Home is a fluid concept for college students. There’s the home you grew up in — the family, the friends, the middle school teachers you make small talk with in the grocery store. Then there’s your college campus — your freshmen floormates, FoCo, the library at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday night. The third metaphysical sense of home, that sentimental feeling of belonging — well, who knows where that is?
Because her dad selfishly wanted to reconnect with his childhood friends, Emma, torn away from hers, was forced to move out of her childhood home last summer. Deciding which of her soccer “participation” trophies and Beanie Babies would make the cut was made all the more traumatic by the fact that she had moved four times in 15 months at Dartmouth. Russell Sage’s late night floor bonding lured her into a false sense of security. But after 12S, Emma’s floormate interactions have since been limited to uncomfortable eye contactmadethrough bathroom mirrorswhile brushing her teeth.
Jasmine has called the same lakeside house in North Texas home for 19 years. She’s had the same core group of best friends since elementary school. Needless to say, it was difficult to leave all of that Southern comfort and come to a land of snobby boarding school prepsters who spend their summers on Nantucket in Nantucket Reds. Dartmouth was small and strange, and she must admit that it still often feels more like a place of residence and learning than a home.
Of course, we’ve found a sense of home in parts of campus — the familiar faces who ring up our breakfast coffee, the welcoming aroma of chicken bowl Thursdays, this lovely publication. Yet we can’t help but think how differently our four years in Hanover may have looked if our freshman-year communities had extended until senior year. Can you have a “home” without continuity?
