Undergraduate Chair
Barometer Rises As Student Body Begins to Feel at Home And Learns College Liberal Arts Tradition Survives War
The ALUMNI MAGAZINE is happy to present its new Undergraduate Editor, Theodore Rust Clark '47, and the first of his monthly commentaries on undergraduate affairs. Clark entered
Dartmouth from Milton Academy and is the son of Joshua B. Clark 'll and the brother of Joshua B. Clark '43.
AS EDITOR OF THE "UNDERGRADUATECHAIR," I feel rather ironically miscast, for while most of you have never seen Dartmouth College as a Naval Training Unit, I have never seen it otherwise. It is you that should be telling me about Dartmouth. Nevertheless, marring the uniformed neatness of every classroom, or squeezing a path through the great brawny forms of the V-i2ers, can be seen a few slouched-over, bespectacled youths who are, by definition, the undergraduate body. In the enthusiasm of comparing the Navy College with the old Civilian College or speculating about the Dartmouth of tomorrow, one is likely to lose track of the fadt that there are about 300 civilian students going to college at present.
There are many types of these ".Civvies" up here: the expectant drafter getting a taste of college life before his call comes, the incoming freshman gazing wonderingly at an old Aegis depicting a class of 700 men,- the hoary Senior who, like the Ancient Mariner of old, is consciencebound to paint in glowing colors the glories of pre-war Dartmouth to each new freshman, the serious-minded medical and engineering students, the 4-F who goes out for football to prove to himself that he can take it, the veteran Marine with a game leg—all these make a part of this formless group.
When I was told that this column was supposed to represent the undergraduate point of view, I was really alarmed. One of the things I like about Dartmouth is the fact that no person can tell what the fellow next to him is thinking. Nor can he tell him what to think. This is all right with me, even if it means that I lose this job. However, there are certain trends and attitudes which have been true of pretty near the whole College since th'e new program was initiated.
First of all came the disillusioned freshman who had been brought up on stories of fraternity life, sports roadsters, football rallies, and all the rest of the tradition. He came prepared to wear a freshman cap, to move furniture, to win the football rush, and to make a name for his class. Well, this simply did not exist. The only way one freshman could tell another was by that "lost dog" expression on his face.
On the heels of disillusionment came cynicism. Our freshman assumed himself as a victim of circumstance; he was getting a "raw deal." He became aware that he had to work for a grade, that he was honor bound to get away with as much as possible, and that only a sucker stayed in Hanover over a week-end. Unfortunately many persisted in this attitude.
But for the most part, the second or third semester found a somewhat different attitude in the Civilian College. The snarling cynicism had turned to a more healthy skepticism. Of course there were still plenty of gripes, but we no longer felt obliged to blush at telling somebody we were in the class of '47. Just where or how this change came about is one of the many secrets of Dartmouth College: Whether it was a football game, the work of some wise old Prof., some monstrous prank on the night watchman, the presence of the even more pitiful class of '4B, or merely the changing of the seasons, is anybody's guess, and is certainly none of my business.
At any rate, certain signposts of this change are evident. There is the matter of dress for instance. Baggy pants or dungarees have become the order of the day. Coats and ties are disappearing. In other words, the student looks as though he lived here instead of merely dangling in a state of suspension between two gay weekends in the city.
Another strange thing is going on during these summer months. Velvet Rocks, Balch Hill, Oak Hill, and the roads leading to Norwich and Lyme are receiving not too infrequent visitations from Dartmouth students. Even the gentleman salts of the V-12 Unit, whose, pet gripe is that Hanover is the only graveyard in the world with street lamps, would have a hard time explaining their presence on Balch Hill of an afternoon, unless it be that by some strange mishap they have strayed from the flock while racing over the obstacle course. What is more, these men are not seeing the sights for the first time. They are in the hills because they would rather be there than any other place. A very natural and wonderful thing is going on up here. We are getting used to Dartmouth College as a place in which to live.
Perhaps you are wondering just why there is any civilian college up here at all now. Most of us have at one time or another. After all, it can be reasoned that Liberal Arts never produced a Sherman tank, a Superfortress, or a single bullet for that matter. And again, why try to get an education with the world in such an uproar? Is there any room for the Liberal Arts in the War, or any room for war in the Liberal Arts? Dartmouth has answered "Yes" to this question. She converted to a Naval Training Unit to help produce the obvious essentials of war. She left her doors open to civilians as a pledge that the war might be worth winning.
I do not mean to state that Dartmouth College is any idyllic picture of an educational Heaven. There are many, many restrictions which the war has placed on Dartmouth. These cannot be overlooked. But the very fact that a man can still come here to find out about the Liberal Arts or begin to learn a profession is evidence enough that Dartmouth has kept faith with the ideals upon which she was built.
READY FOR THE PIGSKIN SEASON, Dartmouth's 1944 cheerleaders, made up of both civilian and Navy V-12 students, are shown at a practice session on Memorial Field. Left to right, they are (kneeling) A/S Bill Lipton, Neil Beard '47, (standing) A/S Don Fitzsimmons, Ken Saunders '48, George Crosen '47, and A/S Bernard Nelson '47.
