This is the last time my voice will grace the pages of The Dartmouth. After over 50 columns of wrestling with Wheelock, poking fun at our absurdity, complaining and advocating and at last, growing playful in my nostalgia, you meet me here at my last article.
In my valedictory, I wanted to say how proud I am that 99.9 percent of us gave to the Senior Class Gift ("Class of 2010 sets record with 99 percent donating," June 2). That all but one student donated something to represent their time here is truly an incredible feat.
I wanted to convince you, holdout '10, that there was something about this place that's worth one symbolic dollar that while you defend your principled crusade against donation, many others may have had the same feeling, but realized it was driven by a baser emotion. The Senior Class Gift campaign was as effective as Lysol, but there was just that 0.01 percent of pessimism it couldn't kill.
Here is my analogy: If I had a bad experience as a child, I wouldn't necessarily want to salt my mother's womb. The Senior Class Gift is meant to give others a chance to try Mother Dartmouth, even if they don't like it. You must feel that you would gladly give these four years back if you could. Hey, at least you want to donate something!
Do you really think a donation means a blind approval for everything Dartmouth? Do you think the Senior Class Gift volunteers tortured us into toasting Big Brother over a cup of Victory Keystone? Even the victims of the types of behavior you disapproved of and should continue to were still able to find value in their time here. But on their behalf, you believe yourself worthy of making such a statement. Where were the other unhappy people when it came time to donate? Did they decide that their experiences were so Sophoclean that they could not hold up a dollar to the sky and say "Damn them all, damn them all to hell?"
Let me massage you another analogy. I continue to tip at restaurants, even if my experience is bad and the waiter is comatose. Do you leave no tip because the chef fostered a spirit of digestive assault, and no one stood up to it? Do you think eschewing a tip makes a more meaningful statement than speaking to the manager?
Dartmouth taught me to transform my doubt into action, among so many others who initiated improvements. Learning the difficulty of culture change is a part of our education that we must fully embrace. Instead, holdout '10, you have chosen now, in a moment of reflection for better or for worse to flat tire the collective spirit of over 1,000 people. Your single .01 percent holdout could have prevented a $100,000 gift from the Class of 1960 to the Class of 2014. At what price point would you reconsider your principled resistance?"
My own crusade as a columnist for this publication intended to introduce progressive idealism, to induce skepticism about our current way of life through whatever style, in hopes to improve it.
I know that you feel that Dartmouth has problems. Of course it does. But I don't turn away the March of Dimes at my door because I skinned my knee when I was four. (We simply cannot let any other people suffer the indignation of an abrasion!) You have symbolically shown the Class of 2014 that you do not consider their chance at happiness valuable. In contrast, I couldn't be more excited for them.
You have two choices. The first: don't donate. In response, when you walk to receive your diploma at Commencement, I will stand up and burn a single dollar for you, and cry a single tear.
Or, instead, you can lay down that dollar. And you can do it because I have seen my peers struggle and break down and rise up again better, and stronger because of Dartmouth. Because this past weekend I watched my peers cry for each other out of the love-bonds they established together. You have no right to deny anyone else that chance. Donate because a '14 may come to share my passion for this place, not yours.
Because your donation means that you have a sliver of faith in what this place can mean to anyone, not the lost hope of what it meant to you. You saw this donation as conditional on your past, but the class gift is an investment in a future that isn't our own. Until you begin your crusade against romantic comedy as propaganda, you have no right to undercut others' right to fall in love. Because I did.
Goodbye, Dartmouth. We'll always have Hanover.
