A Letter to the Freshmen

From the editors:

Occasionally, Thomas Paine, Common Sense editor-emeritus, writes in with some pithy advice.

Dear Class of ’22,

On behalf of myself and everyone here at Common Sense, I would like to welcome you to Dartmouth. Freshman year can seem overwhelming and downright scary at times, so here is some advice to help you through your first year of 4, or your first year of 13 if you’re one of those Olympic skiers that occasionally takes classes. With regard to housing, every freshman dorm is really fine, except for the River. The River is in the perfect spot for the zero classes you’ll be taking at Tuck and Thayer during your freshman year and is good for almost nothing else. If you live in the River cluster, you might want to purchase a helicopter. A helicopter might not be a sound investment, per se, but it would sure as hell beat walking everywhere. If you have helicopter money, I say go for it. If you’re curious, helicopter money is similar to the amount of money Mr. Peanut has in his burlap sack, give or take a few dollars.

Moving on. Before you finish your time in Hanover, you need to do the 7. If you’re not familiar with the 7, ask that cool ‘22 whose brother was a ‘16 and sister was an ‘18. He’d be happy to tell you all about the 7 and a bunch of other cool insider facts about Dartmouth. Is he done talking? I didn’t think so. Now is he done? Good. You obviously don’t have to get all 7 done freshman year, but 2 or 3 would be a good start. 4 would be great. If you get all 7 in one year, I think you get a free burrito at Boloco or something. Only if you have the punch card though. If you’re saving yourself for marriage, don’t worry; this isn’t sex, it’s tradition. One more thing; don’t actually do the 7. You can’t have sex in public. Super illegal. You wanna coach your kid’s baseball team? Too bad. 15 years ago you got caught having sex on the green and now you’re a sex offender. You don’t wanna coach your kid’s baseball team? You’re still a sex offender. Yikes. Don’t do the 7. You’re welcome Hanlon.

If I had to name my paragraphs, this one would be called Miscellaneous or Varié, if the titles had to be in French. Since I don’t have to do either of those things, here’s some assorted pieces of advice I wish I had coming into my freshman year. Listen up kids. A flitz is a flirty blitz; an email you can send someone to ask them on a date. Your days of sliding into DM’s are over! You have access to every Dartmouth student’s email and flitzes are widely regarded as much cuter and far less creepy than DM sliding. Shoot your shots and always remember: there is a special place in hell for flitzes that don’t rhyme. If you’re into the whole dating thing, ask someone on a date, have a good time, date for 4 years, get married, and ride off into the sunset on a white stallion (or two white stallions, it’s your wedding day, go nuts!). Be the change you want to see. If you’re not into the whole dating thing, ask someone on a date and then don’t show up. There’s a pretty good chance you’ve discouraged that someone from going on any more dates in the near future. Be the change you want to see. Moving on. Go to class. If you paid $74,000 a year for a toy train, you’d probably play with the toy train, right? Now, what I’m about to say is controversial, but I’ll say it anyway; upstairs Foco is a good place to eat. Pull your jaw back up from off the ground and hear me out. Upstairs Foco is nice, clean, and comfortable. If someone sees you in upstairs Foco and calls you uncool, remind them that they are also in upstairs Foco and that the joke is on them. On the topic of dining, remember that eating alone is fine. Eating in dark side Foco with 10 people is no more noble than eating a hot pocket alone in Novack. There will be time to do both, just you wait. Every meal you eat does not have to be a demonstration of how many friends you have. Sometimes you can just eat.

I’m afraid that’s all the time I have for my inaugural issue. If you have any questions, shoot me a blitz at thomas.paine@dartmouth.edu. Getting a blitz from somebody other than Sustainable Dartmouth or VOX Daily might be a nice change of pace. Who knows, maybe one of your questions will be the motivation for my next letter. That is, of course, assuming that you guys don’t crash a helicopter. If that happens, I could see myself getting in some trouble.

THOMAS: “But I didn’t do anything Mr. President!”

HANLON: “Well you did tell them to buy a heli-”

THOMAS: “You got me there. I’ll be on my way.”

Stay safe and don’t get me expelled.

Your loyal friend,

Thomas

Cube Thoughts

By: Shannon Rubin

I like House Center B. I like the fluorescent lights and the comforting, expensive-Manhattan-kindergarten-style seating options. During week 8, I like being surrounded by black boards chalked in with optimistic remnants of first-week-of-term events. I like knowing that I can get Kombucha or any of the snacks I haven’t eaten since Trips at 2am on any given night.

Recently, I stumbled into House Center B (also known by the more palatable name, “The Cube”) with an assortment of student, looking to get a snack on a Monday night after Late Night had closed. The scene was grim. My friends blissfully ignored glares of students hunched over books and computers. A group staring at a number-plastered whiteboard looked tired. Someone juuled into his shirtsleeve. The only sign of life from the outside were Foco-to-go containers scattered amongst grease-stained pizza bagel trays.

I really do love the Cube, but man, is it difficult to see such a sight and not consider it to be a huge campaign flop on the part of the administration.
I am a card-carrying citizen of School House— for those unfortunate enough to frequent West, North Park, East Wheelock, or (god-forbid) South, House Center B is essentially two big rooms stacked on top of one another for students in School and Allen Houses to frequent. In practice, it serves as nothing more than a study and late-night-snack destination. That’s a bit of a departure from what one would think it is based on a cursory examination of the school’s website, where House Centers are described as “living room space” for “House members to hang out, study, meet, or to use for House gatherings.” House Center B was going to be a space for at least four different activities, three of which were not studying. House Center B was going to move Dartmouth forward. House Center B was going to provide social space for and be the heart of the happy, wholesome friendships engendered by the housing system. House Center B was going to be the beginning of the end for the Greek system! The administration made it their mission to achieve these goals by spamming all members of School House via a weekly series of emails to remind them of Wednesday tea.

The subject line passionately exclaimed “Sushi & Donuts!! School House Weekly Tea – Today – 3:00pm House Center B.” Ah, of course: The classic teatime pairing of sushi and donuts. For what it’s worth, later iterations of this subject line included references to “The Cube,” so kudos to the savvy administrator who caught on to what the kids are saying these days.

Sushi seems pretentious, and I almost feel as though that was the whole point. It, as with most aspects of the housing system, feels like an inauthentic marketing ploy to attract the world’s top high school seniors looking for the Ivy League Experience™. If the teaching, student body, academic resources, network, and advising does not do the trick, perhaps knowing that Dartmouth will feed you free sushi at weekly tea will. I checked with friends at UConn— they do not have such privileges.

The emails all went on to promise “a great chance to connect with old friends in School House or meet someone new.” In all honesty, I appreciate the College’s initiative to encourage space for socializing and friendship— Microbrew Monday in One Wheelock provides a great alternative space for meeting new people outside of the Greek system. BarHop, before it was axed, did the same. But those are relatively hands-off nighttime events with monitored drinking. A planned snack time on Wednesday afternoons is unlikely to provide an alternative means of socialization at Dartmouth. You might socialize, and you might enjoy it, but it will not keep you from going to a Greek house later that night.

Maybe the Onion gets it right. South House deserves a win.