Why Student Government is Weak
Well it's good to know that things haven't changed much. How refreshing it was to come back from my off term to find a blitz in my in box telling me that no one was interested in being the president of my senior class.
Well it's good to know that things haven't changed much. How refreshing it was to come back from my off term to find a blitz in my in box telling me that no one was interested in being the president of my senior class.
California. Just hearing the name evokes tremendous memories that make me want to hop on the cheapest flight back to Lindberg Field, the airport in San Diego. When I was younger I was always mystified by the part of the country known as The West.
The student elections are here. The campus will undoubtedly be littered with posters of smiling candidates and their litany of proposed reforms.
One of the traditional roles of the senior class at Dartmouth College has been to lead. From athletic teams to extracurricular organizations, seniors are typically the ones to blaze a trail for younger students to follow. But if the apathy of the soon-to-be senior Class of 1998 is any indication, the College may face a serious student leadership crisis starting in September. Currently, no one is on the ballot for president or vice president of the Class of 1998.
Arriving back at Dartmouth after spending senior winter on the Kenya FSP, I soon realized just how much I'd missed.
You were inseparable, attached at the hip for four years. Laboring through the hallowed halls of Pittsfield High School or The Wilkshire Academy or wherever you attended, you shared it all -- assemblies, homecomings, lab periods -- the whole enchilada.
So there I sat in the doctor's examining room, wearing only that garment known by those in the medical profession as a "johnny" and by the rest of us as an "embarrassment." I'd been waiting in this Mass.
Last term we found out that (surprise!) Dartmouth tuition will increase next year. A less than five percent increase sounds like a reasonable figure; a little inflation, a little price increase.
To the Editor: I have been an employee of the Hanover Green Card for nearly two years and I was both surprised and hurt by Sander Schlichter's editorial yesterday, "Stalked by the Green Card." [March 25, The Dartmouth] Although I did not personally handle what may or may not have happened with Schlichter's account this summer, I am confident that we do everything in our power to correct any mistakes we or our Green Card vendors make.
To the Editor: In his March 25th editorial, Sander Schlichter '97 writes about a transaction made using his Green Card which confused him and due to our delay in resolving it, aggravated him as well.
Although I have written a number of provocative articles in the past, I do not remember a writing of mine that attracted more scathing criticisms than the one I wrote approximately a year ago.
Welcome back! If you're reading this, I assume you made it back. Oh what tangled webs we weave when we try to get to or from Hanover, New Hampshire. "For only a few thousand dollars (and doesn't the phrase "ten thou" just roll off the tongue so easily!) you too can have the vehicular freedom to come and go as you please without the horrible aggravation of public transportation and buying costly tickets!" Or so goes the sales pitch I've been giving my parents for the past two years.
"I let you know in the last letter about a little mixup with Father Floozie," my mother writes. "I promised you a hot scandal -- so sit down, relax, and read -- this news is smoking!" During my Winter term in Germany, my mother had gotten into the habit of writing entertaining letters to me, but this particular one was particularly record-setting.
Today students can complete Dartmouth's P.E. requirement without ever leaving their seats. Classroom-style courses like "Alcoholism and The Culture of Addiction" and "Surviving the Dartmouth Experience" cater to the sedentary and waste the opportunity to expose students to the merits of exercise. Students can now meet their P.E.
Hilbert's mantra in the attempt to build a "mathematics without paradox," was "We must know. We will know." But it can be effectively extended to science in its entirety.
What a long, strange trip down a long and winding road it's been. What a long, strange day's journey into 1,001 Arabian nights of the living dead it's been. In other words, my college career, or rather, my four-year string of cliches, is about to come to an end. Therefore, in the best cliched tradition of columnists for The Dartmouth, I have decided to write this look-back-in-anger, best-years-of-our-lives, pour-some-sugar-on-me column. Not that this will be the last column I write for The Dartmouth, of course (so you can put away the champagne). That would be too cliched even for a wrath-of-Achilles, critique-of-pure-reason, theory-of-relativity guy like myself. Hello Dartmouth, my old friend. Remember when we were young? I certainly do.
I received my weekly "Dear Rolf (Yes, my first name is Rolf. My mother was heavily sedated when she named me.
To the Editor, On behalf of my good friends Geraldo Cadava '00 and Ross Fenderson '00, I would like to take this opportunity to set a few things straight.
To the Editor: Students and the Upper Valley community benefit greatly from the presence at Dartmouth College of distinguished guests.