Freshman View: Homecoming

Jack P. Leiher

I am told that many fondly look back on their freshman-year Dartmouth Night. I concur with this sentiment. In spite of our class failing to touch the 128th fire, the events that followed this abandonment of tradition were really quite enjoyable. My time after the Bonfire was allocated to parties, at which ensued a copious consumption of that which impairs function. The final fiesta was expected to be the greatest one of all. It was supposed to be a Judgement rager with a live band! Unfortunately, the enlivening event was shut down by Safety and Security after only 11 minutes. 

Never have I been so disappointed by the yellowbellies who instituted our College’s anti-fun policy. One would think that their sole goal was to function as a killjoy. As such, I now say “no ma’am” to Good Sam. However, we freshmen found fun even if it was against Dartmouth’s wishes. During the morning that followed the weekend of debauchery, I was left with the melancholic frolic of cleaning vomit, the telltale sign of a weekend well spent.

Noah J. Larbalestier

My lone physical takeaway from homecoming weekend here at Dartmouth was a new wooden chair for my dorm room. Less concretely, though, and ignoring the excruciating backlog of homework that I accrued, I’m now more grateful than ever for a group of the most random, kind, and awesome friends that I could have ever imagined. We enjoyed aimlessly adventuring, circling the fire and considering making a dash, crashing alumni tailgates, watching less than a minute of the football game, and trying to make men’s Halloween costumes sexy. Other, more sedate activities included having dinner with my friend’s amazing parents and hanging out with my UGA. All of this made me feel more loved than did the brief FaceTime I had with my family early Sunday morning.

Dalton A. Swenson

We were told that we would meet our best friends whilst strolling the perimeter of the homecoming bonfire. We would, they said, experience something special. En route to the flames, freshmen were herded into line, patiently awaiting that very moment. It sure did improve the tradition when Dartmouth staff admonished students for stepping out of line. 

After careful placement to enter what was effectively a caged arena, we finally embarked upon our supposedly consequential trek. It was great—except for the fact that workers lined the length of the fence to push us along the second we stopped to enjoy the experience. 

After a mere minute, the tradition was over: hardly enough time to take a picture, never mind make a lifelong friend. My expectations were left unsatisfied. 

Perhaps the tradition actually had some force when those who preach its value actually did something real. For us, we did not get to run around the full fire even once. We did not get to bond over the unique experience. It just felt weird, being rounded up, as we were, like sheep.

I have no idea what the old tradition entailed, but this, I am certain, was far from it. Presumably changes were made to better ensure student safety. But such changes meant we were kept safe from fun.