I remember my first Homecoming like it was yesterday.
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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.
I came to Dartmouth from Taos, a small town in New Mexico, not knowing anyone or what to expect. How could an hour-long campus tour possibly prepare me for such a massive transition? I was moving across the country, living away from home for the first time. I was a mess of nervous excitement. How was I supposed to find my way around campus? Was I going to make friends? How could my small-town public school possibly compare to the prestigious prep and boarding schools of some of my peers? But I was excited too — excited to test myself and try new things, to be able to take control of my life for the first time, to choose my classes based on my real interests, to choose my activities, my friends and what I was going to eat for dinner that night.
Music is all around us at Dartmouth. From breakfast in Collis Café to studying in One Wheelock, to working out at the gym and getting Facetime in Baker Lobby, music is the constant backdrop to everyday activities. Not every space is created the same, though, and a song that reminds us of one place might seem totally foreign somewhere else. With the help of some musically astute students, I compiled a campus-wide playlist for you. You’re welcome.
1) What kind of music did you listen to growing up? Why was this the kind of music you listened to?
She said, “Do you wanna go out?
During their freshman winter, Maggie and Maddie decided to start an aerobics dance class for all those who lived in the River cluster (how exciting!). They posted sick signs all around the dorms and even on the Class of 2016 Facebook page. The signs read — “Stressed for finals? Still haven’t achieved that hot spring break bod? DON’T FRET!!!! Come to Maddie and Maggie’s aerobics dance class!!!! 5:00 Judge Basement Study Room. IT’S FREE!”
Scene: FRAT DADDY SAM and ANARCHY SAM sit together in a dorm. They both rushed the same fraternity.
Only two months ago, a new phenomenon began to sweep through the grand theaters of Broadway. And, odds are, it’s not what you would expect. That is unless, of course, you expected men in colonial garb rapping about the life of Alexander Hamilton. If so, you hit the nail on the head.