I'll be gone in two weeks. I'm not quite sure what's next for me, but I guess my Dartmouth career is a story of uncertainties. And that's a good thing.
I never knew what to expect the first time I arrived at Dartmouth. It was freshman Fall and I had spent over 20 hours traveling here from Southern California, ultimately finding myself on a tiny prop-jet headed from Newark to Lebanon. To say the least, I was exhausted.
"How does this flight make any money," I asked to the only other quasi-passenger on board, the co-pilot.
He laughed. "Oh this flight? Doesn't make any money, this is Emergency Air Service, it's subsidized by the Federal government."
"Really," I ask, surprised. "So there's not that many people out there in Lebanon?" He laughs again, bemused by my ignorance of rural New England.
My curiosity was piqued.
When we landed I gathered my bags and walked out, expecting to see some vibrant signs of Dartmouth life.
There were none, of course. So the ticket desk dialed me a cab and I split the ride with a woman who used to work in Parkhurst a building that was foreign to me at the time.
The driver was my first interaction with a Yankee, and he spoke with the vernacular of an area that's gladly bygone.
"Watch out for them colored girls," he warned me. I was shocked by his racist statement, of course. But I was a stranger, so I kept quiet and observed the cab-ride with circumspection.
"They bring them girls up here from down South and boys like you get in trouble," he said.
My cab-mate then chimed in, with equal disregard for her company or any differing views I may have held.
"Yeah, they'll Parkhurst ya if ya cause any trouble," she said. "They real strict up there at Dartmouth."
I disembarked at the Choates, perplexed at where I had just landed. Dartmouth. Our quaint ivory tower oasis plump right in the middle of Yankee country.
That night I slept at Leverone field house. We departed for orientation trips the next day.
It's been four years since this unorthodox arrival, and I remain as shocked now as I did when I got here. Though I haven't had too many unsettling run-ins with old racist Yanks, I've had some trying moments and learning experiences.
Though my concern over my cabdriver's prejudices may have been well placed, I've had my own share of friendships and encounters in which similarly awkward words have been mumbled and prejudices unearthed. I've even had my own misguided perceptions called to trial.
Fast forward a couple years.
"I mean yeah, if people can't afford health care then that's their problem; and yeah, maybe I'm a social Darwinist, but some people are lazy, and they just don't deserve it," one of my closest friends said.
Again, I'm shocked. But this time it's different. My friend is not an anomaly, not some haphazard cab driver or his sidekick sharing my cab. This is someone I've confided in and someone I respect deeply.
How do I deal with this?
I react. It's awkward because this is my friend. And it feels weird to have such a conflict of ideology with a friend. Come to think of it, most of the time our friends are just the people who we grow up with. The people who share our same neighborhoods, backgrounds, financial statuses and, often unfortunately, our thoughts the one thing that we might have forged for ourselves. I'm not about to hold my tongue the way I did in that cab.
At Dartmouth, we have the opportunity to forge new friendships. In fact, we're lucky enough that this is inevitable. To live among a kaleidoscope of people, one that crosses all boundaries, from our social spheres to our zip codes can make us uncomfortable, but it's probably one of the best learning experiences at this school.
Except for travels abroad and occasional though usually temporary immersions in unexperienced social environments, we manage to lock ourselves into the non-threatening territory of the familiar. But, though comforting, this retreat into the known can be choking. Rather, it's the very breaches of the familiar that help us grow and gain wisdom.
So I challenged my friend that day. Something I wish had been a rule for me, and not the exception. Despite what I would have thought, it didn't make things weird. In fact, it made us work through our own thoughts. At the very least, awkward conversations among friends, when unknown colors surface and our differences of opinion are called into question, can be a force of growth. When we mute ourselves, we not only lose the argument, but we forego an opportunity to cultivate our character.
I didn't think I would ever see that lady again the one I shared the cab with. But, when I got breakfast in Queechee this past Green Key, I was shocked to see that she would be my waitress. I hardly recognized her. I brought up the cab ride, we laughed and she wished the group of us well as we graduate. She must have messed up our order three times, and she even overcharged one of us by $35. Needless to say, I felt tempted to make a joke about the duo's abrasive welcoming to Dartmouth three years earlier.
When something strikes you the wrong way, you have to have the confidence to speak your mind. We might let a rule like this slip once in a while with a stranger, but let us be bold enough to challenge our friends. For it is the people we surround ourselves with here that provide the most profound learning experience.
