No one tells you how much harder it is to be on campus when your friends are off than it is to be off campus when your friends are on. I spent Winter term in Washington, D.C., acting like a real person who packs brown bag lunches, commutes to work and uses the word "e-mail." I missed my friends back in the land of DBA, bicycles and "blitz," but the real world was an exciting place, and the new experiences I was having left little time for thoughts of those I'd left behind.
I returned this Spring satisfied with my taste of adulthood, but eager to get back to my cozy Dartmouth bubble for a little while longer before truly plunging into Grown Up World. It struck me only as my bus pulled up in front of the Hopkins Center and I began wracking my brain for someone who would willingly come help me drag my monstrous bag up three flights of stairs that this term would be very different than past terms. Many of my close friends had braved another Dartmouth winter, only to scatter to every end of the globe to study, work and volunteer during Spring term.
It became clear in an instant how significantly I had taken my friends' presences for granted in the four terms I had been on campus. I had always viewed them as a part of my Dartmouth experience, something that influenced how I felt about the College, but not a factor that determined my overall opinion of it.
And yet, I have suddenly discovered, I define Dartmouth by the people I know here. When I think of Collis Cafe, I immediately picture a friend who is addicted to Collis baked goods. When I think of extracurricular activities, I recall brilliant, generous, funny teammates and peers whom I greatly admire. When I think of my freshman residence hall room, I immediately conjure memories of late night antics, EBAs and heart to heart talks with floormates. It was never the food at Collis, nor the extracurricular resources and facilities, nor my freshman dorm that truly made an impression; it was the presence of friends that gave these inanimate things a positive association in my mind.
Without some of these familiar faces, Dartmouth feels like a different place. Crucial components of my Dartmouth experience are missing, never to be spotted playing frisbee on the Green, grabbing a breakfast sandwich in Collis or sinking shots in a basement this term. It is a somber realization, but it has also opened my eyes to the fact that my love for Dartmouth stems largely from the people I have met here. In this time of budget cuts, I am beginning to see that fancy facilities, beautiful dorms and expensive programming are ultimately not all that important. As long as the classes are stimulating and I am surrounded by wonderful peers, the essential Dartmouth experience will remain. The extras are just perks.
The other day I came across an interview with a woman who had written a book promoting online courses over traditional universities, for reasons including cost effectiveness and practicality. She essentially heralded the end of the traditional university system. But this experience is proving to me that higher education would be a lesser institution without physical student communities that allow for engagement and dialogue.
I wrote a column last Fall that was critical of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology's OpenCourseWare program ("No Such Thing as Free Learning," Sept. 30), and similar programs that provide classroom materials online. The D-Plan has, in a dismaying fashion, just provided me with firsthand insight into how a traditional college that brings together bright, talented students with a diverse array of perspectives and interests offers a more fulfilling experience than an online learning program seems capable of creating.
I chose to attend Dartmouth in part because I wanted to go to school with peers who would appreciate conversations about philosophy, religion and politics, but who also knew how to have fun and be lighthearted. That is certainly what I discovered. In the temporary absence of close friends, I am learning just how privileged I am to have found what I was looking for.