Freshman fall, I could find nothing wrong with Dartmouth. The "College on the Hill" was my own private Utopia -- I had fallen in love with the picturesque autumn scenery, the students who seemed so good at balancing work and fun, and the professors who inspired me.
Life was good, so I shoved all criticisms to the back of my mind. Sure, I heard upperclass students talk about a Dartmouth where dating was near impossible; where the social scene was dominated by a seriously flawed Greek system; where everyone looked the same; and where, according to one D columnist, people were rude. But I figured these were just unsuccessful frustrated people whose complaints were engendered by their own failures to find dates or to get bids from the Greek houses of their choice.
Coincidentally, this honeymoon period abruptly ended around the same time the temperature dropped below 50 degrees. It was also the same time I was able to enter fraternity parties.
Except for the accusation that Dartmouth students are rude, I began to see what those bitter old seniors were talking about when they complained.
I still thought Dartmouth was a bastion of kindness and civility, much different from the urban environment where I grew up. At Dartmouth, If I got lost and asked for directions, some cheerful soul would lead me to my destination. When I smiled at a random passerby on the Green, rarely did that person give me a dirty look in return. So I never gave much credence to the idea that Dartmouth students are rude.
But I did last weekend, when I ran into the parents of a friend of mine for the first time. I met them in her room eating EBAs takeout and listening to music. As soon as I entered the room, her father immediately got to his feet, shook my hand and helped me off with my coat, hanging it up for me. I visited for a while, then after a few hours decided it was time to go. My friend's father stood, got my coat for me and offered to walk me home, it being quite late on a Saturday night. I made what I hope was a polite refusal, since my dorm was right next to my friend's, and took my leave.
I continued to think about my friend's father's actions, and even mentioned them to another friend I bumped into on the way home. I was incredibly appreciative of his small gestures, and after a while began to wonder why I was so impressed. After all, the man had offered to walk me home, not to pay for graduate school for me.
Then it dawned on me: these simple actions were so remarkable for me because they were novelties. I thought of all the parties I attended this term. How many times had I arrived at such a gathering to find everyone engrossed in conversation or activity and to feel like I hadn't even be noticed at all? It had been so long since I was shown these simple courtesies that I had forgotten all about them.
I still think that we as Dartmouth students are a fairly nice group. We greet each other in the hallway; when asked, we give the correct assignment to a clueless classmate; and if we see someone we think is in need, we usually try to help.
But I think we could all do more.
When we're in a crowd and find we want to move through, we could try saying excuse me before physically moving another person aside. When we are going through a doorway and see someone just a little bit behind us, we could wait that extra second and actually hold the door rather than just pushing really hard so that there is a chance that the door will still be open when that person gets there. When we have a party, we should make sure that everyone is greeted at the door and offered something to eat or drink. This isn't chivalry, there is nothing here to suggest that women need courtesy any more than men do. After all, in this day and age it is just as easy for a woman to hold the door for a man as it is for the reverse. Observing some of the traditional rules of etiquette is only showing the respect and consideration that everyone deserves, even those of us who are bitter old seniors.
