chats@dartmouth

I held the package in my hand as we stood in front of the Hop.
He paused. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"But I know what's in it!" I laughed.
"No you don't- it's like Schrodinger's cat, you don't know whether it's dead or alive."
"So, what you're saying is, instead of gloves, I'm going to open this and find a dead cat."
He nodded gravely as I tore along the side of the envelope.
I gasped in false shock and began to laugh. "Nope, just gloves."
He stretched his hands up to the sky: "Damn you, quantum physics!"

Conversations at Dartmouth are unlike any others you'll have. There's something more than intelligence here -- there's a love of community that allows us to bring forth not only what we know, but our own unique take on that knowledge; the little instances of quirkiness that make discussions more than just a factual exchange. I was at a party once, breakcore blaring, smoke blurring the hard lines of the room and obscuring faces. I was talking to someone I just met about what it was like to be half Lebanese (who knew there was more than just me!), which in and of itself was an amazing conversation, when I overheard someone behind me say "[something something something] Barthes' death of the author theory [something something]". I turned around in disbelief. "But Foucault [something something]..." another retorted. I burst out laughing with the absurdity of the notion that here, at a frat party, a group of people might be standing around with Solo cups in their hands discussing the merits of the theory of a postmodern linguist. Only here, I say.

That intellectual cleverness was exactly what I was looking for in college without even knowing it -- I knew I wanted to be around people who would challenge me; I knew that I wanted to stay up late talking about good books and new music -- but I assumed that those exchanges would be few and far between no matter where I went. While that is true to some extent (I don't find myself in long discourses about Derrida and Lacan on a day-to-day basis), it's also quite the opposite: intelligence and intellectualism are manifested at Dartmouth in the most wonderfully subtle ways: the quick humor in a passing greeting, the obscure hilarity of anonymous mass-emails, the sincerity and openness of long chats with friends. Being "smart" here means very little, I don't think, unless you share it, open your ideas up to your peers, challenge others and even your professor in class. The sort of intelligence at Dartmouth is a collective one, one that does not reside in the individual but rather in the space between individuals who are exchanging ideas. This, I think, is one of the greatest merits of Dartmouth, and a true exemplar of our community.