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Why I Didn't...But Should Have

By Scott Glabe | Thursday, October 23, 2003

Dartmouth's class of 2006 was the first without a field rusher since...well, as long as anyone can remember. I entreat you, class of 2007, to avoid a similar fate.

The bitter air of my first Homecoming will forever be ingrained in my mind. A friend and I had shivered our way to the stadium and ascended the bleachers of the student section. By the time we had melted the ice from our seats, the cries had begun: "Rush the field! Rush the Field!" the upperclassmen yelled. As halftime approached, the pleas increased; an entire chorus of 03s, 04s, and 05s begged, demanded, and cajoled us, but no one moved.

"Someone has to rush the field!" I exclaimed, turning to my friend. "should we do it?" he asked. Aware though I was of the moment's gravity, I refused to take the plunge. Rumor of three terms? probation had circulated, and I feared disappointing my parents. If there was a punishment, I reasoned, surely rushing the field was bad. Besides, someone would do it. And so we sat there, unflinching, waiting for someone else to do the honors.

To the chagrin of the entire student body, the moment passed, and with it, another Dartmouth tradition succumbed to the throes of death—for a year at least. I was regretful at the time but soon returned my attention to the game. I had never been much of an activist in high school and certainly didn't feel like rushing the field was my responsibility.

A year of reflection, however, has changed my mind. Three terms of Dartmouth tutelage were sufficient for me to realize that the prohibition on field rushing is simply one facet of the administration's comprehensive attempt to further its agenda with rules it hasn't the moral right to enforce.

The strictures begin during freshman orientation. Certain events, including a lurid presentation by a guest sexpert, are marked with that pesky little pine leaf, indicating they are "required." Many, such as convocation, are very early in the morning. Most of these I skipped, feeling thoroughly guilty for doing so.

The prohibitions continue throughout the year, often enforced with disproportionate fines. Within the last month of my freshman year, I was forced to pay my $30.00 share of hundreds of dollars in hall fines, which were accrued without explanation. Much of the sum, I am told, was levied for leaving shoes in the hallway during mud season. I also had to dole out $45.00 for three overdue library books and an outlandish $20.00 for turning in my music practice room key a couple of days late.

The administration's litigiousness is most draconian with regard to the fraternities. Because the Greek system students supposedly promote values that the administration passionately opposes, namely "white male privilege" and Animal House behavior, students are denied free association with the fraternal organization of their choice. The result: a Dartmouth student who ?dirty rushes? a house sophomore fall is among the rebellious minority, while his friends from home have been Greek for over a year, many since freshman orientation.

Meanwhile, exposure to the administration's agenda of fractious race, class, and gender politics is unavoidable. Through UGA training, perpetual programming, and the like, these preferred values are institutionalized far more than any trademark Greek traits ever were.

So what's bad about dirty rushing, or skipping a moan-filled sex talk, or even field rushing? Dartmouth's football field is open to students perpetually. But let a freshman take one step onto the turf during halftime at Homecoming, and the wrath of College is rained down upon him. All this because a single lady who made the ill-advised decision of sitting in the students' section when she knew the pea-greens would be taking the field was slightly injured. Why didn't the administration ensure that the student section was filled with only students, or organize a post-game gathering of freshmen behind the end zone, or take any number of other measures that could have preserved a great tradition?

In fact, there is no "why." Certain restrictions are necessary; I grudgingly admit that I should incur a cost for hanging on to library books a few months too long. The threat of punishment prevents the administration from having to explain persuasively why Dartmouth students are uniquely unqualified to join a fraternity freshman spring, return a key on time, or rush the field in an orderly and safe manner.

Members of the class of 2007, the administration's attempt to criminalize a tradition must not fool you, as it did me, into believing that breaking an inane rule is tantamount to doing wrong. Around the office, more than a few libations have been mockingly offered to the mythical "06 field rusher"; I have it on the good authority that the generosity will be extended to the genuine holder(s) of that title this year. The gratitude you will receive from those who cherish the Dartmouth spirit will outweigh the nitpicking disapproval of pointy-headed administrators. Can you really pass up this opportunity to put the sophomores—including me—to shame?