In a recent New York Times article, Arlene Spark, associate professor of nutrition at Hunter College in New York, wished that people would consider eating more wholesome foods. "But," she said, "that would mean people going back to cooking, and what we've lost is people's ability and knowledge of how to cook." The last time I tried to make a souffle, my freshman roommate's percussive copulation flattened it faster than my dance floor hookup hopes at Chi Gam. I, too, felt deflated. How many of your friends do you catch doing household chores in this paradisiacal land of hired help -- Dartmouth College?
Our community seems to have a pandemic lack of touch with knowledge of home economics -- a certain set of skills that young women used to learn in school in preparation for their promising lives as mothers and housekeepers. And yes, I still think girls should learn how to cook and clean and sew and launder and wash. And it's a shame that gender equality ended the annual tradition of darning socks for grades while boys learned shop because boys and girls should be learning both.
In terms of gastronomy, our dependence on chefs leaves us at the monomaniacal whim of autocrats like James Barkley '06 (hey James!) and his hired mercenaries over at Dining Services. We are, for those of us living on campus, wholly dedicated to lives of staunch cafeterianism. Even those living off campus are required to buy a meal plan, but that absurd extortion is for another article.
And while I leave criticisms of our Food Court and Collis offerings to other columnists, my focus remains more on the way we seem to shirk responsibilities that define the way we've always seen adults. If you think Topside offers us a way to feed ourselves, then I humbly remind you that a hot bowl of beef jerky and milk does not count.
For many, the intricacies of detergent measuring cups and water temperatures render doing laundry an impossibility -- even for Ivy League engineering students. For many, cleaning a bathroom is so abhorrent an idea that they eschew plungers for another, distant toilet if the one in their own room is backed up.
Neglect from our landlord -- we're tenants here for sure -- not only underscores the lavish life we live here, but shows how far we are from full-grown, adult role models.
Dartmouth is a stereotypical housemother to us: She launders, she cleans, she makes us three square meals a day. She sends us out to play with our friends, and if we get sick -- from liquor or promiscuity -- she unconditionally nurses us to health. But when does this tireless parent teach us to fend for ourselves?
For so many, adults have always been the people who have a skill set alien to chore-loathing children. Mom and Dad always knew how to make us breakfast, or do our laundry or make our bed just the right way. And while we assume it was just a result of practice and selflessness, perhaps it was a generational emphasis on independence.
As I watched someone put his laundry in a laundry service bag and lug it outside his room this morning, I recalled my current roommate's struggle to iron his own jeans. And somehow, there was -- just like Spark suggests -- something more wholesome about this down-to-earth battle with jean creases. Somehow, we're missing out on a significant rite of passage during our college years.
The times we would have spent together burning eggs, ironing in wrinkles, putting detergent in the softener slot, and appreciating the difficult learning curve of self-reliance are often replaced by the mindlessness of television, video games and drinking culture.
Many of us are finally out of the cocoon of life under the benevolent regime of indulgent parents. Like newborn colts still wet from our fetal port of origin -- or terrible and nauseating similes -- we are supposed to try standing up on our own. Dartmouth does feel like home -- but that's not necessarily a good thing.
