Freshman Year Made Simple

By Theodore Cooperstein ‘84 | Monday, September 22, 2008

Editor’s Note: What follows is an article penned by Theodore Cooperstein ‘84 that appeared in the 1982 freshman issue. Much of Mr. Cooperstein’s advice remains as pertinent today as it was twenty-six years ago. Minor adaptations have been made by Daniel F. Linsalata ‘07 to remove anachronisms.

Freshmen are always easy to pick out; a little dazed and always looking hungry for advice. Nonetheless, freshman year is full of discoveries, akin to your first naughty experience, in which the littlest things must come as a surprise.

All this is spoiled when some pompous upperclassman sits you down to explain things, unravel the universe, simplify the collegiate paradigm. It is as though a married man came into your window on your wedding night and said, “I’ll show you how.”

With that disclaimer, and the hope that even if this piece doesn’t help you avoid any of those particularly pea-green travails it will at least give you a chuckle or two, here it goes.

Welcome to Dartmouth!

So you’ve returned from your freshman trip, blisters and all, relieved to have completed your exhilarating experience in the vast New Hampshire wilderness. You’re ready now to jump feet first into the big world of college life; you’re back on campus; you’re in the mainstream of the Ivy League academe; you are—in the New Hampshire woods?

First of all, DON’T PANIC. Relax. Go outside. Take a walk around Hanover, get to know the place. Now that you’ve wasted ten minutes, it’s time to panic. Go ahead, ask. “What the hell am I doing here?” Well, as the man said, (and you will hear so many times while you’re here), “It’s a small college, and yet there are those who love her.” Don’t worry, you will. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t stay.

Nonetheless, to aid you in a safe and speedy transition to college life, here are some brief explanations and advice for problems commonly encountered during acclimatization.

First and foremost, remember the First Law of Traveling and Relocation: never trust brochures, pamphlets and all such propaganda. Sure it all looked great, and it convinced you to come here. Now it’s time to face the reality. (Of course, there will be those who disagree with this and our other opinions; they’re wrong.)

Dorms: For the most part, you should be satisfied with your lodgings. You will appreciate them all the more after visiting your friends at other colleges. Unless, of course, you live in the River Cluster (née “the Wigwams”). Somebody has to do it—namely freshmen. And they do say Vermont is lovely in the winter. If you live in a single, please be sure to check in with your neighbors now and again, to let them know you’re alive. If you were to suddenly expire it might take some time for the College to notice—and that makes it difficult for them to collect tuition. If you have one or more roommates, please remember that the laws of the State of New Hampshire and the federal government concerning homicide, assault, battery, and manslaughter do apply.

Thayer: Thayer Dining Hall is a much maligned institution. If you had to serve 4,000 people a variety of foods three meals a day, year round, you would have trouble keeping it palatable, too. When possible, it’s not a bad idea to supplement Thayer fare, whether with pizza or a five course meal at the Hanover Inn. On the whole, Thayer can and has been known to adequately sustain human life. But if they start serving creamed chipped beef or salmonella salad, it’s time to turn in your meal card.

’Shmen: A term of derisive endearment, just as the Czar referred to “my beloved peasants.” Bear with it; you’ll get to use it next year. See also, ’Shmob.

The Dartmouth Review: The renowned college periodical you are presently reading. Ninety percent of Dartmouth reads The Review; the other ten percent complain about it. By now, some upperclassman, perhaps a director of the Upper Valley Eastern Bloc Alliance to Propagate the Snail Darter, the Dartmouth Hangnail Awareness Group, or any other serious, college-recognized organization, will notice you reading this paper.

He (she) will decry it and seek to incontrovertibly bias you against our publication. Such a person may even go so far as to proclaim The Review or its staff ‘fascist.’ Ninety-nine percent of these accusers will not be able to accurately define or properly use the term.

Confront them with this. If it’s a history professor, let alone a department chairwoman, avoid his classes. (No, that’s not a solecism, it’s the proper use of the masculine case to refer to the singular indefinite.)

At the very least, you and your friends will have something to discuss/argue/bemoan every two weeks, and everybody can find something they like in The Last Word or, failing that, Barrett’s Mixology. You might even find yourself agreeing with the paper on an issue—but for heaven’s sake don’t tell anyone! That destroys our credibility.

Classes: A minor nuisance. (For pre-meds, a full time labor.) Choosing a good course is similar to betting on a horse race. A winner is greatly influenced by the jockey; in this case, the professor. A good one will guide you expertly through the course to a triumphant finish. A bad one will just weigh you down. Many upperclassmen will tell you of supposed “gut” courses. Here too the First Law applies. Beware.

The Dartmouth or ‘D’ Plan: The system of year round operation, ten week seasonal terms. Adopted along with coeducation, it permits increased enrollment with minimal increase in the plant size of the College. Like most temporary measures (Exhibits A and B: The Choates and the River Dorms), it has become permanent. In your freshman spring you will contort the system as you devise your own mix-and-match patterns of attendance. Enrollment patterns are like fingerprints; each person’s is different. The common denominator is Sophomore Summer, which, depending on whom you ask, you will never forget or be unable to remember. Some laud the system as highly flexible. Others condemn the divisive effect on friendships and social life. Either way, it can be confusing.

James E. Wright: Rumored to have once been quite a fine history professor.

The Collis Center: Collis is an acronym for Communists, Orotund Liberals and Leftists, Insurrectionaries and Subversives. As such it caters to a wide variety of people, ranging from those earnestly committed to saving the whales to the avid granola eaters. The basement houses Lone Pine Tavern and the Fuel Dance Club—a sad remnant of the College’s failed effort to combat the Greek houses as a social outlet.

The Hopkins Center: The primary residence of the cultural and fine arts at Dartmouth. It’s a worthwhile diversion; you have to check your HB, anyway. Here you will also find the Film Society presentations and Courtyard Café, home of the 16 oz, artery-clogging “Big Bad Burger.”

HB: HB is the oft-used acronym for Hinman Box. In other words, in the unlikely event you get mail, that’s where you’ll find it. Proper maintenance of the HB requires a change of air every day or two—you don’t want it to get too stuffy and stale. At times the College will disseminate through the HB’s a campus-wide mailing; it is up to you to dispose of it properly.

Fraternities and Sororities: Fraternal organizations are the mainstay of Dartmouth social life. Members can there find a permanent social base and many good friendships to sustain them through the confusion of the Dartmouth Plan. The College often encourages freshmen to steer clear of Greek houses so that they might find “viable social alternatives” such as Australian tribal dances in Fuel or sitting in their room alone. While these activities may indeed be fascinating, they merely serve to isolate you from the social mainstream and delay your familiarity with fraternities, upperclassmen, and alcohol. So as to enable you to maximize the enjoyment derived from visiting these gulags of grimness, we offer the following pointers:

1. Don’t wear your ‘12 t-shirt into any basement. Don’t wear open-toed shoes.
2. Avoid immoderate, wildly insane behavior. This is reserved for seniors.
3. Don’t limit yourself to any one frat. Get to know them all. This also makes you harder to catch.
4. Be nice. You may want to someday join one of these venerable institutions. Remember, you’re only a lowly freshman, not even a pledge.

Pong: Not “beer pong,” and certainly not “Beirut.” Just “pong.” The primary, nay, only activity to be found in the basement of any given frat. Learn the rules. Get good at it. Quickly. Just don’t bother upperclassmen in the process of doing so.

Dartmouth Indian: If you object to the Indian, please remember the freedom and rights of the individual. You, as an individual, are free to arbitrarily pre-judge a supporter of the symbol and irrevocably characterize him. It is your right to obstreperously foist your loud-mouthed, second-hand opinion upon all you encounter. But don’t be surprised when those insensitive, racist, sexist, fascist, chauvinist and perverted people insist on keeping the Indian. Some people just aren’t open-minded.

Alumni: People who at one time or another went through this place, like us. Many contribute freely to Dartmouth. If you should see one, say hi. Thank him. Tell him you love it here. Thank him again. Obsequiousness never hurts.

I hope you have found this column to be of immense help and are now prepared to delve into the wide wonderful world of Dartmouth. If not, please address all complaints, problems and obscene letters to:

The.Dartmouth@dartmouth.edu

Freshman Year Made Simple

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