As the College’s six-week winter break, or “winterim,” drew to a close at the beginning of January, I found myself torn. On one hand, I felt the comfort and excitement of reuniting with the Dartmouth community. On the other, though, I found myself experiencing a growing dread of winter in Hanover. I would not be returning to the mild, sunny Mediterranean shores of my childhood, but instead, 10 weeks of genuine New England cold. I knew then that the term would be defined by snow and ice, treacherous falls, relentless colds — and the occasional plumbing mishap. As I navigate this new climate — my first winter as a Dartmouth student — what I realize is that the challenges of the term do not just stem from physical hardships, but more from the unspoken difficulties that many students face during the term. These struggles deserve more open acknowledgement.
Amid my unease before arriving on campus, I saw a College Instagram post that described campus as a “Winter Wonderland.” However, after three weeks of braving subzero temperatures, navigating snow boots for the first time and enduring 4 p.m. sunsets, I’ve come to realize that winter is anything but a wonderland. While the College celebrates winter with images of joy, such portrayal often masks the challenges that come with living in a winter as harsh as it is picturesque.
Given its location in Hanover, Dartmouth winters are a unique experience that sets the College apart from many other peer institutions. Naturally, it plays a prominent role in the College’s appeal — a dreamlike season filled with free ski lessons for beginner students, trips to the ski lodge, shuttles for skiers and skaters and the annual midnight snowball fight on the Green. As a student from Antalya, Turkey, I appreciate the College’s efforts to make winter enjoyable and make its joys accessible to everyone. Indeed, the night that I, like thousands of other students, received a Jan. 19 email announcing the annual snowball fight — from an account purporting to be Dr. Seuss — proved to be one of the most exciting moments of my Dartmouth experience so far. The snowball fight itself was one of those occasions where I felt a deep sense of community and the comforting notion of being at home.
Yet, in College portrayals of Dartmouth winters, these fleeting joys often overshadow the harsher realities that come with winter. Beyond the physical risks of the season — like falls, concussions from slipping on frozen surfaces and limb injuries caused by navigating snowy areas, which I believe are both dangerous and too often dismissed beneath the romanticized image of a beautiful winter — there’s also the impact on our mental well-being that no one seems to talk about.
During the first week of winter term, I found myself in an unexpectedly dark and unshakeable mood. For the first time in my six combined years of boarding school and college life, I felt truly homesick. It was as if I had been thrust into an entirely foreign world: no familiar faces, no comforting tastes and no place that felt like home. By the end of the week, I spent an hour crying to my mom on the phone, finally acknowledging the weight of adjustment I was navigating.
“What’s the temperature?” she asked. “Minus 10,” I replied, in degrees Celsius. “That’s 15 degrees colder than the lowest you’ve ever experienced,” she reminded me. She was right. It was only the fourth time in my life that I had seen snow — the first time I had experienced below-zero temperatures. The short days, compounded by jet lag, left me lethargic and in bed by 9 p.m. most nights. The lively days of the fall term — filled with meal plans and activities with friends — had given way to a winter where my time felt eerily empty and solitary. Dartmouth seemed different.
As I struggled with these feelings, I began to notice how rarely the challenges of winter are openly discussed. It wasn’t until a shy phone call on a Friday night when a friend from Turkey admitted, “I want to go back home.” Incredibly, my own longing for home felt shared. Only then did I allow myself the right to miss where I come from.
The problem, in part, lies in the way we tend to over-glorify our world in Hanover. Dartmouth is supposed to be loved. We’re expected to feel grateful for it — and I do agree with that sentiment. But gratitude doesn’t mean blind or constant praise. Feeling discontent in the moment doesn’t make us ungrateful or irrationally dissatisfied.
So, here’s my call to all of us: let’s start more freely acknowledging the unspoken difficulties of winter. To foster a culture of belonging, we must accept these challenges as part of the “Dartmouth experience.” Yes, the seasonal depression that sets in when afternoon classes mean you go an entire week without seeing the sun is real. Yes, the “fear of missing out,” or FOMO, you experience while staying indoors to avoid the cold, imagining your friends having the time of their lives without you, is a fact of life. And yes, winter at Dartmouth can be challenging.
Among the many aspects of Dartmouth that make it one of a kind, the College’s unique challenges deserve recognition. This is not to say I didn’t enjoy moments like the Dartmouth snowball fight. Instead, as we celebrate Dartmouth, we should strive to represent it holistically. Let’s be more open about saying, “I’m not okay.” Let’s acknowledge that Dartmouth, like its winters, can be tough.
In the end, these challenges teach us to make the most out of a snowball. It’s the cold that brings us together at dining halls for a cup of tea. Sometimes, it’s our shared longing for summer that bonds us. So, let’s learn to love Dartmouth not just for the laughter, but also for the challenges — and for the lessons those challenges teach us.
Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
