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Over the past four years, I’ve had to come up with a lot of fun facts; everything from the first day of classes to icebreakers at meetings seems to require one. I used to gauge how “fun” the facts were of the people who went before me, before I offered up my own to match their level of perceived effort. Now, I land on the safe middle ground of “I was born at DHMC.”
As one often does walking around a small campus with a small population, I run into people I know frequently. But when the circumstances are wrong, this can be a very grave thing. These are the worst of interactions, those with semi-acquaintances. If you have the fortitude to bear it, picture a long passageway, maybe a hallway or one of the wide gravel paths cutting across the Green at seemingly arbitrary angles. Say you’ve just had class at Silsby, and want to run to Hinman. All would be well, but there they are: someone you sort of know, strolling from the opposite end of the Green, certain to pass you by and force your hand.
End of spring term: scary, exciting or a relief? Why?
Well, it looks like week nine is finally upon us. Now that Green Key is over, there is nothing standing in the way of us and our impending finals. Before we know it, we’ll be hunkering down in the stacks writing that final paper, or perhaps we’ll be hunched over a desk inside a windowless lecture hall rushing to finish a timed exam.
So, Green Key just happened.
While the term often goes by too fast for us students to fully capture the experience, College photographers are always hard at work documenting the campus happenings. The Dartmouth sat down with College photographer Eli Burakian ’00 as he recounted his experiences photographing campus for the past 10 years.
During my sophomore fall, I listened to the song “Happy Accidents” by Saint Motel on repeat. It seemed to sum up college as I was experiencing it: unpredictable, marvelous and full of serendipitous moments. (As a side note, I was so happy when Saint Motel performed at Green Key this year.)
Since when is it May?
Picture this. You are me, having taken on a story for The Mirror last week before burning out every fuse in the human body during the course of Green Key weekend. You are stressed — nay, frazzled — yet still barely able to stay awake during your econ class because you pledged to drink much less caffeine after taking pre-workout at 2 a.m. two nights ago and experiencing a hopefully-not-concerning heart polyrhythm. These are the feelings that wear down your body and mind as you remember that your article (due the day before) still needs to be written. It is Monday in the most catastrophic sense — bloated and weary, uncomfortably stuffed with responsibilities, classes and urgent room cleanups that might be better described as disaster relief. It’s a purgatorial Monday, which I imagine strikes a chord with many of you, since I don’t recall being alone at the Friday concert.
Navigating Dartmouth Dining options can be a struggle at the best of times, but for those with dietary restrictions, this challenge can sometimes feel like a near-impossible feat. According to Dartmouth’s registered dietician for nutritional issues Elizabeth Rosenberger, approximately 30% of the campus adheres to a gluten-free diet — but how accessible is Dartmouth Dining for these students?
Even on our fairly small campus, Dartmouth students seem to utilize every alternate means of transportation — regardless of the season. In winter, that meant cross country skis, and now that the weather is warming, we’re taking out our skateboards, bikes and, of course, rollerblades. When the sun is shining, rarely a day passes when we don’t see someone blading, and we had to ask ourselves: Why is rollerblading such a staple across campus?
This article is featured in the 2022 Spring special issue.
This article is featured in the 2022 Spring special issue.
This article is featured in the 2022 Spring special issue.
Can you believe it’s already week eight? Sometimes, the passage of time simply gets away from us. It really does feel like just yesterday that we were rolling up to campus after an all-too-short spring break — and now we’re publishing our third-to-last Editors’ Note of the term. Summer is on the horizon, and despite our excitement, there is also uncertainty in the air.
It’s all so typical.
In just a few weeks, I’ll be heading home for the summer. I’ll catch my friends up on my first year at Dartmouth, and they’ll tell me about their experiences at their own schools. We’ll drive around with the windows down and spend evenings eating dinner outside and walking to get ice cream. I’ll bike to the beach to work as a lifeguard, I’ll see my dogs and my parents every day, and I’ll make meals in my own kitchen.
Ah, the sweet sound of the Dartmouth Listserv blowing up your inbox on a Monday morning. We despise the Listserv for many reasons. Most of all, we hate how it makes us think we’re more popular than we are. 35 new emails? That must be that woman emailing me back about that internship, or Hinman notifying me of the arrival of my outfit for Green Key and at least four flitzes from all the cute guys I made prolonged eye contact with in the library yesterday, right? No, unfortunately the Listserv breaks our hearts once again — it’s just the notification for the Sports Analytics meeting on Tuesday.
Sophomore summer is approaching, and with it comes the promise of easier classes, warmer weather, river dips and a campus left just to the ’24s. Yet, as I’ve discussed sophomore summer with upperclassmen friends, bonding within Greek spaces has been a common refrain. This presents a particular problem for me, as I’m part of the 39% of Dartmouth ’24s who are unaffiliated, according to the latest statistics from the IFC and ISC.
Somewhere beyond the veil of sleep, the implacable shrill of my alarm yanked me back into consciousness. Without my knowledge, my hands went searching for the source of the sound, hoping to silence it before my brain kicked back into gear. Cruelly, my last-night self had set my phone out of reach. I groaned a small protest and righted myself, letting the fog clear from my weary eyes.
