Camp Dartmouth Training Pants

By Ryan D. Gorsche | Wednesday, October 8, 2003

The Dartmouth Review hosted its annual freshman mixer, opening our evil lair to the public with gifts of Indian T-shirts and food. The office was swarmed, and our best cattle-count estimates between eight or ten percent of the pea-green freshmen class stepped in for a visit. Our apologies to the newly-formed mascot committee, but contrary to their belief that the Indian is dead and will remain so, more than one hundred freshmen are now sporting a proper Dartmouth Indian T-shirt—the Co-op "College" T-shirt mom and dad bought upon arrival relegated to the clothes hamper forever.

But it was more than the T-shirt give-a-ways and chicken tandoori that kept these newcomers at the office. Most of the guests had read our freshmen issue—or heard about it after having their copy trashed by over-protective undergraduate advisors — and were pleased to find that somebody on campus wasn't buying the orientation rubbish.

According to the College, orientation provides "the tools to make a strong start." But as many freshmen verified during conversation, and I learned during my first taste of Dartmouth life, orientation consists of lame activities like baking cookies and telling students that men are bad and white men are particularly bad. Just glance at a few of the articles in this issue, and you'll get the idea. Re-oriented freshmen learned about the myriad environmentally sustainable uses of hemp. For example, you can replace your velvetleaf jute with hemp twine...and braid a hemp necklace. Fabulous. At my favorite event "Experiences"—nÈe "Experience Dartmouth"—Dartmouth's sociopaths sputter tirades against whatever non-politically correct social group suits their wrath and complain that Dartmouth hasn't fulfilled their every whim, need, and foible. Yes, why does the College lack specialized social options for the lone trans-gendered lesbian Marxist on campus? Afterward, during a required UGA discussion, those with previously steeled constitutions are debased for maintaining impure thoughts involving Keystone Light and the attractive neighbor. As a matter of fact, the "good start" orientation portends to provide helps little for College life, but is better suited for a politically correct sleep-away camp, complete with arts and crafts.

College is certainly a time to fine-tune the mind and challenge past assumptions, but as most arriving freshmen hoped and expected, that education is best found in reading some good books, mastering a foreign language, and learning enough math to pay the bills. But if the administration became the professors, Dartmouth's classes would resemble non-judgmental, fairyland tea parties. Never mind the classics, the movies The Matrix: Reloaded and Minority Report— surprisingly, not about minorities—were this year's first-year office recommendations for supplemental material to the annual freshmen summer reading. The horrible reviews for Minority Report speak for themselves, and the most thought-provoking idea said about The Matrix is its subtle reference to Gnostic Christianity—best discussed by most after a few bong hits.

And because the administration's orientation only lasts a precious short while, they've employed student-group The Buzzflood to push the College's message on the streets. Countless presidents may have attended Harvard, but did you know a Dartmouth alumna is the first female Native American officer in the Marine Corps? You do now. Thanks, Buzzflood.

But there's trouble in paradise for the Buzzfloodings, as one Dartmouth student has started a signature campaign to end college funding for such a ridiculous organization— started for some students with low self-esteem and a spot on Harvard's waitlist. And the College might listen; this campaign is painfully diverse.

The point of mentioning orientation and the college-supported Buzzflood demonstrates how unaware Dartmouth is of student needs or interests. When they're not bowing down to left-leaning ideology—such as "Experiences"— they're showing 18-year olds how to weave hemp necklaces. And because hemp necklaces are lame, they're handing over money to a group hoping to improve Dartmouth's image— by admitting we're not above begging for fawning praise and pats on the head.

Dartmouth freshmen are hitting the Review's office not because our paper is a literary goldmine—it is—but because we're the only ones calling the administration's ideas what they are. And we'll continue to do so for the freshmen classes to come.

Camp Dartmouth Training Pants

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