Bidding Season

The Life and Times of My '02.

The day finally came for the kid to move back to campus for his sophomore year. By the time he let his father and me into his new dorm room in Hitchcock, he had already moved his gear in. He had saved a couple of jobs for us, though. He wanted his dad to help him assemble a TV cart, and he asked me to make up his top bunk. "I thought you'd want to do that," he said. I chose to take this as a grateful homage to the mother of his youth rather than the blatent manipulation it actually was.

The kid was happy to have the triple to himself for the two days before his roommates would arrive. The king of his third-floor castle, he peered out the window as a crowd of students passed below. "'Shmen," he muttered.

"They look so young."

At least they were excited. They turned out in force for Convocation (which is more than the kid did), self-consciously but earnestly swaying arm-in-arm as they sang the Alma Mater with eyes glued to the words printed on the program. Days later a contingent of 'shmen, in fresh, dark green jerseys not yet faded from multiple washings, kept spirits high at the first home football game of the season, against Colgate, on a perfect fall afternoon. No one seemed to no- tice the absence of last year's inflatable moose mascot- wannabe.The moose hadn't given up, though. It had been locked in a supply closet, and the bearer of the key was out of town. Colgate brushed aside the Big Green, 28-3, but the '03s simply seemed happy to be there. "It didn't matter that we lost," one of them pronounced. "It was awesome."

Three weeks after classes got underway, (the kid zeroed in on ancient Egyptian art, the American political system and American prose) many upperclass thoughts turned to sorority and fraternity rush. Ironically, the uncertainty of whether any sort of Greek system will survive the current Trustee initiative on social and residential life may have favored this year's rush for the 14 frats and six sororities.

"Increased attention has interested more kids," Psi U president Teddy Rice '00 told The D. The kid, who knew from the moment he set his heart on Dartmouth that he wanted to join a fraternity, took to rush as readily as a frat dog takes to barking. In fact, frat dogs seem to be part of the attraction for the kid (we only have a cat). He was lucky. He got a bid at the house he hoped for, a house that not only has "really great guys," as he puts it, but a lively trio of resident hounds.

What if the kid hadn't gotten in? "I wouldn't have been crushed," he insisted. Considering that the Interfraternity Council aimed to give bids to all rushees (though the IFC said it couldn't guarantee it), the kid figures he would have found another option.

Unfortunately, many women had to face a harsher dilemma. Even before rush began, sororities feared that demand would exceed capacity. Houses that were already overcrowded would not be able to give bids to everyone who wanted one. And with a record 320 women from the class of'02 rushing, the sisters were right. Last year women students had petitioned the College for another house but were turned down. Regardless of where one stands on the Greek issue, the sororities do seem to be in a Carch-22 situation. Many people (including, it seems, the College president and Trustees) view them as not being sufficiently inclusive. But the students' attempt to increase the number of houses so there will be a place for all the women who want to join was rebuffed.

The fears came true. The houses lacked room for some 50 women, perhaps more (official figures have not been released). Two of the kid's friends got caught in the squeeze. One, the kid reported, was taking it hard. The other seemed more philosophical. "I didn't get bids to either of the houses I visited for preference night," she told me. "I was definitely surprised, but I think all things work out for a reason, so I'm not upset at all. I think maybe I'll be better off in the long run because of it."

And I'm thinking, she's certainly mature—and maybe she's right.

Some 'shmen seemed unsure of Alma Mater's standing orders.