Editor’s Note
I started this winter clutching my steering wheel on the drive up from Boston.
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I started this winter clutching my steering wheel on the drive up from Boston.
Sometimes, just as it did this past Sunday night, the snow falls peacefully onto the ground, coating it with a soft, untouched layer of powder. I’ve always thought that if perfection could be embodied, it would take on the form of freshly fallen snow. Like the snow conceals the ground beneath, perfectionism is all-enveloping — a blanket that covers one’s less-than-perfect clutter and mess.
Let me set the scene: it’s a random Tuesday, and I just managed to find a seat at the hightop counter by the windows in Still North Books & Bar.
Enter the sauna in the Alumni Gymnasium men’s locker room, and you’ll see a gaggle of Dartmouth students braving the winter months. Some may enter following a strenuous workout, while others may be desperately trying to sweat out a hangover. Others may be waiting outside the sauna door, unsure whether to enter — after all, the saunas can be intimidating for newcomers who are unaware of the culture and expectations within. Since the start of the term, I have been conducting a thorough cultural exploration of the men’s sauna. I hope this resulting guide will ease any fears about entering it.
After a busy week of classes and extracurriculars, few students may think to cook an elaborate meal on a Friday night. Yet, every Friday, around 5 to 10 Dartmouth students gather in Our Savior Lutheran Church to cook and serve a buffet-style dinner — ranging from tacos to pancakes and bacon — to the Upper Valley community.
For many Dartmouth students, winterim — the College’s extended winter break, lasting from late November until early January — provides a much-needed opportunity to relax at home. Some may binge-watch Netflix. Others sleep until noon. The more ambitious might do research or work domestic jobs and internships.
After hours of lectures, club meetings or dance parties in fraternity basements, students often need a way to refuel. Rather than order from Domino’s or settle for whatever is left in the Choates vending machines, students tend to head to grab a bite in one familiar place: Late Night at the Class of 1953 Commons, colloquially known as Foco.
It used to be so simple. You could just go up to a classmate on the playground and ask to play tag — that’s all it took to start a new friendship when we were five. Even through our awkward phases in middle school and cliquey years in high school, making friends was still relatively straightforward. You could sit next to someone in class, practice the same sport or work on a group project together, and instantly you would have something in common. In college — though many people have to start from scratch — communal living spaces, awkward freshmen parties and late-night study sessions likewise force us to mingle until we emerge with a loose set of friends. But what about the “real world,” where there are no lab partners or sandboxes? How can you make friends when leading a life of comparative isolation?
It’s 15 degrees outside, and stiff winds urge me not to make the trek from my house to the Class of 1978 Life Sciences Center — but I hunker down, zip my calf-length puffer coat up past my chin and persist. Luckily, as soon as the elevator doors open to reveal the fourth floor, I’m hit with a blast of warm air. I drop my coat on the chair just outside the greenhouse and peer through the glass windows at the jungle that awaits me.
Just after sunset last Friday, I found myself alone on a path bordering the Dartmouth Skiway. On one side of the trail, a house down a steep hill glowed from all sides. Formations of ice covered the cliffside that lined the other and a thin frozen layer coated the ground. As I stood still, I could hear the ice moan and creak; it seemed to come alive when I looked at it for too long, breathing and shifting under my feet. Alone in the dark, it felt like staring a wild animal in the face.
My winterim looked like this — five hours wearing a tangle of wires and detectors to image my brain for research, four showings of “Wicked” in theaters, three Christmas dinners, two drinks at Purdue University’s most famous bar and one impending move. Make no mistake — the last item in this list occupied far more of my time than these other, albeit narratively compelling, anecdotes.
The New York City automat is not dead!
When you walk into Rollins Chapel, it may be easy to miss the pipe organ located just past the entrance, flush against the chapel’s wall. It’s smoothly integrated into the architecture, built for the space by Austin Organs Inc. in the 1960s, according to College Chaplain and Tucker Center director Rev. Nancy Vogele ’85. Though its location is inconspicuous, the instrument is grand: it consists of 75 ranks — or sets of pipes — three manuals, or hand-operated keyboards, and a set of pedalboards, which are foot-operated.
There’s nothing like buying good quality, well-sourced clothes — a conscious effort in our current era of Shein hauls and Depop scammers. Luckily, in nearby Woodstock, Vt., lies a hidden gem: the vintage boutique Mahshu.
When discussing postgraduate plans with Dartmouth students, it can be surprising how often law school comes up as a potential next step. It seems that law school functions as somewhat of a catch-all for students pursuing a whole host of career paths. Unlike those interested in medical school or other specialized graduate programs, pre-law students can pursue virtually any academic interest during their undergraduate years and still be well-equipped to apply.
While many members of the Class of 2024 departed for new cities, jobs or schools after graduation, some have also chosen to remain right here in Hanover. Whether it’s working as fellows, interns or admissions officers, a number of recent graduates have found unique opportunities to explore their passions beyond the classroom, all while contributing to the Dartmouth community.
This week, like any week that I am tasked with writing the editor’s note, I’ve been looking for meaning in everything. Every third Tuesday is a game of how fast I can imbue an anecdote with importance, all while keeping one eye on a PDF I’m reading for my government seminar, the other on incoming edits for the week’s articles and my mind anywhere but the second floor of Robinson Hall.
As I sat in my home in New Zealand last fall, staring at the blank exchange application in front of me, I wondered what attending an American college would be like. Is it really how the movies make it out to be? Would there be Greek life and football games with roaring crowds? Scandalous Halloween costumes and beer pong? Out of the 120 different universities that my school, the University of Auckland, partners with for exchange terms, Dartmouth undeniably stood out to me. The allure of an isolated New England town, combined with the College’s liberal arts focus and traditional architecture, drew me to its campus. I believed these elements would lead to an immersive college experience, rich with community, history and tradition.
It’s that time of the year again.
The 2024 Atlantic hurricane season has been a historically active one so far, with 11 hurricanes recorded — five of which measured over a Category Three, designated “major hurricanes” by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.