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All things change with time, including campus. The Mirror explores, in this photo essa, how locales can change with the seasons — or simply some snowfall.
As an Indian-American woman with immigrant parents, I was both shocked and yet not at all surprised to have found greater diversity at Dartmouth. Granted, the Long Island town from which I hail served as a skewed baseline and left me deeply confused about my identity (or as my grandmother likes to call me an ABCD — American Born Confused Desi). I ate my idly and sambar out of tupperware amongst the PB&Js, and I could never really empathize with girls in the summer complaining about their peeling sunburns. Physically and culturally, I stood out. The problem was, I never had a penchant for the limelight. I still don’t. I don’t sit in the back of class because I hate engaging in the classroom: I do it because sitting in the front makes me feel as though all my classmates are watching my every move — what I write down, how many times I touch my hair and whether I’ll have any nail left to gnaw on before class ends. The point is, I hated standing out. I yearned to fit in, and more so to blend in.
Philosophy professor James Binkoski looks like he should be on a college brochure. He’s well-dressed, his face is a little ruddy from the cold, and he sports a rugged New Hampshirite beard. He’s the kind of professor who looks like he would be against maintaining a Canvas page, but he’s not.
Paul and Emily Brigham return to Dartmouth for their 50th reunion. They met their senior spring at a mutual friend’s “chill wine/16Soberwhat? party” and have been nagging each other ever since. After a few bottles of champagne at the reunion dinner and awkward conversation with former trippees and hook-ups and trippee hook-ups, the Class of 2016 walks to the BEMA to unearth their senior time capsule.
BEEN SAM and BEEN DIFFERENT are talking at the Collis front desk. A tour of eager high schoolers has just exited.
This first week of the spring term featured discussions of spring break activities in all their predictable forms. Across campus, sun-kissed faces exchange tales of adventures and extravagances. What was less discussed though, were the moments in between: the tranquilities and the comforts of rest, at home or elsewhere.
Happy Wednesday, Mirror readers. We hope you are handling the abrupt change in weather better than your Mirror editors are. “It will stop snowing eventually, right?” Hayley asks Caroline in a defeated voice, thinking longingly of sunny days in Hanover.
RETIRING SAM and EXPIRING SAM are sitting on the Collis porch. It is almost-sunny. RETIRING SAM is wearing shorts, a little prematurely. He doesn’t have a backpack. EXPIRING SAM does.
I’m a klutz. Over the course of my first-year trip, I sprained one ankle, rolled the other and lost roughly two square inches of skin to a hastily applied bandage over the rolled ankle. The side-effect of my clumsiness is that I was less surprised by my trip’s raid than my fellow trippees, as I was informed a raid was occurring, partially to arrange the aforementioned bandage.
Orientation week, a random smattering of the class of 2016 piled into Alumni Gymnasium Hall for some official-sounding “Welcome to Dartmouth” event. I say “random smattering” because I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t go — like that “Strange as This Weather Has Been” class book lecture that was supposed to bind us all together over summer reading. I think the only thing I remember from that book was that a main character got splinters on her butt from having sex in a shed.
’Twas the night before 16S, with students on the loose.Not a creature was resting, not even a moose.
Happy spring term, Mirror readers! We hope you had wonderful and relaxing spring breaks, and that you didn’t miss us too much. If so, rest assured, we have an entire term ahead of us to satiate you with Mirror issues.
The River
What was your most fun experience at Dartmouth?
It’s springtime, and you know what that means. No, not sundresses, stargazing, frolicking naked or being arrested for frolicking naked. It’s one-act season! Theater in the park is about to start up soon, so we’ve been receiving hundreds of one-acts to select for our spring repertoire. Here are the worst pitches we read.
Happy Friday, Mirror readers! We can’t believe it’s already the last Mirror of the term, or that it’s March or that the winter just passed us by without really being, well, a winter.
Walking onto Dartmouth’s campus in late summer, you can immediately spot a First-Year Trips group getting ready to embark on its journey through the mountains. Runners jog through the streets and across the Green. Athletes go to and from practice, laden with duffel bags and equipment.
This past weekend was the men’s swimming and diving Ivy League Championships meet, or “Ivies,” as we call it. I was lucky enough to watch my teammates swim their final races of the season at Brown University. I concluded my swim season, and ultimately my collegiate swimming career, a little over five weeks ago. The team at that time was just beginning to weather the bulk of its competition schedule. Now that the entire team is done, I have the pleasure of watching my teammates, particularly my fellow seniors, begin the struggle that is permanent NARPdom. The lifestyle is a transition — no more 6 a.m. practices, no more morning and afternoon workouts and no more excuses to eat multiple Foco desserts at dinner. That is, no more predetermined schedule around which everything seems to operate. Five weeks later and my body and mind are still struggling to put the pieces together.
It’s finals week. You haven’t slept in 20 hours, and you’ve been at the library for almost the whole day. Your stomach growls, reminding you of the fact that you skipped breakfast and lunch. Where will you go to get food? The logical place to go to is Novack or KAF; right after you eat a pastry and get some coffee, you can get back to studying. But last night, you think, you ate mac-and-cheese bites at Late Night Collis, and the night before that you and your roommate ate Ben and Jerry’s ice cream from CVS. Suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you had a proper meal or ate a vegetable. If your KAF pastry is raspberry-flavored, does that count as a fruit?
SAM SOON and ASAP SAM are procrastinating in 8 Ball Hall.
The Dartmouth: Through the Ages presents a curated collection of the newspaper's archives from 1900 to the present.
