The College has had many milestones and avoided many others in its long history.
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The College has had many milestones and avoided many others in its long history.
In the 12th installment of Mixed from Maine, Cecilia Morin '21 predicts the forecast for week 3 of the term.
Remember Blu? That loveably awkward macaw from “Rio”? As of 2018, the Spix’s macaw, upon which Blu was based, has been declared extinct in wild habitats.
A longstanding debate in philosophies of law goes something like this: We place power in our legislatures to create and enact laws, and in our courts to apply those laws to cases before them. When courts encounter a case that does not fall clearly inside or outside of existing laws, do they still have the authority to decide what the just result is, and what the scope of their discretion is in deciding that justice? Either way, the court must make a decision about the interpretation of the law — choosing to follow the explicit letter of the statute for the sake of precision still allows a judge to decide what is within the scope of the law and what is not. This means that regardless of what decision is made, it will be a verdict on whether the facts of the case fall within the bounds of one law and not another. Midway through readings for class on this very debate, my phone alerted me of a case that exemplifies this concept and the importance of navigating it carefully and thoughtfully: the commutation of Cyntoia Brown by the governor of Tennessee.
David Velona '21 provides commentary on current presidential battles.
Much has been said about Dartmouth’s isolation. We are “the” voice crying out into the wilderness, and the institution wears this as a badge of pride. Cut off from the realities and logic of the real world, Dartmouth students have essentially developed that own language — a complex network of lingo and slang that is intimidating to many at first, then exhilarating when mastered. “Meet me in Blobby,” I can now say with ease. “Can I borrow your flair?” I ask with a peaceful smile. As a result of our propensity to name things, these fairly typical collegiate concepts (costumes, the lobby of the library) become Dartmouth-specific. When we as a student body lay this sort of nominal claim on a thing, it becomes an important part of our culture. Nothing signifies the power of this act of claiming as much as the almighty flitz, or the “flirty Blitz.”
For the next year, the College’s libraries will be filled with exhibits extolling Dartmouth’s scholarly history and ostensibly bright future. Much of this revelry will focus on the community of alumni who once called Hanover home. But celebrations of the College’s academic pedigree and achievements may be inconvenienced by an awkward reality. For the first time in decades, the College on the Hill will be in a town without any bookstore.
The Golden Globes began with an unexpected change in direction Sunday night. After two years of programing consumed by commentary — on topics ranging from sexual assault to immigration to the 2016 election — the show had begun to steer its reputation from drinking celebrities and casual festivities to a deeply political awards show. But Andy Samberg and Sandra Oh, the evening’s hosts, set the tone of the 2019 ceremony from the get-go as apolitical. This transition back to the Golden Globes’ original identity underscores a broader shift in the awards circuit. In a world where live awards shows are no longer the ratings juggernauts they once were, producers have to make a decision: embrace the reality of live entertainment today or try to fight their way back into a lost past. Unfortunately, they haven’t had much success with the former, and aren’t likely to achieve the latter.
I recently purchased a tote on Instagram with the words, “The cyborg in me recognizes the cyborg in you.” With the enthusiasm somewhere between that of a hypebeast and intellectual nerd, I told my friends how it fell into my hands; the bag is sold by Instagram meme account @sighswoon, who created the phrase after reading a text by digital and feminist studies professor, Donna Haraway. My cyborg tote is one product within a larger trend of not only text-heavy apparel, but simple pieces that reference moments in high culture. Some fellow theory lovers have dismissed this as sad and reductive, while some of my more fashionable friends encourage me to resist the urge to read into it. But Theory Garb, as I’ll coin it, demonstrates the pop culture potential of theory when it does not take itself too seriously, and serves as a reminder that it is the beginning of a question and not an answer to one.
I don’t always notice it — when trying to beat the KAF line or, in the opposite direction, rushing to my history classes in Carson. But, when not confronted by a menacing time crunch as I progress down First Floor Berry, the year 1968 can’t help but catch my eyes in its bright red lettering.
In an age of digital reality, I find it vitally important to reevaluate, if not mourn, the many wrongdoings endured the previous year while celebrating the start of a new year. Without doubt, the murder of Jamal Khashoggi would be at the top of many journalists’ lists. On Oct. 2 last year, Khashoggi, an acclaimed Saudi journalist and an opposition to the Saudi government, was allegedly ordered to be assassinated by the Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, as suggested by an audio recording. The news shocked the entire international community, especially given that the cold-blooded murder took place inside a consulate, symbolic of how tenuous and flimsy the idea of freedom of the press still is.
It's wonderful until it hits you.
A sullen silence filled our kitchen in the early morning before I left the house to board our team bus for a cross-country meet in Duluth, Minnesota. A receipt for the Nov. 2017 SAT subject tests lay on the kitchen table next to my packed cross-country bag. My ears rang with shouts from the night before, disbelieving exclamations of “You want to skip your SATs to run in a cross country meet?”—angry and cutting, even in the quiet of the early morning. As time ticked away, I was reminded of my impending choice: the decision to continue as I always had, on the path that others had set for me. Or the opportunity to forge into the unknown territory of disobedience, alone. Closing my eyes, I picked up my cross-country bag and left the house without looking back.
Wearable technology is expected to be one of 2019’s biggest fitness trends. Many major companies and institutions are interested in promoting innovation in these areas, such as universities across the country. For instance, Oral Roberts University in Oklahoma requires students to purchase a Fitbit and walk at least 10,000 steps a day for a letter grade. As of September 2018 the insurance company John Hancock now provides discounted premiums to individuals enrolled in their Vitality life insurance program who use activity trackers and opt to report this data to the company. Individuals in the program automatically receive 20 to 40 percent discounts on these wearable fitness devices. While linking fitness to one’s health is a positive goal, however, insurance companies should not have access to fitness data because of data errors, privacy concerns and the negative impact of fitness trackers.
We all have needs.
In the eleventh chapter of her series "Mixed from Maine," Cecilia Morin '21 reflects on the stages of Winterim many students are familiar with.
As the College finds itself in another scandal, Lamees Kareem illustrates how many alumni are feeling.
This year, Dartmouth celebrates 250 years since its founding. On Jan. 10, the College will kick off a series of events commemorating its anniversary and honoring its longstanding legacy. These events highlight moments of pride throughout the College’s history — academic milestones, building blocks for the Dartmouth education students know today (both in the expansion of opportunities and in the expansion of groups to which those opportunities have been made available) and memorable achievements by members of the Dartmouth community across the globe. For the most part, these celebrations are well-earned. Dartmouth has and continues to offer a valuable and rewarding education to its students. Faculty members remain committed to teaching and to nurturing students’ personal and intellectual development. And many alumni go on to lead successful lives, often bettering their communities aided by the foundations they cemented while at the College, their experiences on campus and the bonds they formed with one another. But while Dartmouth deserves to cherish these successes, it ought not to ignore its failures.
The emails seem to roll in on almost a daily basis, offering thousands of dollars to students looking to pursue “design your own” internship programs with Dartmouth organizations. Deans, professors and fellow students encouraged me to apply for programs with Rauner Library, the Center for Social Impact, the Dickey Center, the Rockefeller Center or even individual departments to secure funding for my upcoming off-term, which I had filled with an internship at a nonprofit law office in New York. Both the candor with which they spoke and the seemingly overwhelming number of resources available made me feel confident when applying for funding that was critical to me being able to take up my offer in Albany. However, not only was I declined funding during the initial application round, I discovered that many of my friends who depend on these funding sources had also been dismissed — highlighting a pernicious consequence of pursing nonprofit internships.
Before I’d ever set foot on campus, I knew about Dartmouth’s emphasis on bystander culture. I took the same sexual assault prevention courses that my peers did and clicked through the same slides on bystander intervention as the other members of the Class of 2022. (Do something yourself! Bring others in! Ingenious alternatives.) I sat through the same New Student Orientation talks on the College’s very rigorous, serious, vague efforts to combat sexual assault. The pen I almost exclusively used during my first quarter has the letters “DBI,” or Dartmouth Bystander Initiative, printed on it — if that’s not the ultimate sign of how ubiquitous DBI’s branding is on campus then I don’t know what is.