This past week of rush served as an annual reminder of the remarkable inequalities between men and women at Dartmouth. The drawn-out, far less personal experience for women is a direct result of women’s reliance on fraternities’ social spaces. Because females interested in Greek life have dramatically fewer chances to experience sororities firsthand pre-rush, they are forced to make much less informed judgments about their prospective houses, and vice versa.
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In hopes of offsetting the effects of the oft-cited “Dartmouth bubble,” I took the time yesterday morning to peruse CNN’s website after my first class. Sorry, that was a lie; I was on the website because I was looking for a topic for this column. In the process of combing the headlines for news of something stupid that Iran has done (recall the subject matter of 50 percent of my columns), I came across a subject far more distressing.
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Being a confused international student with no understanding whatsoever of most American college concepts, the word homecoming does not tell me much. Even for American students the idea of such an event strikes me as rather vague. It is hard to discern the attraction of running like maniacs around a fire while being attacked with insulting comments from upperclassmen. But if being insulted leads to being accepted into the Dartmouth family, than so be it. After all, we have all been the worst class ever, and it may be the satisfaction given to upperclassmen during this ritual that will ultimately redeem us from our worthlessness as a class. Believe it or not, but we do need you guys more than ever as stress, homesickness and bad time management are beginning to get to us, and I am begging you: Give us a chance!
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I have what might be some rather depressing news for Mr. Wenda Gu, if indeed he is the D reader I always suspected him to be: I have neither spoken to, nor heard of, or from a single person who enjoys your multi-million-dollar imposition into the middle of our library. In fact, the highest praise of the work that I did come across was that it is merely “a little creepy.” And this when I was pretending to adore the sculpture, in a quest for a little positive response. But the reasons behind this reality might not be quite so obvious or shallow as Dartmouth’s publishing community professes, albeit in a laudably comedic manner. No, I (rarely) like to (do anything/) stir up a little excitement, a little interest (maybe even a little controversy?) on this apathy soaked campus. So, instead of attributing Wenda’s distinct lack of support at this institution to such mundane factors as the general grossness of braided human hair or the fact that the artist uses the sweat of Chinese factory workers to make whole his visions of genius, I am taking it to the source: “The Dartmouth Administration … ” Oooooh.
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On behalf of Palaeopitus Senior Society, I would like to voice our group’s deep concern regarding the current debate over alumni governance, and especially the lack of interest in the sentiments of the most important constituency affected by this controversy: Dartmouth students themselves. We know all parties involved are passionate about this issue, but frankly, we are growing weary of the inflammatory rhetoric constantly hurled back and forth between the opposing viewpoints. Both sides claim to understand student opinion and then use these assumptions to claim to know what is best for the College. What is puzzling, however, is that neither side has produced quantifiable data to support its assertions – and both parties have neglected to even approach the student body as a whole to collect this data.
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Circled by a self-flagellating cult of persistently counterclockwise freshman, the Goddess Bonfeu revels in the warm fetal glory of her worship. Ecce Homecoming.
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Ah, Homecoming. A chance to come together as a school, get drunk and burn things. Seriously, though, Homecoming is probably my favorite big weekend, and for the freshman class, it is a right of passage into Dartmouth woman- and manhood.
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