Upon arriving on campus for their DOC Trips, freshmen and parents are greeted by an unfamiliar sight. Spread across Robinson Hall lawn is chaos incarnate: loud music, fiery-haired demons dancing and prancing together like embers shooting from a bonfire and wide-eyed fellow freshmen aghast at the scene before them.
Aside from their main responsibilities, members of H-Croo and Lodj Croo are constantly dancing, always commanding the curious freshman eye, always looking to entertain and to get one more laugh.
One instance that I found particularly disheartening was the Lodge dinner. After three days in the woods with the same tripees, I wanted to socialize with other freshman members of my section. Unfortunately, this wasn't possible since dinner was converted into a full-fledged musical. Trying to introduce myself to some of the cute whitewater-kayakers during the number "Put Your Bowl on Your Head If You Want Seconds" wouldn't have gone over well.
I do not mean to downplay the talents of either Croo. These people performed brilliantly at their respective productions. But there comes a time to critically examine the relevance of every entrenched tradition. Shouldn't DOC Trips focus more on social interaction and less on upperclassman performance? Shouldn't the spotlight illuminate my classmates' talents and not the vocal range of a senior member of the Rockapellas?
While many might find this to be a trivial discussion, I would disagree. On the first night of my trip, I lay awake in the field house overcome by alienation. I just couldn't see myself fitting into a college where everything was run by H-Croo. Members introduced themselves as presidents of Greek houses, editors of school publications and club leaders. If H-Croo ran daily life on campus, and I couldn't relate to any of the Croo members, how could I spend the next four years of my life here? As melodramatic as it sounds, I was actually worried that I had picked the wrong college.
Minutes before I was to board a bus to leave the Lodge and return to campus, the truth revealed itself to me. Trippees were split up into small discussion groups moderated by Lodj Croo members. I came to realize that the Croo member answering questions and allaying freshman concerns for the members of my group was altogether different from the aggressive, raging persona he had created for trippee entertainment. He spoke candidly about Dartmouth, and an unmistakable truth was evident in everything he told us: He loved this school. He had sacrificed a large portion of his summer so that he could make our introduction to Dartmouth as smooth as possible.
The Croo had all been an act, a sham to relieve the anxiety of freshmen as they journeyed to College. The welcoming members, the same people who checked me in and made sure I had the correct gear, were normal people under their crazy hair and uncontrollable limbs.
DOC Trips, in my mind, are about pushing the self-imposed boundaries with which we all come to College. They are about meeting new classmates and embracing new experiences. DOC Croos should act as bowling-lane bumpers -- they should guide freshmen without being obtrusive or demanding the limelight. And, lastly, the members need to shed their Croo skins at some point, to reveal to freshmen that the College is not comprised of attention-hungry dancers. Perhaps have a question-and-answer session in Collis before Trips or break off more into smaller discussion groups like at the Lodge.
The point of the Croos is not to make freshmen feel as uncomfortable as possible. They are there to welcome first-years as they embark on their college careers. The Croos might be able to better relate to freshmen if they tried to connect on a more personal level rather than the superficial, let's-dance-the-day-away level. It's important that all freshmen feel welcomed on campus, and by restructuring Croo-freshmen interaction, this aspect of Trips can be improved.
