Orientation: A Pea Green’s Thoughts

By Michael P. Randall | Saturday, October 4, 2008

Ah, Orientation—days we’ll always remember, nights we don’t, or wish we could forget. Parents long left behind, open houses and “mandatory” assemblies galore, the miasma and melodies of fraternity basements beckoning like Sirens, and new neighbors to befriend and annoy and learn from. Dartmouth’s orientation, like the College itself, presented myriad possibilities.

Not all of them were desirable or worthwhile, far from it—I learned more about alcohol from intoxicated floormates than from the much-maligned “alcohol talk.” And that’s as it should be. Indeed, our fellow Dartmouth students themselves are much better teachers than a lecturer whose attempts to be “cool” are painfully transparent. Dartmouth is about learning from our peers, appreciating their unique experiences and perspectives, not because we are told diversity is ipso facto desirable, but because we value them as people. Regrettably, at times, this year’s Orientation failed to recognize this, instead manufacturing pluralism without truly understanding its value.

Overwhelming, perhaps, describes Orientation better than any other word could: a whirlwind of handshakes and decorum-laden introductions, navigating through countless puddles of who-knows-what with people you just met, paging confusedly through the ORC, and feverishly highlighting every other event in your Orientation handbook with the best of intentions. Thankfully, the plethora of resources here helps mitigate the jarring transition.

The most successful aspects of Orientation, by far, were those focused on academics. Advisor meetings ranged from “pretty good” to “highly enlightening,” showcasing for our class the remarkable concern the faculty has for us. The open houses varied in quality, but the constant was the energetic, helpful faculty—and, I suppose, the overzealous students asking questions like, “So, if I took the A-level exam and I passed, but I took an AP class but not the exam and we used a different version of the book (you know, the one with the picture of the green flasks on the cover) and I’m fluent in German and I have three cats, one of whom is named Einstein… do I get credit for Chem 5?” Upon hearing that one, I grabbed the pamphlet and slinked away.

The first notable “mandatory” event was the “academic advising and introduction to computing.” This event seemed out of character for an institution that rightly deplores waste, as it was a gargantuan waste of our time. I honestly remember little of what was said; I was Facebook chatting with the people around me, who were all equally exasperated that they were losing valuable napping hours. That evening was the Class of 2012 summer reading lecture, preceded by President Wright’s dinner. The dinner was definitely an Orientation high point; the food was superb and both Susan and President Wright displayed infinite patience by shaking hundreds of hands. I can’t speak so highly of the lecture, however. Mostly a verbatim powerpoint reading which I can scarcely recall, the lecture featured little audience interaction and a lot of talking. My most striking memory was of the professor’s tenuous assertion that “the Constitution may have protections for minority-reserved seats in Congress,” which he defended by citing the equal representation of each state in the U.S. Senate. However, as American states are not ethnically based but are instead arbitrary geographical creations, I failed to follow his logic.

Because the “alcohol talk” the next evening is hardly even worth mentioning—“Hey kids! Don’t drink to gratuitous excess or you might die!”—I’ll just skip that and move right along. Regardless, the ‘schmobs sauntering down Webster a few hours later testified to its ineffectiveness. The next morning was matriculation, another Orientation high point, and not just because of its official significance. President Wright delivered an inspiring address to each matriculation group, entreating the Class of 2012 to remember our roots and devote our college educations to service, both laudable goals. He commanded, and earned, our collective respect. The “sex talk” later that night, however, threw respect out the window.

The always gregarious Sexperts kicked off the evening with a forgettable set of duets imploring us to avoid sheepskin condoms (condom joke: cue mindless laughter) before introducing the night’s entertainment. Since Sue Johanson was booked, the ’12s had to settle for the University of Maryland’s Robin Sawyer. After explaining his credentials as a specialist in sexual health on college campuses—a career he chose because you need to pass those damn MCATs to become a real gynecologist—our illustrious speaker began fleshing out various definitions of “hooking up” in offensively graphic detail. Apparently, “random oral sex” counts.

Inevitably, however, Sawyer wasn’t content with making hackneyed jokes about genitalia as the audience chuckled robotically. He upped the ante by tossing some chum into the crowd, lambasting Sarah Palin with what must have consumed every ounce of his meager creative powers: “Yeah, abstinence education works – just ask Bristol!” Predictably, the room full of hopeful freshmen ready for change erupted in cheers. At least my neighbors heard me boo.

The next day featured another Orientation staple: “Experiences.” Despite the bit of PC razzle-dazzle that it was, Experiences showcased unique Dartmouth students and their finely honed public speaking skills. Though the student speakers and performers spent hours preparing their well-delivered introspections, it was unclear how representative their “experieneces” were of the general Dartmouth student body.

Still, the unflinchingly warm-hearted Sam Hayner electrified the crowd with his offbeat antics, and the Chinese Dance Troupe dazzled us with their grace and poise, to name two particularly salient examples. My neighbors and I were at least kept awake, which cannot be said of all Orientation events. Often, however, the show descended into clichés and it dragged on several minutes too long, detracting from its intended impact. And, unfortunately, much of the substance was vapid and excessively didactic. For example, the Rockapellas, having completed their introduction peppered with references to “social justice” and “marginalized peoples,” serenaded us with “Bury My [Bleeding] Heart at Wounded Knee,” a ballad condemning “energy companies… ripping off what’s left of the reservations.” Apparently, these talented vocalists devote so much intellectual energy to loathing petroleum interests that they confused crusading Canadian crooner Buffy Sainte Marie with someone relevant. All evening, I heard nothing about religious “experiences” at the college, a distressing omission. That an event purporting to showcase diversity eschewed such a fundamental part of student development strikes this ’12 as an ominous harbinger.

A fellow ’12 summed Orientation up for me in two words: “summer camp.” I don’t think he was far from the mark. There were no assignments due, no parents to nag, no responsibilities or obligations holding us accountable. The word “mandatory” took on a new meaning, namely, “if one feels like it.”

Our class took advantage of the opportunities for academic enrichment as well as Dartmouth’s unique social atmosphere, the two-pronged experience which makes this community so special. As we leave behind Orientation week, speckled with gems but mostly mired in hollow, programmed events showcasing “diversity,” our class embarks on a journey to discover our campus’ true diversity and the tremendous value it holds. Our peers are our best instructors, from whose mistakes we learn, from whose experiences we grow, from whose advice we become better people. Let us value each other, then, for who we are, not for what we represent.

Orientation: A Pea Green’s Thoughts

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