Orientation 2000: Thanks for Sharing

By J. Lawrence Scholer | Monday, September 17, 2001

Editor's Note: After Freshman Orientation, Mr. Scholer misplaced his 'Experience Dartmouth!' program. Well, actually, he threw it out—who knew that he'd need it? Program-less, Mr. Scholer was left to reconstruct the night's events from memory, which he does admirably below—with one exception: names. How difficult could it be, though, to get the names of students who had spoken at a public, College-sponsored event? Very difficult. Impossible.

Students who had been involved with the planning and performance of the event declined requests for any information, not even acknowledging that the event had taken place. 'Experience Dartmouth?' they parroted quizzically. We knew they were hiding something. Inquiries to the First Year Office were met with similar resistance. There were no copies of the program left. Nobody had the program on his or her computer. It had vanished—poof!

There was a video of the event. Could Mr. Scholer watch it? Only parts of it, we were told. He couldn't record names. His notes would be reviewed before he could leave. Later, a list of names was found, but, instead of disclosing the names of students who had performed at a public event, Dean Roland Davis decided that each needed to be contacted individually to give permission. We're still waiting a year later for the results of this futile exercise.

As a last resort, Mr. Scholer contacted Margaret Kuecker '01, who had been involved with the previous year's program and knew many of this year's participants. She refused to provide names, citing the personal nature of the show. 'I know that when I performed last year,' she explained, 'that I told a story that I didn't necessarily want everyone to hear.' Except, of course, for about 1,000 freshmen required to endure the event. Mr. Scholer has identified the students whose names he remembers; all others are left nameless, a part of their identity hidden from us all. The College's secrecy with regard to 'Experience Dartmouth!' is understandable. Dartmouth's propagandizing, exposed to the light of day, appears as the nonsense it really is. As the cliché goes, 'Get them while they're young.'

She hated Dartmouth.

Her story began with the acceptance letter and the anticipation of four incredible years at a prestigious Ivy League College in the woods of New Hampshire. Her anticipation would become despair soon after she arrived on campus.

This young student arrived at Dartmouth fresh, eager, and ready to make new and different friends. However, having not taken a DOC trip, she was alone on campus. She could not eat with tripees, so she ate alone. Not the type to 'meet half of my class in half an hour,' she was left out of the loop, stuck on the outside looking in. Alone.

Brace yourself—it gets worse. Classes started, and she struggled. As she failed at school, she felt she began to fail at life. The situation was dire.

Freshman year passed, and she bucked up, beginning her sophomore fall with a new outlook, a new hope, and a new vision. Everything would be different this year—she would make friends and improve her grades—she just had to adjust her routine.

No change.

Junior year came along with another renewed outlook—a precious glimmer of hope. But nothing. Still alone.

No one knew of the battle raging inside this young lady, and she blames herself for that. Each day she put on a bubbly and cheery facade to mask her inner angst. All of her acquaintances—none of them were friends—remarked on her perpetual happiness, her ever-present smile, and she nodded in accord, repressing her hidden agony.

Meals were always 'to go,' a method she noted was for 'people like me.' At times, she felt awkward walking back to her dorm with a to-go box, but she brushed off the feeling: she was busy.

She returned to campus for her senior and final year, resigned to finish what had been a miserable college experience. But she found herself swarmed by friends and successful at school. Now she loves Dartmouth: the Green, the course work, the Spaulding Auditorium.

Good for her.

A select group of mostly discontented upperclassmen treated the newly arrived freshman class to such free-form performances for 'Experience Dartmouth!,' a presentation of skits and monologues that generally elicited a thanks-for-sharing response from the freshmen, who were required to attend. 'Experience Dartmouth!' introduced students to the diversity of Dartmouth social life through the eyes of the experienced.

Anonymous Male Student #1 stepped into the spotlight and stared down the audience. 'I have never told this story to anyone,' he said with iron eyes. We would be the first to hear his personal account—a secret between only him and one thousand freshmen.

He was a legacy student, third generation—that's bad, it seems, very bad. Without warning, he became very emotional, choked up and unable to speak, as he recounted a harrowing, nearly fatal, LSD overdose. He and a friend decided to drop a couple of tabs one day after school; he blacked out and fell unconscious. It was a rebellious act: he was living his own life, breaking away from the rigid tradition of two generations of Dartmouth men.

The display of emotion seemed contrived, but 'Experience Dartmouth!' was all about superficial sentimentality.

In any event, Anonymous Male Student #1 never saw himself at Dartmouth, but somehow he ended up in Hanover, a decision he has never since regretted. Thanks for sharing.

Anonymous Female Student #1 delivered the most rousing performance of the evening: a barrage of words, mostly expletives. She sashayed onto the stage, clad in vibrant ethnic garb, and shouted the first words of her poem at the dozing audience, startling several severely. She condemned 231 years of Dartmouth tradition and history, which was all, she explained, a story of bigotry and oppression. Notecards flew from her hands, and words fired forth at fearful students cowering in their seats. The poem was angry and bitter and aggressive, shocking students with its language (often vulgar), if not its content.

Next, Jeff Saret '01 and Dean Krishna '01 led an informative session on 'being chill' at Dartmouth. 'Being chill' is going with the flow and taking it easy, according to Jeff and Dean, the arbiters of 'chill,' who slumped, 'chill-like,' on a couch. Jeff and Dean described each other's clothing—the sunglasses, shoes, pants—all 'chill.' Then stories about their freshman year. They jabbered back and forth in nasal tones about Dean's freshman Blitzmail snafus and other embarrassing situations.

Vito lived with Jeff and Dean their freshman year. One night some upperclassmen dragged Vito back into the room and dumped him, unconscious, on a couch. A few minutes passed and then 'Vito booted straight up!' as Dean put it. (That is, he vomited.) Jeff turned Vito onto his stomach to prevent choking; despite the mess, stench, and near death of his roommate, Jeff remained—and remember this because it's important—'chill.'

This was when freshmen began heading for the exits, at first surreptitiously and then less so. 'Experience Dartmouth!' had already staggered on through its allotted hour, but only half of the students had spoken. Was the show over? Would the others share their experiences? Was the mass exodus 'chill'?

I cannot answer these questions. I left.

From what I saw and from the accounts of those with much more patience than I, Greek life was conspicuously absent on stage. Both Jeff and Dean are brothers at Sigma Phi Epsilon; neither mentioned their affiliation. Only one student, Ali Rashid '01, referenced a fraternity: Lambda Upsilon Lambda, which often denounces the actual Greek system (as in the hullabaloo they created over the 'Luau Party' two years ago).

Greek life is shared by half of all eligible students and supported by nearly all. It's surely part of Dartmouth's social life, but despite the stated purpose of informing students about campus social options, 'Experience Dartmouth!' didn't mention Greek societies at all, except the one anti-Greek fraternity.

'Experience Dartmouth!' was instead an infomercial for the Gay-Straight Alliance, LUL, and other marginal groups. The Dartmouth experience, as defined that Sunday night, is a constant struggle to abandon the dark ages of Dartmouth's tradition and history and transform the campus into some brave new utopia.

'Experience Dartmouth!' was a group therapy session, a meeting of Dartmouth-bashers anonymous: 'Hi, my name's Michael, and I hate Dartmouth.' We were made to feel good about feeling bad, since everything would get better in due time. The performers told the students that being yourself was okay and no one will think less of you for it. Unfortunately, being yourself (i.e., antisocial, angry, and paranoid) excludes all social options beyond creative lonering and protests on the Green.

And these were the students—depressed, dissatisfied, and miserable—from whom we were supposed to learn about social options?!

The program, to say the least, did not accomplish what it set out to do: treat students to varying views of student life or even introduce them to the reality of Dartmouth. Rather it depicted an ideologized view of student life, where fraternities represent intolerance and elitism and the campus resembles one large, loving support group.

The assemblage on stage was 'diverse' as Dartmouth defines the term—there was a large number of minorities. But the views on stage were far from diverse (interestingly, the same bunch of students led a Green Party rally later in the term). The presentation generally fit Dartmouth's regnant orthodoxy, and was focused on recasting social life in that spirit, denying the actual state of things.

Why freshmen are forced to hear accounts of LSD trips and late-night vomiting is anyone's guess. Still, 'Experience Dartmouth!' let us know that there's a place for everyone at Dartmouth, even—especially—those who hate the place and only leave their rooms for candlelight vigils.

Orientation 2000: Thanks for Sharing

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