Taboo @ Dartmouth Survey
The Dartmouth received 243 responses to a survey about taboos on campus, including questions about sex, crime and hygiene.
The Dartmouth received 243 responses to a survey about taboos on campus, including questions about sex, crime and hygiene.
After all, the Ledyard Challenge is just one of the College’s numerous nudity-focused traditions, along with streaking finals, the Dartmouth Seven and the blue light challenge. Although we consider these practices normal and acceptable, a closer examination may provide a different perspective — why do so many of our traditions require participants to be naked? Are we obsessed with nudity?
Aside from us, there are approximately 1,114 other ’19s at Dartmouth. They come from across the globe — from here in New Hampshire to Thailand to Kenya. And yet, we haven’t a heard a single one of them admit to being homesick.
What are the most taboo topics at Dartmouth?
I hate to admit it, but there is something special about going for a drive.
Man, only 11 days until classes are over. Where has this term gone? I don’t want to go home. I could stay here forever.
Close your eyes and take a moment to remember how you felt right after Trips ended. You were on top of the world, weren’t you?
During Maddie and Maggie’s freshman year, they quickly formed a little crush on a senior boy.
Halloween is uniquely celebrated in the United States, and the same traditions do not hold necessarily hold true for international students. Without being accustomed to such traditions, one might see our enthusiastic celebrations as bizarre or even outlandish.
“If you’re looking for the best place in Portsmouth to take a bathroom selfie, it is here, at the Music Hall,” Rosie says. Mental note made — I will return for a ghost selfie in near future.
Since the very first Halloween, people around the globe have always found ways to sexify everyday costumes — nurse, cat, witch, what have you.
Nine School Street is haunted. Residents of the 19th-century mansion today known as the Panarchy undergraduate society firmly believe that spiritual presences both malevolent and benign haunt the buildings behind its massive columns.
Fall is my favorite part of the year. Everything is dying. People drive up from Connecticut to celebrate death, taking pictures of the chlorophyll breaking down and the suicide plunges of hundreds of little leaves.
I know what you’re all thinking— “FoCo Joe, if you can conjure up random desserts every other dinner, surely you must have some costume ideas?!!”
After three years, I feel like I have networks — plural — of people to turn to and be with, and that’s a beautiful thing. Surprisingly, though, it’s not togetherness that’s fueled my happiness — it’s separation. It’s the D-Plan.
’Twas the night before Halloween, when all through the dorm, many creatures were stirring for that was the norm.
It is easy to joke that having no new friends is a bad thing, yet having a stable support system at all is a significant comfort in itself.
This is your homework, not some lukewarm beer you can half-finish and then drop.
I am probably the ultimate NARP. I’ve never seriously played on a sports team, and I tried to get away with only running 1.9 laps around the Homecoming bonfire.
Go on that three-minute trek to the DEN innovation center, sit in one of their plush chairs, grab a Snapple from the drinks fridge, a bag of popcorn and just relax.