Mirror
“Dartmouth is a party school.” It’s hard to guess how many times I heard this phrase when I was accepted to Dartmouth, but if I had to make a approximation for the sake of this article, I’d guess it was somewhere in the thousands. I heard it from snarky adults who had never been north of the Mason-Dixon line. I heard it from friends at graduation parties. I heard it from concerned elderly people in the grocery store. Sometimes I even heard it from the small, scared voice inside of my head. Nevertheless, I lugged my straight-laced, sleep-loving, decidedly sober self all the way to New Hampshire and hoped for the best.