It's not so easy being a sophomore. First of all, no Dartmouth student ever fully recovers from the shock of no longer being a freshman.
Like a rude awakening from a pleasant dream by the shriek of a fire alarm at 4 a.m.; like a rockin' dorm party disseminated by the ominous knock of Safety and Security at the door (oh yeah -- but that was last year too) sophomore year hits hard.
Sophomores live in the River (except for a few enviable ORL staffers, or those who have finagled the system. You know who you are). We must adjust to new deans. We are Upperclassmen. If we had become sophomores two years ago, we would be "Over the Hill;" instead, our outdated Green Book photos fill "Mug Shots" like so many hardened criminals. We can barely recall the "Salty Dog." Group travel has lost its charm, for even fifty '99s do not a 'shmob make.
Academics become serious business. We must establish ourselves as strong and successful students. We have majors to declare (two terms left and counting) and enrollment patterns to construct. No more cavalier choosing of classes; those halcyon days are long gone. The D-plan is our religion, the Organization, Regulation and Courses book our bible, and we will find a Technology or Applied Science course -- or whatever eludes us -- if it's the last thing we do.
With four straight terms or more looming ahead of us and no end in sight, it is a time of opportunity. No longer is our motto "Let's Discover What's Out There." It's "How Many Meetings Can I Attend in One Week?" We came here because we were well-rounded, and we will leave here even more so -- the lucky ones, at least. Who knew there would be so much to do besides, well, study?
For many of us whose D-plans feature a chain of Rs that seem to stretch on until eternity, this is It. Junior year for some may in actuality represent but one glorious term. Then we face the biggest challenge of all, that wonderful and terrible achievement, senior year -- a time when we will remain the only students with 9s in our class identity, a time that will approach all too quickly, or so I am told.
And let's not even talk about social life. Who has time for such frivolity? Besides, the social scene here in most of its manifestations will never again offer the gleam it adopted when viewed through the eyes of a freshman female.
This, however, is not an entirely bad thing. With three terms under our (possibly larger) belts we have our friends, we have our activities, and we each have some idea of the shape our individual Dartmouth Experience will take on. Although there is plenty of time remaining for exploration, we will soon have some idea of what the next three years (and for some, beyond) may resemble. And when we change our minds, in the winter or five terms from now, we'll pick up the pieces and start over.
So, sophomore year. It is a time to contemplate and to focus. It is a time of leadership. It is a time of self-expression. And then there is rush: for many, the quintessential Dartmouth rite of passage, the biggest change that occurs during our second year here.
Ah, sorority rush. Once again, it's that time -- the week when hundreds of sophomore women are herded around campus like so many well-dressed cattle, smiling deliriously like lunatics and praying it doesn't rain. Last year I laughed scornfully at those girls; now I am one of them.
Sorority rush is more than the infamous "what's your major?" conversations and the endless treks across campus (Hello, did anyone ever think to build a "Sorority Row?") In many ways, the whole process is reminiscent of that most cherished of terms, Freshman Fall -- uncountable conversations, blurs of faces and names, moments of connection and revelation.
For now I'll reserve any judgments I might have about the process itself and simply trust my rho chi, bless her soul, who assures me that soon this will all be but a fond memory. So to the future fraternity members who so callously mock sorority rush I have two words for you: "pledge period." See you in the winter, boys.
Anyway, Fall term is back, and so are we. As my classes take off like a runaway train I can but rejoice yet again at the diversity of the interests of my classmates and the myriad of opportunities this campus offers. Rarely a day goes by that I don't hear of yet another class or organization that demands my attention.
Maybe next term.
