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Hello! I’ve been thinking a lot about power on this campus over the past two days, in the midst of all this local election mishegas. I think there are a variety of tactics to take down institutions of power: We can talk back to them, yell at them, meet with them in an instance of “civil discourse.” We can ignore them. Maybe in our absence they’ll shrivel away.
About a month ago, my roommate Flora and I made the following list of must-haves and deal breakers for our future apartment:
Ishaan photographs his interpretation of the word "power."
The theme for this issue was inspired by several different factors: recent heated debates about power dynamics on campus, flickering lights in various campus dorms, the best running song of all time (“POWER” by Kanye West)...
Dartmouth’s tuition costs over $250,000 including room and board, making it the 14th most expensive college in the United States. The cost of Dartmouth can deter people from attending or even applying in the first place. Although the tuition of Dartmouth can be a deterrent for families that have a child applying, students at Dartmouth don’t typically speak of financial aid openly. Many students don’t reveal their financial aid status, as some perceive the majority of students here to be incredibly wealthy. There is a widespread belief that most Dartmouth students went to elite private schools, have parents who own large, successful companies and do not receive financial aid. However, in reality, roughly 50 percent of Dartmouth students are on financial aid and the majority of students attended public high school.
I wrote and directed “Feminist Shakespeare (or, Unsex Me Here),” which ran in the Bentley Theater on April 29 and 30 after three weeks of exciting and chaotic rehearsals.
In my last column, I talked a bit about how I am comfortable moving forward in my life as a writer of fiction; the fact that our attachment to feeling is stronger than our attachment to fact comforts me. Fictions have repercussions in the “real world”: we do not traffic in lies but in the space between thought and action. In the academy, there is a lot of prestige put on analysis, and a little on creation. The work of interpretation is creative to be sure, but only within certain bounds. At some point, I stop caring about the role fiction plays in our everyday, about hermeneutics versus erotics versus authorial intent. At some point, I just want to write it.
I’m the kind of person who has eight different desktop screens for my laptop, each with its own distinct wallpaper that inspires me to perform certain tasks or match my specific mood. But that Type A level organization fades away when I’m working with the wallpaper whose orange, blossoming rose lights my brain afire with the heat of summer suns and the rouge of a cheek just tenderly kissed. As a creative writer, everything seems to speak a lyric or hum a poetic line, whether a tree standing starkly under a white sky of snow or a crushed can of keystone outside of Rauner. You find the deepest meanings, the most intricate puzzles tucked away in the details of our haphazardly busy, iPhone-inculcated lives. Even on laptop screens.
Romulus pours molten incandescence down
Reservation for Two, Take One:
hello, I’ll admit to me. the self propagates — I did it,
The esteemed community of devoted Dartmouth alumni is one of the most significant, frequently-touted aspects of the College. With a reported $4.5 billion endowment and a student population filled with legacy students, it is no wonder that Dartmouth prides itself on its almost 80,000 alumni from undergraduate and graduate schools combined. Alumni constantly return for events such as reunions and Homecoming, proving their love for the school.
For over 6,000 students, Dartmouth College is the institution to which they pay tuition and from which they receive an education. But for many of those students, the relationship is a little more complicated. These students pay Dartmouth, but Dartmouth also pays them — to work.
Let’s play a game, readers! We’ll give you a chance to get to know your Mirror editors — the opportunity for which we KNOW you’ve all been hoping when you run to the newspaper stands on Wednesday mornings, fingertips eager to grasp a freshly printed edition of the Mirror, sometimes fighting off crowds to get your own copy as they fly off the shelves. Anyway, hopefully we can entice you with a game of two truths and a lie — or in this case, considering the weekly theme “fiction,” two facts and a fiction.
Dartmouth students may be held to the highest standards of academic honesty, but they’re not always so truthful outside of the classroom. To help determine the probability that common Dartmouth sayings are true, the Mirror has constructed a Truth-O-Meter. From the most genuine to the most untrustworthy and everything in between, this helpful tool will clear up any confusion the next time you’re unsure what to believe.
They have the facts. They have the support. Institutional change, however, eludes them.
Anti-immigration speeches and immigration policy discussions flood the media, but the struggles of Dartmouth students are less publicized. Their experiences often occur behind closed doors and are not readily shared. Many undocumented students here choose to remain secretive about their status, since they often don’t know who to trust, are afraid of the stigma of being an undocumented student or want to avoid liability issues.
The distinction between fact and fiction should be very obvious — however, in this age of “fake news” and conspiracy theories, the line separating the two can become blurred. The Mirror sat down with government professor Brendan Nyhan, an expert on political misconceptions and conspiracy theories, to discuss his take on the sometimes-incorrect distribution of political information.
A book: We read “The Lifespan of a Fact” by John D’Agata and Jim Fingal, in which D’Agata plows through with his writing in disdain of Fingal, the fact checker he’s been assigned. (The book is essentially one long argument between the two.) D’Agata argues that an essay is not necessarily a nonfiction form. He bends the facts of a particular suicide — that of Levi Presley in 2002 — to make a larger point about suicide and stimulation in Las Vegas. Okay. So he bends some facts to make this point, but if making the point requires the bending of facts, can the point exist at all? In other words, is it still a Truth if it is built out of many little approximate-truths (or truth-adjacent statements)? I think about this a fair amount in terms of my own writing.