Welcome to Dartmouth in the winter. It's 10 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the new North Face fleece you bought over the Christmas break doesn't quite seem to do the trick. Having just arrived here tired and jet-lagged, classes are already scheduled to start at the crack of dawn the next day. Your room smells queer from the lack of ventilation over the break, and already it's been one of those weeks that just grind slowly past, forcing you to chafe your teeth and just go through the motions. So, what makes people feel excited about coming back?
Human beings are funny creatures indeed. I spent a large part of my break in Southern California -- gorgeous weather, sunny throughout the day with only sporadic outbursts of rain. However, a significant amount of my break was spent thinking about Hanover and what the upcoming winter term would be like. Conjectures in anticipation of the next 10-or-so weeks would inadvertently surface out of nowhere in particular and flood my mind. Don't get me wrong, I love California, and I wholly enjoyed spending my time there. But inexplicably, a part of me couldn't wait to get back; it seemed as though an indelible portion of my life had already entrenched itself in that small village in New Hampshire. Seeing my familiar hallmates again, with all their quirks, talking to the friends I bump into in the Collis lounge, heading to Food Court only to be greeted by long lines snaking their way back to the tray collection point, waiting in line to check my Blitzmail on public computers scattered throughout the campus -- these seem to be the mundane things that have now become an inalienable part of my life.
I recently bumped into a friend outside my Hinman Box. No, it wasn't one of those all too often how-are-you-fine-bye type of meetings. In fact, we ended up having a really lengthy, intriguing conversation about the parental culture of anxious college parents who have a tendency to overreact to the new developments in their child's life. (Who exactly are you dating? What kind of boxers does he wear? What is his major?) Whilst we were exchanging our respective plans for the winter term (and in the process obstructing individuals from utilizing the mixed paper trash can), it dawned upon me that it was perhaps this sense of deep camaraderie with those closest to us at Dartmouth that bound us to Hanover.
Perhaps it's only because I'm green here, but I look forward to the opportunities that the Winter term affords us. Going snowshoeing with my close friend down the hall, meeting up to plan and prepare for my Habitat spring break trip to Trinidad, doing Cabin and Trail activities -- even going to rigorous classes which I signed up for (unlike in the Fall term where almost all freshmen were crowded into classes they might not have wanted) all makes me smile. Supporting the Big Green in action in a men's basketball game against Harvard was a good experience (go Mikey!) even though my group of friends inadvertently chose a seat below James Wright and thus couldn't heckle Harvard as much as we wanted to. I stayed till the very end even though we lost, and I already know I'll be there the next week, and the week following that. Undoubtedly, I can't resist adding that going out into the Brown lounge and discovering that the sole television has -- as per normal, I might add -- already been taken brings a certain bittersweet warmth to my heart.
John Keats once espoused that "Scenery is fine -- but human nature is finer." Hanover is a beautiful place in winter, but in my humble opinion, it is the human enthusiasm and energy that is the driving constant in all the four terms of the Dartmouth academic calendar. I urge all of you to go out and get involved, to stay active and to contribute to Dartmouth's community in your own little albeit significant way.
Conceivably, I am a romantic idealist, but I sincerely hope that the upcoming freezing days will kindle a roaring fire in our hearts that will keep the spirit of this place very much alive in otherwise extremely frigid temperatures.
