MIR ROR
OCTOBER 24, 2013
EVERYTHING BUT DELIVERY // 2
THE TASTE OF HOME // 4 UNNATURAL SELECTION // 8
ETHICS AND THE COLLEGE DAILY // 3 TTLG: ADD TO THE RECIPE // 6
MARGARET ROWLAND // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
2// MIRROR
EDITOR’S NOTE I used to be intensely opposed to the idea of reflection. Nothing made me more uncomfortable than discussing a test after the fact, or going over a project to see what worked or what didn’t or ruminating on anything at all, good or bad, for more than a few minutes. I preferred to get things over with and leave them behind in favor of whatever was next. Maybe it’s because I’m old and tired now, but I’ve finally found a setting in which reflection doesn’t make me break out in a nervous sweat. It’s the long dinner, the languorous one-on-one with someone you might see every day but never get the chance to really talk with. Without a system forcing reflection on you, it starts to happen naturally, and you have the soothing realization that it’s okay to celebrate your victories, and that most of your mistakes really are laughable, not life-ending. Maybe it’s because food always has and always will bring people together. This week we explore the struggle of international students longing for the rare taste of home, and the identity of a favorite pizza shop many of us will only interact with over the phone. Maybe sitting down together at a dinner table reminds us that for all our ways of labeling ourselves, we’re more similar than we think. Of course, some people are better to close down FoCo with than others. You just have to find the patient ear that works for you. Happy reflective 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
OVER HEARDS
EVERYTHING BUT DELIVERY
MARGARET ROWLAND//THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
By CAREN DUANE We all had that night freshman year. That night when we discovered it. When you hastily dialed up the number on your phone and ordered something conservative, perhaps a small cheese pizza. Minutes later, or hours if you’re unlucky, a figure showed up at your dorm entrance with the goods in hand and a receipt. After scarfing it down, your hands are greasy, your room smells bad and you have $20 less in your wallet. As freshman year progresses and you hopefully make a couple friends, you start to order more adventurous options, including but not limited to buffalo chicken pizza or sweet potato fries with honey mustard on the side. You might even establish a routine where you and your friends dial it up on your phones on your way home from a big night out. Once you get back to your dorm, you wolf down every last crumb and, if you’re feeling especially ravenous, you dip your fingers in the ranch and ketchup. I, like most other students, fell into the treacherous routine of pizza delivery by EBAs early on. It wasn’t until sophomore summer that I discovered a stunning new alternative. I discovered what I like to refer to as the “physical plant.” This is where the raw dough, cheese and tomato sauce becomes pizza and, to my amazement, where great memories can be made. It was a sweltering Wednesday night in August and my friends and I thought we had exhausted all our options. It was
too hot to dance in a basement, but we weren’t quite tired enough for bed. “Let’s go to EBAs,” suggested a friend, not knowing what she’d started. Before I could say no or pick up the phone, I was marching across the Green, down Main St. and turning right onto a shadowy corner. I looked up and to my amazement saw an overhang that read “Everything But Anchovies.” As I entered the establishment my conceptions of EBAs transformed. It wasn’t some figment of the imagination where pizza materialized with the dialing of a number. The front counter reminded me of a space station command center with orders coming in from every corner of campus. My friends and I slipped into a booth in the back and ordered away: pizza, chicken fingers, sweet potato fries and free water. I was stupefied to find that other students actually went to the physical location. How was this my first time here? It was an enjoyable moment in my Dartmouth career: I was hanging out with friends, eating pizza and drinking free water. In addition to laughter and all around merry-making, the scene was exciting — borderline eyeopening. I observed two boys order a pizza sized for a little league baseball team’s end-of-season party. Who knew they were capable of making such big pizzas? To our left sat a group of brace-faced adolescents on a double date (presumably from Hanover High).
’15 Guy: I’m playing harbor tonight. ’17 Girl: I didn’t know you played a sport!
Blitz overheards to mirror@thedartmouth.com
’14 Girl: I’m just going to go to Psi U and let fate decide. ’14 Girl 2: That should be written on someone’s tombstone.
The place was absolutely popping. With the exception of the dubstep and black lights, we were basically at a club. From that moment on, the EBAs plant would always have a special place in my heart. I heard about other schools that had late night food spots and was always jealous of my friends who ended their nights at diners, food stands or delis. I would rebut by explaining how it was really awesome that we could order food to our rooms. But after a careful examination of all my late-night eating experiences, they began to strike me as very solitary. Late-night eating had been activity of defeat, as in, “We aren’t having that much fun at X-frat so let’s just order EBAs and go to bed.” My journey to EBAs changed my perceptions of late-night eating at Dartmouth. The experience of consuming a chicken finger at two in the morning was no longer a mode of surrendering the night. With the discovery of EBAs’ campus location, greasy food became a way to hang out with friends and eat in a social setting. EBAs became an alternative social space. I propose EBAs acquire a blitz account under the code name “Epsilon Beta Alpha” and blitz out when the cheese pizza is fresh out of the oven. From now on, when your friends ask you where you’re headed to at one in the morning on a Saturday night, tell them “Epsilon Beta Alpha” because it’s the new hip spot. If you trek to the physical location
Tuck Prof: It’s the Miley Cyrus effect. People will always remember her for her wrecking ball.
you are not only nourishing your hunger and satiating your thirst with free water, you are making joy and merriment with friends. While you will still awaken the next morning with a bad taste in your mouth and a lighter wallet, you will have memories to last a lifetime, enhanced calcium levels from the cheesy fries and possibly, some new friends. Just last week my friend and I paid a visit to the physical location. As we entered EBAs it was bumpin’ as usual, but we managed to get the last booth in the place. Over the two hours we spent hanging out and eating, I talked to some friends and also met some new people. A group of ’17s sitting in the adjacent booth told me they liked coming to EBAs because it was “a good way to hang out with people and get to know your floor.” Meeta Prakash ’13 told me that it was “a thing for alumni to come back and hang out at EBAs.” The combination of space, cleanliness and food makes it an ideal alternative to what nightlife normally offers. “EBAs is the perfect place to eat late at night because it’s the only place open and you can go with a big group of friends,” Emily Uniman ’15 said. I’m thrilled to have found a nice social space to hang out and talk with friends and other randos and actually hear what they are saying. You don’t have to fake a smile and nod because you literally can’t hear their voice over Avicii’s newest hit.
Econ Prof: I hear the Biebs is growing a mustache.
’16 Girl: She doesn’t understand. You have to cast a wide net in the sea of hookups.
’14 Boy: That’s why I had to quit lacrosse. I bruise like a peach.
MIRROR //3
TRENDING @ Dartmouth FAT TALK
ETHICS AND THE COLLEGE MEDIA
DCs
After an intermittent hiatus, the anonymous compliment option returns. ALISON GUH//THE DARTMOUTH
By IRIS LIU Editor’s Note: This is the second in a two-part series examining the role of journalism on college campuses. At 3 p.m. on Sept. 5, she tweeted: “Dear most of the black community at penn state: the hub is not your playground, please stop shouting and dancing and playing music.” Within hours, Pennsylvania State University was ringing in pandemonium over the 19-year-old white sophomore’s Twitter complaint regarding the noise level in her building. The Daily Collegian, Penn State’s independent student daily, received dozens of messages condemning the tweet for racial insensitivity and requesting news coverage of the incident. The Collegian also found that many campus student leaders expressed concern over the tweet’s racial content. Editors noted the newsworthy nature of the incident, as it not only triggered immediate and intense backlash from the student body, but indicated underlying campus racial tensions. They struggled, however, to determine how the tweeter’s identity could be verified. Furthermore, if she were to be identified, should her name and picture be used in the news coverage? This retrospective case study is one of many that the University of Arkansas’s Center for Ethics in Journalism reviews with its journalism students, Arkansas visiting professor and former Penn State professor Gene Foreman said. Foreman, who has worked as a senior editor at Newsday and The Philadelphia Inquirer, said that the ethical implications presented in the case study reflect the nebulous relationship between a college paper and the student body. Even within the sphere of professional journalism, reporters tread the fine line of dual citizenship in both the contiguous community and the more objective world of journalism that neutrally observes the community. In a college or university setting, these two worlds are thrust even closer together, and student journalists are challenged by their often conflicting obligations to their community and peers versus objective and factual reporting. Ethical reporting plays a key role in both college-level and professional journalism, Foreman said. “Fundamentally, we’re trying to be believed, so everything we do should strive toward credibility, getting things right, being fair and being considerate of everyone involved,” Foreman said. “The two aspects of ethics are recognizing what is and isn’t appropriate and having the moral courage to do what is right, what is good and what is appropriate.”
The four over-arching tenets of the Society of Professional Journalists’ code of ethics instruct journalists to “seek truth and report it,” “minimize harm,” “act independently” and “be accountable.” Foreman notes that journalists are often challenged to reconcile the first two points, which state that ethical journalists “should be honest, fair and courageous in gathering, reporting and interpreting information” and “treat sources, subjects and colleagues as human beings deserving of respect,” two objectives that may bump heads. “If a student committed an act that is not becoming to that person, that truth can hurt, and the editor needs to decide whether the harm done to the individual outweighs the value of the information to the public,” Foreman said. “The crux of journalism is about stopping and thinking and going through a decision process to try to do the right thing.” The role of ethics in college journalism is further complicated by age. College journalism is unique in that both the reporters and the subjects of reporting are young adults, who are old enough to be held accountable for their actions and decisions but are still in the process of learning from mistakes, Foreman said. Harvard Crimson President Bobby Samuels said that two people ages 18 and 58 should not necessarily be held to the same standard of accountability. As the case study indicates, much of the debate surrounding college journalism ethics lies in the decision to either print or omit names in controversial news stories. “On a very basic level, that gets into the question of legality,” Samuels said. “If you do want to pursue the question of printing names, then you do have to tread more carefully from a legal point of view.” During last year’s investigation of the Harvard cheating scandal that involved around 125 students in an introductory political science course, The Crimson printed only the names of those who were publically relevant, such as notable athletes. Decisions, however, are made on a case-bycase basis, always keeping in mind whether the names are relevant to the quality of the news. “With all of these questions, the nature of ethics, fairness, credibility, there are no absolutes,” Samuels said. “That’s what makes working on a student paper so intriguing and so interesting. You are faced with these situations and you have to decide what the right thing is to do.” Northwestern University Medill School of Journalism professor Joe Mathewson ’55 said that a paper both guides and is guided by its relationship to the community it serves.
“It’s pretty obvious that you’re constrained by your personal involvement in any aspect of the community,” said Mathewson, a former editorin-chief of The Dartmouth. “You can’t just stand outside and look at it totally dispassionately.” Foreman emphasized the ethical dilemma that comes with controversial stories, particularly when the subject is a young adult. “We are dealing with people who are 18 to 22-year-olds, and you have to weigh the consideration that this person is a young adult against having a juicy story that will draw readership,” Foreman said. “I think you should never lose sight of the value of compassion.” In an era of digital journalism, reporters must consider the impact of their work even more carefully. “In these days, if you put someone in an embarrassing spotlight, whatever you print will be picked up by a search,” Mathewson said. “If you put anyone in an awkward or difficult position, that’s going to be very permanent out there on the Internet.” These problems are further exacerbated by questions regarding online commenting policies. Editors and publishers need to approach online commenting with great caution and should keep a tight rein on which comments are published and which are filtered out, Mathewson said. If illegal comments, including libelous comments and those that invade others’ privacy, are published, the news organization is responsible for policing the comments and can be held liable in a court of law. Mathewson said filtering comments does not stifle public discourse and is a serious legal and ethical matter. He encouraged papers to err on the side of being conservative when policing comment submissions. Commenters are also more likely to be responsible and truthful when they are not granted a cloak of anonymity, Mathewson said. Libelous and other illegal comments posted anonymously can nevertheless be pursued in court to identify the commenter. Because papers play a major role in guiding debate in a community by both what it does and does not print, journalists and commenters alike should act ethically and thoughtfully when publishing information. “Journalism, probably more than any other profession, is obligated to obey the law and is obligated to the public to be fair and honest and considerate,” Mathewson said. “It’s really important for journalists to have a sense of responsibility to individuals and to the community at large. I always tell my students ‘Don’t leave your conscience at the newsroom door.’”
COURSE SELECTION
Dartmouth does what it does best: forces us to think about the upcoming term when we hadn’t even realized this one was halfway over. Happy picking everybody.
KRISTEN WIIG
In the grand tradition of comedians as Commencement speakers (i.e. we’re still laughing at Conan), the buzz is mounting around everyone’s favorite bridesmaid as a top pick for the ’14s’ graduation. She could write her notes in a sad, handwritten book!
SEMI DATES Semi occupies a frustrating gray area where an invite could be courtship or just confirmation of a friendship. But the awkward back-and-forth blitz convo about what to wear is a time-honored tradition.
CHaD
The Children’s Hospital at Dartmouth’s unbelievably touching “Roar” video made it to Buzzfeed, and last weekend’s run raised $650,000.
SECOND ROUND
4// MIRROR
o m H e f o
Shenzhen, China, a seaside town, boasts a twoway street: one side features fishermen selling a wide variety of freshly caught seafood, while the other side contains street stands that cook the seafood for customers. Customers sometimes even go fishing with the fishermen, intensifying the allure of the entire package of adventure. Zan Song ’16, a native of Shenzhen, hasn’t been home since freshman fall, but her eyes still light up as she describes the savory dishes found in a Muslim district near her home. Her affinity for Chinese-Muslim food drew her to a diverse array of noodle soups, meat dumplings and sandwiches, among which a type of pork sandwich named “rou jia mo” stands out. A successful rou jia mo spread should have spotted exterior similar to leopard print. To complement the crisp, dry surface, the moist interior is infused with juice after the pork is placed on top of the bread. The meat also has to be extremely well-cooked in order to reach the ideal level of succulent tenderness. “It doesn’t feel like it’s going through your taste buds, then your mouth, transmitted through your nerves and into your brain,” she said. “It feels like a direct perception, as if the sandwich is being gripped directly onto your brain nerves, and your brain nerves absorb the food with an explosion of flavors.” With the term halfway over, homesickness is sweeping through residence halls, classroom walls and dining facilities, reviving memories of delectable home-cooked food, favorite spots and activities that tug at students’ heartstrings. For many international students at Dartmouth, homesickness derives from unfamiliarity with various aspects of American culture, among which food features prominently. George Boateng ’16, who hails from Accra, Ghana, subsisted on a diet of FoCo fries and grilled chicken thighs for the better part of his freshman year because he struggled to adjust to American food during his first experience living abroad. “The main difference is that food back home is generally very spicy,” he said. “Over here, the food is pretty bland.” Boateng characterized his relationship with American food as a struggle and “an ongoing process,” which he has attempted to navigate by
e t s a T e h T by
a n i k Sa
bu A
e y k a Bo
d n a
M
in
ng Je u on y K
MIRROR //5
immersing himself in the close-knit Ghanaian community on campus. He and other Ghanaians on campus occasionally cook homemade meals together, including his favorites, rice with spicy stew and fried chicken or jolouf rice with fried plantains and fried chicken. Apart from missing Ghanaian food, Boateng has struggled with homesickness. He hasn’t returned home since arriving at Dartmouth, but the feeling peaked in the last three weeks. As the youngest and only male child in his family, his parents had always doted on him. College life allowed him to thrive in his newfound independence but a weekly phone call with his family brought up dormant feelings. Boateng plans to visit his hometown during winter break and would like to go home at least once a year from now on. Bing Wang ’16, from Wuhan, China, attended high school in Singapore, but Dartmouth was her first experience living in the United States Dartmouth’s food looked and still looks foreign to her, and Hanover’s Chinese food bears no resemblance to what she eats at home. “It’s actually when you go out that you miss home food the most,” she said, playing with her bread bowl soup from the Kosher section in FoCo. “It’s something that you cannot get, and you keep missing it.” Wang takes advantage of care packages from home and the stir-fry in FoCo. At times, she cooks her own version of a Chinese hotpot. “It’s a giant pot where you just dump everything inside,” she said. “It has some very spicy sauce, so when you take
it out, it’s really nice.” In her homemade hotpot, Wang includes lotus roots, fish eggs and Szechuan sauce, purchased at a Chinese grocery store in West Lebanon. Unlike Wang, Hayley Son ’15, from Ilsan, South Korea, has more or less adapted to Dartmouth cuisine, despite the fact it is her first time living abroad. At first, Son didn’t know much about American dishes like grilled cheese sandwiches, burritos and subs, but after a few terms at Dartmouth, she said she knows what to expect and even enjoys some of the food. She does not miss home food that much, but when she does, it is generally “grilled pork bellies with lettuce and soy sauce.” Though Son has not missed Korean food, she is not immune to homesickness. “Freshman year, I didn’t really have a good way to deal with my homesickness, so I would just get stressed out a lot,” she said. Homesickness struck hard during last spring, when she turned to speaking Korean with her friends because she felt stressed from having to speak English, her second language, all the time. She now plans to visit home every winter and summer break. “Three terms, I guess, is the maximum I can handle,” Son joked. Quyen Hoang ’16, born and raised in Hanoi, Vietnam, expressed the same yearning for home when she confessed that FoCo’s version of pho, a Vietnamese noodle soup, simply does not compare to her mother’s authentic preparation. “I miss home food the most when I need comfort, when I’m sick or depressed,” Hoang said. “In those times, all the childhood memories of home-cooked meals flood back.” Hoang fondly described her mother’s Vietnamese congee, a rice porridge dish that she likens to oatmeal or macaroni and cheese in the American context but characterizes as representative of Vietnamese culture. Unlike many international students, who have bases only in the United States or their native countries, her family is scattered around: she studies in the U.S., her sister lives in England and her parents reside in Vietnam, which complicates her schedule for visits home. Hoang is considering living off-campus next year so she can cook on her own and rely less on Dartmouth Dining Services. Sophia Johnston ’15, who hails from London, said Dartmouth’s food is not a major concern for her. London is an international city with such a broad spectrum of foreign cuisines, making for less of a difference between her home food and American food. She cited a Food Network survey naming chicken tikka masala as the U.K.’s most popular dish as evidence of the international nature of British cuisine. As for Dartmouth’s dining, she expressed satisfaction with the wide range of fresh produce and seasonal diets that three different DDS facilities offer. Mir Faiyaz ’16, from Dubai, said that while he misses his mother’s home-cooked shawarma, a “burrito-like chicken wrap,” he adapted to college food because he grew up in an Americanized neighborhood where pizza and wings are commonly served. Our brief probing into the relationship between international students and homesickness had a primary focus on local cuisine. We discovered, however, that international students have divergent levels of attachment to, or identification with, home food, whether it is meals painstakingly prepared by their parents or conveniently acquired in the streets. No matter the circumstances, all students are susceptible to homesickness, with international students’ homesickness somewhat more complicated by geographical and cultural barriers. Song is a former reporter for The Dartmouth. KELLEY LIN // THE DARTMOUTH
6// MIRROR
Through the Looking Glass
ADDING TO THE RECIPE B y NICK HODGSON
The first time I visited Dartmouth was between my sophomore and junior years of high school. I had been here before. My dad was a member of the Class of 1978, and I had been to a few reunions as a kid. But I had never been here without my parents. I came up over my sister’s sophomore summer. To put ever ything into context, I was a late bloomer, and in hindsight, spending the weekend with a bunch of college kids was a bit alarming for me, being only 16 years old. I still wasn’t sure I liked the whole high school idea, and college seemed just as confusing to me. But nonetheless, I was excited to spend time with my sister, whom I hadn’t seen in two or three months. Upon arriving, I found my sister hanging out with her friends at her off-campus house. Ever yone
“
The diversity of the students here, all united by a passion for the school they attend, really makes Dartmouth what we all perceive it as. It’s moldable. You have the ability to add to the recipe. And what you add to the recipe is the most important part of Dartmouth.
was ver y welcoming and nice, but I felt awkward. “What did they actually think of me?” That thought bounced around my head the whole weekend. Did they really care about me, some high schooler who had never experienced college before? I felt sort of isolated the whole weekend. My sister may have been with me, and we went on many trips around the area, and I had a great time, but I found myself always wishing my sister and I would get a chance to finally go for a drive to get ice cream in West Leb, or the moment I got a chance to call my parents and give them updates on my weekend. This isolation may have been my own fault, but the whole weekend I felt the world moving around me, and I was simply a ball being kicked around from place to place, from event to event, from party to party, just obser ving ever ything. Was it worth it for me to be there? Ever yone was nice to me, ever yone was excited to meet me, but somehow I felt like I didn’t belong. Perhaps it was all the introductions, each just the same as the one before, each ending in the person I was talking to leaving to go talk to his or her roommate. Maybe I was too young to be thrown so quickly into this situation, but I certainly did not feel like Dartmouth was for me. I was left thinking, “Is this college right for me?” Of course, here I am now at a place I can proudly call my home, a place I love and cherish beyond imagination. So where did the transformation happen? When did I change my mind? How did I come to like the idea of college? For one thing, I finally hit puberty. I matured physically and mentally. By the time I began applying for college, I didn’t feel like the young, helpless high schooler of old. I was also getting really excited about the next chapter in my life. I loved my high school and my friends there, but we all were anxiously waiting for the day we would become college students. I made my official visit and tour of campus the autumn of my senior year, on a rainy, bluster y day. The Green was a swamp, ever y step I took was in a puddle and I could hardly go a few feet without having to shield myself from the rain pelting my face. Despite the weather, my tour guide was extremely cheer y and just plain excited to be sharing her school with us. She made Dartmouth feel like home. She couldn’t wait to show us Baker lobby, where she would meet with study groups to discuss the next exam, or the many options for study abroad opportunities or her experience in Paris on the foreign study program. I started to see myself
MARGARET ROWLAND//THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
Having a sibling at Dartmouth can make it a challenge to carve out your own path, but the college’s breadth of opportunity means you have lots of opportunities to find your own identity. more and more here. So I took a leap of faith and applied early. The beginning of my freshman year was amazing. I could not have enjoyed the fall more. But how did I integrate myself so quickly into Dartmouth? After all, I was at first skeptical if I even fit in at all here. I lived in a single the whole year. Would I make friends? It took me a few weeks, but once I settled into college life, I found my group of friends, the people I would look to ever y day to go to lunch with, to go to the librar y with or just to hang out late on a Sunday night. I found my niche. And I really felt at home
when I was sitting on the Green watching people building the bonfire for Homecoming, enjoying a sandwich from Dirt Cowboy and talking with my best friends, and I just looked around at ever ything. The fall colors, the sun, the beauty of the buildings around me — I just knew that ever ything was perfect. I knew then that Dartmouth was my home. What I want people to take away from what I have said is that college is a place where you can express yourself fully, without any regrets. There is no environment where people aren’t allowed to be
who they are — in fact, it’s encouraged. I love that while my friends and I may love doing one thing, and another group of friends love doing another, we can combine our experiences and really enjoy tr ying something new. I think that the diversity of the students here, all united by a passion for the school they attend, really makes Dartmouth what we all perceive it as. It’s moldable. You have the ability to create your own unique experience. You have the ability to add to the recipe. And what you add to the recipe is the most important part of Dartmouth.
MIRROR //7
COLUMN
WHAT HAVE WE DONE? IN CASE By SEANIE CIVALE and AMANDA SMITH YOU WERE WONDERING
COLUMN
By
KATIE SINCLAIR
There is a certain period of time in college during which it remains kosher to be incapable of performing basic life operations in the absence of parental guidance. After said period of time, this thing called “personal initiative” enters the picture. Suddenly, magically, you feel self-motivation to do stuff like wash your sheets, file taxes, vacuum things and not eat Lucky Charms for breakfast, afternoon snack and post-dinner dessert every day of your life. Or at least that’s how we imagine it going, for other people. We cannot actually speak to this sudden, magical shift. Perhaps it’s like learning how to ride a bike, when once you get it, it feels like you’ve always known. You say things like,“Of course I track my spending so as to avoid the humiliation of a rejected credit card in a crowded establishment!” That kind of thing seems like something we should instinctively do by this point. Historically, we’ve justified our negligence with our busy academic schedules. We’re here to do homework, not laundry, right? But for the past week, we’ve harbored this newfound, unsettling insecurity. Is it that we have the “personal initiative” for these tasks, but simply don’t employ it? Or are we actually just inept? The questions all began with a visit from Amanda’s mother. Amanda: My mom and I are close. Recap of last week: on occasion she acts as my back-up alarm clock. This week, she came to campus for a visit. Now, my mom is the type of lady who likes to dive into things and get involved. I got used to this in high school, but I had not yet experienced the extent of her eagerness in college. This is how it manifested. She came to class with me, not an uncommon thing for a visiting parent to do. But I know my mother, and I knew what a Dartmouth class would do to her. So I set some ground rules for her class participation: 1. Don’t talk 2. Don’t try to force me to talk 3. Actually don’t do anything except sit there We sat in the back corner by the door, and I repeated the ground rules to her, though I should’ve known. This was my mother. The whole personal initiative business is kind of her thing. So when my professor prompted the class with questions about a Wordsworth poem, my mom pointed to a line in my textbook and asked me under her breath if she was allowed to say anything. I shook my head. A few minutes later, there was some commotion out in the hallway and she whispered to me again, this time asking if she could close the door. I shook my head. There was really nothing wrong with her closing the door except for the
fact that it broke ground rule number three, and breaking ground rule number three is a slippery slope. After class ended, my mother was ecstatic anyway. She was beaming, talking about how enriching and inspiring and wonderful the hour had been. How she wished she could take the class with me and read all of the material listed on my syllabus. And so I realized it: My mother is a better student than me. I don’t know when this happened or what I can do to fix it. Seanie: This week was laundry week. There is nothing that makes me feel so incompetent as laundry week. It was last Sunday afternoon, and, standing amongst the mountainous pile, I lacked direction. For comfort, I asked myself the usual questions. Is it really that big of a problem if I refrain from doing my laundry for such a lengthy period of time? The clothing strewn across my floor has actually served as a sort of daybed for the other writer of this column. Does anyone else really notice or care if I wait until the situation becomes hazardous? My roommate has grown to accept my ways. The means of egress in my hall remain unblocked to my floormates. There is no downside. And there lies my biggest problem. I tend to justify my most unacceptable actions by selectively locating the things that might possibly be construed as positive about them and blowing those things up until I can’t see what’s blatantly wrong with what I’m doing. In reality, not doing my laundry catapults my room into a state of disarray so severe that the prospect of having to set foot inside it or even anywhere near it triggers a feeling of impending doom. It becomes not a safe haven for mid-afternoon naps and other leisurely activities but rather a literal pigsty, fiery abyss of hell. So on Sunday, there was nothing to do but resign myself to the task. I have spent the past days since sorting things into whites and darks, searching for quarters in the depths of my backpack, borrowing laundry detergent from the blessed people who leave theirs in communal spaces, loading, unloading, forgetting to start the machine, shrinking things to hobbit-size, not dry cleaning dry-clean only items, folding, shouting “DOWN WITH FOLDING,” throwing everything into drawers and listening to Evanescence to numb it all. We feel that there’s nothing to do about these problems but wait. We wait for the light to come. We wait for the day that we do important things out of a natural sense of personal integrity. We wait. Until then, with love, Lucy & Ethel
In case you were wondering, high heels were considered fashionable for men from about the mid-16th century to the mid-18th century. It’s rise in western fashion can be traced to interactions with the Persian Empire, where heeled boots were worn to keep feet from slipping out of stirrups. Women adopted high heels not as a sign of femininity, but to copy the military fashions that were de rigueur at the time. It was only by the Enlightenment, when it was agreed that all men needed to be sensible and boring looking, that the high heel for men fell out of fashion. I begin my discussion with high heels to make the point that if you were a 17th century job seeker looking to be a clerk or a merchant or a playwright or whatever it was that well-educated people did, Ye Olde Career Services, now the Center for Professional Development, would be sending out missives to the men and not the women to warn against looking slutty and wearing the wrong shoes. Perusing the center’s Pinterest Board — yes, they have a Pinterest board — regarding proper interview dress, it came to my intention that the men’s board was filled with six different versions of tie knots, while the ladies’ one was filled with instructions to wear skirts, high heels (but not too high!), “feminine” tops, not “boxy button-ups” and “subtle” makeup. I wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended by this, but since I am a columnist I feel it is my duty to be offended by things, so here it goes: I AM OUTRAGED. I think it is offensive and sexist to assume that Dartmouth men are so stupid as to need six different sets of instructions on how to tie a tie. I am not doing full-on corporate recruiting, partly because I lack any marketable skills whatsoever, but mostly because I am not a masochist. Early on in the process, I realized that I would rather watch the Colbert Report on Hulu than use those 20 minutes to submit a resume and write 250 words about why I wanted to work for Last Name, Last Name and Last Name Inc. I have friends going through recruiting, and they all look very professional as they trot across campus to half a dozen interviews in which they are asked to estimate the number of fire hydrants in New York City. I know they would all be wonderful consultants, because they look great in a suit and enjoy telling people what to do. To those of you who have yet to reach the advanced age of the members of the Class of 2014, I would say that if you’re thinking about doing corporate recruiting, only do it if you feel that sincerely in the bottom of your soul that you want to spend the next 2-4 years in New York or Boston, working your ass off and making a lot of money solving other people’s
problems. I dabbled in corporate recruiting for about three weeks in the beginning of the year and applied for a few positions, none of which had the title “consultant” or “analyst” in description. But my fumbling around on Dartboard does not really count as hardcore corporate recruiting. People who do corporate recruiting, or at least manage to get jobs out of corporate recruiting, apply to a gazillion positions, get rejected from half of them, go to first round interviews and then spend a week gallivanting across New England for second-round interviews. It doesn’t look like fun. Back in the day, it was easy to look at the ’11s, ’12s and ’13s and see corporate recruiting as soul-selling. Back then, we were all excited about working during our first off-terms for no money at a nonprofit, or being semiprofessional Facebookers or tweeters. I’m always surprised that “social media” counts as an actual profession. But no one wants to be an unpaid intern at 22. You can’t help but admire the people going through corporate recruiting, because it is insanely difficult to have your life put together enough in the first three weeks of senior fall to be able to write cover letters, practice interviews and keep going to class and extracurriculars. Getting a “real” job is probably the most daunting task I have ever faced, which admittedly demonstrates how easy my life has been so far. Several of my parents’ friends are currently freaking out about getting their precious offspring into esteemed universities, which causes me to look fondly back at the college application process. Applying to college, you really were just expected to be yourself. SAT scores and grades were important, but I’d like to believe that the college was looking for interesting, passionate and talented people. I’ve found that in job searching, we’re encouraged to be honest about who we are and what we care about, but that’s always followed by a gigantic caveat: there’s an inescapable element of marketing and “selling yourself.” There are workshops on how to “package” your college experience. It bums me out that a college experience is something that can be bundled up and sold to prospective employers. But on the bright side, “I have an interview,” like “orgo” or “rush,” is a great excuse to get out of things. Wednesday, I got out of two classes and a lab because I had to get to Amherst for an interview. Short of contracting bubonic plague, I can’t think of any other reason that would so easily get you out of a lab. I’d like to say that my interview prep consisted of me agonizing over wearing the right height heels and suitably feminine-but-not-too-sexy attire, but luckily for me, the interview was business casual.
8 // MIRROR
PROFILE
UNNATURAL SELECTION
MARGARET ROWLAND // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
The Dartmouth application, unique in its reliance on a peer recommendation, has transformed in content and complexity since the beginning of the 19th century. By LAUREN HUFF It’s that time of year again. The time of hair-pulling, teethgrinding, sitting in your room like a recluse. Stress dawns upon high school seniors each year come late October. For some, the memories of two months of grade-wide tension and endless college chatter may be painfully fresh in their minds, while others have stayed blissfully ignorant of this early decision insanity. Either way, we all went through the same application process. Whether Dartmouth was your dream school, or you applied simply because it was an Ivy without a supplement, you know that the College approaches the application a bit differently than most of its peers. But it wasn’t always this way. Surprisingly, Dar tmouth did not even employ a selective application process until about a hundred years ago. Prior to the 1920s, students could be admitted based solely on the testimony of their prep school’s principal. Nowadays, however, much to the dismay of all the frequent posters on forums such as College Confidential, it takes a lot more than an impressive GPA to get admitted. It almost seems crazy today to think that hard work in high school used to translate directly into college acceptance, but this is exactly how the process worked. This magical ticket into Dartmouth, given on behalf of students by their school principals, was called a cer tificate. Although many schools, such as Har vard University and Yale University, emphasized the results of entrance examinations as a means for acceptance, Dar tmouth preferred use of these certificates, which
were only accepted from a list of approved schools. To get on that list, schools were evaluated based on features such as the number of volumes in their libraries and ultimately selected by the Dartmouth faculty. Once approved, these prestigious schools could grant a certificate to any student obtaining a certain course of study and predetermined minimum grades. These certificates were objective, based nearly entirely on the student’s course load, including textbooks read and hours practiced in a number of subjects including English, histor y, Latin, Greek, French, German, mathematics, chemistry, physics, zoology and botany. Some of the required fields even specified the number of essays written and length of each essay. By the early 1920s, an increase in the number of applications forced Dartmouth to turn away up to 1500 students annually, and the College found itself compelled to develop a more formalized application process. The contemporar y administration felt the need to more carefully assess applicants’ merits but were initially unsure of how to go about this new process. “I think that there should be some arrangement for giving preference to men of high scholastic ability or who display some indications of fitness for leadership,” former College President Ernest Hopkins said in an inter view in 1921 with The Sunday Herald. “Although I don’t think I could say offhand just how a knowledge of those qualifications of ability and of leadership can be arrived at.” The beginnings of the Dart-
mouth application, however, bear little resemblance to today’s tedious, Common Application. In 1933, the application was restricted to a single page, and asked for only basic information, including a quarter-page section titled “In what school activities have you engaged?” On this single page, Dartmouth asked for information such as the applicant’s weight (while wearing street suit and shoes) and the type of reading he most enjoyed. Nearly a decade later, Dartmouth’s application began to show signs of what is currently the alumni inter view. A 1941 application included an attached “Alumni Council rating blank,” which was to be filled out after members met with the applicant. Council members were asked to rate the candidate on ver y basic scales, such as “Is he mentally quick, average or slow?” This application marks the emergence of racial awareness in the application process. The form asks the candidate for a brief description of racial inheritance, and the application again inquires about “physical type and racial origin.” In later versions, such as that for the Class of 1966, the personal essay began to appear. Three questions were asked, and each gave room for a paragraph of handwritten answer. The questions covered topics including reasons the applicant should be admitted, where the applicant saw himself in the future and one person the applicant admired. The applicant was also asked to attach a photo. These essays have since been omitted from the Dar tmouth
application. In the 1990s, the admissions office opted to drop supplemental essays in favor of the current peer evaluation. Applicants today are asked for no additional essays, but only a supplemental recommendation written by a friend, sibling, coworker or other peer. This removal of supplemental essays in favor of the nearly universal Common Application, however, was not met without resistance. Michele Her nandez ’89, a former Dar tmouth admissions officer and founder of Hernandez College Consulting, commended the individualized application formerly used by Dartmouth. “[The application] was not the same cookie cutter application as ever y other school, but Dartmouth isn’t like ever y other school,” Hernandez said. “I think ever y school now should go back to their own application. I think they should ask the questions they actually want to know the answers to.” Hernandez said that some other schools may have a more effective system than Dartmouth, especially those that require applicants to write unique supplemental essays for their school. “University of Chicago’s application is more prohibitive because it has its own unique essay questions,” Hernandez said. “I think this is good because most schools really want kids who are interested in their school. You want kids who know something about your school.” Others see Dar tmouth’s application as unique, given its peer evaluation requirement. Dean of admissions and financial aid Maria
Laskaris emphasized the personal dimension given to an applicant’s file by their peer evaluation. “Having a letter from a peer gives us insight into who that applicant is outside of the classroom,” Laskaris said. “Teachers and counselors usually know the student in only one dimension. This gives us a more holistic view of the student.” Laskaris said that requiring another supplemental essay would be repetitive, given the amount of students who already send in additional writing samples and the supplemental information admissions officers glean from the Common Application’s short essay. “I don’t know that more essays always gives us more insight into the applicant,” Laskaris said. Laskaris emphasized that much of the peer evaluation’s value lies in its ability to reiterate and personalize aspects demonstrated in other parts of the application. “The peer evaluation is typically one of the last things that we read as we read an application file,” she said. “It really brings to life the often-repeated themes seen in the recommendations and the rest of the application.” Whether you are haunted by memories of the Dartmouth application, or you look upon the process with accomplished content, the peer evaluation is certainly reflective of Dartmouth’s emphasis on community. If anything, we can be grateful that knowledge of zoology and botany is no longer a criterion for admission. Let’s just be happy that we’re done with the process, and look for ward to ’18s come December.