The Undergraduate Chair
FOR a short two months Hopkins Center had its day.
And there were more girls than boys on the Dartmouth campus.
But that moment's gone.
The Center has shrunk back into being an enlarged mail-box, as far as many are concerned. And Dartmouth once again has to go road-tripping for girls, and elaborate weekend dates have to replace casual meetings.
It was not Camelot, to be sure, but no one seemed to mind. In fact, the nights were beautiful, whereas the days seemed forever plagued with rain or mist or heat or at very least the threat of one of these three.
There were close to 500 summer school students, a majority of whom, for the first time in the College's history, were girls. They came from all over; from Smith, from Holyoke, from Simmons, from New Jersey public high schools, and from New York City's acclaimed Dalton School.
They seemed to have nothing in common and there were no large groups or cliques of friends - at first. But it didn't take long. The high school girls seemed to cling together en masse while the college girls looked down on them with lofty disdain. Without reason, it might be added.
Behind the innocent and sometimes bewildered looks lurked a potential for high marks that fooled their elders and infuriated many a more confident regular Dartmouth student.
Of the latter, there were about 80. At first they were somewhat hesitant and even sullen about the changeover. For about 30 seconds anyway.
In the end, the regular students had the best time. The pressure was off and there was abundant time to relax, to study a little, and to look around. And, there was always someone to look at.
The Dartmouth quoted one student, who had tossed his organic chemistry book aside for a glass of iced tea, "Basically I think the professors are happier, more relaxed. If I had this course during the winter, I wouldn't stop."
On the other side, a high school student commented that she "appreciated the atmosphere of students who actually enjoy studying."
Perhaps, the students did enjoy studying, but no one died of overwork. The library seldom was host to more than thirty at one time while the Hop's snack bar was rarely empty. But what the students did do was appreciated. Professor Wysocki, who taught Art 10 (Spots and Dots) to a group of about twenty, commented that his class was young but very eager and very talented. In the end, he had the class go into areas, like surrealism, that he had planned to exclude. In the final week the three art classes joined in a student art show in their classrooms.
Art 10 was but part of the trend toward the artistic and the creative which dominated much of the summer. The twice weekly concerts, for example, drew a higher proportion of students than is usual, and the dorms were dominated more by Henze and Bach than by the Rolling Stones or Dylan.
In fact, Hopkins Center loomed above everything, and few escaped its influence.
One of its effects was that the social life was a good deal more relaxed. Sunday brunch in Thayer, for example, was a considerably more noisy and happy affair than late Saturday night parties permit. The fraternities were closed and the only refuge of live rock-n-roll was the Thirsty Ear which drew a sparse but steady patronage.
People seemed to prefer to lounge around the Hop, or go to a performance (more than 100 signed up to usher so they could get in free), or simply hike outside Hanover during the beautiful nights.
It did not take long for the youngest of the students to get used to the place. With remarkable speed they were no longer getting lost, they were forgetting to wear shoes, joking that the Hop is sinking into a marsh, and smiling indulgently when asked "Where's Wadsworth Hall?"
Three of the biggest student organizations - The Dartmouth, WDCR, and the DOC - operated throughout the summer, adding a certain amount of continuity with the regular year.
The D, it is true, went to a weekly tabloid and was deeply involved with cultural affairs. But nonetheless it was there.
WDCR, on the other hand, was handicapped by a small staff and had to curtail its programs.
Amidst them grew up the Vietnam Summer, an amorphous group of some twenty students who spent their time talking, standing, thrusting leaflets at people, knocking on doors, wondering where the next meal was coming from, and holding courses and special lectures. Their success is something that cannot be assessed, for the war still goes on, but at the very least they brought a wider social consciousness or, to use a less horrid term, everyone was talking about Vietnam - constantly. They did suffer one setback; their Wednesday one-hour vigil on the Green wilted a bit under the hot noonday sun.
Through it all the conservatives fumed quietly. There was talk among some students of prompting William Buckley to run in the New Hampshire primary, but this came to nothing.
And all too soon it all ended.
Perhaps on opening his dresser drawer this fall, some student in French or McLane discovered a lost bottle of perfume. A token by which it all can be remembered.
Dartmouth student, summer version
