Everyone loves Dartmouth. From the moment we step onto this campus as 'shmen, birds begin singing, the sun shines perpetually, and cars stop for us even when we're not at an intersection. It's better than Dave Matthews and more addictive than crack -- The Dartmouth Experience!
Or so I've been told ...
I spent last fall besieged by a saccharine enthusiasm for how wonderful Dartmouth is and how much I should be loving it. In fact, a big factor in my decision to come to Dartmouth was that every student I talked to went into convulsions of delight at the mere mention of anything green.
I endured a thousand freshmen week conversations to which my answers were all variations on, "Julie. Pennsylvania. McLane." I was at my wit's end. I wish someone said to me at the time, "It's okay not to love Dartmouth from the moment you get here." Honestly, I didn't.
I spent six months here being utterly miserable, and even many of my friends didn't know it. For a long time I felt that I needed to pretend that I was blissfully happy, but I'm secure enough now to admit that I felt misplaced here. I found out just what a non-bargain Dartalk can be when you call mom and dad for an hour every day.
I didn't understand how I could possibly attend the school that everyone around me described as "the best and only college on Earth," and not love it as they did. Number seven in U.S. News -- what more could you ask for without risking your life in the New Haven ghetto?
How could I, of all people, be such an emotional Titanic? I've always been the one other people cry to. I went through more of Dean Goldsmith's tissues than I'd like to admit. No more of this outdoorsy, conservative, Greeky life for me. I was ready to transfer -- and I had the acceptance to Brown in my hand.
But I'm still here, and even more unbelievably, I'm incredibly happy.
It wasn't a single injection o' happiness that turned me Green, but things definitely changed for me during spring term. After actively searching so long for my Dartmouth niche, I realized what the whole college fiesta was about.
Dartmouth brings to this campus many different people, each of whom have had entirely different life experiences. It's easy to look around and see plaid flannel clones, frat rat girls, and a dozen other unfair stereotypes; but it takes time, even the greater part of a year, to sort through a new environment and see people for who they really are.
There may be Dartmouth stereotypes, but not everyone fits them, even those who appear to from the outside. I may occasionally venture outside wearing fleece, but I'm about as indoorsy as a person can be. To top it off, I'm allergic to trees. I have no intention of joining anything Greek, and I'm rarely seen without some sort of sparkly, tacky, non-conservative item of clothing. You won't find me on the list of Dartmouth stereotypes, and yet I feel very much a part of the Dartmouth community.
What I'd like to say to the Class of 2000 is that many people here love Dartmouth and loved it from day one, but some of us didn't. It's inconceivable that every person would have the same reaction to being thrown into rural New Hampshire, living with a bunch of intelligent strangers. You may already feel at home here or you may not, but whatever your situation may be, please know that it is al right not to like Dartmouth.
