The Undergraduate Chair
Student Adaptation to Accelerated College Program Indicated in Numerous Ways
EDITOR'S NOTE—James L. Farley '42, whois serving as guest editor of The Undergraduate Chair this month, is AssociateEditor of The Dartmouth and formerlywas Sports Editor. He lives in Grosse PointePark, Mich., and before entering Dartmouth attended the University of DetroitHigh School and Newman School.
I TOOK PARTICULAR CARE tO Wait Until the week-end that would have been Carnival had passed before I wrote this. Because I thought that a Carnival-less winter week-end would be the best indication thus far of just where the students stood in relation to the Administration's new policy—a concentrated scholastic year, the elimination of vacations and holidays.
Carnival came and we had snow. Plenty of good white snow and crisp New Hampshire winter weather. No rain and no Carnival. And Hanover was just the Hanover of a usual winter week-end. The foyer of Robinson Hall was not jammed with wild-eyed DOC men, matter-of-fact newspaper men, and publicity-struck photographers. A few members of the visiting ski teams were in evidence from time to time, watching the board, waiting for the results to be posted. The streets of the town were not clogged with cars; the downtown eating places were not crowded with standees; and the sidewalks were not dotted with the usual Carnival dates.
All in all, however, the absence of these things, the disappearance of the very essence of the Carnival spirit, did not seem to jar the student body greatly. They crowded into the Davis Rink Saturday afternoon to watch the hockey team drub Princeton, and they literally hung from the rafters of Alumni Gym Saturday night as the basketball team revenged an earlier defeat by Harvard. These were mere outward signs, of course, and something in the way of emotional releases, but throughout the entire week-end there was no sign of the unrest that some prophesied would appear.
Prior to Carnival the first evidence of the scholastic "tightening of the belt" came with the telescoped exam period. And once again, the majority of the student body was able to take the tightening in stride without any appreciable diminution of effectiveness. From what I have heard, the hardest hit by the short exam period were the freshmen, while in contrast, the upperclassmen, perhaps due to previous hardening to exam periods, maintained or bettered their usual averages.
Still a third evidence of the students' acceptance of the new regime was the general apathy exhibited to The Dartmouth's proposed plan for a mid-second-semester vacation of three days and a modified Green Key week-end. Put forward merely as a proposal and as an evidence of the opinion of at least part of the student body, the paper was able to find that a majority of the students would "like" to have such a plan go into effect, but that most of them had no real desire to do anything about it.
Which leads to one of two conclusions: That the student body, as a mass, has not been imposed upon beyond their capacity to "take it," or that they are still living in an atmosphere of blissful apathy, not fully aware of the stringencies and responsibilities of all-out war.
The tendency for me is to doubt the latter, without of course having anything like full figures or statistics to back it up. But the war is there, inescapably there, and its examples are hitting close enough to the student body to make it almost impossible for them to ignore it. Registration of about 650 students February 16th, added to the 350 who had already registered, is pretty hard to ignore. And even harder to ignore are the fellows who are dropping out here and there—into the draft, the Air Corps, the Navy, the Marines—fellows whom one or another of us knew well. Fellows whom we've roomed with, or been in a fraternity with. The break is pretty clean and pretty noticeable. It's a clearly illustrated point of "here today, gone tomorrow."
In no way an attempt to repeat the plaint that "the college is busting up," I think that the tendency now is more and more swinging toward the decisiveness of active participation and away from the mere show of the "parlor militarists" clique. As Craig Kuhn mentioned in his last "Chair" before he left for the Army Air Corps, the swing was turning toward a more definite feeling, away from the mere talk of physical requirements or what is the best branch to enter ("best," in some cases, meaning either the safest or easiest). That swing, I think, is true, and has become accelerated within the last month. And the acceleration is one which is greater in the upper classes than in the lower. More seniors have definitely decided their course of action than have juniors, and the latter will soon have their choices to make if they have not made them already. Whether they should enroll for the summer courses now offered them; what, if any, service they should enlist in. The ultimate decision will have to come the only difference is that some have a longer time than others in which to make that decision.
OTHER CAMPUS INTERESTS
But let's move away from the war to another side of undergraduate life which always ranks high in interest—to the skiers who of late have been getting their fill. Oak Hill, the golf course, Fullington's, are words of everyday use, with Woodstock, Pico Peak, Moose Mountain, words reserved for week-ends by the upper crust of the skiing fraternity. Bindings, waxes, ski sales, tows, ski racks, and snow. To the non-skier it's all a hopeless jumble, just meaningless, overhead chatter. But even the non-skier can appreciate one thing; the snow is good. Good and deep and plentiful, with fresh flurries coming down every other day.
Minor matters of talk around the campus center about the three winter sports teams, their records, and "are they going to keep it up?" The basketball team and its quest for its fifth straight EIL title, the hockey team and its evident superiority over Ivy League foes met so far, and the amazing resurgence of swimming this year to a sport of real promise. And it's going farther than mere chatter of the hot-stove variety; it's becoming so that attendance at these three sports has reached virtually a saturation point, and enthusiasm for them borders on rabidness. When a Friday or Saturday rolls around, the exodus is not so much southerly as it was formerly; the exodus is toward the Davis Rink, the Alumni Gym, or the Spaulding Pool.
BLACKOUT PUZZLES
Or in a very minor key, when and how are we going to have a blackout? The dorms have their door windows and transoms neatly painted a very dark black, some of the fraternities have followed suit, and downtown stores are offering blackout paper for sale. Sometime around exam period notices appeared listing blackout instructions, naming air raid wardens, and offering vague threats about a test blackout in the near future. And then everything quieted down. The only possible evidences that further steps are being taken (and these are only private theories of mine), are the erratic use of the floodlights on Baker Tower and the two missing traffic blinkers. The Tower lights are on one night and off the next, but there seems to be no particular order about the thing. They sometimes are off for two nights running, sometimes on for that period. The only possible explanation I can devise is that the Library authorities are testing the resistance properties of the main Tower switch, seeing whether it will stand up under constant flickings off and on.
As for the blinkers—those landmarks of frustration for more than one motorist-there is even less real connection between them and the blackout than there is with the Tower lights. But they disappeared suddenly and irrevocably one frosty night in early February, and no one has come forth yet to explain it. Which is most disturbing.
With all the strains—from the major, insistent note of war down to the very minor one of missing blinkers—the College is still here, not so very greatly changed in essence. The aspect is a little grimmer, more serious, less playful. But the students still find time to glance down Tuck Drive as they come out of the Library for a glimpse of the white and green bulk of the Vermont hillside, to pack into the Nugget whenever a good enough show warrants it, to drift into the pleasantness and banter of a bull session. It will probably always remain essentially that way.
CONSTANTLY SEEKING INFORMATION ON MILITARY SERVICE Dean Neidlingefs office has received a line of student callers in recent weeks. The Deanhas arranged special examinations for seniors called to duty. He has furnished manyalumni and undergraduates with credentials required in training for commissions, andquestions of deferment in Selective Service are no small part of his busy war duties.
EDUCATION OUTSIDE THE CLASSROOM A corner of the busy Student Workshop in Bissell Hall where over two hundred Dartmouthundergraduates have been actively engaged in handicrafts during the past year.
