I did not know much about the Big Green prior to arriving for my kayaking trip on that sunny, but breezy early September afternoon. I had heard a plethora of rumors that tried to characterize the student body here, the source of which was predominantly my trusty Princeton Review Guide to America's Best 285 Colleges. Too trusty, in fact. But what else was I to do; coming from a small school way out in California, there is not much information available to the common high school senior about a tiny, private college in Boonville, New Hampshire. My little guide told me that Dartmouth students who responded to their survey could be generally characterized (wonderful, I know) as being "happy," "hard workers," "hard players" and "generally apathetic."
Following my Dartmouth Outing Club trip, I began to acquaint myself with the source of these generalizations and to make some of my own about the college I now call "home." I learned that most of these generalizations have some truth in them: many of the people I know are hard-working students who know how to have a good time; most of the people I know are quite happy in Hanover. However, I have to strongly oppose the claim that Dartmouth is home to a population of unfeeling, unemotional students who are unconcerned with the issues in the world around us.
Often it seems that the students at Dartmouth quietly cut themselves off -- only the most outrageous or offensive events seem to elicit a response from us. But it is not that we do not care or are not paying attention. Rather, we Dartmouth students are simply too busy to express ourselves on all the issues that we contemplate. We all have too many midterms, papers, FSP applications, sports practices, theater rehearsals, meetings, conferences and parties to be addressing every article in the News section of the New York Times. But that certainly does not denote that we Dartmouth students have no feeling, no emotions, or no thoughts on many of those same articles. When we do actually take the time to address them, in situations that mandate our response, we express ourselves in a way that reflects anything but apathy.
I would like to point out some very obvious indications that this campus of brilliant, talented, interesting, inspiring people can be described by many adjectives, but certainly not "apathetic."
First, let us look at last winter, my initial encounter with the frozen tundra of the Northeast. Though we often like to forget the disturbing stimulus, several events occurred in response to a series of hate crimes on this campus. The night that "Chink" was written on a student's dry-erase board, students gathered immediately, many who had never met the victim of the crime, and collected in his room to console him. The following day, the Student Assembly, the body that is supposed to represent the voice of the ndergraduate students, organized an emergency Town Meeting, inviting students, faculty and staff to speak and convey to others the emotions that evolved from the hate speech. The next day brought a rally in front of Parkhurst, which included eloquent speeches and tear-filled remarks from students as well as President Freedman. A petition was formed to urge the administration to adopt some form of policy against hate speech as well as to find a way to educate the campus more completely so as to prevent a recurrence of what had just shocked the Dartmouth campus. The Dartmouth featured multiple columns daily in response to these events.
Nobody can tell me that this is a sign of apathy.
My first Spring term, there was an announcement that the Education Department might be abolished or reduced merely to a "program." A campus outcry followed, as students vented their rage at another Town Meeting, this time in 105 Dartmouth Hall, this time directed to a very unfortunate Associate Dean of the Faculty. Again, the campus newspaper overflowed with students' editorials about the issue of the Education department. This fall, the Student Assembly, again attempting to represent the passions of the students, engaged in discussions with the Dean of the Faculty's office and ensured the maintenance of the department through the year 1999.
Nobody can tell me that this is a sign of apathy.
We arrive now at our current "school year." As new students, our Class of 2000 was ushered in with the expectation of joining an apathetic campus upon arrival at their new home. We Dartmouth students immediately showed them that this rumor is poorly founded, as the passage of Proposition 209 in California erupted in debates, rallies, and again, pages in The Dartmouth filled with arguments in support of and opposition to the new legislation.
Nobody can tell me that this is a sign of apathy.
Also during the Fall term, I found myself in a dorm room in Mid Mass, awaiting the arrival of our surprised birthday guest, and I became involved in a very heated discussion about abortion and other contemporary political issues.
This is not a sign of apathy.
Just because you hear more about basketball games, government midterms, art history reports, keggers and organization meetings does not mean that these are all we do. Here at Dartmouth, I am proud to say that we think quite a bit. Often these other activities consume most of our priority list because we see them as more urgent than a digression off into a world of political or philosophical dialogue. But as the students here show time and again, when the political or philosophical or social worlds mandate our expression, most of us do not hesitate to leave the library, gym or Collis 101 and make our thoughts known.
