Of the many descriptors I have heard applied to Dartmouth, "monopoly" is unique. In the context of my conversation, this was not to say that the College has exclusive control over a particular subject or process (though after further consideration, a case could be made for its validity). Rather, the parallel being drawn was between Dartmouth and a classic board game, one that employs pretend money, plastic houses, dice and chance cards to make winners and losers out of participants.
The initial evaluation was catalyzed by a discussion regarding the disingenuous nature of DBA. Though we certainly pay for meal plans, there is a sort of cognitive dissonance when it comes to considering Dartmouth dining money "real" money. There is a certain carelessness with which we approach eating on campus (except for perhaps the freshmen, who begin every year with a cautious strategy in spending their meal money). Otherwise, however, we swipe IDs with little regard, comfortable with the pre-allotted sum of money assigned to our cards.
While this may be somewhat reminiscent of the distribution of fake bills at the start of a game of Monopoly, it is not so much the direct similarities between the college experience and the board game that are worth examination, but rather the broader implications of such a comparison.
At Dartmouth, like in most colleges, there is a constant sense of movement. This goes beyond the 10-week quarter system, and can be found in students' every day lives. Dartmouth students seem endlessly involved; many appear to graduate with a major in extracurriculars to top off their degree. And in this frenzied state, each commitment seems equally important. We move about Dartmouth, one very large board, in circles. We stake a semblance of a claim at every stop, amassing control (to some degree, at least) of various niches about campus. This is, after all, the surest way of establishing our presence. The more properties we own, or the more involvements we can claim, the closer we come to winning.
There are, at Dartmouth, certain properties that are often considered more desirable than others. The Park Places and Boardwalks of the College can be found in a variety of manifestations certain social groups, certain organizations and, in the case of life after Dartmouth, certain internships and job opportunities. These are the coveted spots we place metaphorical houses and build our hotels over them to achieve success, maintaining our positions by maintaining that which we "own," in one way or another. We spend so much time both creating and experiencing stress that it would seem difficult to find even a modicum of enjoyment in activity. But for all of our ownership, our careful planning and this overall maintenance, might there be something critical that we are missing, or perhaps even forgetting?
While Monopoly utilizes dice to determine a path about the board, Dartmouth provides at least a little more autonomy. Whereas Monopoly, a game, has a clear objective and a set way in which one wins, there is little objectivity in the case of the College. Certainly, there is an end goal associated with graduation, but its mechanisms and even its identity is entirely dependent on the graduate. Why then, does there seem to be such a set paradigm under which relative success, both in and out of school, is determined?
Dartmouth does, in some ways, monopolize our time during the course of our attendance. Schedules are set, course requirements must be filled and there are only so many options available for food. But while this may exist in something of a box, there is no reason for students to exist the same way. The types of success that may be derived from Dartmouth, both as a student and a graduate, is not contingent upon the amount of pretend money or real money procured. Similarly, there should not exist a concretized sense of how to "do Dartmouth."
Certainly, our commitments at Dartmouth matter. I do not suggest that we make light of our time here, but perhaps it is wise to consider on what we place the most emphasis. Otherwise, the collegiate experience is denigrated to nothing more than a formula. Dartmouth should not monopolize its students, but should provide the tools for exploration of our own.
