The Dartmouth Mirror 03/30/16

MIR ROR 3.30.2016

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE 16S p. 2

SPRING RECREATION p. 4-5

YOU JUST GOT TRIPP'D p. 6

TTLG: FAILURE AND SUCCESS p. 8 ALISON GUH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

2// MIRROR

Joe Kind: A Guy

Editors’ Note

Happy spring term, Mirror readers! We hope you had wonderful and relaxing spring breaks, and that you didn’t miss us too much. If so, rest assured, we have an entire term ahead of us to satiate you with Mirror issues.

Also, no, you’re not already losing your mind week 1 — it is, in fact, Wednesday. The Mirror will now be coming out on Wednesdays instead of Fridays, and will stand alone, as opposed to being an insert in the regular newspaper.

Unlike the 10 weeks of winter term, Caroline and Hayley did not spend their spring break together venting about their lives on the couches of Robo and getting froyo at Swirl and Pearl.

Instead they communicated via text, which proved much trickier than they thought. For example, Hayley lost reception while visiting a friend and was briefly unable to respond to Caroline’s texts, which left the younger co-editor panic-stricken and pacing on a Miami beach.

In keeping with the vibe of spring break and the upcoming April Fool’s Day, the two editors decided to theme the spring’s first issue around play, at Hayley’s suggestion. “Hahaha yeah I like that idea, let’s start the term on a fun, optimistic note,” Caroline texted Hayley, to which she merely responded “lol ok caroline.”

Maybe the spring will be filled with optimism, fun and play for the two editors. Realistically, it won’t (“Only sophomore summer is like that,” Hayley says wistfully, looking at Caroline with intense envy), but, hopefully, it’ll be the mix of work and play that Dartmouth terms often are.

Regardless, Hayley and Caroline have the Mirror to keep them entertained for the time being. Enjoy the issue and best wishes for a fun 16S!

follow @thedmirror

MIRROR MIRROR EDITORS HAYLEY HOVERTER & CAROLINE BERENS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF REBECCA ASOULIN PUBLISHER RACHEL DECHIARA EXECUTIVE EDITOR MAYA PODDAR

COLUMN

By Joe Kind

’Twas the night before 16S, with students on the loose.

Not a creature was resting, not even a moose.

More rapid than eagles, the instructions they came, And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

The stars — how they twinkled! The fresh grass — how merry!

The tower looking fresh, perhaps even legendary!

The textbooks were placed in the library with care, that is, the ones that still remained there.

“Now 16s! Now 19s!

And all in between!

On, the dorms! On, Late Night!

On, remaining Greek scene!

To the top of the Hop! To the top of the stacks!

Now dash away! Dash away!

Turn your backs!”

The music, banging and bumping, the dancing, unrelenting and thumping.

The winter grades were nestled all snug on my Banner, while visions of lighter course loads dominated my banter.

And Phil with his moustache, and Gail by his side, had just readied our brains for a long spring ride.

When out on the Green there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the River to see what was the matter.

The stump of a lone pine revered for all its might And the smokestack ever churning through the night.

As wet snowflakes that before the wild spring term fall, When they meet with an obstacle, staying put, the students stall.

So back to the spring-tipped Dick’s House he drove The back seat empty, mac’n’cheese bites sitting in the stove.

The students, broad-faced with beerbellies that shook when they laughed, like bowls full of jellies.

Run it back to the fall, fresher than produce, the freshmen always in the way like mongoose, peering out of their dorm rooms, waiting for Greek scenes, walk into a frat full of new 18s.

Away to the Green I ran like a flash, tore across Tuck Mall, and saw there was a bash.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard back on the Green, the prancing and pawing of spring dreams.

The bash on the breast of the newly departed snow gave the luster of the Green to the bodies below.

As I drew out my head and was turning around, all throughout the Green Dartmouth students were abound!

When, what to my wondering eyes should stir, but a grey and green SUV and an SNS officer.

They were dressed all in flair, from their heads to their feets, And their shoes were all soiled from snowy mush on the streets.

They sprang to their bikes, to their teams gave a whistle, and away they all flew like a nuclear missile.

With a little old walkthrough, a smile and a frown, I knew in a moment it must be shut down.

Their bundles of joy they had flung on their backs, Even Reds can’t keep up the slack.

I heard them explain, just barely in sight, “Happy spring term to all and to all a good night!”

’17 female : “Can you like borrow a baby? I just want to borrow one for an hour and then return it.”

’17: “I skipped class today, but it’s syllabus day so it doesn’t matter.” ’17: “I really like this water bottle because it makes me feel like a hamster.”

Dare we consider the winter term, contaminated by global warming and new sets of germs.

And laying their fingers on top of their D-Plans, the ’17s said, “Sayonara, Phil Hanlon!”

Overheard guy in One Wheelock: “I’ve never been here before. Is this, like, an art studio?”

’16: “I’m as shallow as a spilled $4 Molly’s margarita.” ’18: “At least you can get drunk off of that.”

MIRROR //3

Sam’s Little Larks

COLUMN

TRENDING @ Dartmouth

By Sam Van Wetter

RETIRING SAM and EXPIRING SAM are sitting on the Collis porch. It is almostsunny. RETIRING SAM is wearing shorts, a little prematurely. He doesn’t have a backpack. EXPIRING SAM does.

RETIRING SAM: Let’s play a game.

EXPIRING SAM: Okay.

RETIRING: It’s called 16Sup. EXPIRING: 16Sup? RETIRING: Nothing much, what’s 16Sup with you?

EXPIRING: Is this the whole game?

RETIRING: You’re 16Supposed to answer the question.

EXPIRING: What question?

RETIRING: What is 16Sup. EXPIRING: What is 16Sup? RETIRING: What is 16Sup. EXPIRING: Sup, like supper? Like to dine?

RETIRING: No. What’s 16Sup. EXPIRING: Oh, at Ledyard? Stand up paddle?

RETIRING: You’re not listening to me.

EXPIRING: I am listening, I’m just not comprehending what you’re saying.

RETIRING: What I’m 16Saying?

EXPIRING: Why do you keep saying 16 before everything beginning with an “s”?

RETIRING: I don’t.

EXPIRING: Yes you do.

RETIRING: No I don’t. I just want to know what is 16Sup. EXPIRING: You just did it again!

RETIRING: You are 16So 16Slow.

EXPIRING: You sound like a freshman girl’s Facebook album title.

RETIRING: And you 16Sound like a 16Spoil 16Sport! Play the 16Stupid game!

EXPIRING: 16Sup? RETIRING: Nothing much! What is 16Sup with you?

EXPIRING: I really don’t — RETIRING: No no no, I’m kidding. That’s not the game. We’re actually playing 16Sentimental.

EXPIRING: Is this one of those things where we just talk about our irrelevance and how all good things are gonna end?

RETIRING: No that one is 16SWUG. EXPIRING: That’s stupid.

RETIRING: No, it’s 16Stupid. Wait, let’s actually play 16Song game.

EXPIRING: What’s that?

RETIRING: It’s the one where you 16Sing 16Songs that remind you of every term

you’ve been at Dartmouth.

EXPIRING: So it’s just sentimental.

RETIRING: 16Sort of. Would you rather play 16Sorry?

EXPIRING: Like the board game?

RETIRING: I was thinking of the one where you apologize to everyone you’ve ever made angry.

EXPIRING: Sounds like a load of fun.

RETIRING: It could be. Forgiveness is 16Sexy.

EXPIRING: Can’t we just all play pong?

RETIRING: Pong is so last fall. Let’s play 16Social.

EXPIRING: Fine, I’m down.

RETIRING: But I’m not 16Sure we have enough friends.

EXPIRING: Come on. We’re seniors. We can find at least six other people to stand around a table with us. Anyone will play.

RETIRING: Maybe that’s the issue. We’re doing the 16Same things we’ve always done.

This isn’t 16Stagnant, is it? Let’s 16Start 16Something 16Special. Maybe 16Sit-down pong. Oh, I know! Let’s make a 16Suckit list.

EXPIRING: A suckit list?

RETIRING: It’s like a bucket list but kind of different — EXPIRING: Whoa, okay. I got it. No thanks.

RETIRING: Boring.

EXPIRING: So unless I’m making a “suckit list” I’m boring?

RETIRING: Pretty much.

EXPIRING: That’s so pointless.

RETIRING: You know what’s pointless?

Doing the 16Same 16Stuff term after tired term. It’s 16Spring, baby! The 16Sunflowers are gonna 16Start blooming! 16Show off your 16Sundresses! 16Studies are 16So 16Sophomore year. Now is the time to go wild, do 16Something 16Stupid or 16Surprising or 16Scandalous. We don’t have much more time! Might as well 16Spend it in a way you’ll remember!

EXPIRING: That’s the thing, though, man. I don’t wanna reinvent it all in my last ten weeks in Hanover. I’m just starting to figure it out.

RETIRING: Figure what out?

EXPIRING: How this works! What makes me happy! Last term I figured out how to sync my calendar on my phone to the one on my computer and I’m suddenly actually attending the things I’ve committed to! I bought a planner! I love it! I’m getting my

assignments done...on time! I would love to rage or reinvent or whatever you want but it’s just impractical! Why would I forget all this work I’ve put in just because it feels like we’re expected to go crazy? It’s like sophomore summer all over again.

RETIRING: What did you say about 14Xtreme?

EXPIRING: I just mean senior spring might be like sophomore summer in that it’s hyped up to be something ridiculous when really you might get the most out of it if you just buckle down and get some work done and, like, go to office hours.

RETIRING: 14Xtreme was the absolute pinnacle of everything I’ve ever wanted to be and you can’t 14Xtract that from me.

EXPIRING: Right, okay, and now you’re gonna try to top it?

RETIRING: Not top it, just 16Switch it up.

EXPIRING: Like maybe finally doing all your readings?

RETIRING: Don’t be 16Silly.

EXPIRING: I just worry about our expectations getting too big. There’s a lot of stuff we can get done here and we don’t have much time left. And I dare say you’ve spent more time looking for new activities in basements than, say, the library.

RETIRING: I do 16So go to the library!

EXPIRING: You go to KAF. RETIRING: And 16Sanborn!

EXPIRING: To nap.

RETIRING: Whatever. It’s too nice out to get 16Stuck in the 16Stacks.

EXPIRING: It’s still mud season, man.

Maybe I’ll listen to you in, like, May. But for now this is the last time I get the privilege to work and learn and put my whole mind and effort into making something I’m excited about. It’s not gonna be so easy after we graduate.

RETIRING: You don’t know that.

EXPIRING: Call it a 16Suspicion.

RETIRING: Whatever. When you’re ready to have fun, 16Send me a 16Smoke 16Signal.

EXPIRING: And when you’re ready to study let me know, Sam. RETIRING: That’s not my name.

EXPIRING: You’re the same as you’ve always been. You can pretend, but this isn’t new.

RETIRING: Take it back. I’m not the 16Same. This is my 16Senior 16Stinkin’ 16Spring. 16Say hello to 16Sam. Ain’t it 16Splendid?

PEOPLE WITH GOOD HOUSING NUMBERS

Why is that person who ignored you last term suddenly so friendly...?

“HEY, HOW WAS YOUR SPRING BREAK?” Classic.

TANS

For those of you who answer, “Good! I went [someplace warm]” to people who ask about your spring break.

SHORTS

Venture to the Hinman line only if you have an hour or two to spare.

LINES

Venture to the Hinman line only if you have an hour or two to spare.

MUD

Don’t get rid of your Bean Boots just yet (unless you want to find yourself knee deep in mud on the Green.)

4// MIRROR

e & d i n u o i g t s a u x p a l

By A l is m e r a on Guh c g S a m n a C i o : oper and r n p S reatio rec INFOGRA

PHIC

Frat Row

Though frat row i time offerings, a d benefits-especially constitute the row a beloved pet at h playing with an ad ity. Be sure to che a glimpse of Wins relaxing winter va place for a leisure light of day, the a becomes all the m ideal time to give on Tri Kap is alm with a new sense o

The River In my opinion, the Connecticut River is one of Dartmouth’s most underrated spots on campus. Tucked away on the edge of campus, away from the hustle and bustle of the Green, it’s the perfect place to escape when you need a few moments of peace and quiet. It’s stunningly beautiful at all times of the year, especially when surrounded by foliage rich trees in the fall, but there’s something special about the river in the spring. The ice has melted, indicating the end of a long and arduous winter (or, in the case of this past one, a disconcertingly mild winter) and the impending arrival of warmth and greenery. There are multitudes of activities to do on the river during this time of year; my personal favorites being canoeing and kayaking. Bring a few friends down, rent out a canoe or kayak from Ledyard and go to town. The river has so many little inlets and islands to stop on, you could spend a while rowing up and down it without running out of things to do. Not to mention, the scenery is stunning. And when the weather gets warmer, grab your bathing suit and go for a swim in the river. Nothing screams spring term like a chilly plunge into the river.

MIRROR //5

Occom Pond Walks around Occom Pond are a good idea at any time of the year, even during bitter cold nights in the winter (perhaps after going skating and having hot chocolate at the DOC House).

There’s something magical about its tranquil, secluded location near the scenic golf course and the historic DOC house.

It always seems that after a few laps around Occom, chatting with a friend, all of your problems and fears are way smaller; it’s indescribably therapeutic. And the fact that Occom looks beautiful when flows bloom in the spring, in addition to the warmer air, easily makes it one of the best places to go this term.

w

is undoubtedly more notorious for its nightdaytime trip down Webster has its own unique y as springtime approaches. The frat dogs w’s biggest attraction. Whether one is missing home, or just needs a boost after a tough day, dorable puppy is undeniably a popular activeck out Phi Delt’s yard if you want to catch ston the pig, who has just returned from a acation in Atlanta. Webster is also the perfect ely walk with a friend, or a light jog. In the architectural beauty of some of the frat houses more apparent. This term also might be the the row a chance, since the construction work most completed, and Webster has been instilled of peace and quiet.

The Green As the temperature rises, so too does the number of people frequenting the Green to talk, tan, study or just get in a relaxing nap under the sun. Already, the time has come to carefully plot pathways through the Green in order to avoid the frisbee and soccer games of students eager to embrace the warm weather and open space. On a particularly hot day, there’s also the chance to seek solace under one of the trees lining the green across from Baker. Certainly, studying for an economics test becomes considerably less grim when you are surrounded by laughing children and dogs playing fetch. An obvious improvement from the dimly lit corridors of the stacks! Of course, you might also want to practice caution while navigating the Green at night. It may make for a vastly less peaceful area if one were to unwittingly stumble upon a couple intent on completing the Dartmouth seven.

Golf Course Right beside good ol’ Occom Pond is the golf course, which is another slightly hidden gem on campus. Of course, it’s great for sledding and cross-country skiing in the winter, but I think its best asset is the opportunity it provides for stargazing in the spring. The ice has all melted from the course, leaving the grass green and free to roam. Granted, the spring rain can make the grass wet, so when you go stargazing be sure to bring along something water-resistant to sit on — maybe a raincoat or small tarp. But there’s no better way to spend these soon-to-be warmer nights than looking up at the sky and remembering how unimportant that reading you should be doing really is.

If you’re feeling especially ambitious and want to switch up the usual Foco-to-go-on-the-Green, get food to go with a few friends and eat on the golf course.

6// MIRROR

YouByJust Got Tripp’d Parker Richards STORY

I’m a klutz. Over the course of my first-year trip, I sprained one ankle, rolled the other and lost roughly two square inches of skin to a hastily applied bandage over the rolled ankle.

The side-effect of my clumsiness is that I was less surprised by my trip’s raid than my fellow trippees, as I was informed a raid was occurring, partially to arrange the aforementioned bandage.

Still, the sudden appearance of a squadron of flair-bedecked strangers on a bridge in the high pass between Smarts Mountain and Mount Cube was a shock, as were their riddles and their questions. This was my introduction to raids during Dartmouth Outing Club First-Year Trips, the time-honored tradition that, to an outsider, would likely appear strange — perhaps even more bizarre than a few days earlier when I pulled up to Robo to see people wearing tutus and chicken costumes doing the Salty Dog Rag dance.

Julietta Gervase ’16 raided a trip after her sophomore summer, which she said is common for students, when she was on campus working for reunions. She and two other friends, who were also on campus, decided to raid a trip when they had some free time one afternoon. As is the case with raids, they created a wacky backstory for who they were.

“We spent a few minutes brainstorming what we were going to do and decided to do an ‘explorer raid’ where we pretended we were explorers looking for Hawaii and then showed up with Hawaiian pizza from EBAs,” Gervase said.

Gervase and her fellow raiders attempted to organize an explorationthemed raid, but she said it wasn’t as smooth as it could have been. The group attempted to “army crawl” through an open field toward the incoming freshmen, who were members of the class of 2018. Unfortunately, Gervase explained, it didn’t work out quite as they had hoped.

“They were watching us the whole time,” Gervase said, laughing. “It was kind of mortifying, actually.”

Still, the Hawaiian pizza that they brought went over well.

Like most raids organized independent of the DOC, Gervase opted to target a trip led by a friend. That wasn’t the only way her raid exemplified the tradition. Most raiders opt to bring food (particularly of the sort that is not available in the middle of a first-year trip) with them, wear flair and befuddle the new students, usually by playing games and crafting elaborate scenarios to explain their presence in the area.

Julia Decerega ’18 raided a trip last spring, and she dressed as a flairrich pirate and pretended to attempt a coup d’etat on a trip’s “boat” (actually more of a makeshift shelter). Like Gervase, she raided a trip that one of

her friends was leading.

“We got pizza, dressed up in flair and we went to surprise them,” Decerega explained.

She said that she’d had a very positive experience being raided on her own trip the year before.

“My trip was raided when I did it, and I thought it was a lot of fun,” Decerega said. She explained that the break from Annie’s Mac and Cheese was welcome as the raiders of her trip supplied pizza.

Most raids attempt to build a positive experience for incoming students, introducing them to the culture of Dartmouth and the College’s more unconventional eccentricities. Gervase explained that raids exemplify the free-spirited nature of Trips and aims to put incoming freshmen — who are often intimidated — at ease.

“Maybe [it’s] just an introduction to how weird and trolly we are,” Gervase said. “It’s just a very concrete thing that people do just for love of Dartmouth, or love of their friends who are leaders or love of trippees. It’s just something that’s just very founded in a lot of very warm, positive feelings.”

For Gervase, raiding a trip was a new experience. Unlike Decerega, she had not experienced a raid as a freshman on her own trip. Vox Croo, the DOC group responsible for supporting trips in the wild, raids most trips in the Hanover-Moosilauke area. Vox Croo also attempts to do vital resupply efforts as a part of its raids, bringing in water, iodine tablets and — for those of us with delicate ankles — medical care.

Grant Croo attempts to raid most trips in the Second College Grant, but that feat is not always possible given the volume of trips in the area and their other support responsibilities.

Due to this, and sometimes geographical limitations, not every freshman trip is raided.

Raiding is an aspect unique to the Trips experience. While most people involved with Trips, from its directorate to Trip leaders to Croo members, receive extensive training, no such procedure exists for impromptu raid leaders, Gervase said. For that reason, there is now a database of trips online, and the DOC encourages potential raiders to sign up online, notifying the organization of their plans, said Dru Falco ’18, vice president of the DOC. The coordination efforts also help level the playing field for trips that are further afield. Traditionally, trips nearest campus are raided at a disproportionately higher level than others, Gervase noted.

Falco said that raiding can be very diverse, ranging from people dressing up in costume to conjuring elaborate stories about their wild backgrounds.

“Someone came up dressed as a farmer, and had someone dressed as a cow next to them and they were like, ‘Oh watch my cow, I’m going to go do

something else,’ and the cow sat with them for awhile and the guy came back with snacks,” she said.

Falco’s own first-year trip was raided, as was a trip she led the following year.

On her trip, the raiders came up to her cabin all dressed in flair, and they said their names were Pan, the god of nature, some other strange names, and Sophie. Falco said they

claimed to be from the Dartmouth Nature Appreciation Group, NAG, and they read Falco and her trippees books. One raider later recited a poem he had memorized.

The next year, she lost her composure as a trip leader and laughed throughout the raid on her trip, which her friend was performing. She said this spoiled the surprise for her trippees, since they knew the ruse wasn’t real.

Overall, they still responded positively and found humor in the raid. She added that in her experience, most freshmen respond this way.

In the end, however, raids are about fun, food and introducing incoming freshmen to the wild, wacky world of Dartmouth.

In Decerega’s words, “Who doesn’t like pizza when they’re in the middle of the woods?”

MIRROR

Playtime COLUMN

//7

By Mary Liza Hartong and Andrew Kingsley wants her to stay home to manage the family’s Dairy Queen. What’s a girl to do? When suave drifter, Rio Casanova rides into town on his Hummer, Marlene just might find that you miss every picture you don’t take. Especially the one incriminating Rio for stealing her skin…and her heart.

It’s springtime, and you know what that means.

No, not sundresses, stargazing, frolicking naked or being arrested for frolicking naked. It’s one-act season! Theater in the park is about to start up soon, so we’ve been receiving hundreds of oneacts to select for our spring repertoire. Here are the worst pitches we read.

“A New Beginning” Marlene is a big city girl stuck in her small hometown of Yawnville, Kentucky. Yuck! Her big secret: she’s a photographer. A good one.

Sometimes she takes black and white pictures of rain-streaked windows or sunsets. Trouble is, while most of her friends are leaving for tractor school next fall in Funville, Nebraska, her uncle

“Get Off the Hook” Mark is your average fish. He’s an average fish in your average ocean. But 1 percent of the fish have over 99 percent of the seaweed. Mark wants huge change, and he wants no riverbank to be too big to fail.

There is a ladyfish who says she can redistribute the seaweed, but she has so much seaweed and she takes seaweed from big fish — and those sea-mails, I mean! Plus there’s this big cruise ship that is polluting the whole ocean. Ick! And don’t forget that ugly shark who says he has earned a lot of seaweed but really his dad earned it all. The power is in your fins to change the ocean’s tides.

“Movin’ Out” Anthony works in the grocery store. He’s saving his pennies for someday. Mama Leone left a note on the door. She said, “Sonny, move out to the

country. Workin’ too hard can give you a heart attack. You outta know by now who needs a house out in Hackensack. Is that what you get with your money? It seems such a waste of time if that’s what it’s all about.” Mama, if that’s movin’ up, then I’m movin’ out. I’m movin’ out.* *This play was written by a young Billy Joel in the summer of 1977. A philandering dramaturge attempted to pass it off as his one act. We were fooled.

“To Bee, or Not to Bee” (A Play from the NRA Repertory Theatre) Candice is a lowly drone who wishes to be queen.

Her queen bee, Pauline IV, is a real pain in the thorax and can’t hold her liquor. Their hive is a laughing stock. “Get it together, Pauline,” Candice buzzes to herself resting on a daisy one sunny morning. As she rubs her butt on the flower to get its pollen, she sees a bear headed right for their hive, hungry for honey he did nothing to produce.

She races over to the bear’s paw, and primes her stinger to protect her friends. But oh no! Pauline is slovenly drunk and embarrassing the whole hive.

Good riddance, Candice buzzes. What’s this? The bear falls over just before he reaches the hive. Two hunters come over to collect their ursine bounty, and the hive is saved.* *Pauline thus continued her reign of tyranny and later became known as “The Bee-Header” for guillotining thousands of drones during the Honey Uprisings.

“Untitled” Anything could be a play. You, the audience,

you’re all actors in a play right now. Amazing.

This curtain, it’s in its own play called “Curtain Call.” It’s almost as if a bunch of trained actors on a stage with rehearsed lines and a five-act structure centered around star-crossed lovers… that could be a play! A mediocre one, but a play nonetheless. Give me anything and it could be a play. A noose? I love a challenge, ma’am! You sir, storming out, you have great instincts for theater!

Oh yes, I like your tone as you demand a refund.

Good projection! And these tomatoes you’re throwing. Wonderful object work! That gun seems oddly realistic, madam. And those bullets too. Oh! The rest is silence.* *Also a play from the NRA Repertory Theater.

“Beer” Meet Trevor, a guy who drinks beer and loves sports. With his golden retriever, Bud Light Lime, and his girlfriend, Buffalo Wings — nicknamed Yvette — Trevor couldn’t be happier. Except guess what? Plot twist! Trevor’s a lion. Didn’t see that coming, did you, audience? Yeah, A+ for plot, right? Right? Yeah, he’s a lion. What are you going to do about it? Buffalo Wings seems pretty weird now dating a lion and all. Match.com open to anything nowadays I guess. Anyway, one day she goes to bed. That’s part of the plot too! Then she’s mauled. By Bud Light Lime! Twist!

“A(r)t” Stage. Them. Light. Dark? Sound. Whisper.

Boom! Cry. Silence. Time. Black. Breath. Life.

Passion. Sirens? Sirens! Cold. Scalpel. Beat. Be…

8// MIRROR

TTLG: The ‘Don’t-be-afraid-to-fail’ speech

A senior reflects on what failure has taught her throughout her time at the College.

TTLG

By Cecilia Robinson

Orientation week, a random smattering of the class of 2016 piled into Alumni Gymnasium Hall for some official-sounding “Welcome to Dartmouth” event. I say “random smattering” because I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t go — like that “Strange as This Weather Has Been” class book lecture that was supposed to bind us all together over summer reading. I think the only thing I remember from that book was that a main character got splinters on her butt from having sex in a shed.

But this orientation event, whatever it was, had a performance by the Dartmouth Aires, and two lectures: one by a visitor and one by a student. The student went first, speaking about the value of failing and giving the “Don’t-be-afraid-totry-new-things” talk. Then he introduced our other speaker, who told us as she took the podium that her speech was on the same topic. Using basically the same themes and a little more emphasis, she reiterated the importance of trying things out, seeing what worked and what didn’t, testing our limits and not worrying about the fall because the lesson is in getting back up. Starry-eyed and in love with this crazy little patch of New Hampshire, I took their words to heart, and we all sang the alma mater for the first time as a class.

With the start of freshman fall, I failed a lot of things, starting with a Math 8 midterm. Taylor series are the worst.

I was pretty sure something was either very wrong with the test or very wrong with me. Admittedly, I hadn’t prepared very well. Like a lot of Dartmouth students, I’d gone to a high school where the-night-before or even the-day-of preparation could get me through, no problem — and coming from Alabama, I was spending most of my time building a social life from the ground up, worried that if I didn’t make friends now I’d

somehow be too late.

I wrote off my failed midterm, studied hard for the final and did fine in the class.

I thought that’d be the end of it; but just a term later, I failed yet another test. And again, I blamed it on time management; I hadn’t calibrated enough yet — next time would be fine. So I went through the same process, re-learning all of the material for the final and pulled out at the median.

Now, for sure, I thought that’d be the last time. I mean, fail once, call it the test, fail twice...that’s my fault. So I was surprised when I failed a third assessment in the spring. The difference was that now, I was used to it.

Was Dartmouth just that hard? Was I dumb? My friends were doing fine, so what was wrong with me?

It finally clicked freshman spring: failing was giving me an “out.”

Something about it — maybe the drama of being the underdog, the one who always had to work harder to get the same thing, the one that could still come back and win in the end, made me feel different. It was a challenge. It separated me from the rest of my classmates: in a new place, where I didn’t know if I would be the smartest person in the room, I was scared that I’d discover I was not intelligent enough to be here. So I competed only with myself: how far could I fall, and how far could I climb back up? With my personal ups and downs, I avoided any self-comparison with my peers.

I never really realized this could have repercussions. Oops.

Suddenly, come sophomore fall, some of the people closest to me pitched toward recruitment or graduate school applications. One of my best friends spent hours beside me choosing classes, picking this layup or setting that NRO because she needed to “fix” the mistakes she’d

made freshman year: she needed a high enough GPA so that her resume wouldn’t just be tossed into the trash. “Why did I take ‘Humanities’?” one friend groaned.

He’d been “trying new things” by taking Humanities 1 and 2, but ended up regretting it because the classes had low medians.

I wish I could say I wasn’t caught up in the sophomore grind, but the pressure to possess an admirable GPA got to me.

My game was up. I had to stop my little drama.

That sophomore fall, I played approximately 50 games of pong. With water. In Thayer. As a study break during the endless hours of problem sets and midterm preparation (try M101 for size).

But this time, I decided I would just work really, really hard — and for the first time since coming to Dartmouth, I didn’t fail anything. My report card hit every mark.

And I was absolutely miserable.

I’d been a ghost the entire term: I hadn’t seen my friends, I’d barely spent time with my new fraternity-for-women (why did I even join, then?), and my day had begun and ended in a single academic building. Worse — so much worse — I didn’t feel like I’d gained anything by putting in so much more time. It was just the matter of watching every point, going to every problem set session and talking to my professors when I wasn’t sure what they wanted.

What the heck was Dartmouth trying to tell me?

I thought that, like our orientation speakers suggested, I had come to Dartmouth to take risks. I heard “liberal arts” and “Ivy League school” and I thought late-night philosophy, solving the problems of the world and getting head-overheels over some books that I just couldn’t put down (well, maybe I was a little naïve). And for the most part, the feed-

back I received from my first two years at Dartmouth said “less engagement with the material, more gaming the system.”

My ups and downs had taught me how the system worked. Now the question was what to do with that information.

From that perspective, I think Dartmouth students are presented with a difficult choice. Do you follow your intellectual curiosity, try everything new, mess up a bunch but become a better person for it, and accept the fact that your GPA will never be hot gossip? Or do you guard your GPA with a stick, meticulously watch to make sure every checkbox is ticked, and cling to what you know because it yields results? Both have significant advantages and disadvantages, and I honestly don’t know which path I should have taken when I arrived on the lawn of Robo.

For now, though, I’ve come up with a new game that suits me. I’ve tried to resist putting pressure on my GPA. I’ve done my best to seek out professors who challenge my thinking, and with them I don’t worry about the grade. I throw everything I have at their courses and hope I don’t fail too badly. With the rest of my classes, I’m more guarded, and the numbers tend to balance out in a way that works.

I like to think most Dartmouth students are in this middle ground. I love when I strike a chord with someone likeminded, and suddenly we’re passionately debating whether dogs have souls, regardless of the fact I should be using that time to double-check every answer on my problem set. Still, as Dartmouth begins to feel more and more like career prep, the little voice in the back of my mind tells me to get back to work. “Don’t be afraid to fail” has become more of an ideal scenario than a practical application, but I guess that’s the purpose of matriculation speeches.

ELIZA MCDONOUGH/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

Cecilia Robinson ‘16 reflects on the lessons that failure has taught her, what she learned from an academically rigorous term her sophomore fall and what success means at Dartmouth.