s, whom I viewed as already having found happiness at Dar tmouth. Ever ything seemed to be pretty easy for them. I, on the other hand, was always working, and yet they were much more academically successful than I was. It’s not that they didn’t care, but that they all managed to care the absolutely perfect amount. They went out, they worked, they hooked up, but they were never really hung up on anything. People who spoke too loudly about any one issue or activity became defined by it, and I was terrified of that.

The ideal seemed to be being relatable.

Break the perfect balance of being good at ever ything while simultaneously not caring too much about any of it, and you were suddenly obsessive.

And that wasn’t limited to academics or extracurricular activities. One of the dangerous things about the hook up culture is that it makes it taboo to care about other people. I was quickly trained at Dartmouth to believe that caring about someone wouldn’t help them care about me, but would in fact make them run in the other direction. Any tipping of the balance — making time and space for someone else in your carefully engineered life — was dangerous. I have seen so many almost-relationships cut off and watched so many people, myself included, downplay what those relationships meant to them for fear of admitting they actually might

NATALIE CANTAVE// THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

Finding one’s passions can be intimidating everywhere, and aspects of Dartmouth culture and institutional structure can make it even harder. care about someone. If you care, and the relationship, or whatever convoluted name you give it, fails, then you have failed. And I think most Dartmouth students are utterly terrified of failure. It’s the same reason not to put too much into one class or an extracurricular. If it ends up not working out, you protect yourself from the potential shame.

Finding passions is an intimidating process, and Dartmouth can make it even harder. The school puts up incredible barriers to creating a major and makes students jump through hoops to start new groups. I have seen few professors (though some do it ver y well) who create classes that explicitly encourage critical thinking and value original ideas over repeating information the professor believes is most important. And there’s always the risk that even after putting the work in you could fail. Your major or group might not get approved. You could share your ideas and get a bad grade. Caring is scar y because it is the ultimate form of vulnerability.

So I decided to only pursue things I felt I would be successful in, and I left a lot of subject matter, extracurriculars and people by the wayside. I tried not to care too much.

I stopped speaking loudly, and on certain topics I stopped speaking at all. After watching my friend’s major not get approved after months of work, I decided not to create my own. After freshman year, when a project I worked tirelessly on for the Student and Presidential Committee on Sexual Assault

ended up not only being not used, but barely acknowledged, I simply left the committee all together. And at the end of my freshman year, I seriously considered taking a year off or transferring. I had no confidence and didn’t believe I could add anything to this school, and the last thing I wanted to do was be a parasite.

I only became happy here when I stopped being scared and started caring. I joined a sorority, a decision my friends from home absolutely ridiculed. The idea that I would ever be involved in Greek life was horrifying to me, the prospect that I would take a leadership role, unheard of. But through connecting to this group of women and their passions outside of our house, I realized the people who get the most out of Dartmouth had found ways to express themselves. Some found platforms already available — they became writers for The Dartmouth and then editors, they wrote a thesis or did a senior fellowship.

If a platform didn’t already exist, they created one — performance groups, publications, plays or drastically modified majors. Some invested in committed relationships that I believe made them more comfortable and successful. Many of their efforts didn’t work out quite how they expected right away. It took revising and reworking. Sometimes the efforts failed all together after a term or two.

So I decided to throw myself into my house and not be afraid to care about it. I became president and finally, with this smaller group,

my voice came back. I championed initiatives I cared about and worked with others to improve our community, within and outside of the house. Not all of my decisions were met with applause, and that was hard. I learned from ever y choice and, eventually, I think I will leave the house a little better than I found it.

Maybe this experience at Dartmouth was unique to me, but honestly I don’t think so.

Not with the amount of people I’ve known here who don’t speak up about things they care about, who don’t pursue things that interest them because they might not be the best at it. As in high school, I leave college encouraging my classmates to do what we’re passionate about, and to proclaim it loudly.

That may mean we fail publicly. Even as a senior, having seen the scathing comments that make appearances on The Dartmouth’s website makes me terrified to write this. But I’ve succeeded despite, or perhaps because I was able to open myself to criticism, and that criticism has only made my eventual success have a more powerful impact on my community and myself.

Through The Looking Glass is a weekly feature. We welcome submissions from community members — both past and present — who wish to write about defining experiences, moments or relationships at Dar tmouth.

Please submit articles of 1,000-1,200 words to mirror@thedartmouth.com.

MIRROR //7

COLUMN

COLUMN

MODERATELY GOOD ADVICE

THE BUCKET LIST

The Anti-Bucket List

WITH BY

GARDNER DAVIS

LAUREN VESPOLI

AND

KATE TAYLOR

Dear Gardner and Kate, It’s so nice outside that I never want to be indoors. However, whenever I’m outside I don’t get any work done.

Please advise.

— Distracted Daphne ’16 Gardner: I’m going to advocate for the paradoxical strategy of only working in the grimmest reaches of the library on nice days. Last spring, I had a paper due on the Saturday of Green Key, obviously the nicest weekend of the spring, at midnight. After trying the “I’m going to work in periodicals because it’s such a nice day” approach and failing miserably, I confined myself to Lower Level Berry, a dark place with no windows second in misery only to the 1902 Room after 2 a.m.

Compelled by unhappiness over being there, my productivity increased fivefold until I actually finished my paper and got to enjoy the beautiful days outside.

Name Directory and not found zero undergraduates named Dorothy.

Therefore, I am ethically forced to draw attention to the fact that Gardner spends about half his word count mocking not only imaginary people’s problems, but also their names. Despite his gross misuse of this “advice” column, however, I do have to agree with Gardner on three classes. Classes, even those that cut into your time at the river, serve as a uniquely ideal facetime opportunity during sophomore summer.

Because there are fewer courses and primarily ’15s on campus, you’ll almost definitely end up being able to finagle a seat next to the person you’re trying to sleep with. Go for the distrib, stay for the study dates.

Gardner: I stand by my comment.

Dear Kate, Someone called me a SWUG. What does that mean?

Kate: If you’re like me, you need to accept that you’re only going to get work done after the sun sets. The sun setting at 8:01 PM and rising at 5:30 AM gives you nine and a half hours to get work done if you play your cards right. Optimize your time by eating all your meals outdoors, day drinking and napping on the Green for hours.

— Senior Sally ’13

Dear Gardner and Kate,

- Regularly go out in gym clothes or sweat pants or with a backpack

Should I take two or three classes my sophomore summer?

— Crossing the X in the Wrong Direction Dorothy ’15 Gardner: First of all, has anyone been named Dorothy since “The Wizard of Oz” came out? Are you actually my great aunt who goes by Dottie? There’s a good chance you’re the first Dartmouth student named Dorothy since coeducation started in 1972. Jokes aside, you should take three classes unless one of them is Orgo or Econ 26. Most sophomore summer classes adjust expectations accordingly, so taking three won’t ruin your summer. Don’t do anything outlandish like take a 3A or 3B and you’ll have every opportunity to enjoy sophomore summer.

Kate: I just searched the Dartmouth

Kate: SWUG originated from Yale and stands for “senior washed up girl.” However, the Dar tmouth SWUG is beyond “washed up” into the land of “just don’t care anymore.”

Add one point to your SWUG score if you:

summer, when I hit the important pre-SWUG milestones of first crippling hangover, first time playing pong without pants and complete cynicism regarding romantic relationships.

Dear Gardner, Is it okay to wear headphones when I’m walking around campus?

— Oblivious Oliver ’16 Gardner: It’s not my place to scold you for being anti-social and hating everyone, which you seem to do by wearing headphones around campus. However, it is my place to scold you if you aren’t just listening to your headphones, but instead being an oblivious fool and talking into them.

No amount of convenience provided by not having to lift your arm to your head warrants how dumb you look when someone thinks you’re talking to them. To summarize, no and, furthermore, no.

Dear Gardner and Kate, How do I stop making really bad decisions at 3 a.m.?

— Girl ’14 Gardner: I don’t understand what is so difficult about this question. Go to sleep before 3 a.m. like a normal person.

- Feel no shame showing up uninvited at any tails event, semi or freshman pre-game

Kate: If that fails, make sure your phone is dead or in your friend’s hands by 12:30 a.m., reducing your 3 a.m. path of destruction to those in your immediate vicinity. Then, take a second at 2:59 a.m. and think about, if not the consequences of your actions, the expressions on your friends’ faces if you were to tell them about your decisions tomorrow at breakfast. If expressions include pride, amusement or ignoring you to enjoy a waffle, by all means, feel free to carry on. If you can predict disapproval, horror, tears or gagging, run home and put yourself to bed immediately.

If you have more than four points, welcome to the loving femaledominated social space that is SWUG-nation. I personally have been training since sophomore

Please send pressing questions in need of moderately good advice to gardnerandkate@gmail.com. You can also tweet at us at @low_sinks and @kate_h_taylor.

- Skip tails to drink wine in your offcampus house - Tell everyone you hook up with ’15s because you “know too much” to find ’13s sexually attractive, even though you have been planning your last chance list for months - Have over 10 $4 Molly’s charges on your debit card, predominantly from Monday and Wednesday evenings with “the girls”

You might find it odd, hypocritical or utterly predictable that after writing 24 columns this year under the title and premise of the “Dartmouth Bucket List,” I am beginning to slightly resent the idea of a bucket list. In my first column, I championed making the most of senior year and doing all those things that we’ll never have a chance to do again. I congratulated myself on a senior column idea that would give me an excuse to do fun things ever y week and jauntily embarked upon an adventure to a corn maze, finally got myself to Friday Night Rock and the greenhouse in the Life Sciences Center and took the Polar Bear Plunge.

As senior spring rolled around, the talk of bucket lists got more and more prevalent among seniors as we prepared ourselves for our term full of last ever ythings. There were the Dartmouth “challenges” we procrastinated completing (Ledyard Challenge, FoCo challenge — go to FoCo dressed in your formal attire and procure a date 30 minutes before the event, although the $14 dinner swipe makes it basically prostitution) because we were scared or lazy or rational, the rope swings we never found and eating lunch at the “real” King Arthur Flour in Nor wich.

But now that senior spring is finally here, and as if the pressure to make sure you don’t miss the swim test and get a job and figure whether your major is complete because degree audit is useless isn’t enough, we need to be having all of the fun all of the time. Are you a ’13? Why are you reading this? You should be out having the time of your life and snapchatting it to your 19 closest friends. Maybe I’m a little bitter because I’ve put myself in a situation where I have to write about the fun that I have, but I think there’s something to be said for “bucket-listing” as more of a gradual lifestyle than the typical Dartmouth mad dash to have the most fun you can in four weeks. Maybe I’m having an end-of-column crisis. Maybe I’m cynical. Maybe I’m burnt out.

Combined with the pictures and filters we all feel compelled to use as some sort of evidence of our fun-having, bucket-listing begins to commodify our time into neat little activities we can check off.

I’ve heard seniors say they need to do an activity ever y single day. That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Since when did constant activity equal constant fun? Are you going to start feeling bad if you can’t bombard yourself with a new experience ever y single day? Sometimes, a prolonged dinner on the Green, a quiet afternoon by yourself with some interesting reading or attending a lecture by a brilliant speaker is enough. We should hike Mount Moosilauke, visit the Cabot Cheese factor y and go to Quechee Gorge, but we should also savor the treasures in our daily routines, the morning walk across the Green to Collis, our favorite study spot in Sherman, because we will lose them, too.

With all of that said, I did check something small off my bucket list this week. I went to Nathan’s Garden in Hanover for the first time. After an impossibly beautiful weekend, I still couldn’t bring myself to sit in the librar y, so a friend and I went on a leisurely bike ride through the neighborhoods of Hanover: Allen Street, Maple Street, Lewin Street, West Street, past clapboard houses with brightly colored doors until we found Nathan’s Garden and decided to explore. The garden occupies a small hollow in the woods off of Maple Street. There are wooden chairs and tables, an old-style wooden swing and plenty of empty space for a picnic. The garden is one of those calm, quiet places that might be important to one’s sanity in the high-speed, constantly stimulating Dartmouth environment. Now that ever ything is in bloom, it would be a beautiful place to bring a dinner, maybe some wine.

I’m going to maintain my self-imposed gimmick for the last few weeks of the year, because this is project is important to me and it’s stretched me, but I think no matter what point we’re at in our Dartmouth careers, we need to have real expectations and we need to appreciate the ordinar y within this glorious and fleeting period of growth, exploration and freedom.

In my first column, I asked for your suggestions and I’m going to continue to do so: email me at lauren.b.vespoli.13@dartmouth. edu. Three weeks left, people.

8 // MIRROR

PROFILE

Lodged In Our Hearts Moosilauke Ravine Lodge has been a staple of Dartmouth culture since 1938.

BY IRIS LIU

CECELIA SHAO// THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

The Lodge attracts around 10 to 20 visitors on weekdays and between 60 and 80 on weekends for dinners and entertainment.

Nestled in the hear t of the Jobildunc Ravine by the eastern base of Mount Moosilauke and the upper banks of the Baker River, the Moosilauke Ravine Lodge exudes a handsome charm that rests as heavily upon its august spruce logs as it does on a recipe of histor y and tradition. The Lodge opened for the season last weekend, and I decided take a road trip for Sunday dinner.

An hour of New Hampshire’s scenic highways and hidden, GPS-less back roads (almost all of which I managed to miss) brought me to the Lodge’s main room, where I was greeted by four set tables and a peek into the bustling kitchen.

Given the Lodge’s remote location, I expected only a handful of visitors, but, to my surprise, the dinner bell herded in around 25 students.

As we enjoyed a four-course dinner of honeyed bread, soup, salad and baked mac and cheese with apples, the Lodge crew presented “dinner talk,” introducing themselves and their spirit animals.

Each of the four tables was given a whisk and a bowl of cream, starting a friendly race to see who could make whipped cream the fastest (humble brag: my table won), which we then paired with our desert of sugared berr y jam.

Throughout our meal, the crew bustled in and out of the kitchen, bringing us first and second ser vings of food and retrieving finished dishes.

Lodge manager Pat Martha ’05 later explained that each of the five undergraduate students on the crew rotates weekly through tasks such as cooking, working the desk and repair projects.

While the crew has a diverse range of skills, Carly Wynn ’15 said

lack of experience in a certain area is in fact a learning opportunity and a “blessing in disguise.” The Lodge’s simplicity fosters strong relationships, creating a support network that is central to the group’s positive working attitude.

“Because it’s so amazingly peaceful here, it’s ver y easy to handle anything that comes at me, and the crew just seems to be the same way,” Wynn said. “When problems arise, we handle them a lot more easily that we would in a chaotic environment.”

The sense of community is a fundamental component of the Lodge’s values, Mar tha said.

Because the Lodge is a balance of discipline and peace, crew members can find greater selfunderstanding by looking within their coworkers and the outdoors.

“I think Moosilauke is a ver y peaceful place,” he said. “The unimportant things fade away, and people find that the reason they came to work at the Lodge is to make deeper connections with the people here and with the place.”

Although the Lodge closes in September and reopens in the spring, the sense of community is unbroken, ingrained in tradition and memories, rather than the physical building itself.

“People get attached to the building and the visual thing, but like someone here said, it’s 90 percent tradition,” Martha said.

“The place has old memories and it needs people to resurface those memories.”

In the short span of institutional memor y, however, few remember the Lodge’s histor y.

The Lodge was built in 1938 as a ski resort to replace an alumni outdoor ravine camp that burned down three years earlier. In 1933, the Dartmouth Outing Club or-

ganized the National Downhill Championship race on Carriage Road of Mount Moosilauke, spurring plans for a ski resort.

Although initially profitable, business at the Lodge quickly diminished as more advanced resorts opened in the area. By the 1950s and through the early 1970s, the Lodge was nearly deserted.

When former Lodge manager Bernie Waugh ’74 began working at the Lodge in the 1970s, weeks would pass without a single visitor.

The Lodge was almost exclusively used for DOC First-Year Trips.

After renovations under the direction of Al Merrill, a former ski coach and outdoor programs director, however, the Lodge’s connection to the College strengthened and has grown ever since.

In recent years, the Lodge has gained popularity both within and outside the Dartmouth community. It expects around 10 to 20 visitors on weekdays, and 60 to 80 on weekends.

Sports teams and Greek organizations are also increasingly holding banquets and formals at the Lodge. Although groups unaffiliated with Dartmouth are relatively scarce, Martha said he is excited that non-Dar tmouth traffic has been increasing over the years.

“People who discover the Lodge are just super stoked about it, and they come back all the time,” he said. “It’s really nice to reach out beyond Dartmouth, but it can be tough, because the Lodge is in some ways a secret place.”

The Lodge even holds several weddings a year, although the privilege is usually reser ved for former crew members.

Trips Lodj Croo co-chief Kara Hedges ’14 said the Lodge’s Dartmouth-centered histor y and

character make the experience unique to those affiliated with the College.

“Dartmouth students are working at the Lodge, you hear the Doc Benton stor y, you go into the librar y and there are Dartmouth histor y books and paintings on the wall, and these are all signs of Dartmouth’s traditions,” Hedges said. “When you don’t have that connection to Dartmouth, it’s still a special place, but it loses that pull at the heartstrings.”

Visiting the Lodge has long reminded students of their love for Dartmouth. The memories forged are part of a lifelong relationship with the Lodge, Waugh said.

Traditions like the Doc Benton stor y, singing the alma mater and contra dancing are instilled through programs like Trips.

Although he no longer works on the crew, Waugh, a former

resident fiddle-caller for square dances and an experienced teller of the Doc Benton ghost stor y, returns almost ever y year to call square dances during Trips.

“People feel welcome into that little exclusive community even if they aren’t staying more than a couple of days,” he said. “I think the more connected we get with technology and whatnot, the more people long for an experience that is separate from all that.”

Although the Lodge’s remote nature lends itself to ser ving as an escape from the clutter of technology and schoolwork, Hedges said it has the ambiance as a “home away from home.”

“It’s kind of bizar re,” she said. “The Lodge is kind of this completely separate entity, but ever ything about it really just pulls at the roots of Dartmouth traditions.”

CECELIA SHAO// THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

Moosilauke’s crew rotates through positions including cooking and maintenance. Some opt for the Lodge as a wedding location.