1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
Nestled among foliage-rich mountains, with its quaint Georgian architecture and innumerable friendly-faced students, Hanover seems little more than a quintessential, idyllic New England town. Nothing indicates that a history of violent crime lurks beneath its picturesque surface — and to imagine so seems virtually impossible.
In early December of 1895, relatives of the recently-deceased Joseph Murdock visited his grave in a Norwich cemetery. The Granite State Free Press reported that upon arrival, they discovered footprints in the snow and evidence that the grave had been disturbed. After further investigation, they discovered that Murdock’s body had been stolen and dragged across the snowy cemetery to the main road, where he was likely loaded into a cart and driven away. Less than a week later, two Dartmouth medical students were arrested for robbing Murdock’s grave.
15F. September. DHMC. I crossed my legs, my laptop precariously balancing on one knee as I frantically scrolled through the form with checkboxes ranging from “depression” to “paying bills.” I had to find the box for “anxiety” before the woman sitting next to me listed another symptom of dementia.
Sophomore fall, Maddie and Maggie, along with four other women, lived in North Fay 401 a.k.a. the Sextet a.k.a. the Sexytet (worst nickname ever — Maddie REALLY hates this name but was also the one who coined it). One of their roommates — we’ll call her Party Patricia — had quite the little hobby. She loved decorating the room. One night, Maddie and Maggie came home to find a new futon in their common room. What a wonderful surprise! Now they would have a sitting area for guests! Two weeks later, they found the most exquisite 3’ by 5’ painting of a few gentlemen toasting around a table.
Judith: We haven’t received a text from Binky in the last hour. We should drive up to Dartmouth to see if he’s alright.
It’s 8:35 on a Monday morning and you’ve stopped at Collis Café on the way to your 9L. You push through the students crowded around the smoothie station and reach for a “best ever bran muffin.” When you go to pay, you realize that 12 students have beaten you to the front of the line. Not having a minute to spare, you shove the muffin into your backpack, slip out the back door and sprint to the Life Sciences Center.
MASTERS SAM and DISASTERS SAM are playing pong together.
I remember my first Homecoming like it was yesterday.
Halfway through fall 2015, Connie ’18 was immersed in her first exam period at Dartmouth and was finding it difficult to live up to her own academic standards.
A cursory glance around any area on campus — Baker Lobby, Collis’s pasta line, the Green — will reveal an idyllic, picturesque scene. Smiling, chatty students eagerly discuss weekend plans and love life drama or offhandedly joke about how unprepared they are for an upcoming midterm, but deeper anxieties or troubles are rarely revealed. You may never know that the put-together, confident girl describing her busy social calendar over King Arthur Flourhad trouble getting out of bed this morning.
After enough swings, a baseball bat becomes an extension of the clean-up hitter’s arm. Skates define the way a defenseman relates to winter. Jerseys become identities franchise players wear day and night. The game the athlete plays becomes a fundamental part of who he is, and in many cases, that’s a good thing.
Cesar Rufino ’18 said that he often tells people he feels like he is living two different lives — one at home in Chicago and one here at Dartmouth.
In the last few years, the eating disorder cases treated by Dartmouth’s health services have increased in severity, College nutritionist and sports dietitian Claudette Peck said.
What happens when a diagnosis does not provide clarity moving forward? For Junaid Yakubu ’16, learning that he had obsessive-compulsive disorder coupled with depression during his freshman winter only led to more questions. Though a clinician explained the details of treatment, stress and anxiety management, Yukubu was left with the dilemma of explaining what he was going through to family back home.
There were 48 reports of rape at locations related to Dartmouth in 2015. With the amount of reports increasing according to the Clery Act data, the College has been improving resources to help survivors of such assaults.
Caitlin Barthelmes’ office space — tucked away on the third floor of Robinson Hall in the Student Wellness Center — can appear a little mysterious to the casual observer. Equipped with a massage chair, free health-related goodies and bowls of candy, Barthelmes and the staff at the Student Wellness Center are working to empower students through holistic and preventative wellness processes.
When we were approached to co-edit the Homecoming issue, our agreement was instantaneous. The Parker/Lauren partnership dates back to before we even matriculated — when forced to interact constantly as Trippees, we realized we had a love/hate relationship forged in heaven, strengthened on the stunningly rigorous trails of Hiking II and tested in the newsroom, the classroom and the frat basement (Lauren’s pong game is about as weak as Parker’s ankles, which he injured dancing on Trips). One year, a trip to Nantucket and countless arguments later, we had proven that our insult-based relationship would stand the test of time and thought it only appropriate to apply our combined powers to a subject that’s personal, relevant and yet, somehow, still difficult to tackle.
Dartmouth and I had a toxic relationship. From matriculation in 2008 to academic separation in 2015, it lasted for more than six years. I now realize that if I had drowned myself in the fall of 2014 as I had attempted, I would have been ultimately responsible for the decision — but Dartmouth, nonetheless, would have been the catalyst. The College works for some students. I was not one of them, and I know I am not alone. So let me state this plainly: the College is not a community, but a business originally designed for a particular clientele — and if you are a woman, person of color or a person (of any color) from a low-income family, Dartmouth may be structurally incapable of treating you the way you ought to be treated.
I struggled to write this week’s column because I refuse to validate the job hunt experience as the debilitating, life-sucking endeavor that so many college students claim it to be. At least I refuse to render my own experience looking for employment in that way. But this past weekend was the first big deadline for many high-profile job applications, and not to acknowledge the importance of this moment is a disservice to the integrity of this column.