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(05/08/13 11:07pm)
Professors have a unique and important place in a student’s life. We should never underestimate the deep and at times life-long impact of the student-teacher relationship. Yet although the role of professors exists both in the classroom and in an advisory capacity, it seems that many are unaware of the importance of the latter role.
I am a senior at a highly ranked liberal arts institution, and one of the wonderful opportunities it affords is undergraduate research. There are no graduate students pursuing masters or PhDs, so we mere bachelors candidates are able to work directly with professors on interesting and innovative projects. In the political science department we are given the option of writing an honors-level thesis — three semesters of research compiled into 100 pages, give or take, of quantitative and qualitative analysis.
Despite years of paper-writing and exam-taking, this is no easy feat. We have not been trained in rigorous research methods nor are we by any means experts in our field of study. Yet we are capable of producing high-caliber work with the professional guidance of our advisers and readers. The thesis adviser-advisee relationship is a close one — they are a team. As such, the relationship requires collaboration, commitment and compromise: a marriage of minds, so to speak. As with any relationship, a certain amount of struggle is expected, but as any academic will attest, nothing worth achieving was ever done without overcoming a few obstacles.
At the end of January, I broke my relationship with my then-thesis adviser when, after putting in months of work, he attempted to put an end to my research endeavors. He assured me of my incapacity to develop a product of substance and the imminent failure that awaited me. Speaking in what he said was my best interest he offered to downgrade my thesis to a research project; since the standards of grading were much lower, he said that I could put in less effort and achieve a better grade.
My former thesis adviser almost convinced me to give up. But after 12 years of schooling and four years of determination, hard work and success in college, I realized that now was a hell of a time to decide to lose faith in myself. In my final letter to him, I explained that I am very capable of producing high-caliber work, that I deserve to work with someone who will support me in my endeavors and that I believed given his pessimism toward me that it was in both our best interests to discontinue working together. What I received in return was a snide remark: This is fine with me. I hope you’re correct.
At the end of the year we are asked to evaluate the quality of our professors. With this experience looming over me, I take the opportunity to further question how we evaluate our professors.
This past year, a professor of mine — passionate, engaged and beloved by students, who inspired me to conduct my current research — had his tenure opposed on the basis (as far as I am aware) that he had failed to meet the quota of published research. Following his dismissal, over 200 students signed a petition directed to the College’s board of trustees expressing their shock, bewilderment and disappointment at its choice to let go of a professor who had so deeply influenced and encouraged our young academic community. He is gone, and students continue to struggle to understand how any aspect of our institution, which first and foremost is concerned with the education of its students, could act to devalue the importance of a professor who encouraged student growth through the academic process.
This is not necessarily a widespread problem. The professors that helped me through to May 3, the day I handed in my 95-page thesis to the political science department, were flexible, invested and put the learning process first — no matter how slow and inefficient the writing process. They reminded me what I should have known the moment I was denied an opportunity to grow as an academic: education is a process, mistakes are inevitable and rest assured, no one who was afraid of failure ever learned anything. And although I recognize my experience was extreme, I am not alone in feeling that many professors accept advisory roles without understanding what this relationship entails, and how important it is in shaping students’ academic experience.
My former adviser may be a qualified academic but I cannot in good conscious call him an educator. I can only hope that the College will find the wisdom to promote the development of both professorial roles and advocate for our education.
(04/17/13 4:22pm)
This past Thursday, the student group Justice for Palestine (JFP) hosted Associate Professor of Modern Arab Politics and Intellectual History at Columbia University Joseph Massad, who spoke on the contentious subject of Zionism and the Palestinian “right to return.”
Although this marked his second lecturing visit to the College — his last was in April 2011 — Massad’s return was not welcomed by all members of the student body.
On April 9, two days prior to Massad’s arrival, members of JFP received an email from Harry Zieve Cohen’s ’15 account, co-signed by 12 other students, which reiterated a request from two months before to articulate their opposition to Massad’s visit to campus. They framed Massad’s views on Jews and the LGBTQ community as more than a difference of opinion, calling them highly offensive. The group explained that while they recognized JFP’s right to bring whomever they desired to speak, especially one with a strong pro-Palestinian stance, they questioned specifically the sense in extending an invitation to someone touting anti-Jewish positions.
“We wanted to make sure … our concerns were known, because I would want the same to be done if I were bringing a speaker who said false things that were offensive to a group of people,” said Zieve Cohen.
On April 10, JFP member and one of the email’s recipients Amitai Ben-Abba ’15.5 responded to the complainants with his personal perspective, describing the group’s interpretation of Massad’s positions as misconstrued and unfounded. In terms of its accusations that Massad is anti-Semitic, he wrote, “I [] find it extremely offensive that you’re accusing of anti-Semitism a person who’s actively calling out against anti-Semitism. Calls against the ethnocratic State of Israel as one that is founded on racist axioms (the oxymoron of “Jewish Democratic,” for instance) are not anti-Semitic. Anti-Zionism is not anti-Semitism.”
Ben-Abba then emphasized that he too had grown up with pro-Israel rhetoric but has pushed through the feelings of discomfort that came from challenging his education to discover the reality of the situation.
On April 11, Massad addressed a fairly crowded Dana Auditorium. For the most part, his speech was a history of Zionism from the perspective of an anti-Zionist. He immediately identified his position, arguing that the central objective of Zionism, from its birth in the early 20th century, has been to expel the natives from the land now under Israeli administration. He frequently condemned the creation and development of Israel as an imperialist exercise, selecting passages from early Zionists, which indicate that the masterminds behind the first settlements believed Jews could not integrate into a state of mixed faith. In terms of the “right of return,” Massad denounced Israel’s 1950s law, which since its institution presents any Jew that immigrates to Israel citizenship, arguing that research defies the Zionist conception that all Jews, particularly European Jews, are descendants of the ancient Hebrews that originally resided in the area.
Massad then compared the “law of return” with Israel’s historic policy, which rejects Palestinians in refugee camps and the Occupied Territories the right of return, even those, for example, that still hold deeds to property in Israel. He referenced a remark from the first prime minister of Israel who apparently hoped “the old [Palestinians] would die and the young would forget.” He refers to the perpetuation of this policy along with the Israeli occupation as apartheid, referencing oppressive policies administered by the white minority government of South Africa for much of the 20th century.
During the question-and-answer session, individuals who disagreed with Massad’s position were given the opportunity to confront him. David Imber ’13 asked Massad how he could reconcile the “deeply offensive, historically false statements that you make regarding the fictional creation of Jews, [which] represent a shallow retributive sense of justice that you claim Israelis do unto Palestinians,” with the goal of peace and a just solution between Israel and Palestine.
Massad’s response was lengthy and unabashedly defended his positions.
“The issue is not about understanding,” he said. “The issue between white and black South Africans was not about a misunderstanding. Slavery in the U.S. was not about misunderstanding between blacks and whites. … There are violations of international law and racist laws … the goal is to establish justice and non-racial justice … the goal is equal citizenship, not understanding.”
Zieve Cohen felt the lecture affirmed his concerns regarding Massad’s suitability as a speaker at the College.
“It’s a complicated situation; he gave a very simplistic account that, frankly, isn’t respectful of Middlebury students,” he said. “Middlebury students are intelligent — they deserve to hear the true, really complicated story. This isn’t a black or white issue.”
At the same time, Middlebury alum and JFP supporter Jay Saper ’12.5 identified a conundrum in asking for a neutral presentation of facts that supports an academic environment, when the academic environment in which we reside is inherently biased.
“All words, all talk, all beings are inherently political, and Middlebury as a community has a strong stance,” he said. “That we had so much institutional support behind these last lectures [for example, Dennis Ross] … speaks very strongly of what this stance is.”
Despite the back-and-forth between JFP and signers of the April 9 email, members of both groups expressed that despite the divisiveness of the issue the conflict has remained respectful.
Meanwhile, students are in the process of forming a new group, Middlebury Forum for Israel, to provide a place for fair discussion of Israel within the broader Middle East context.
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This article was edited on 4/18/2013 to reflect the following correction: The original version stated that the students are forming the Middlebury Forum for Israel in response to JFP; however, the group has been in the planning stages since December and is not a direct response to JFP.
(03/21/13 4:00am)
Last Friday and Saturday, March 15-16, Professor of Dance Christal Brown and the INSPIRIT dance troupe performed her dance piece, titled “Opulence of Integrity.” A production nearly two years in the making, “Opulence” sought to present the life and legend of world champion boxer Muhammad Ali through the lens of sheer masculine physicality in the form of dancers Danté Brown, Timothy Edwards, Christian Morel ’11, Gilbert Reyes and Ricarrdo Valentine.
The performance began even before the house lights went down — as people milled about taking their seats, three male students, Clifford Alexander ’15, Cheswayo Gabriel Mphanza ’16 and Debanjan Roychoudhury’16, stood erect, stoic and unmoving downstage, holding newspapers and dressed in suits and bow-ties. Using poignant quotes taken from Ali’s life, these three served as narrators throughout the performance, providing a verbal context for the story the dancers portrayed.
The piece was broken into four “movements,” each representing a significant period in the legendary boxer’s evolution from Cassius Clay to self-titled Muhammad Ali, his tragedies and triumphs as civil rights activist and public speaker for the Nation of Islam movement, as well as his exile from boxing following his refusal to be drafted.
Immediately apparent to the audience even prior to the dancers’ entrance was Brown’s multimedia approach to the production. In the far right corner of the stage, a screen projected images and words to complement the on-stage performance. In addition, Brown’s effective use of costume, props, musical composition and lighting provoked the audience to engage all their senses, which, in concert with the dancers’ performance, produced at times a visceral reaction from the audience, yet also proved to be overwhelming.
THE FIRST MOVEMENT
The first movement, “Passing the Torch” began with an introduction from a deep off- stage voice, which explained the intent to remove Ali from his pedestal and show his humanity. The three “narrators” then threw their newspapers to the ground and backed onto the stage, bouncing rhymes between them in the style of spoken-word.
The dancers finally entered in intervals; their movements began low and rooted to the ground, their knees bent on the floor and their upper bodies contracting and releasing, seemingly uncontrollably. They soon progressed to standing position and engaged the rest of their body, fully extending their arms and legs in powerful outward strokes directed at the audience. While there were five dancers, they truly succeed in embodying what Brown referred to as a “homogenous inner struggle for identity.” Whether moving as a five-person unit or pairing off into subgroups to engage in aggressive physical dialogue, the responsive nature of their interactions revealed them as many parts of a whole rather than disconnected entities.
THE SECOND MOVEMENT
The second movement, titled “Larger than Life,” displayed Ali at the height of his boxing success, and the start of his relationship with the Black Muslims. The energy on stage shifted dramatically, featuring unique, flowing costumes and a fast-paced funky sound. The dancers moved rhythmically and with seemingly little effort, gracefully and powerfully traversing the stage and thrusting their fists to the sky as in victory. The most surprising and tangibly perceivable change in on-stage energy, however, occurred when Brown herself appeared in a fitted yellow and black jumper, beckoning the male dancers with her sexual and seductive body language. The dancers played gaga, falling theatrically over themselves, as they both sought her out and attempted to restrain themselves. Through her entrance in an otherwise all-male performance, Brown hoped to expose a little-known, more human side to Ali’s life — his relationship with women, whom she called his “kryptonite.” The playful and exciting interactions between Brown and the dancers stood out from the rest of the piece.
THE THIRD MOVEMENT
The third movement lived up to its title “Standing up and Torn Down.” After a brief interlude by Roychoudhury, who vocalized Ali’s objections to the Vietnam War — “no Vietnamese ever called me a n****r” — Danté took to the stage in a painful and all-consuming physical expression of the boxer’s fall from grace. Accompanied by an electric guitar cover of the national anthem, mashed up with soft chords played in interval and sound bites from the civil rights era, he pushed forward towards the audience before subsequently crashing back to the floor, as if acted on by a powerful external force. The array of conflicting sound, which felt like voices in my head, mixed with the solitary form on the floor only served to enhance the audience’s perception of Ali’s psychological injury at this point in his life. The other dancers soon reappeared on stage, dressed in military garb and black balaclavas, shoving Danté and stripping him of his clothes, before assimilating him into their army cadre in a unified dance. Carrying unseen rifles, a reworked version of Edwin Starr’s “War” repeatedly posed the question, “What is it good for?” The dancing slowed as Danté underwent another public costume change — the other dancers entered and exited, providing him with the separate pieces of a black suit, off-set with a bright patterned and visually out-of-place bow-tie.
THE FOURTH MOVEMENT
The fourth movement, titled “The Noble Fight,” evokes an up-until-then untapped spiritual perspective. The stage effectively transformed into a boxing arena, as the group incorporated several Ali-patented moves, including the Ali shuffle and the rope-a-dope, into the dance. Shadowy figures appeared on the backdrop, overseeing the performers, who, despite going through the former champions’ motions, stifled the attitude they had previously exuded freely. The audience experienced the epitome of Ali’s defeat as the dancers pointed their arms forward in a motion paralleling the first movement; however, rather than stare defiantly through the fourth wall, they turned their heads down in submission.
In a physical presentation of Ali’s return to boxing, two dancers strapped on gloves and engaged in an exchange, the light crew producing towering shadows overhead. Their movements began basic, as though the dancers were attempting to regain their stride, then became stronger and defiant. The performers, then dressed in tie-died African-like fabric, rearranged themselves in a ceremonial configuration, enhancing the ritual feeling of the dance. In the final moments of the performance, the dancers altered their formerly low-riding horizontal movements, extending their bodies upward in what seemed to be Ali’s completed rehabilitation.
The production lasted almost an hour without intermission — a final testament to the stamina of the dancers, whose strength, control and intensity was displayed throughout. As the house lights came on to a standing ovation, the performers, narrators, Brown herself, and composer Farai Malianga took the stage to answer questions and discuss their experience in the production process.
Students were impressed with the epic physicality of the performance and the deep significance of the message it bore.
“When I left the performance, the quote that remained in my mind was one that Christal said after the show: ‘Being authentic to one’s self is the greatest struggle one goes through everyday,’” Anna G. Stevens ’13.5 wrote in an email. “The dancers, combined with the student speakers, certainly represented this struggle Muhammad Ali went through and that African-American men, and perhaps each and every one of us, continue to struggle with today.”
In describing what lasting impression he would take from the performance, Mzwakithi “Prestige” Shongwe ’16 said, “The legacy that is Muhammed Ali is one that appeals to the human essence, and transcends the notions of race and religious affiliation. Integrity, failure, pride and perseverance. All these are the demons and angels we all have come across somewhere down our path in this world.”
(03/13/13 5:08pm)
In my past columns, I’ve discussed the value of a liberal arts education in its ability to endow us with critical-thinking and writing skills — everything a future graduate needs to take the world by a storm. However, I am now of the opinion that there is a crucial gap in our education.
This last week my in my intro to dance class, the professor concluded a discussion on the cultural nuances of body language with a particularly poignant comment; she said that this might be the only class we would take at Middlebury on rhetoric. Rhetoric is defined as the art of effective or persuasive speaking or writing. And while Socrates may see rhetoric as a superficial and cosmetic pursuit, anyone who has sat in on a seminar discussion session can attest to the frustration that ensues from the garish but empty language bandied about by individuals intent on upping their participation grade.
It is a widely criticized but frequently practiced tendency of students to take advantage of open forums to soliloquize on every vaguely formed thought they encounter, ideological posture to which they’ve recently attached themselves or Internet article espousing “indisputable” findings on “x” and “y” research studies. Most others present for these pontifications respond by tuning out and waiting for their turn to unleash an unrelated but similarly ill-constructed stream of consciousness. There are some occasional gems, typically in the form of a perceptive question, which cut through the BS and engage others in genuine consideration of the material. But all too often the desire to prove to the professor one’s knowledge on a subject or the extent to which one has done the assigned reading interferes with true conversation.
This trend is not unique to the classroom. The audience may vary but the spirit of the conversation (or lack thereof) remains the same. However I feel it’s unfair to put the blame entirely on student egoism. Which brings me back to my original point — our campus discourse, in the classroom and out, would greatly benefit from an education on efficient and effective verbal communication.
I myself am a victim of an incapacity to verbalize the knowledge I’ve mentally acquired and synthesized into a clear ,coherent thought. The really good professors will follow up my baseless sentiments with a cutting question that reveals just how meaningless my assertions were. My head immediately reels with all the things I should have said, the information that might have made my statement something worth considering, and I slump down internally, foiled again by inability to translate thought into words.
As a school publication, the Campus is constantly confronted with fervent opinions, some thought out and some not. It is true that even when we have time to consider, construct and qualify our arguments, we still fall short. So it goes with the over-opinionated and under-informed. But if our arguments are going to falter, it should not be because we lack the skills to convey what we truly mean.
We are a community of intellects, or so I’d like to think, and it is a travesty that this gap exists between our inner voice and spoken word. While not every thought is a golden egg, the overall quality of our discourse would be well served if we learned to construct a decent argument. We would have more productive dialogue and less miscommunication. We would have more conversation and less lecturing. I truly believe that by refining our speaking skills, we would better understand each other.
We pride ourselves in a low student-to-teacher ratio, active class participation, and more and more we seek to utilize a variety of different conduits for dialogue to address difficult issues that we as a community face. At the same time, too much value is placed on discussion for the sake of discussion. As we are the most effective conduits for our ideas, we — students and educators alike — should make the greatest effort possible to improve the tools we naturally possess and live up to our potential.
(03/13/13 4:47pm)
This past Tuesday, Mar. 12 members of the College and Middlebury community gathered in Mead Chapel to hear Dennis Ross, Washington’s ambassador to Israel under the George H.W. Bush and Clinton administrations, discuss “Israel, the Peace Process, and the Arab Awakening.” Ross gave a nuanced account of the current conflicts in the Middle East, the repercussions of continued polarizing interactions among the parties involved and the practical steps these parties, including the United States, might take toward peace.
This talk continues the College community’s on-going discussion of the political and humanitarian circumstances unfolding in the Middle East and the role of the United States as a third-party actor. Last year, Daniel Kurtzer, U.S. ambassador to Egypt under the Clinton administration, spoke about Israel and its developing leadership role in the Middle East.
Ross Speaks to Specific Conflicts
After an introduction by Pardon Tillinghast Professor of Religion Larry Yarbrough and Sarah Cohen ’15, Hillel’s Israel chair, Ross took to the lectern. He began with a brief overview of the 2011 Arab Spring and the Arab Awakening that has followed. This provided a contextual basis for the rest of his discussion, which was grounded specifically in the most recent situations unfolding in Egypt, Syria, Iran and Israel/Palestine. For each state, Ross gave a brief overview of its current political and socioeconomic circumstances and then discussed what the U.S. can and should do to promote peace within the context of these circumstances.
Ross first explained that current leadership under Egypt’s elected party-in-power, the Muslim Brotherhood, has yet to yield a real positive political transformation. He went on to say that the United States should take advantage of Egypt’s heavy reliance on international support to negotiate in favor of the ideological principles it believes will promote a necessary shift toward democracy and stability. Ross described it as “principle for us, practicality for them [Egypt].” One of the most important terms Ross noted was that the Muslim Brotherhood needs to make room for political pluralism, not only for the purposes of upholding the principles on which they were elected, but so as not to cement an opposition that cannot exist within the political system.
Ross then moved on to discuss the violent conflict in Syria, throwing out explicit numbers to contextualize what he termed a “catastrophe”: 70,000 dead, one million registered refugees and two to three million estimated internally displaced people. He explained that this was not only a Syrian issue, but that the devastation has the potential to destabilize the whole region.
“Las Vegas rules don’t apply to Syria,” Ross said. “What happens in Syria won’t just [stay] in Syria.”
Ross emphasized that while the U.S. government has no desire to get dragged into the quagmire, “there comes a time when the cost of inaction greatly outweighs the cost of action.”
A practical concern is how can the U.S. invest in the situation productively. Ross explained that while there is hesitation to provide arms to the opposition, there are a variety of ways that the United States can increase accountability in the allocation and use of its resources.
The talk then turned to the United States’ stance on Iran’s nuclear program. According to Ross, President of the United States Barack Obama has assumed the position of prevention rather than containment.
“Prevention means that Iran acquiring nuclear capability is so dangerous, so likely to produce a nuclear arms race in the Middle East … that we must prevent this from happening,” said Ross.
Ross believes that the future of relations with Iran will be decided in 2013, meaning the U.S. will either find a diplomatic means of addressing the situation or will resort to using force.
The rest of Ross’s talk focused on the conflict between Israel and Palestine, which he was in a position to directly influence during his time as ambassador. His discussion focused on steps that both the Palestinians and Israelis could take to change the mindset of “disbelief,” which has overcome the populations of both countries, whose “vast majority, 70 to 75 percent,” according to Ross, support a two-state solution.
In an expanded version of his op-ed, titled “To Achieve Mideast Peace, Suspend Disbelief,” published in the Mar. 2 edition of the New York Times, Ross outlined a 14-point plan of action to replace the current “dialogue of the deaf,” and enact a psychological shift that will allow for productive negotiations regarding final-status issues to occur.
Ross then held a brief Q&A where audience members engaged with his discussion, asking pointed questions regarding the rationale, practicality and comprehensiveness of his suggestions. The conversation then continued at a post-talk reception in McCullough Social Space.
Organizers, Attendees React
While the Office of the President and Rohatyn Center for Global Studies co-sponsored the talk, the initiative to bring Ross to speak came from Cohen, who was also behind last year’s Kurtzer lecture. She explained that Ross and Kurtzer, with their years of first-hand experience in dealing with the Middle East, satisfy the need for nuanced and educated discussion surrounding these complex issues.
“These issues are so complicated and they can’t be summed up in a buzz word,” said Cohen. “Dennis Ross has been a part of this conversation for 30 years and he really knows the ins and outs of everything that’s happened, every peace treaty, all the history. If Middlebury students really want to understand the conflict and make an informed opinion on it, these are the kinds of people that need to come.”
“I thought it was important to have somebody who has been involved in negotiations, who would actually have first-hand experience, who is a Washington insider who can shed light not just simply on the Middle East but really the position of the U.S. versus the different spots in the Middle East,” said Director of the Rohatyn Center and Professor of Geography Tamar Mayer.
Reactions to Ross’s talk were generally positive; students and staff cited his realism, pragmatism and knowledge as valuable additions to the at-times fractured discussions on campus surrounding the Middle East.
“I think having Ambassador Ross on campus provided a context for discussion on Israel that we don’t normally hear and I think he provided a baseline for informed conversation that I’m sure will continue on the campus,” said Associate Chaplain Rabbi Ira Schiffer, Hillel’s adviser.
Some felt, however, that while his arguments for better future diplomatic interactions between parties were both thought out and grounded in reality, he overlooked the practical aspects of application.
“I think what he had to say was a good way to outline how both sides really need to comply with regulations before we can make any substantial progress,” said Abra Atwood ’14.5. “He didn’t give a point for how to jump start something like this … [therefore] we’ll still continue arguing over similar issues because we have nowhere to start.
“[Ross] provided a number of eloquent and well put-together points and solutions for the region; only time will tell whether his vision is realistic as well,” Zack Abdu-Glass ’13 wrote in an email.
(02/27/13 9:49pm)
The job hunt. I have begun to wonder if the anxiety that surrounds finding a job is less about being employed and more about our egos. Selling ourselves to employers may require as much boasting and resume-padding as we can muster without giving ourselves away, but its not illogical assume that as we work our butts off trying to manipulate potential employers, something serious occurs to our psyche. We wonder exactly how much of what we say is true and how much is the pomp we’ve been told is necessary to spew to put us on the A-list. And, when that rejection letter comes in, it’s safe to say that on numerous occasions, the pain that follows does not come from woe that we’ve been denied our dream job and the bright, shiny future we imagined. For most of us, the job search involves casting the net as wide as it goes and hoping we catch something, anything, really. No, the pain is a result of a sharp kick to the ego, a tiny ink scrawl that says, “Sorry champ — try again next time, because you’re just not good enough.” What’s surprising is that part of us believes them.
And the source of the stress is not isolated to potential employers. Many of us have experienced that gut-wrenching feeling when we hear about another fellow student who has lined up the next however-many-years of his life at a hedge fund or law office, or who has received a grant or fellowship of some sort to study the effects of sun exposure on orphans in Venezuela, or some equally noble cause. You think to yourself, “why don’t I have a job yet?” And, horror of horrors, “what if I’m forced to work in the service industry … I don’t even have the experiential learning to be hired in the service industry … and guaranteed they’ll have never heard of Middlebury! What was it all for??”
All I can say is stop worrying and don’t start searching on Google for bartending internships (as if one existed).
It’s a wonder, given the amount of praise and validation we receive on a (semi) regular basis, that we are so easily affected by these rejections. Whether it’s personal or business, it’s a reality — getting a job can be tough. And it’s not because you’re not qualified, or intelligent or because each and every student at the College surpasses you as a desirable job candidate.
The fact of the matter is, despite admittance to a top-rate school and the various achievements and experiences each of us inevitably claims as his or her own by senior year, we do not fully believe in our own abilities. We allow others’ successes to diminish our own personal value. We internalize words of rejection from those whose knowledge of us consists of a few scraps of paper and a five-minute conversation, and allow them to shape our sense of self-worth.
And, while I am a proponent of experiential learning (despite my earlier jibe) and its ability to enhance our education, I fear at times that our rush to fill our resume with internships and “experiences” is another sign of our insecurity; we no longer feel that the ability to think critically and write well, the keystones of liberal arts education, is enough.
I do not know from where these insecurities arise. Perhaps it is the nature of the College’s desire for all of us to succeed as much as possible, that many of us were able to avoid failures of this sort up until now. In that sense, it is important to realize that the real world does not owe us anything simply because we received a higher education. For those who only sought superficial letter-grade successes and other achievements that when viewed from a holistic perspective on life, mean very little, this should be a lesson in the true worth of higher education. A sterling transcript means little if it was done by skirting corners and compromising a full and rich education, because the stamp of a higher education does not ensure anything post-graduation.
This is not meant to be a lecture. It is meant to be a wake-up call. Failure is a viable option and an inevitability for all of us at some point in life, and when it occurs, most specifically where the job search is concerned, it will do wonders for your psyche to brush it off and remember your worth. We’ve all got something great to offer. Middlebury knew that when they accepted us, and we should never let ourselves forget it.
(02/13/13 3:45pm)
Society creates numerous barriers to become self-aware — mainly that it creates so-called “acceptable” models of behavior that cannot possibly match each person’s set of ethics and beliefs. But higher education compels us to move past the childhood world of social mimicry and to question what we ourselves hold true. Love and sex should not be exempt from an evolved consideration.
Valentine’s Day has historically been a celebration of love, but I’d like to see it as a day of liberation. Whether we seek emotional or physical intimacy, to get what we want, first we must know what we want. Therefore, while the heart is the organ du jour, it is really the brain that rules the day.
Many of us do not fully reflect on what we what out of our personal lives. We settle for what we have, pine for what we think we should want and oftentimes simply fumble our way through our relationships, hoping trial-and-error will point us in the right direction. Feelings propel us to act, and understanding those feelings can only allow us to make the best and most appropriate decisions for ourselves, society-be-damned. “Getting in touch” with ones emotions may seem detestable to some, but, wandering in the dark, you may hit a love gold mine, but you may just walk off an emotional cliff.
On Valentine’s Day, we are all given the opportunity to vocalize our feelings towards the subject of our interest, to in effect ask for what we desire. Why only on this day are we free to express ourselves? While it may just be the spirit of celebration that encourages us to throw away our inhibitions and profess our feelings of desire, the truly liberated know that each day offers an opportunity to shape one’s personal beliefs regarding love and lust and to pursue them whole-heartedly. As a result, only these people will be able to enjoy all that Valentine’s Day has to offer.
For many, Valentine’s Day is the bane of their existence, the single day of the year they wish they could blot off the calendar, and yet its perpetual reoccurrences invokes the desire to jump off the nearest bridge, or — less dramatically — curl up into the fetal position until the morning of Feb. 15. This tragic response is unwarranted, unless you are entirely and irrevocably without love in your life. What is this value we place on romance? Love itself is an over-generalized concept. Each romance is entirely different from all others, just as romantic love differs from familial or platonic love. It is unfortunate that we find the need to self-deprecate based on our incapacity to perfectly fit into the commercial Valentine’s Day package — especially when even couples find it difficult to live up to the expectations.
This does not mean we must reject Valentine’s Day entirely. I see the day at its best when we release our love unconditionally, when we say it without necessitating a response, expressing our feelings and desires without expectation, simply for the reason that we will never get what we want unless we ask for it.
Taking action requires a certain emotional elasticity. But in the end what do we have to lose by being true to ourselves? Rejection is fleeting, and I think we are all too realistic to believe it’s better to live in denial, in ignorant bliss, than face the difficult truth and give ourselves a new opportunity to pursue real happiness.
Love may not be on your radar. It may be lust or some of life’s many other pursuits. If you could care less and Valentine’s Day holds no meaning for you, than that is a form of liberation in itself. But if you’re professed hatred for chocolate hearts and flowers is based off of a dissatisfaction with your personal life, an inability to give love for fear of the possibility that it may be unrequited, then take them time to know what it is you want and use Valentine’s Day to make it happen.
(12/05/12 11:16pm)
An on-going discussion of Feb student over-representation among SGA Senators came to a head at the meeting last Sunday, Dec. 2, in which the Senate passed a bill limiting Feb students from running and voting for class senate seats in a vote of 8-5-3. SGA President Charlie Arnowitz ’13 and others pushed for an amendment to the Feb bylaws viewing it as systematically unfair to allow Febs to run for both the class seats and Feb seats, while regular students are limited to running only for class senate seats.
The Junior Senators Killian Naylor ’14.5 and Will Potter ’14.5 — both Febs — raised issue with the amendments, arguing that many Febs identify more strongly with their class than as Febs, and that it is unduly restricting to regulate their election privileges in this manner.
The final amendments to the bylaws resulted in the following rules and included changes to the language concerning elections of Junior senators: to ensure a more proportional ratio of Febs to regular students in the Senate, Febs may run and vote only for Feb senate seats, while regular students may run and vote only for class seats. In addition, students hoping to fill junior senate spots will run for a senate seat in the fall and spring separately, so as not to discriminate against students who study abroad.
Further consideration of removing the Feb senate seat altogether, in favor of combined class representatives for Febs and regular students, will continue in coming semesters.
The Director of Transportation Barbara Ofosu-Somuah ’13 gave a report on the condition of the break buses. The program suffered a $4,050 loss over fall break but recovered with a gain of $3,760 over Thanksgiving vacation, for a net deficit of $290. For the future, buses will be cancelled a week before the expected date of departure if not enough tickets are purchased. Ofosu-Somuah and Arnowitz both met with Midd Transit representatives but were unable to negotiate a change in price.
(11/28/12 11:05pm)
This past week we kicked off the holiday season with Thanksgiving, which despite its most questionable history, has always been for me less about its origins and more an excuse to bring the family together to eat, drink and be merry.
The holiday season itself, unfortunately, can be a divisive topic. The abundance of lights, songs, food and family is mired in questions and concerns. To what extent are holidays exclusively religious? Are gifts about giving or obligation? Is it cynicism or reality to view the whole shebang as a capitalist explosion intended to manipulate the masses into mass-consumption? Or should our celebrations be undertaken with a full heart and genuine feeling? If we’re open to it — is love really all around us? I choose to subscribe to this latter interpretation. I think there is something truly nice about having a time of year dedicated to showing affection for loved ones in an atmosphere of warmth, music and cheer. Thanksgiving in particular has always been for me a time to appreciate family, away from the hubbub of the following weeks.
Family, however, is a fluid concept. While I am fortunate enough that my family is able and willing to come together to eat, eat, eat and argue over who takes longer to play in Scrabble, this is not necessarily the case for everyone. Some families are separated either physically or emotionally. And if relation is just a technicality, an accident of fate, and we do not necessarily share genes in common with the people we love and with whom we celebrate, then it might be necessary to reevaluate the definition of family.
Despite my joy at being reunited with my blood-relatives over break, I couldn’t help feeling a weight of sadness at being separated from my Middlebury family. While my friends here have only recently entered my life, for the high density of time spent in their company, I might have known them forever. We dine, party, work, fall apart, build ourselves back up — in short, discover who we are — together, and provide each other with support from the beginning onward.
The semester has flown by and before we know it the spring will be upon — and then behind — us. As a senior, I am not only impressed by the gravity of the future that awaits me, but also at the thought of what I might be losing. Moving forward is essential. I will not be leaving my Middlebury family behind as they too will be flung into the world alongside me, but to what corner of what continent time will only tell. I fear, and I’m sure others share in this fear, that the end of my college career will see the permanent end of my college family.
It would be easy to say this fear is misplaced. That if I care for my friends as much as I say that I will find a way to keep in touch, that we are coming of age in a time where maintaining contact across oceans is at its most convenient, so there should be no problem in preserving these important self-defining relationships.
But there is something to be said for proximity. While our college friendships are more largely defined by common interests, intellectual affinity and personality type — different from childhood friendships, which seemed to come about incidentally and most of which have fizzled out with time — it occurred to me the other day that my entire college experience was shaped by my first-year dorm placement. Although we are members of a relatively small community I am constantly surprised as to how many students, even in my graduating class, with whom I have never seen, met or spoken to. It’s all about location. And as we dive in to our futures, that in length and breadth will dwarf these four short years, I find it naïve to think that maintaining our college relationships will be simple.
Perhaps the college family, like the best kind of memory, will always persevere as it has taken part in defining our lives. But through time it may grow weaker and be revisited less often. Only time will tell and truthfully, dwelling on the unfortunate potential dissolution of great friendships is not constructive. I’ve probably gone too far into realities that need not be confronted at this time. So instead, in the spirit of the holidays, let this, my final column of the semester, not be a downer but a necessary reminder to step away from our finals-week cramming sessions and put aside the end-of-semester angst to enjoy each other. Our time together is limited, so why not let the love flow?
(11/07/12 10:19pm)
The Middlebury “bubble.” This phrase evokes an image of a fragile environment, easily popped by contact with other objects — from the inside or out. The “ivory tower.” Another metaphor used for the traditional liberal education that believes these four years of advanced study should take place in a safe-haven, away from the demands of the world. These conceptualized visions of liberal education are alienating, unrealistic and above all not constructive. Higher education at one point may have been intended as a good in and of itself, but along the way, we began to realize the more-than-fringe benefits of this education in its capacity to jettison us off into the real world with a head start.
But is that really the case? Did we all really come to a school in rural Vermont with the sole hope of expanding our future job opportunities? No, it’s clearly not just economic. We still represent the age of bright-eyed idealism hoping to make change. But is it all about the future? Is Middlebury just a means to an end? I don’t see it that way.
For a community veering so sharply in the direction of experiential education, we may be missing out on what is the pure experience of learning and of living, without responsibility. One might argue that the world is rife with problems, that we are always responsible and that by putting off these responsibilities for even the span of four years we are being negligent — that we cannot see ourselves as “citizens of the world” unless we act in the service of the world. This argument has merit, but there is something to be said for its selfishness. That we should constantly be in a state of action so as to avoid what appears to be hypocrisy of our ideals. That we all need to be the one — one person, one community, one generation — to change the course of world history, and that it needs to happen now. Four years may seem like too long to wait, but it is egotistical of us to believe that it is of major consequence in the whole course of time. It is hubristic of us to think that we will not always have more to learn.
That’s not to say that we should never act, that we will never know for sure what is the best course of action and that we should relegate ourselves to the land of the theoretical forever. We are only human. But I think it is not too much to ask for four years. To think differently is to show a lack of humility and perspective. What we are missing is the responsibility we have to the world: to seek first to know. There are urgent problems at stake but I think it is a grave error to think that these problems would be better served by immediate action without careful deliberation. Change, unqualified, should not be an end goal. There must be purpose and this is a considerable and time-intensive task. This does not necessarily mean keeping education in the classroom, but it does mean potentially turning away from the intensive expansion the College is continually undergoing.
Experimenting in science is a way to test theories before applying them. We should neither stop at this crucial step, nor skip over it and move directly into the application phase.
We need to give ourselves a chance to think before moving — it is not just about the extra year to decide which major to take, or whether or not joining the crew team was the right choice. And it is more than even knowing who we are. If our whirlwind years at college should teach us anything, it’s that understanding comes before action. We seek to know ourselves before we decide our future. We should be as deliberate with the future of education. We should be as considerate with the future of the world.
(10/24/12 11:06pm)
After gazing in awe at the double rainbow that appeared after the freak thunderstorm last Saturday, I realized that most of us share a certain romance with Middlebury. Disappointment with days of rain can be outsmarted by a perfect fall day; dissatisfaction with housing, the endowment or dining hall food can be replaced by pride in our solar decathlon house, a football win and a community meal of homemade locally-grown offerings. The College has many ways to keep us on the hook, but the fantasy version of her is in large part a result of our own participation. It seems easy to separate the students, faculty and staff from each other as well as the institution itself — as if we are one entity and it another. We pass through Middlebury with varying degrees of transience and move on to the next phases of our lives, while the College is a fixture, growing and progressing, but at its heart representing the same educational principles and goals from year to year. Yet our experiences with the College, our successes and failures, are uniquely tied to the time and energy we as members of the Middlebury community spend on the relationship. This does not mean always trying to change the bad, but expressing genuine appreciation for the positive experiences and fostering a sense of mutual trust — we’ve all jumped in feet first and will sink or swim together.
Among students I see this on a day-to-day basis, whether it be acquiring the motivation to attend a party despite a series of duds the night before, raising awareness for a club despite a showing of student apathy, keeping up spirits during the long period of winter gray or attending lectures despite having logged hours of work on regular classes — students invest themselves in all kinds of ways into giving life to the Middlebury experience.
All relationships have their ups and downs, especially when you imagine so many different personalities in some of the most tumultuous years of their lives attempting to connect in various ways with the unwavering character of the College, which no matter how hard she tries cannot be everything to everyone. But as I have recently witnessed, we all engage in a constant give and take, expecting a great deal from the institution while not shirking in our responsibilities as members of the community. Whether working at this relationship means making changes that best suit the community’s interests or providing opportunities for community-building where we may appreciate the joys of our experiences together, there is no denying that keeping this relationship going takes a great deal of emotional and mental fortitude.
While change is good, however, it cannot be achieved through anger or hostile contention. It cannot be derived from an “us versus them” construction and will never press forward without cooperation. A recent arrival to the College’s political scene, “the growing contingent” hopes to press its advantage as an insurgent group, as a child of anarchy seeking to stir up chaos or at least conversation surrounding the not unimportant issue of endowment investments and transparency. However, if they think that challenging the administration to a boxing match by throwing a cheap shot — the fake press release — will compel change, they are greatly mistaken. The students and the College are not two fighters in a ring. We have a highly dynamic, codependent relationship. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows that trying to forcibly change your partner will only result in defensiveness, alienation and inevitable failure of the original purpose. On the other hand, withholding information, as the administration is wont to do, has never been a stepping-stone to a successful relationship either. I understand — the College is afraid to make itself vulnerable, and who could blame them when it seems that opening up and sharing itself with students only makes it susceptible to getting hurt? But we are not cultivating a healthy relationship; it seems to me that continuing down this path will only be to the detriment of us all.
All else aside, however, I believe there is something to be said for the level of optimism evident in the community’s dedication to making its relationship with the school a positive one — a willingness to compromise, overlook some flaws, adore the quirks and give praise where praise is due. As individuals, we are not in it for the long haul. We are here for a few years and then we are free to revisit with rose-colored lenses the so-called happiest years of ours lives and wipe away the hours of cynicism, frustration and devastation — all feelings that the average emotionally-charged 18-22-year old student goes through often. I suppose you could call it a whirlwind romance — an impactful, influential, all-consuming phase of life. But despite all the heartache, you can’t deny that there’s a whole lot of love.
(09/26/12 11:27pm)
Time in general and, more specifically, here at Middlebury, is valuable. Never was this more apparent than as I sat in the news office in the early hours of Tuesday morning, contemplating the multitude of tasks in the coming day, Campus-related and otherwise. Everywhere you look people are running toward or from something, rushing to cram in as much as possible in the ever-rigid structure of a 24-hour day. I feel a wave of sadness that despite my inclination to jump in and get my hands dirty trying out new activities, realistically it would be impossible for me to enjoy anything without one thing we all desperately need, yet insist on going without: sleep. It is only the third week of school and we are already depriving ourselves. This tendency is nothing if not masochistic.
Why do I say masochism? Does the fault really lie with us? Yes. We perpetuate this drama for various reasons, but when you get down to it, for many, going to bed before two in the morning means to them that they could have been doing more. And this habit, at least for me, only kicks in when I return to this high-powered campus environment. While I would not say Middlebury students are particularly competitive about academics, we do compete on a daily basis over whose life sucks more, at any given moment. And it doesn’t seem as though it’s for a sympathy vote. Do we think that it makes us more awesome when we’re drinking eight cups of coffee a day? The caffeine may be weak but as someone who has in the past subscribed to this particular form of substance abuse, it gets to be excessive. The fact that, say, your right eye has spontaneously begun to twitch, should be a clue that you passed your caffeine-intake safety zone about three cups ago. Not that this has ever happened to me …
It is ridiculous to hear these conversations play out: one student explaining how he has three essays, a lab report and a fellowship application due, while the other responds saying, well, he has the same responsibilities AND is working two jobs. Beat that, biatch! Yeah, it’s all fun and games until someone has a meltdown. If I may use an analogy (that some may find offensive): you’re only cool if you can do five shots of tequila and NOT throw up.
Speaking of which, let’s not forget the “Work hard, play hard” philosophy. And no, this is not my cue to rant on the many perils of excessive drinking. “Work hard, play hard” does not only apply to heavy class loads and late-night partying. The “play” aspect might be applied to whatever it is that one does outside of class loads and academic activities. And while each might feel that the time spent with say his or her a capella group, or at Riddim or any other organization is time well spent, there is something to be said for taking a moment to relax. At times, no matter how late at night, when I finally get into my bed, I cannot fall asleep without a half-hour of totally brainless activity. It’s possible that I’m alone in this habit; however, it seems that if I allowed more time for these moments during the normal daylight hours, I would always be able to fall asleep when the occasion called for it. The change could be as small as choosing to eat dinner with a person rather than your latest reading assignment.
The fact is we go to extremes. A friend of mine said the day before classes started, “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” The argument is, we’re young! But as I see more and more of my friends suffering from the early autumn cold (does that even exist?), I have to ask why, oh why we insist on the worst for ourselves.
Unfortunately, as is clear from my examples above, I am not innocent of this self-effacing behavior. In fact, I am a seasoned regular in not sleeping, eating badly, drinking too much, studying too hard and crying in public (see definition for meltdown). In fact, this last semester I almost did actually (and inadvertently) destroy myself, doing so much and becoming so ill that it took me over a month of my dearly beloved summer time to physically recover. I vowed not to make the same mistake again. But this environment is not one for wimps and wallow-ers. No matter how much I learn at this school, there is something about the campus that brings out the insane in me. After all, what is a definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
(09/26/12 9:10pm)
This past Thursday, Sept. 20, administrators, staff and students gathered to discuss the results of the alcohol survey conducted among nine of the 11 New England Small College Athletic Conference (NESCAC) schools in March. This survey was an enhanced and modified version of the alcohol survey administered independently by the College in 2010.
Administrators and students alike were unsurprised by the survey’s results, as they were relatively consistent with the information garnered in 2010.
Associate Vice President for Planning and Assessment and College Registrar Leroy Graham, who worked closely with counterparts at four other schools to develop the survey, explained that the survey data would be used as a source of comparison that will help the College evaluate where it fits in with other schools. Moving forward, this survey also provides a baseline for the purpose of measuring change in alcohol use and behavior over time.
Present at last Thursday’s forum were members of the Alcohol Task Force, which was convened in response to the original 2010 survey. After the 2010 survey, the Task Force engaged in a year-long active investigation of alcohol use on campus and its effects on the community and concluded their research with a list of recommendations, which were passed to the Office of the President for consideration last May.
The administration has already begun to carry out the suggestions of the Task Force. On Sept. 12, Dean of Students and Assistant Professor of History of Art and Architecture Katy Smith Abbott posted an update on Dean of Students and Chief Diversity Officer Shirley Collado’s blog, “One Dean’s View,” enumerating their current progress. Among other developments, the College is finally interviewing candidates for the position of director of health and wellness, which has remained empty since Jyoti Daniere’s departure prior to the 2011-2012 academic year.
The 15-member Task Force has been, for all intents and purposes, disbanded. Many former members have remained involved in overseeing the development of the Task Force’s initiatives; however, the administration plans to organize a separate implementation team responsible for ensuring the realization of Task Force’s recommendations. Smith Abbott expressed reticence with placing too much importance on the assembly of a physical team.
“Even with an implementation team … the reality is that many of the Task Force’s recommendations involve lots of other stakeholders,” she said. “It’s really a coordination effort rather than having a task force that drives the train forward.”
At this time, there is no delegation currently convened with the function of continuing investigation into the alcohol issue. The NESCAC-wide survey, however, will be conducted every four years to gauge any changes or developments in the consumption of alcohol on campuses.
During the forum, several members of the administration were asked to share their ideal view for the future of campus social life and alcohol use. Collado placed less emphasis on potential policy changes and spoke to the need for greater cooperation among students as well as cooperation between students and the administration in resolving the major issues evident in the survey data.
“I wish we could get more of the peer-to-peer responsibility and bystander intervention where it needs to be in residential halls,” said Collado.
Vice President for Planning and Assessment and Professor of Psychology Susan Baldridge hopes to create more options for students that do not subscribe to the current alcohol-centric social scene.
“Our average social life ratings are not only lower for us than they are for many other things at Middlebury, but they are also lower than the average ratings of social experiences by students at our peer schools,” said Baldridge.
Outlining the College’s aspirations ignited discussion over what can practically be achieved while taking into account the reality of the data and the circumstance on campus. Students in the audience voiced the opinion that the source of this problem lies in a communication gap between the administration and students.
“A major problem with this whole discussion is still that the administration … and not the students, [is] looking at this as a problem,” said Eyal Levy ’14.
While a wide range of faculty, staff and administrators attended the forum, they were met by a group of less than twenty students. The largely empty McCullough Social Space, as noted by Collado, was filled to bursting at last year’s alcohol forum as students mobilized against the possibility of a dry campus. What this level of support means for the future of the alcohol issue, however, is also up for debate.
“I know that most of my peers have strong opinions regarding alcohol policy,” wrote Cook Commons Senator Rachel Liddell ’15 in an email. “I want to implore them to attend these functions. If you don't show up, your voice is not heard. I predict that retrospective complaints will be met with disdain from the task force and the faculty. Now is the time to act.”
Smith Abbott took a more optimistic view of student attendance.
“I am not a person who gets hung up on turnout. I may be a lone wolf in that regard but … I genuinely feel like if the people who want to be there attend and there is an interesting conversation where people can share frank ideas … then it is a success,” she said.
(09/18/12 2:07am)
Last semester, prior to final exams, a professor of mine surprised the class by providing each student with two mix CDs. A sweet gesture – we now all had new jams to carry us through our ten-page research paper and gut-wrenching three-hour final exam. But, really, why had he taken the time?
Although he may have simply delighted in compiling a selection of tunes that through title, lyrics or place of origin related to "civil conflict" (a genre not to be found on iTunes, Pandora and the like), he was not without an explanation, which I found to be genuine and above all, a piece of wisdom. He explained to us that while no professor likes to think the concepts he or she painstakingly teaches over the course of the semester evaporate from our brains the second the semester ends, he is not under the delusion that we would retain every detail of the subject in years to come. However, he continued, music resonates – it sticks with a person forever. So he hoped that by giving us a selection of music infused with the course's concepts we would never forget what we had learned. I found this to be a unique concept, one that in some small way I hope to replicate through this column.
College is a shared experience – through our four years, we may take slightly different paths, but in the end we suffer similar trials and revel in similar successes. In this column, I will seek to learn something from the common problems that plague us and not forget to appreciate the awesomeness these four short years have to offer. Our time here should not pass as a blur – it deserves to be remembered.
To begin, here's a thought: how often do we feel bound by what we could do – the "eyes are too big for your stomach" problem, and what we should be doing – that weight in one's stomach that says, "I am not living my life to its potential"?
When I arrived on campus as a first-year, I was overwhelmed by the concept that I could be an entirely new person – I'd been studying the same subjects and playing on the same sports teams since I was five – and not only did the opportunities now seem endless (Quidditch? Arabic? ... Newspaper?), but I was determined to sample them all.
The endeavor was and has continually proven impossible. In fact, not long after classes started, I found myself requesting my name be removed from countless organizations' email lists and withdrawing from excess academic responsibility, trying to find my niche on campus.
Was I wrong to dial it back? I don't believe so in the slightest, but I may have made my decision for the wrong reasons. I left my schedule open, afraid of overdoing my responsibilities, but did not use my time to hike Snake Mountain, take a trip to Montreal or go apple-picking. Middlebury's abundance of opportunities are two-fold, work and play – and the play, I discovered a bit late in the game, is not reserved to beer pong tourneys and late-night Grille runs. As a first-year, I felt that if I removed myself from campus or the everyday goings-on I would be missing out. So I did not take advantage of those first few years of discovery, without the job hunt, senior work and my résumé to worry about.
Not everyone takes this route. Over the summer, a friend, while discussing the upcoming senior year, expressed the desire to focus his energies, which he had allowed to run rampant to all manner of clubs, activities, interests and friends.
Regardless of which road you take, it seems to me that the first few years of college are confusing. Trying too much may leave you scraping for some continuity, while trying too little may leave you rushing to fill in the blanks.
Knowing what you want or who you want to be? The fact of the matter is that those who think they've got it – first-years and seniors alike – are kidding themselves. Figuring it out is what college is about (and even then we rarely come to a conclusion on the matter). All I can say is lay off on stressing about trying to make "yourself" happen. There's no one road, nothing you should or must be doing. Time is not running out and these four years are not the end-all-be-all defining factors of your life. Do what makes you happy and take a moment, especially in these first days of classes, to appreciate and enjoy.