Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Dartmouth 's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query.
11 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
When I learned late last fall that I’d been approved to spend winter term on campus, delusions of grandeur set in almost immediately. After three terms of quarantining at my parents’ house in North Carolina, I was sure that nearly a year of pent up extrovert energy would make my return to the world of human interaction a triumphant one.
This article is featured in the 2021 Winter Carnival special issue.
Since the COVID-19 pandemic began almost a full year ago, I’ve thought a lot about the future of art. If art is a mode of self-expression, what happens when your sense of self, removed from the places and people that shape it, is rocked? If art is a vessel for our joy, what happens when the sources of joy change? I was afraid that life in lockdown would make us too tired to create things, or that stress and lack of materials would immobilize us even when we wanted to create things. I hoped that making things was such an inherently human act that it would pull us through the wildest of circumstances.
This article is featured in the 2020 Fall special issue.
Now seems like an odd time for a dance club to be having a renaissance. However, the Dartmouth Classical Ballet Theater, a student group dedicated to offering free, inclusive dance classes, has emerged from this unusual year leaping higher than ever. Having extended its reach across the student body (with beautiful port de bras), DCBT is starting this year en pointe.
Is your quarantine routine starting to feel drab? Are you looking for fresh ways to bond with your new floormates? These 10 activities, which you can do no matter where in the world you’re quarantined, are both socially distanced and sure to jazz up your day.
When you hear the words “gap year,” what do you imagine? If you’re like me, someone who went straight to college after graduating from high school, you might imagine gap year students something like those larger-than-life folk heroes of yore — they disappear into the mountains and emerge months later having self-actualized; they weather unknown roads; in general, they swashbuckle. No matter what somebody tells me they did on their gap year, I always assume they fought a shark at least once during the year.
Nearly every essay I wrote during my first two terms at Dartmouth was composed at 10 a.m. on a Saturday, sitting in the lobby of Baker-Berry with a King Arthur Flour scone and an over-cinnamoned cappuccino in front of me. I’d never had any reason to believe my writing ritual was problematic, but when faced with my first essay of the remote term, composed at home and far from Blobby, I came to a grave realization: I was incapable of writing without KAF. Playing both Pavlov and his dogs, I had unwittingly conditioned myself to rely on the ritual.
There is a small portrait of William Shakespeare stuck to my computer, mustachioed and smiling under the sunglasses drawn onto his face. “Today is the day,” I tell Shakespeare every morning when I sit down at my desk. “Today is the day I make you proud!”
The everyday comforts of Dartmouth are few and far between these days. Writing is harder outside of Sanborn, a trip to the backyard doesn’t have the same zest as a DOC hike and no matter how much flour you use, your scones never taste quite like they do at KAF. However, no matter how far away from Hanover you feel, you can still hear the voices of home on Dartmouth College Radio.