4.4.2014 behind the register | 2
MIRROR
hanover bar scene| 3
10 weeks on an island| 6
8 hours in ‘the lebs’| 8 ALISON GUH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
2// MIRROR
EDITORS’ NOTE
BEHIND THE REGISTER WITH KATHY MCTAGGART By SARA KASSIR
ANNIE MA // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
Home is a fluid concept for college students. There’s the home you grew up in — the family, the friends, the middle school teachers you make small talk with in the grocery store. Then there’s your college campus — your freshmen floormates, FoCo, the library at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday night. The third metaphysical sense of home, that sentimental feeling of belonging — well, who knows where that is? Because her dad selfishly wanted to reconnect with his childhood friends, Emma, torn away from hers, was forced to move out of her childhood home last summer. Deciding which of her soccer “participation” trophies and Beanie Babies would make the cut was made all the more traumatic by the fact that she had moved four times in 15 months at Dartmouth. Russell Sage’s late night floor bonding lured her into a false sense of security. But after 12S, Emma’s floormate interactions have since been limited to uncomfortable eye contact made through bathroom mirrors while brushing her teeth. Jasmine has called the same lakeside house in North Texas home for 19 years. She’s had the same core group of best friends since elementary school. Needless to say, it was difficult to leave all of that Southern comfort and come to a land of snobby boarding school prepsters who spend their summers on Nantucket in Nantucket Reds. Dartmouth was small and strange, and she must admit that it still often feels more like a place of residence and learning than a home. Of course, we’ve found a sense of home in parts of campus — the familiar faces who ring up our breakfast coffee, the welcoming aroma of chicken bowl Thursdays, this lovely publication. Yet we can’t help but think how differently our four years in Hanover may have looked if our freshman-year communities had extended until senior year. Can you have a “home” without continuity?
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MIRROR R MIRROR EDITORS JASMINE SACHAR, EMMA MOLEY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LINDSAY ELLIS PUBLISHER CARLA LARIN
EXECUTIVE EDITORS MICHAEL RIORDAN STEPHANIE McFEETERS
Last week, when I introduced myself to Collis employee Kathy McTaggart and asked her if she would be willing to tell me a little about herself, she blushed. She wasn’t sure if she was the right person to do an interview. Luckily for me, another Collis employee overheard our conversation, caught her eye and encouraged her to give me a chance to formally introduce her to campus. “You can tell everyone you’re from Boston and a Springsteen fan,” he said. But that was just the beginning of getting to know arguably one of the sweetest employees the College has ever seen. If you’ve ever eaten at Collis, you probably know McTaggart as the curly-haired, bright-eyed woman who works the register. My freshman year, I had the grave misfortune of having 7:45 a.m. drill four days a week. I would stumble from the fourth floor of Russell Sage to Collis, where McTaggart’s smiling face greeted my substantially less pleasant one. I didn’t know her at the time, but McTaggart’s encouraging good morning greeting somehow made the prospect of getting snapped and pointed at for 45 minutes seem bearable. McTaggart and I chatted outside of One Wheelock last week, and as cheerful as she is at work, her off-the-clock personality might somehow be sweeter. She speaks with an unwavering smile and the charming accent of a Boston native who values family time and New England winters. “I grew up in a pretty big family with seven of us – four brothers and two sisters,” she said. “We lived in Jamaica Plain, Mass., which is technically Boston. I went to Catholic school for eight years, and then public high school because I wanted to try to relate to my own area and neighborhood.” McTaggart’s neighborhood was tight-knit, she said, and a constant stream of visitors came and went to her family’s house. “Relatives would visit any time of the day. It was just a fun place to be,” she said. “We would have block parties, and in the summer we would have cookouts.” As the eldest daughter in her family, McTaggart recalled being very close with her mother, Margaret Rose Rusk, while growing up. Her mother, she said, was constantly busy taking care of the children and planning family meals. A couple of trips to the cinema stand out as special memories they shared together. “When I was young, my mother took me to see ‘Gone with the Wind’ [(1939)], and I still watch it even though it was the longest movie ever made,” she said. “I fell asleep at one part, but she filled me in when I woke up.” McTaggart did not attend college after graduating Jamaica Plain High School in 1971, meeting Jim, her husband of 38 years, the following year. They met, she recalled with a smile, working
’16 Guy: The ’14s are no longer in power — nothing they say matters anymore.
’15 Girl: I want to Friendsy search just by ’17s. They are the way of the future.
ZONIA MOORE // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
at a Boston bank. “I had just started there, and he was asked to train me on one of the machines. We started dating and got to know each other, and we’ve been best friends ever since.” After getting married in 1975, the couple moved around with their two children, Julie and Kevin, to find better employment opportunities. During the eight years they lived in Titusville and Fort Lauderdale, Fla., she missed her family and the snow, and she was excited when a job interview at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center landed them back in New England. She has lived in Norwich for over a decade. She said she began working at Collis after spotting a newspaper ad listing the job in 2007. While McTaggart said her position at the register was initially overwhelming because of how hectic Collis can be, she now gives the College all-around wonderful reviews. “I try to think of everyone individually, but yet as a part of the community,” McTaggart said. “Everyone here makes me feel so respected, which is nice. I think we work together as a great team and try to give students the best service we can.” Spending time with students every day, McTaggart said, is her favorite part of the job. “I have so many favorite students,” she said. “I just love when students come in. I like seeing them smile, and if someone is kind of down, we’ll talk about it. When they leave, I feel like my own son or daughter is gone, but when they come back to visit me, it’s so great. ” Her coworkers at Collis said they see her as witty, always up for a good laugh and some teasing. Collis supervisor Chris Magliola often makes coffee with grinds in it, and has been responsible for many coffee disasters. McTaggart will endearingly scold him, telling him not to make the coffee, Collis supervisor Eleanor Cassady said. McTaggart is known at Collis for having a voice
’16 Guy: We stayed out of the national news, so I guess it was a good weekend. ’15 Girl: Oh, are you an SAE?
’14 Girl: I was icing my ankle with a bottle of vodka when I realized I should probably reevaluate my life.
like Jean Stapleton’s in “All in the Family.” One employee often approaches McTaggart and mimics her voice: “Hey, Archie!” When McTaggart is not working at Collis, she enjoys browsing craft fairs, sidewalk sales and summer markets and taking walks. McTaggart frequently sees her daughter and son, who work at an elementary school in Enfield and DHMC, respectively. One aspect of her Boston heritage that McTaggart won’t give up is her love for the Red Sox. Growing up, she would go to a game at Fenway Park every summer, frequently attending home Celtics games as well. “I was very happy when we won the World Series,” she said. “It was interesting in Collis because my boss is a Dodgers fan, and my supervisor is a Yankees fan. We always have fun with that communication going on, and then the students join in.” McTaggart discovered her music idol, Bruce Springsteen, in 1982, after buying his “Born to Run” album. “I started listening to it, and it was like, ‘Oh my god,’” she said. Her first Springsteen concert was in Worcester, Mass., during his “Tunnel of Love” tour. She has since attended 13 Boston concerts. Down the road, McTaggart hopes to continue her job at Collis, attend another Springsteen concert and perhaps pick up yoga. She finds sincere enjoyment in the little things and recognizes that life has a way of turning out all right. With the term already picking up speed, students could perhaps learn a thing or two from her peaceful demeanor and sweet smile. Next time you’re craving that afternoon smoothie, stop in and ask her how she does it.
Econ Prof: I am covered in orange chalk when I Ieave the room, and I hate myself.
CS Prof: Anyone have Python open? Of course not, you all have Facebook open instead.
MIRROR //3
By JAKE BAYER A freshman fumbled with his fake ID as we pushed past bouncers as a group. He joined his friends dancing on a raised platform, dripping with sweat in the 80-degree heat. Upperclassmen crammed into booths and into the bar, drinking Long Island iced teas out of 32 oz. plastic cups and ignoring their underage friends. In Miami, music pounds in the street, shoes stick to the floor and stuffed cabs travel from dorm to bar and back, well into the morning. I visited my friend from high school in Miami, his college town, late last December. Just one month later, I slipped on my fracket, walked across a frozen Green and into my fraternity to the pat of a pong ball hitting the outside of a plastic cup of Keystone. Compared to Miami, Dartmouth’s drinking scene is undeniably, well, different. Each weekend, freshman dorms boom with pregames. And while upperclassmen may make their way to the town’s restaurant-bars for an early round of drinks, much of Dartmouth drinking inevitably takes place in fraternity basements. Dive-bar culture, a dominant or at least prominent scene at many college campuses nationwide, is nonexistent at our school. Imagine a typical night out in Hanover — but solely going to bars. With tip and tax, most beer will cost you at least $5, and a cocktail, $8 or more. Going out to bars, then, could cost at least $20 a person. On the other hand, at fraternities, you can, in the words of the immortal John “Bluto” Blutarsky, “Grab a brew. Don’t cost nothin’,” thanks to dues that affiliated students pay. Plus, I’ve never heard a “last call” in a fraternity basement. Given many students’ drinking habits, the businesses in Hanover are surely not constrained by a lack of demand for alcohol; yet structures regarding Hanover businesses block dive bars from sprouting on the streets of South Main Street. Parking requirements associated with Hanover restaurants, coupled with New Hampshire’s relatively restrictive drinking laws, mean that establishments selling alcohol on their premises would have to close at 1 a.m., and at 11:45 p.m. for those selling alcohol to be consumed on campus. To pay for alcohol, businesses must pay for parking, which many “chains or places like that” cannot do, Hanover town manager Julia Griffin said. “Property in Hanover is pretty expensive, so parking can price certain [restaurants and bars] out.” In New York, alcohol can be sold on premises until 4 a.m., and in California and Massachusetts until 2 a.m., while 24-hour bars exist in Miami, New Orleans and Las Vegas. And hard liquor is confined to state-run
constant. As students continue through Dartmouth, the repetitive process of ending up at the same houses with the same people gets old. However, the intractable issue of the drinking age will always hamper an off-campus scene. From the perspective of many underage students, risking arrest for using a fake ID at a bar in town doesn’t make sense, especially when Safety and Security officers will not individually arrest you for simply trying to drink at Greek houses. And other structures exist, too. When many students become legally able to drink alcohol, they’re often socially entrenched with their houses, in the case of the affiliated, or with friends in certain houses, for the independents. It isn’t a question of where you can drink, but rather where the people you want to drink with are. Additionally, dues, which cover the alcohol consumption of both memBYRNE HOLLANDER // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF bers and non-members, are a financial incentive to remain exclusively within the Greek social scene. Dartmouth’s unique social system is stores. New Hampshire laws restrict what could born out of the investments we have already put be an alternative drinking scene because bars have into campus institutions. their last calls an hour after midnight, a little early “As we get older, I know people who get tired of the frat scene, but if you’re already paying dues for some Dartmouth students. Some students concede that off-campus drink- for the alcohol at your house, it makes sense not ing spaces would be nice. To Chris Clark ’14, to pay twice for alcohol,” Ramirez said. however, the prominence of fraternities is another Though Salt Hill offers happy hour prices and Molly’s has $2 margaritas, drinking in town can key detractor. “You’d think we could get other options, but it be costly. seems like there are roadblocks to that, especially “My main complaint is that things are a little expensive in Hanover,” Vicki Madigan ’14 said. A with drinking laws,” he said. On Wednesday, I journeyed to Salt Hill Pub, Pine resident of Boston, Madigan said that dive bars Restaurant and Molly’s Restaurant and Bar to see at University of Massachusetts at Amherst offer the local bar scene. Hanover gets a slightly older cheaper drinking options than establishments in crowd — grad students and some upperclassmen Hanover. mingle in quiet conversation. Most of the drink- College-sponsored events offer alcohol to stuing accompanied meals at the tables. Instead of dents over 21 at reduced cost or none at all. The the casual level of screaming I had experienced financial pressure may be alleviated in this case, in Florida, Hanover drinking establishments use but the events are still outside of social spaces that alcohol as a pleasant addition to a social gathering most students are used to. or meal, not as a means to muster up the confi- Madigan said that events hosted at One Wheedence to dance with a stranger. Thursday brings lock often quickly run out of alcohol. Irish traditional music sessions at Salt Hill, while “Sometimes when they’re open, it’s so crowded Señor Frogs in Miami offers televised sports and that it’s uncomfortable to be there,” she said. At downtown restaurants with bars, students blasting top-40 music. “My friends and I will go to Molly’s for mar- over 21 can start their nights at more formal garitas before meetings on Wednesdays, and I establishments instead of hoping they don’t lose know people who go to pub trivia at Salt Hill or get their North Face fleece under a pile of freshmen scorpion bowls at The Orient, but I wouldn’t say coats. it’s a big scene among upperclassmen,” Andres Nicole Castillo ’17 said that after turning 21, Ramirez ’14 said. “Those kinds of drinking options she “definitely would” go to dive bars if they were are hidden gems and really fun, but they’re not introduced to Hanover. “I’ll have experienced so real alternatives to the Greek system, especially much of the Greek system that breaks from it would be welcomed,” she said. in terms of numbers of people.” The students who go out to bars tend to be more Clark, who said there is “a lot of interest” among jaded with their houses or independent from Greek students for other options, noted the issue of scale. life, Ramirez said. The other people you’ll see at “You’re not going to see people just raging in local bars are local residents or professors who Molly’s — it isn’t the same as other schools,” he said. do not or cannot frequent fraternity basements. Longtime Hanover resident Muriel Jackson, Shreya Indukuri ’16 said that introducing dive who I saw as she drank wine at Pine, called Ha- bars to Hanover would not drastically improve nover’s bars “a little more subdued” than what Dartmouth’s social scene. “It’s still not necessarily shifting the focus away you’d get in a big city. “I used to live in Boston and there’s certainly a from drinking or binge drinking,” she said. “I like different crowd at the local places,” Jackson said. the idea of having an alternative social space, but I “Not many college students come through — they don’t think we need more social spaces centered mostly stay on campus, especially in fraternities, around drinking. I feel like there are plenty of those on campus.” it seems.” Dartmouth’s campus is set up so underage Down-and-dirty dive bars, like the ones I witdrinking is corralled to basements, not dive bars. nessed in Miami and that other college students Although there are certainly disillusioned students visit every Thursday night, probably won’t be who wish Hanover had a bar open until 4 a.m. or swooping into Hanover to alter the social scene 24-hour liquor stores, town laws and the frat scene anytime soon. Our options are this: we can either choose to get drunk in hectic, grimy fraternity seem to make those dreams difficult to realize. In my conversations with Dartmouth students, basements, eat dinner over $2 margaritas at Molly’s their experiences with alcohol evolved over the or sip on expensive cosmos and martinis at Pine years. After a freshman year of pregames, where dressed to the nines. Dartmouth drinking culture one friend with a fake ID who looks 21 makes runs is limited — or quaint — depending on how you to the liquor store, the fraternity culture remains a see it.
TRENDING
@ Dartmouth ADMITS
Potential ’18s will soon swarm campus.
OCCUPY PARKHURST
TRIKAPFLUENZA
An epidemic hit frat row this week, as dozens came down with a highly contagious stomach bug after a joint tails event this weekend. Be careful who you sit next to in your 2A.
SPRINGTIME AROMAS The pungent smell around the Green persists all day, from the walk to your 9L to your frat route later at night. This combined with the unavoidable slush makes for bothersome campus commutes.
THE BOX
Dartmouth has finally caught up with the rest of the country’s food trends. Sorry, KAF. There’s a new gourmet option on campus (falafel glutenfree grain bowls!) and it’s a food truck. Maybe now Collis lunch lines will be bearable.
OVEREAGER SHORTS AND DRESSES Keep them in your wardrobe for another month.
ICE CREAM FORE-U
4// MIRROR
College braces for reside
By MARIAN LURIO
Upon receiving the March 21 email from Board of Trustees chair Steve Mandel ’78 announcing Dartmouth’s upcoming transition to a “house system,” I first thought, “What does that mean?” After living on a close-knit freshman floor (shout-out to my Bissell 2 friends), I was shocked at the lack of “community” on my floor in Smith Hall sophomore year. I saw the dismally low attendance at our floor meeting last fall and realized it would be necessary for me to embrace my naturally distant demeanor, even in the comfort of my own home. Administrators have discussed a new residential education system for upperclassmen for the past three years, senior associate dean of the college Inge-Lise Ameer said. Last year, members of the administration traveled with a group of students to look at residential college and house systems at other schools around the U.S., she said. In the fall, the College will introduce pilot living-learning communities. The College is currently selecting an outside firm to assess how the College should roll out a house system, she said. Residential education director Mike Wooten said that these new residential plans are part of the College’s continual effort to make sure its initiatives are in line with the College’s liberal arts mission. He emphasized that residential communities on campus should be more “porous.” “We have to get out of the siloing of components of campus,” Wooten said. “We need to reimagine our residential space as being very much related to the mission of the College, and if not, we’re spending too much money on it.” While they’ve looked at housing at a variety of larger schools, including Harvard University, the University of Michigan and
Vanderbilt University, administrators have not looked at smaller schools with residential systems. Ameer, who was formerly the interim director of advising programs at Harvard, explained that the housing systems at Yale University and Harvard are well-established and cannot be duplicated at Dartmouth, where students constantly go on- and off-campus. “We’re not Yale and Harvard, so we want to make this work for Dartmouth students,” she said. “We want to make this work with the D-Plan.” The dean’s office and other administrators have collected more than 10 years of data on residential colleges, Wooten said. This information indicates that students tend to flourish most in residential systems with communities that have programs, pedagogy and faculty involvement, he said. Students reporting on their experience in first-year communities and East Wheelock, which incorporates these elements into the cluster, tend to be “healthier,” he said. Most students report being satisfied with their freshman housing experience and then come into sophomore year feeling lost, Ameer said. Since students do not remain within their first-year cluster, they find themselves lacking any sense of residential community, and UGAs are no longer as invested in the lives of the students on their floor. This radical change contributes to widespread disillusionment among students by deepening social divisions as students progress in their Dartmouth careers, Jayant Subrahmanyam ’15 said. Dartmouth’s current upperclassman housing feels “very sterile,” Sophia Johnston ’15 said. “That sort of translates through so people are in and out,”
she said. “If you allow people to decorate or feel that this is the kind of place that they’re going to come every Friday when they finish class to just have a cup of coffee or really hang out with friends, I think that could be a solution.” With the new model, students will travel with their first-year cluster to another neighborhood, where they will have the option to live — and return to after off-terms — for the rest of their time at Dartmouth. While the idea of the new housing system has been wellreceived by many students, the absence of a detailed plan makes it difficult to assess the impact the initiative will have on student life. Several students I spoke with voiced concern over the great disparity in the conditions of different dorm clusters across campus. “I’m apprehensive that in a rush to tout residential housing as a sexy answer to the much-maligned Greek system, the administration may neglect to update the infrastructure of our dorms to the level they need to ensure equity,” Sahil Seekond ’15 said. Though some may speculate that a push for a residential housing system is a ploy to undermine the Greek system on campus, Wooten said this is not the case. Because people are scattered around campus throughout their time at the College, it makes sense that people would seek out community in a Greek house, Wooten said. The residential life system actually has much to learn from Greek life on campus in terms of serving as a place to come back to after a term abroad or while living in an affinity house or off campus, he said. Given the higher drinking age and stricter laws, dorms at Dartmouth cannot host parties like they did a few decades ago.
MIRROR //5
ential housing overhaul
While the average Dartmouth student would probably enjoy dorm parties, there is some value in having dry, intellectual social spaces. After finding out she had a low housing lottery number at the end of her freshman year, Aileen Zhu ’16 moved into a one-room double in East Wheelock with her freshman year roommate. “I feel like comparing East Wheelock to my freshman housing would be like comparing apples to oranges,” Zhu said. “No matter where I would have lived this year, upperclassmen treat housing assignments differently.” Quietness is an underrated factor when considering housing, she said. Zhu prefers living in a relatively calm dorm rather than the Fayerweather cluster, which she said is not ideal for finding peace and quiet. Zhu is a member of The Dartmouth staff. Melina Turk ’14, who lives in an on-campus apartment, has found it impossible to find a residential community since freshman year. “I still am good friends with a lot of my freshman floormates and feel that after freshman year, there wasn’t really a sense of community in dorms,” she said. “It wasn’t really a place where I could make meaningful relationships.” Though residential colleges may offer alternative social spaces to the Greek system, Beta Alpha Omega fraternity president Chet Brown ’15 said the Greek system is not under direct threat. “I see the housing system coexisting with Greek life as another social outlet,” Brown said. “I don’t know what the administration’s goals are beyond providing some continuity of housing for students, but I don’t think the two systems will be very exclusive from one another.”
Others believe the change may alleviate some of Dartmouth’s social problems. Aside from encouraging all sororities to go local, the neighborhoods system is the most viable plan for solving many of the issues created by the Greek system without completely overhauling it, Subrahmanyam said. “I’d like to see some well-thought-out initiatives like the return of a functional inter-dorm athletic league,” Seekond said. Many top-tier colleges across the country have adopted versions of a residential housing system. At Princeton University, students are required to live within a residential college for at least their first two years and may continue to do so for the second half of their college careers. Cameron Maple, a Princeton junior, said he opted to live in a residential college over an upperclassman dorm because of its amenities. “They generally have nicer rooms, air conditioning, their own cafeteria, staff, a college office, libraries and study spaces and special events,” Maple said. Johnston, whose brother is a sophomore at Princeton, said she thinks Dartmouth’s proposed new housing system would be a step in the right direction for undergraduate life, though Dartmouth’s house system likely would not provide all the comforts offered at Princeton. “I think there is much more monitoring of the individual, and people don’t get lost and fall between the cracks or feel like they’re kind of meaningless,” Johnston said. “Here you have your dean and your academic advisor, but apart from that there isn’t that similar support network within a residential community.” At Rice University, more than 3,700 undergraduates are divided into 11 residential colleges for three years of their stay. Due to limited available housing, most students must live one
year off campus, though they often still live with members of their residential college. Sanjana Puri, a sophomore at Rice, said she is living off campus next year with her current suitemates from her residential college. Though residential colleges provide strong communities, students also can expand outside of the residential college system through extracurriculars and clubs, Puri said. “The residential college is a very integral part of the Rice community because our colleges are where we eat, live,” Puri said. “A lot of the times most of the people we hang out with are in our colleges.” Each residential college has its own traditions, and an element of competition exists among the houses, she said. One famous tradition is the annual Beer Bike, a bike race and drinking competition held every May since 1957, when the residential college system was introduced. Other schools have found their own paths, too. All freshmen at Vanderbilt live in first-year residential and learning communities, each led by a faculty member, and all undergraduate students must live on campus. Residence hall communities at the University of Michigan host concerts, movie screenings and socials, and all have live-in staff. At Harvard, upperclassmen are placed into one of 12 houses, each with unique traditions and a senior faculty advisor after freshman year. Yale has 12 residential colleges, and undergraduate students remain affiliated with their freshmen residence all four years. The College’s proposed system has the potential to transform our campus’s living experience. Amid the uncertainty of the new housing initiative, one thing will hopefully always be true: No matter where you find yourself in residential housing, EBAs is just a phone call away. ARMIN MAHBANOOZADEH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
6// MIRROR
Through the Looking Glass
Lessons from the Pacific: a winter in the Marshall Islands B y JAKE LEVINE
On New Year’s Day, I traveled to the Marshall Islands as part of the Dartmouth Volunteer Teaching Program. We arrived on an atoll called Majuro — the nation’s capital — 30 miles long and a few hundred meters wide. As we drove down the sole paved road on the island from the one-room airport, I took in what would be my home for the next 10 weeks. Dilapidated houses encroached upon one another and clotheslines competed for sunlight. Dogs with no collars sprinted after our truck and then returned to their spot in the shade of a coconut tree. What hit me the most on that first day, though, were the smiles, waves and “yokwe” (hello in Marshallese) greetings we received from the people walking on the side of the road and sitting on the stoops of their homes. These extraordinary demonstrations of kindness and hospitality would become a constant over the course of my time there. The following Monday, I walked to the high school where I would be teaching. Waiting in the classroom was Joe, the full-time math teacher at Marshall Islands High School. Joe told me he played eight-man for his school in Fiji and we quickly bonded over our shared love of rugby. Then, the morning bell rang and 30 10th-graders entered. Joe introduced me as Mr. Jake from Chicago and told the students I would be teaching them for the next 10 weeks. He patted me on the back, wished me good luck and left. I had never taught before. I was alone with the kids and had no idea what their skill level was. So I asked the class if someone could tell me what they had studied before winter break. A couple of the more polite girls at the front responded that they had completed chapter six. I told everyone to get a textbook, a task accomplished with almost universal reluctance, and we turned to chapter seven. I quickly realized, however, that quadratic equations and graphing parabolas went far beyond what all but a few of the students could handle. In fact, multiplying was still a struggle for many, and for a few, even spelling their own name was difficult.
Courtesy of Jake Levine
That first week, I began to adjust to life in Majuro. When the electricity at the packed laundromat went out one evening, we took it in stride. My Dartmouth friend and I watched the locals and saw that one person stayed with the laundry while the others went home to prepare and bring back dinner. So we did the same. As we ate with a smile on our faces, the machines began to spin and whir again. My complete lack of experience cooking and fending for myself posed
“This was one of the few times in my life that i viewed myself as truly needed.”
few problems, even during the first days since our small but formidable group of Dartmouth undergrads took care of each other. We shared the meal preparation, the chores, a listening ear and a constant sense of humor and good will. As my time in Majuro flew by with lightning speed, I can’t say that I taught my students everything they needed to know about algebra, but I know I learned a tremendous amount from them. A week into my teaching assignment, I put up flyers advertising a rugby team at the school. Despite being surrounded by Pacific Island nations where rugby is life, the Marshallese public high school had no rugby team. The first afternoon, I was happily surprised when 15 boys met me immediately after school in the “breezeway,” a space between buildings where wind passes through to alleviate the island heat.
The boys trained on a half-grass, half-rock field. Five players were also my students, former troublemakers who had handed in blank pages early in the term. This quintet turned into some of my hardest workers. They learned that if they came to class late or unprepared, they would not be able to participate at rugby practice. The disciplinary part of teaching did not come easy for me. I struggled with the best way to motivate students who became discouraged due to a lack of prior success, but this lesson in the rewards of positive reinforcement was a revelation. The camaraderie of rugby is what makes me love the game. The kids on the team started to walk with their arms around
each other. The local grocery store contributed jerseys, and we experienced the thrill of winning our game against the private school team. Meanwhile, this was one of the few times in my life that I viewed myself as truly needed, and the feeling was incomparable. In the classroom, I aimed to challenge the stronger students while attempting to ensure that their less advanced classmates also gained confidence through the pleasure of solving algebra equations. As my students grasped new concepts in the classroom and on the field, I saw their faces light up and blank stares turn to wide-eyed smiles, which of course led me to smile as well. Apart from coaching and teaching, new experiences, like spontaneous Sunday adventures to an outer island and “kava sessions” with the Fijian and Tongan adults after adult rugby practice, taught me so much about how I want to treat the people in my life. Similarly, the lessons in acceptance that my Dartmouth classmates and I learned from this Marshallese community that so warmly and inclusively adopted us became the centerpiece of our beautiful experience. Along with Hanover, that place, basically off the map and previously unknown to me, represents what I think it means to develop a sense of belonging. Yet the feeling did not exist in a vacuum. Emeritus education professor Andrew Garrod exposes Dartmouth students each year to the richness of this experience and commits to the young people of this atoll, where each winter he directs a student-acted play that brings the entire community together and has become a mainstay tradition of island life. We traveled on our last day in a yellow school bus filled with the kids from the play and a number of my rugby players, all singing songs and telling jokes. When we arrived at the airport, we were given handmade gifts and countless last hugs. It was crazy how loved and appreciated we felt, and how grateful we were for our students and the community which had embraced us so quickly and so warmly. As I took in the chaotic, yet beautiful, scene as the sun set at the one-room, oceanfront airport, I decided that someday I would have to come back.
MIRROR //7
COLUMN
WHAT HAVE WE DONE?
By SEANIE CIVALE and AMANDA SMITH
IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING
COLUMN
By
KATIE SINCLAIR Senior spring is hilariously weird. We’ve tried to understand it and the way it makes us feel, which means that we have spent much of the past week sitting on our bed (Amanda) and futon (Seanie), thinking. Which also means that for once, we have no stupid occurrences or behaviors to write about, not because we didn’t do stupid things, but because we truly didn’t do anything. We did nothing. It’s our senior spring; we’re supposed to have bucket lists and get sentimental about the napkin dispensers in FoCo and carpe diem and such. Yet here we lie, like two sessile animals who are friends. (Seanie just learned the word sessile and wanted to use it instantly.) Here’s our question: is there time for this, too? We’ve got less than 10 weeks left. Is there time for sessility? T. S. Eliot once said there will be “time yet for a hundred indecisions, / And for a hundred visions and revisions.” How much longer will we be allowed to remain English majors while wildly misusing beautiful and famous quotes in our column? So many questions. Instead of answering any of them, we will depart from our usual content and tell you about some of the big and probably flawed thoughts we’ve been pondering this week. Amanda: Over the years, Seanie and I have uncovered a treasure trove of quirky qualities and fun facts we share. For instance: We both wanted to go to Brown University. We both got rejected from Brown. We both almost went to Washington University in Saint Louis. We both actually came to Dartmouth. My high school friend Jack developed a life theor y that may or may not have been inspired by a Chinese legend. He calls it the “red rope” theor y. The Chinese legend calls it the “red thread of fate.” I cannot remember the significance or meaning behind the color red, or why Jack decided that the ropes should have a color other than prototypical rope color, but Jack has red hair. Perhaps this is why. Anyway, the fortune cookie explanation of Jack’s theor y is that ever y person on Earth is connected by at least one imaginar y red rope. Some are naturally connected by more than one red rope. I believe that this was the case for the two of us. Whether this is true does not matter much. Neither does the fact that this explanation would not fit into a fortune cookie. So as the clock ticks on and our situations become increasingly more desperate, we have discovered new (yet hopefully temporar y) ropes that bind us. For example:
1. Our futures are uncertain. 2. We recently received Bank of America notifications that reminded us (not that we needed reminding) how broke we are. 3. We were both unaware until Wednesday’s New York Times crossword puzzle that Victoria’s Secret carries two different types of garments that begin with the letter “T.” What is a teddy? 4. We both really need to stop spending so much time on our respective beds/ futons and start filling our buckets with lists to check. Seanie: I spent last summer living with my grandmother in New York City, where I find it easy to be lonely. But my grandma loves it. When I got home from work and asked how her day was, she always said some version of the same thing: “Good. I always have a good day.” To me, that’s a novel and unfathomable concept. Many a Dartmouth student has described her or his undergraduate years as “a roller coaster.” Sometimes thrilling, other times soul-crushing. Never all-thetime good. But no one is all-the-time good because they have a deficit of bad things on which to ruminate. My grandmother grew up in North Korea and has seen more bad things than many. So I don’t think it’s the absence of bad that makes for good, but the ability to let the wonderful and the awful mash up together, to see them as interconnected and essential. I don’t do this. No one I know well here does. We compartmentalize stuff instead. There’s a time when it’s cool to work and a time when it’s cool to play, big weekends and finals periods built into the schedule, places where you can cry and others where it’s better if you’re stoic. There’s no built-in time here to lie in bed humming to yourself under your laundr y fresh out of the dr yer and wonder what it all means and if the blah days will add up to something and whether you can wait another day before showering. If you’re doing that, as we all must do sometimes, it probably means you’re shirking something else. I don’t mean to say the compartmentalization is all bad; in fact, in many ways I think it’s good and necessar y. What I’ve been wondering on my futon, though, is if there’s another, maybe happier, way. Blitz me if you know about it. That’s all we have to say. Who knows if we have a point. Senior spring, dear friends. All we can do is laugh. Yours, sessile, Lucy & Ethel
In case you were wondering, Isaac Newton’s Principia, which set the groundwork for Newtonian physics, almost didn’t see publication, since the Royal Society’s finances were depleted after publishing “De Historia Piscium” or “The History of Fish.” Despite being a charming collection of engravings, the text sold poorly. You can find parts of the book on the Royal Society’s website — I’m particularly fond of the entry for the flying fish, which displays in precise detail the spines of its wing-like fins. The flying fish shows its total bewilderment, as if it’s not quite sure how it ended up in the pages of the book that’s most famous for nearly thwarting the publication of Newton’s laws. But luckily for Newton, and for physics in general, Edmund Halley (of Halley’s Comet) stepped forward and agreed to fund the publication of Principia out of his own pocket. The Royal Society, according to an April 2012 article in The Guardian, thanked Halley by paying him in unwanted copies of the fish book. It’s amazing how small, seemingly insignificant events can derail the most carefully laid-out plans. Everyone has a fish book — an unexpected obstacle that gets in the way. Despite the fact that I am on track to graduate with 39 credits (that’s four more than required, for those at home keeping score), Dartmouth still doesn’t quite believe that I have completed my majors. As a result of this disconnect between what I’ve actually completed and what Dartmouth believes I have completed, I have filed five sets of major cards. I’m not sure if this constitutes some sort of record, but it seems slightly excessive, especially if you consider that I have never changed my major. In a logical, well-managed system, five sets of major cards would only be required if one has indeed changed majors five times. I have been destined to be an English major ever since I learned to read: my selfpublished children’s book “A School For Jack-O’-Lanterns” attests to my early literary zeal. By self-published, I mean printed off of our old black and white printer and distributed to an audience of my dad, mom, brother and pet turtle. But even though I’ve always been an English major at heart, the first major card I filed was for biology, because a biology professor was the first one I considered advisor material. These first sets of cards were signed in a last-minute fit of desperation before the Dartmouth Coach departed at the end of 12W. My major card needed to be filed before I could register for summer classes, and I was going to be out of the country that spring. Sets two and three were filed a year later, when I found an English professor willing to sign my cards.
You can’t file a second major without re-filing the first, so I was back to the Life Sciences Center. This winter, I received an ominous email from the biology department, telling me that I had not taken a class that I had said would take nine months ago. The fact that they knew I hadn’t taken the class, and knew which class I had taken instead, yet still asked me to write out three copies of those terrible, terrible cards, strikes me as an example of bureaucracy at its finest. Signing those cards took place in a stealthy hand-off between classes in the Life Sciences Center. About a week ago, the registrar sent out the important reminder that “all major cards must be filed by March 28.” Those poor fools, I thought, leaving their major cards to the last minute. Too bad they’re not as organized as me. And then, of course, on March 27, I received an email from the English department saying my cards didn’t match. Impossible! How could this be! There must be some mistake! But because I am not in the habit of sending out emails accusing the English department of gross negligence without actual proof, I dug through my files (and by files I mean a pile of paper that I have been carrying around since freshman year that resides in my bottom desk drawer) and retrieved my old major cards. And it was wrong. By exactly one class. This tragic discovery led me on another mad dash to fill out cards and locate my advisor, which culminated in a standoff in Sanborn Library. I wouldn’t let him leave his office until he signed those cards. You do what you got to do. No one actually likes major cards. I appreciate the idea of requiring an actual professor to review them before you file a major, but having to repeat this stupid process every time you change course (and you will change your plans, because Dartmouth has no idea what’s going to happen a year from now) seems like a huge waste of time. But major cards, like the Class of 2014, will soon be irrelevant. The College started a new online system for those lucky members of the Class of 2016. Yet I consider it to be an example of the resilience of the human spirit that I have persevered and filed five sets of major cards. Just as Newton and Halley faced the dilemma of the poor-selling fish book, I refused to be thwarted. If Dartmouth can actually agree that I have completed the requirements necessary to graduate, and I do get a job and an apartment, I’m going to decorate it with prints from the “History of Fish.”
8// MIRROR
8 Hours in
West Lebanon and Lebanon By Lindsay Keare and Hayley Adnopoz
Everyone knows Vermont’s Woodstock, Stowe and Norwich as the more famous “classic New England” towns near Hanover, but a bunch of hidden gems can be found in our lovely neighbors to the South: “the Lebs” — Lebanon and West Lebanon. Next time you find yourself with a Saturday to kill, why not explore all that both places have to offer? Start your day heading from campus out of South Park 10:30 a.m. Street. Follow this road toward Route 120, and before going over I-89, make a left on Heater Road. You may wonder why you’ve stopped at a gas station, but this place doesn’t just have fuel for your car. It has fuel for your stomach, too. The Fort, or Fort Lou’s, as it’s lovingly called by many Dar tmouth students, is one of the best breakfast places around. The decor is rustic, with wood panelling, checkered curtains and a real back roads American diner vibe. While it doesn’t have quite the same pizzazz as Lou’s Restaurant in Hanover (where breakfast specials can be as unconventional as raspberr y chocolate chipotle pancakes), The Fort ser ves classic breakfast specials like bacon, scrambled eggs, toast and black coffee, and it does them well. And head baker Katrina Knot is in early ever y morning making muffins the size of your face, as well as delicious-looking carrot cakes, cream pies and crullers. Once you roll out of The Fort, you might want to 11:30 a.m. work off that bacon with some physical activity. Lebanon offers dozens of miles of hiking and biking, largely in the form of the Northern Rail trail, which crosses back and forth over the Mascoma River. The trail starts at the Witherell Recreation Center and ends in Danbur y. For those who aren’t super hiking-inclined, don’t fear. This trail is listed as “family friendly,” which one could infer to mean easy. For more seasoned hikers and bikers, the trail’s beauty still makes it well worth the trip.
Once you’ve built up your appetite again, head over 1 p.m. to Lebanon’s quaint town square and find Three Tomatoes Trattoria, an Italian restaurant located in the heart of downtown Lebanon. The lunch portions are cheaper than the larger dinner portions, so it won’t break the bank if you go there in the afternoon. If you’re in the mood for Mexican cuisine, stop by Gusanoz. Don’t let its location in a strip mall fool you. The restaurant has great ambiance and ser ves up some delicious enchiladas, burritos and guacamole made table-side. Our favorite dish, however, has to be the chicken LINDSAY KEARE / THE DARTMOUTH STAFF
quesadillas. And as an added bonus, it’s less highly trafficked by Dartmouth students, so unwanted facetime is kept at a minimum. After lunch, head into West Lebanon — only a 2:30 p.m. few short minutes away by car. We’re pretty accommodating, so here we’ll let you choose your own adventure. Option one: Pull into the Home Depot parking lot and stop to play mini golf or hit some balls at the driving range at the Fore-U Golf Center. The course isn’t too difficult, but it’s a great way to challenge your friends to a little springtime competition. And after wards, we dare you not to stop at famed hot spot Ice Cream Fore-U. Considered to be the holy grail of ice cream for post-sophomore summer Dartmouth students, this Upper Valley staple offers dozens of flavors of ice cream and soft ser ve, sundaes and floats. Be warned though — the “small” is the average person’s double scoop! Option two: If it’s a super hot day (what are the odds of that?), you might be more inclined to stop by the Ledges, a local watering hole located on Trues Brook Road. Although the stop seems inconspicuous, after a short trek through the woods, you’ll be surrounded by beautiful waterfalls, natural pools and rocks to tan on. You’re going to have to wait a few months for this one — we can’t even imagine a time when our skin wasn’t transparent from paleness. Finally, end your day in West Leb right next to the 6 p.m. Home Depot (who would have guessed a hardware store would be a mecca for town attractions?) at Koto, a Japanese restaurant ver y similar to Benihana. To fill up a whole table, go with a large group and be amazed as the chefs chop up, flip, stack and fling ingredients from a flaming stove onto your plate. If you’re not tired after a packed day on the town, stop back in Lebanon at the Entertainment Cinemas movie theater. If the new movie you’ve been dying to see isn’t at the Nugget, chances are you’ll be able to find it in Lebanon. It really is the “big city” in these parts, isn’t it?