I always thought of Dr. Seuss as a guy who wrote children’s books. But at Dartmouth, his influence stretches well beyond that age range. With one short email, thousands of students spill onto the Green, armed with packed snow and winter cheer, ready for the annual snowball fight.
My favorite night at Dartmouth happened during my freshman year, when my friends and I eagerly sat in a room in the Fayes, waiting for Dr. Seuss’s email. Once our phones buzzed, we took no time at all to put on our snow gear and, ahem, prepare for battle. The winner of that fight was measured by force of will and love of the game. In my friend group, I won, of course.
This year, however, my midnight looked a bit different. For one, I didn’t throw many snowballs. At midnight I was huddled in the 1902 room with a few others, preparing to streak. I mean, throw snowballs, of course.
For many, the appeal of snowball fight lies in the sheer abandon of it.
“I love [the] snowball fight. I always go all out,” said Janel Sharman ’27. “I did get hit in the eye, but it was still a great experience. I would do it a million times again.”
Others are drawn to the “facetimey” nature of the fight.
“Streaking was fun,” said a ’27, who wishes to remain anonymous.
Some students arrive with clear plans. Claire McDonald ’27, for example, noted a strategy shared by many upperclassmen.
“My goal is to go for all the [first year students],” she said. “They’re scared, weak. That is the only true strategy to this game. I will tackle them, I will fight them.”
Having been abroad in the fall, McDonald mentioned that she doesn’t know the current freshman class well.
“It’s ideal,” she added, and predicted “a lot of casualties on the other side.” While most upperclassmen I spoke to were simply poking fun at their younger foes, student strategy does tend towards attacking groups outside of your own circles.
On my way to 1902, I caught up with Fiona Hood ’26, who echoed the tactics of many other students, favoring ambush to brute force.
“[The] strategy is to hide and then pull a sneak attack,” she said.
For ’29s, the snowball fight often serves as an initiation into an important part of Dartmouth culture. Brendan Casner ’29 had considered escalating his participation in ways many Dartmouth students have never done before: with impressive feats of engineering.
“I’ve been thinking about potentially making a contraption that is able to fire snowballs,” he said. “Like a catapult.”
He admitted that while he did, in fact, build one, it never made it to the Green.
“It’s in the Choates,” he said. “It’s small though. It wouldn’t throw them far enough to really hit a person.”
Leo Volchek ’26 emphasized the advantage of making snowballs ahead of time.
“The [Bones Gate] thing where we make the snowballs before was really helpful because we had a lot of ammunition,” he said. As for technique: “You gotta always keep moving. You can’t stop moving. It’s all about the movement. It’s all about the footwork.”
For some first-years, the fight is less about tradition and more about personal vendettas. Fletcher Miller ’29 explained his strategy.
“There were people messing with me [before], so I had to go for them,” he said. “That’s all I cared about the whole time. Just getting my revenge.”
Asked about future snowball fights, Miller didn’t hesitate: “Next year, same thing. [I’ll] just remember the people who mess with me and get them back.”
As for me? I spent this year’s snowball fight conducting person-on-the-street interviews for The Dartmouth’s Mirror Magazine section. Because of my dedication, I got pelted a few times.
