In case you were wondering, in Raphael's fresco "The School of Athens," the philosopher Diogenes lies sprawled against the steps, next to Aristotle and Plato as they debate the true nature of the universe.
I have actually seen the fresco, glimpsed behind a horde of tourists at the Vatican. It's smaller than you'd think. I have also been to Greece, which, I promise, is actually relevant to this column. The summer after freshman year, I visited for 10 days, then promptly contracted mono and an opportunistic fungal infection and spent the rest of 11X in bed reading "Infinite Jest" and watching all eight seasons of "Scrubs." Whether the mono was acquired in Greece or at Dartmouth remains a mystery. This anecdote actually came up a lot about a week ago, because it's that time of year when you discuss what you did the summer before sophomore fall and whether you're interested in going abroad and oh, yeah, where are you from and what's your major?
The only word I remember in Greek is thank you. But I do happen to have an unmatched familiarity with the Greek alphabet. I'd like to say that's because of science and math, because why use the Roman alphabet which is easy to remember and type on a computer when you can use a bunch of Greek letters instead. But in reality it's because pretty much everyone I know is affiliated in a Greek house.
If Dartmouth had its own patron Greek philosopher, I suspect it would be Diogenes, his pose in Raphael's fresco evocative of new frat pledges after sink night. Diogenes was known to care little for social graces. He lived in a large ceramic jar, ate food in inappropriate places and rejected a lot of accepted social behaviors. He spat on people, cursed and excreted in public. I feel like Dartmouth students engage in these behaviors more often than they'd like to admit. The notable exception is the few days at the beginning of fall, when everyone, even the guys, puts on nice clothes and practices looking friendly and engaged. Diogenes is famous for walking around Athens in the daylight, carrying a lamp, looking for an honest soul. The joke being that he'd need a lamp in daylight to find such a person.
Unless you live under a rock (or in the River) you have probably noticed that rush happened. During the process, it can seem like we are all Diogenes, wandering around with lamps in our search for kindred souls. I met some really cool people at rush this year: '16s, you have come a long way in proving that you are not the worst class ever. I've met hockey players, fencers, artists, engineers and girls from all over the world. I'm in awe at the amazing people who go here and I'm honored to have met you all. And I know that for some of you, rush may not have turned out the way you wanted. There's nothing wrong with you, and it's not your fault. Trying to sort over 400 girls into eight houses in five days on the basis of 20 to 30 minutes of conversation is nearly impossible and will never be completely fair.
That being said, for those of you who were intentionally obnoxious or condescending at so called "B-side houses", I have little sympathy for you. I know awesome people from every single house, and just because you don't think they're awesome too doesn't give you leave to be a jerk. You will spend most of your life dealing with non-awesome people, and rush is, as much as I hate to say it, excellent training for networking (a word, like "B-side", that no one quite knows the meaning of) and career fair-ing and corporate recruiting and other boring, exhausting, soul-crushing experiences. I actually don't find rush all that soul-crushing, but I can understand those that do. Just smile and try to be interesting. Pretending to be a normal human being for 30 minutes is not difficult. And if you sincerely believe that there are students here at Dartmouth, male or female, from prospie to '14, who are not worthy of 10 minutes of your precious time and luminous presence, then frankly, you suck, and your parents should be ashamed of you.
This is a line that came up a lot during rush, but in all honesty, joining a house was one of the best decisions I've made at Dartmouth. It began at bid night, a memorable affair, which ended with me walking home to the Lodge at 7 a.m. still wearing purple tie dye tights and butterfly wings. I've found a group of girls who I can share almost everything with. Say what you will about the D-plan and the flaws of the Greek system, but some of my favorite memories involve my sisters. I'm extraordinarily lucky to have found a group of people who actually seem to like me.
I'm pretty sure the ancient Greek philosophers would be very confused at the co-opting of their alphabet and language for grandiose mottos about friendship and loyalty. It seems kind of silly, if you think too hard about it, the letters and the mottos and the secrets and crests and creeds. But behind all the trappings, there's something real there, and I am proud to wear my letters and our crest.
So, for the overwhelming majority of you who don't suck, thank you. I'm excited to get to know you better. Congrats on surviving rush. To all Greeks, non-Greeks, DOC-ers, D-ers, Acapella-ers, Improv-ers, staunch Alternative Social Space-ers and everyone else, I wish you luck in all your future endeavors. After all, midterms are coming.
