Student suffers near-critical medical emergency at Marriott Hotel without support from Public Safety
(11/04/21 10:00am)
Zoe Sipe ’23.5 waited to die in the parking lot of the Middlebury Marriott.
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Notes from the Desk: Why we need to talk about suicide
(11/04/21 9:59am)
Content Warning: This op-ed contains mentions of suicide.
Alum, founder of girls school in Afghanistan, shares story of escape
(10/07/21 10:00am)
“Come to the airport with a purse or backpack. You have 30 minutes,” Shabana Basij-Rasikh ’11 told nine graduates of the School of Leadership, Afghanistan (SOLA), the school she founded in 2008. Of the school’s 95 current students, 92 accompanied Basij-Rasikh and those nine graduates to flee Afghanistan in August, just before the U.S. withdrawal and Taliban takeover. Soon, those nine will come to Middlebury to continue their college educations over the next four years, Basij-Rasikh announced in a Critical Conversations talk with President Laurie Patton on Saturday. The students and teachers at SOLA, the first and only girls boarding school in Afghanistan, risked, in all likelihood, being targeted as the Taliban advanced toward Kabul. Their escape was cloaked in secrecy for their protection, but also for the good of those left behind. Basij-Rasikh knew what signal it would send to people if the only girls boarding school left Afghanistan. She didn’t want to destroy the hope of those who did not have a way out of the country. Basij-Rasikh’s goal has always been to serve her country. She came to the U.S. for her last year of high school before enrolling at Middlebury. Between college classes that left her feeling overwhelmed and wildly out of place, she worked with an American retiree in Afghanistan to found SOLA in 2008. On weekends, she went on fundraising trips, somehow managing to balance her responsibilities back home with her women and gender studies and international studies homework. Basij-Rasikh knows the value of an education. Born and raised in Taliban-controlled Kabul, she dressed as a boy and attended school in secret, since women were forbidden from receiving an education. But her parents were committed to her education. "My father would say, 'You can lose everything you own in your life. Your money can be stolen. But the one thing that will always remain with you is what is in here.' And he would point to his head. 'Your education is the biggest investment in your life,' he would say. 'Don't ever regret it,’” Basij-Rasikh wrote on SOLA's website. From a young age, her parents had drilled into her that the purpose of education was to serve people in need, and she was determined to return to Afghanistan to put hers to use. “What troubled me the most was that girls, especially girls in Afghanistan, did not have access to quality education,” she said. “And I saw it as a responsibility, as a moral obligation, to do something about it.” Basij-Rasikh returned to Afghanistan after graduating in 2011, the same year that the Obama Administration announced plans to withdraw from the country. People thought she was crazy for going back and starting a school in an active war zone and a seemingly-doomed country, but that did not deter her. SOLA began as a high school, but it soon became apparent that the gaps in rural education before ninth grade made catch-up nearly impossible for many girls. The school admitted their first cohort of sixth grade girls in 2016 and have admitted a class every year since, steadily growing over time. The girls come from all over the country and all different ethnic groups, representing 28 of the 34 provinces. One purpose of the school is to address years of ethnic tension and violence in the country by pairing girls with roommates and mentors from different ethnic groups and encouraging intermingling. It was always Basij-Rasikh’s hope that the school would one day host students from every province so the girls would return home and teach their communities what they had learned about tolerance. Many students attend the school for free, but those who can make a symbolic contribution to the cost as a way of ensuring their commitment to their daughter’s education. “It comes, unfortunately, as a surprise for a lot of American audiences when I say that families across Afghanistan crave great educational opportunities for their children,” Basij-Rasikh said. “At the end of the day there are so many things universal about parenting, including wanting great opportunities for your children.” Basij-Rasikh recalled one father coming to her to pay his daughter’s school fee. He pulled out a carefully tied handkerchief from his pocket, filled with small bills he’d painstakingly collected throughout the year for his contribution by waiting on the corner of the street each morning to be hired for his day job. “I had this feeling of wanting to return the money to him, but I knew I would shatter his pride; I couldn't do that,” she said. “His daughter is the first person — not the first woman but the first person — in his family to receive an education. . . he knew very deeply the importance of his daughter's education.” The first cohort of sixth graders that matriculated in 2016 was in 11th grade and would have graduated in 2022, a year Basij-Rasikh could not mention without tearing up at the thought of what could have been. When Biden announced on April 14 that U.S. troops would withdraw from Afghanistan by Sept. 11, Basij-Rasikh knew that a Taliban takeover was only a matter of time. She knew, too, that her work at SOLA put her, and all of the other staff members, teachers and their families at risk. By mid-July, the Taliban advance already endangered the lives of SOLA’s students. In an opinion piece published in the Washington Post, Basij-Rasikh wrote about two girls whose grandmother handed them scythes and told them to prepare themselves. “She told them that if Taliban fighters ever came to the house, the girls must be swift. There would be no time to hesitate,” Basij-Rasikh wrote. “If the Taliban comes into this house, she said, use these scythes to kill yourselves. The girls promised that they would.” Basij-Rasikh burnt the academic records of all of her students, not to erase them, but to protect them and their families. She knew she couldn’t stay in Afghanistan, but she also couldn’t abandon her students and ask them to forfeit the futures they had spent all these years building against all odds. After approaching many neighboring countries for help, they decided to take the president of Rwanda’s offer to host a study abroad semester in Kigali, the capital. She didn’t know if the families would trust her with their daughters, but almost all of them did. “The majority of these families couldn’t put Rwanda on the map. Some of them didn't even know how to pronounce the country, but they sent their daughters,” she said. “I don't know if I would make the same kind of decision, I don't know if you would make that kind of decision. When there's war, when there's so much more increased uncertainty, how do you let one of your children go?” Soon it became apparent that they would have to be there for more than the semester. On Sept. 17, the Taliban announced that high schools across the country could reopen for boys only, effectively banning girls from secondary education. “If there is one group that understands the value of girls’ education more than any one of us, it is the terrorists,” Basij-Rasikh said. “They are so fixated on preventing girls from accessing education. And I wish our policy makers and influencers of the world understood this as much as they do because we wouldn't be where we are today.” For now, Basij-Rasikh has had to give up her dream of graduating the first cohort of students from SOLA in 2022, realizing that pushing forward with that goal would be selfish given the circumstances. Instead, SOLA is sending 42 students to boarding schools across the U.S. The remaining students will continue at SOLA’s new Kigali campus, and the school plans to fill the open spots with young, female refugees without access to education until the day they can return to Afghanistan. The space in Kigali is actually larger than the school in Afghanistan, so SOLA will be able to take in double their earlier population. Rwanda, as a post-genocidal society, offers a unique hope to the students and opportunities to learn about forgiveness, reconciliation and how to build back a country from violence and destruction. The Rwandan government has also given the school two nurses and two doctors for around-the-clock care and access to trauma counselors. Basij-Rasikh has not given up hope, and eagerly awaits the day she and SOLA can return to Afghanistan, her home and the country to which she has dedicated her life.
The buzz on wasps
(09/23/21 9:58am)
“How crazy would it be if a bee flew into your mouth while you were eating?” Charlie Reinkemeyer ’21.5 asked his friends over breakfast outside Proctor. When Reinkemeyer stood up with a yelp and announced that he’d just been stung, his friends thought he was joking. But the wasp that had alighted on the piece of fruit he was eating, dodging his gnashing jaws to jab the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek, was deadly serious. Reinkemeyer is one of the latest in a long line of the wasps’ victims. Each fall, returning students are greeted by swarms of the black and yellow bugs outside of the dining halls descending on anyone who dares to eat outside. The picnic tables buzz with students complaining about the insects’ presence, debating whether they are bees or wasps and speculating as to why the college isn’t doing more to deal with them. The Campus reached out to Middlebury’s bug experts for answers. The bugs that swarm the dining halls are primarily yellowjacket wasps, easily identifiable by their thin waist, which allows them to swing their abdomen forward and sting in front of their bodies as well as behind, an important defensive feature, according to Assistant Professor of Biology Greg Pask, who studies insect neurobiology. Yellowjackets can sting multiple times, unlike bees. However, each sting comes with a high energy cost, so wasps tend to reserve their venom for defensive purposes. Grabbing or swatting yellowjackets are good ways to get stung — as is being unlucky enough to trap one between your skin and clothes, or in your mouth. Yellowjackets are especially territorial when it comes to protecting their nests. They sense approaching threats both by vibrations and by smelling exhaled carbon dioxide. A careful person can approach a wasp nest and study it at close range without getting attacked, as long as they hold their breath. Only female wasps have stingers, which are actually primarily egg-laying tubes through which they can inject venom when needed. The venom includes a pain-inducing neurotransmitter called acetylcholine that “activates pain neurons in the skin,” Pask said in an email to The Campus. A variety of other proteins cause the severe inflammation that follows. Entomologist Justin Schmidt let himself be stung by more than 80 varieties of insects to rate them on a pain scale in his book “The Sting of the Wild.” He gave the yellowjacket sting a two out of four, the same as most bee varieties, and described it as producing an “instantaneous, hot, burning, complex pain” that “lasts unabated for about two minutes, after which it decreases gradually over the next couple of minutes, leaving us with a hot, red, enduring flare to remind us of the event in case our memory should fade.” While yellowjacket wasps may bug Middlebury students, they are popular with local farmers. They prey on bugs like biting flies, caterpillars and other pests that plague crops and gardens. Though not to the same degree as bees, they do occasionally drink nectar and pollinate plants as well. Worker wasps bring the protein back to their nests and feed it to the larvae. The larvae consume the insects’ flesh, digest it and secrete a sugary substance that the adult wasps then eat. This time of year, when the summer is ending and the wasps’ natural food sources are diminishing, sweet treats from the dining hall are extra appealing. Yellowjacket wasps have a keen sense of smell, and their antennae are covered with powerful scent receptors similar to nostril hairs. Yellowjackets are social insects and will communicate the location of food to their nest-mates by transferring the odor cue to their antenna. Then they will search out the source of the odor together, which often brings them to the dining halls on warm days when hundreds of students bring their meals outside. Pask said the wasp swarms on campus are likely to worsen for future generations of students. With climate change extending the summer season, the wasps will hang around longer and multiply even more fruitfully. If conditions are good, a queen can lay 50 eggs a day, and a mature nest can host anywhere between 2,000 to 4,000 wasps. Facilities staff try to remove wasps when they are a nuisance, like the yellowjackets that populate the area outside the dining halls, but there’s not much they can do if they can’t find their nests. Yellowjackets can forage as far as a mile from their nests. They are primarily ground nesters, and their colonies can often be found at the base of trees, under porches or even in cracks in the sidewalks. They also seek out spaces between walls, and college horticulturalist Tim Parsons said he removed one nest from between the two window panes of one unfortunate student’s dorm room. Depending on the year, the landscape team might remove anywhere between 10 and 30 bee and wasp nests a week, often by suctioning them out with a shop vacuum. This year, though, they are struggling. Over-enrollment is stretching their already-limited resources even thinner. The landscape team is severely understaffed. They’re missing one out of their standard roster of 14, and they were only able to hire one out of the normal five seasonal workers they bring on for the busy fall time. They are now examining options to contract out wasp removal to relieve the burden on the limited workers, according to Parsons. Wasp season should end in the next few weeks, before the time of the first frost. Before they die, the male wasps — “flying sperm packets” with little use beyond reproduction, according to Pask — will mate with future queens. The fertilized females will fatten up to “hibernate” over the winter before leaving the nest to form their own colonies next spring. In the meantime, Parsons said it's best to “leave them be, no pun intended,” and hope you don’t have Reinkemeyer’s extraordinary bad luck. Since his unfortunate experience, Reinkemeyer has taken to eating his meals indoors. If the weather is particularly nice, he might be tempted to brave the wasps and eat outside. But he’ll be carefully inspecting any food he puts in his mouth from now on. Correction: A previous version of this article contained the wrong credit for the drawing of the wasps. The artist is Pia Contreras.
Remembering Miguel Sanchez-Tortoledo ’23
(09/16/21 10:00am)
Miguel Sanchez-Tortoledo seemed to know everybody. On campus, he couldn’t help stopping to greet nearly everyone he passed, which often made those walking with him late. His family and friends remember him as an overwhelmingly positive presence and magnetic personality whose ambition never got in the way of his care for those around him. Miguel died on Aug. 14 after a months-long battle with cancer. He was 19. Miguel grew up in Bell Gardens, Calif. — a city just outside of Los Angeles. At Middlebury, he studied sociology and political science, served as first-year and sophomore Student Government Association (SGA) senator and as a representative on Community Council, worked at the Student Financial Services office and much more. He wanted to be involved in everything, and he gave his all to everything he did. His mother, Juana Tortoledo, always knew that Miguel would be the first in their family to go to college. He came from a low-income, immigrant household, and he was determined to give his parents a better life. He told his mother, “When I get rich and have a good job, I’m going to buy you a house… I’m going to help all my family and my community.” Miguel was always sure of himself. After joining the cheerleading squad in junior high, he refused to pay credence to those around him who teased him saying that cheerleading was for girls and that he should quit. His mother remembers him telling her, “I'm going to stay [on the team] because I know who I am, and I know what I want and I know I can do it.” Miguel attended Bell Gardens Senior High School, where he served as the Associated Student Body (ASB) class president his first three years and ASB president as a senior. He received the presidential volunteer service award four times for completing 600 hours of community service each year. In addition to juggling multiple part time jobs, he led the marching band as a horn sergeant. During breaks in the long practices, he worked on his college applications under his tuba. “He was never supposed to stay in Bell Gardens,” his friend since middle school, Emily Galdamez, said. “He was always made for much bigger things.” After winning several scholarships, including a $20,000 Coca-Cola Scholarship, Miguel threw himself into life at Middlebury. He scored a job at the Student Financial Services office off of one conversation with Associate Vice President Kim Downs-Burns during orientation. She knew instantly that he would put students coming into the office for difficult conversations at ease. He went above and beyond his job description and took every opportunity to question the school’s policies and advocate for his peers. His greatest passion at Middlebury was SGA, and he was committed to making the college better for all students. He tried to meet as many as he could so that he could best serve their needs. And once he set his mind to do something, he made it happen no matter what. After overhearing students complaining about having to fill their water bottles from the bathroom sink in Stewart Hall, his first-year dorm, he organized to get water bottle refilling stations installed soon after. “He never did things for himself,” Melisa Gurkan ’23.5 said. “Anything that he did, he did it with a purpose, and he did it for other people.” In class, Miguel was animated by questions of how he could practically improve his community and city, rather than abstract theories. His career ambitions changed often, but they were always oriented towards public service — he had recently settled on working in politics and law. “He had a vision that he wanted to contribute to make things better,” Associate Professor of Sociology Linus Owens, Miguel’s advisor, said. “If we’re going to get anywhere, we’ll need people like him and people inspired by what he did in his life and the courage with which he faced such an unfathomable thing to happen to someone so young.” Even after moving across the country, Miguel remained closely connected to his family and carried his pride and love for them wherever he went. His first year, he returned from winter break with carefully-wrapped packages of his mother’s tamales packed in his suitcase, which he proudly gave out to all his friends. “Everything he did was to make his parents proud,” his high school friend, Joel Leyva, said. “I think that was what made him the proudest, and I think that's what allowed him to be at peace towards the end, knowing that he made his parents proud.” As committed as Miguel was to his family, school and future, he never took life too seriously. His friends disagree about how his laugh sounded — Eric Burchill ’23 said it was a deep belly laugh and Gurkan remembers it as fast and high pitched — but they all say it rang out often. He was deeply devoted to his friends. When Leyva was bedridden alone at home, recovering from a surgery, running out of money for food and too proud to tell his parents that he needed help, Miguel showed up at his doorstep unprompted with bags full of groceries. And when Miguel found out that Adam Maguire ’23 hadn’t celebrated his birthday much growing up, he tracked down Maguire’s friends from home to plan a party for him. Miguel spent much of his time with friends, exploring Vermont and bringing them along on spontaneous visits to restaurants and spots he found online. He belted along to Adele, Taylor Swift and Olivia Rodrigo with unabashed enthusiasm, if not talent, and dominated the dance floor at parties when “Shake It Off” came over the speakers. In his rare moments of free time, he liked to clean and reorganize the 150 knives he kept cloth-wrapped and stored in a black duffel bag in his closet to sell for his side job as a knife salesman where he set records for most sales in his first few months. On quiet mornings, he sat in the back corner of Proctor lounge, facing the door to the dining hall so that he could greet people as they came through and pull them in to share a conversation or breakfast with him. His friends remember him as unshakably positive, even after he was diagnosed with cancer in March and had to return to Los Angeles for treatment. While undergoing 52 rounds of chemotherapy, he was determined to finish the semester and keep up with his job. Throughout his illness, Miguel never lost hope. He was elected junior SGA senator from his hospital bed. From there, he applied to scholarships, plotted his eventual run for SGA president and shared his excitement about returning to Middlebury in the fall and possibly studying abroad in Spain. He also never lost his joy or his adventurous spirit. Whenever he got sick of hospital food, he would pull out his IV, tape down the needle to stop the bleeding and hit the road with his friends to visit his favorite restaurants, more often than not Dave’s Hot Chicken. On June 12, Miguel fell into a coma, just two treatments shy of completing his chemotherapy. He died nine weeks later, on Aug. 14, less than two weeks before his 20th birthday. Miguel is survived by his mother, Juana Tortoledo, father, Miguel Sanchez and brothers, Sebastian, 17, and Kevin, 31, but he touched many more people. A GoFundMe organized to cover his medical and funeral expenses gathered more than 1,200 donations. The college is planning an event to celebrate Miguel’s life early this fall. Editor’s note: Eric Burchill ’23 is a copy editor for The Campus.
Smita Ruzicka named as next vice president of student affairs
(06/10/21 2:03pm)
The college has appointed Smita Ruzicka as the new vice president for student affairs (VPSA). The position has remained vacant since the previous VPSA, Baishakhi Taylor, left in April 2020.Along with overseeing the student affairs division, Health and Wellness and Public Safety, Ruzicka will be responsible for “removing systemic barriers and building new structures that will enable all of Middlebury's students to thrive.” “At the end of the day, my biggest goal is for each and every student to feel like they belong and are valued,” Ruzicka said. A core part of her job as vice president for student affairs will be to improve diversity, equity and inclusion on campus and incorporate restorative practices into student affairs. Ruzicka’s own experiences as an Indian immigrant have left her committed to championing racial justice efforts in higher education.Coming to the U.S. for the first time as an international college student, Ruzicka often found herself alone as the only South Asian woman in the room. She took on the added burden of having to teach those around her about racism while simultaneously dealing with the “emotional trauma” of its effects. “College shouldn't be something that you just sort of survive. You should thrive,” she said. “And so many times, especially our underrepresented students are coming to institutions of higher education and don't feel safe on those campuses. [They] barely survive and leave those institutions with additional trauma.”Ruzicka plans to spend the fall semester getting to know as many students as possible, attending sporting events, performances and hanging out in residential and dining halls. She hopes to form a bridge between administrators and students to address students’ needs and help them mold Middlebury into the institution they want. “I try not to speak for students, but with students,” Ruzicka said. “ And part of that has been really thinking about how to bring students to the table for important institutional decisions in whatever space I've been in.”Ruzicka comes to Middlebury with 18 years of experience in student-life administration. She previously served as dean of student life at Johns Hopkins University, where she was responsible for “a wide portfolio of services and programs aimed to enhance the overall student experience,… [including] student leadership and involvement, diversity and inclusion, health and wellness, residential life, crisis management and support services.” Prior to that, she was assistant vice president for campus life at Tulane University. There, she oversaw new student orientations, student organization management, sorority and fraternity life, student government, campus-wide programming and leadership development among other responsibilities. While serving in various leadership positions within the student dean’s office, Ruzicka earned her PhD in higher education administration at the University of Texas at Austin.Ruzicka earned masters in counseling psychology from Texas State University and worked as a therapist for YEARS, Her experience in mental health continues to inform her work as an administrator, work that is animated by her desire to form relationships with the students around her. Ruzicka chose to come to Middlebury after pandemic isolation inspired her to reflect on her life and career. She recalled her own experiences as an undergraduate at Trinity University, a small liberal arts college in Texas. The school president at the time knew many of the students by name and frequently invited students over to her house for meals. Ruzicka realized she too wanted to work at a college small enough for such intimacy to be possible, and Middlebury seemed the perfect fit. “I want it to be in a place where I could really have the opportunity to truly get to know as many students as possible not just by name, but by their stories, by their experiences,” Ruzicka said.Ruzicka describes herself as an optimist, a huge foodie who can’t cook, a practical joker, and a lover of the theater. She often bursts into song when the mood strikes her; these days she and her four-year-old son enjoy belting out Beyonce’s “Who Run the World” or U2’s “It’s a beautiful day.” She smiles often and widely. Ruzicka has never visited Vermont and has yet to taste a maple creemee, but she hopes to put down roots and make Middlebury a home for her and her family.
Part 1: Faculty & Staff
(05/20/21 10:00am)
The Faculty and Staff section focuses on increasing hiring equity, training new and existing faculty and staff in DEI practices, and building community among new hires to increase retention. Many view it as an important first step in an ongoing process that requires much deeper and continual institutional change. Of the 11 strategies included in the section, 10 have been completed or involve ongoing programs that are underway, although two programs have been temporarily put on hold because of the pandemic. Only one strategy, the term for which begins this year, is still in development. HIRING One of the major pillars of the section is hiring more BIPOC faculty and staff and those from other “historically underrepresented groups.” The college has historically struggled to hire a more diverse staff because most are recruited from the overwhelmingly white communities surrounding Middlebury, according to Chief Diversity Officer Miguel Fernández. Almost 93% of Addison County residents are white. Resistance to diversifying the faculty body often comes from the perception of diversity and qualifications being opposing qualities, according to Associate Professor of Political Science Kemi Fuentes-George. “You tend to see a lot of language about [how] what we need are the most qualified people, and that usually gets taken to be an argument against seeking diversity,” he said. “There's this kind of equation of, if you're orienting around a diversity hire, by definition, you're not seeking qualified people.” Of the 329 current faculty members, 57, or 17%, identify as belonging to a minority ethnic or racial group, according to Dean of Faculty Sujata Moorti. While there is a formal hiring freeze for faculty and staff, the college is filling limited positions that were planned before the pandemic or are needed on an urgent basis. Faculty and staff search committees now receive DEI training (Strategy #3 and #4), and job candidates are asked to include their own experience with inclusive practices in their application as a measure to assess their “multicultural competence” (Strategy #5). New employee orientations now include workshops on diversity, equity and inclusion, though the college has not offered staff orientations — which normally happen periodically as opposed to the the once-a-year faculty orientation — during the hiring freeze (Strategy #6), according to Director of Education for Equity and Inclusion Renee Wells. The college has also approved a staff position to help with partner inclusion, and Moorti is currently working with the Educational Affairs Committee to see if an institution-wide policy is possible (Strategy #2). RETENTION A second large part of the section is an attempt to improve conditions for faculty and staff from historically marginalized communities. As part of Strategy #11, the college has developed exit interview questions “related to campus climate… to identify and address barriers to retention.” Moorti hopes that, over time, these interviews can inform the administration on how to improve the climate for remaining faculty. Faculty and staff say that some of the current barriers to retention are not feeling supported by the college and academia as a whole, the extra — often uncompensated — burden of advocating for students and not feeling a sense of belonging in the community. The plan addresses some of these areas, but critically does not include provisions for others. Measures to support incoming faculty hires have been put on pause because of the pandemic. The OEIDI has not been able to host social networking opportunities for faculty from historically underrepresented communities (Strategy #10) or DEI workshops in departments expecting new hires (Strategy #8) but are looking forward to bringing those back next year. The college has been able to expand mentoring opportunities for new and junior faculty from historically underrepresented groups. In addition to regular departmental mentoring, the college has purchased membership with the National Center for Faculty Development and Diversity (Strategy #9), which provides resources for development, training and mentorship. The college will also be expanding mentorship and development opportunities available through the Center for the Comparative Study of Race and Ethnicity this summer. Moorti hopes that junior faculty will be able to avail themselves of this resource for more support and networking opportunities. Measures like these have been crucial for retaining current BIPOC faculty despite the struggles they face. “One of the primary reasons that I stayed at Middlebury … was that I found my community,” Fuentes-George said. “I found people who were supportive and who mentored me, some of whom had tenure, some of whom didn't, some of whom were in my department, some of whom weren't, and it pretty clearly underlined to me how important those kinds of social networks can be.” Still, these measures are designed primarily to build support for incoming faculty and staff members and do little to address the underlying conditions current faculty members face. Assistant Professor of Writing and Rhetoric James Chase Sanchez views academia as a whole as a white space within which people of color can struggle to feel welcomed or valued, and Middlebury is no exception. That fact became abundantly clear to Fuentes-George after hearing his colleagues defend the invitation of Charles Murray to campus in 2017. Fuentes-George recalls other faculty members insisting that Murray was not racist, despite his claims that Black people — like Fuentes-George — and Latinos are genetically less intelligent. In the wake of Murray’s visit, Fuentes-George strongly considered leaving Middlebury. Both Fuentes-George and Chase Sanchez credit their luck in finding their own small communities at Middlebury as one of the major reasons they have stayed here, something they say can be difficult for many faculty of color. They both discussed how easy it is to feel isolated on a predominantly white campus in a predominantly white area. Chase Sanchez recalled visiting a restaurant in Bristol with a Black colleague. At one point, he looked up from his plate and idly scanned the room. To his surprise, he realized he was making eye contact with nearly everyone around him. They had been staring at him, and he felt suddenly acutely aware of how much he stood out as a Latino in an overwhelmingly white space. “There’s a little bit more of that uncomfortable nature of being a minority living within the community that is very, very white,” Chase Sanchez said. “All these variables can just build up pressure.” Admissions Counselor Maria Del Sol Nava ’18 has also struggled to feel completely welcome in the local community. “Middlebury has become a home for me because I have now been here for seven years (four as a student and three as a staff member), [but] I am keenly aware that I am a brown woman in a very white town,” she said in an email to The Campus. “There are many times when I don’t feel safe.” The reaction of other faculty and academia as a whole to the scholarship of BIPOC faculty also make some feel unsupported or valued at Middlebury. BIPOC faculty who do race-based research often see their work devalued in academia, where it is viewed more as activism than empirical inquiry and seen as contributing less to their fields than the development of theory, according to Chase Sanchez. In the wake of the Jan. 6 capitol riots, Fuentes-George led a class discussion about the racial motivations behind them. He was taken aback when one of his colleagues accused him of engaging in advocacy rather than real scholarship. He views that interaction as emblematic of “a number of practices, discourses and comments about personal relations and about how departments and institutions function that make it difficult for people of color to feel supported.” While faculty and staff from historically marginalized communities often do not feel valued or supported by Middlebury as an institution, they contribute significantly to the college — well beyond the scope of their positions. Many shoulder the extra burden of pushing for institutional change and advocating for marginalized students who turn to them for support, labor that is often uncompensated or not rewarded in performance reviews. “[I feel] a social responsibility for the other first-gen and underrepresented students that I meet and worked with,” Del Sol Nava said in an email to the Campus. “[I take] on additional emotional labor that my white colleagues do not take on, or do not to the same extent.” Fuentes-George serves on the Committee on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (CDEI) and is also a Posse mentor. He also frequently provides informal mentoring and support for BIPOC students who turn to him for advice in navigating through Middlebury and has worked to spearhead change within his department — labor that is uncompensated. “These are things that I do feel passionate about doing,” Fuentes-George said. “But the reality is that it takes a lot of time and energy, and it's also emotionally taxing.” Del Sol Nava hopes that the school works toward being a place where such sacrifices don’t need to be made. “I think we can imagine more for ourselves as an institution so that our BIPOC staff and faculty don’t feel burdened with being the ones who have to create change or be the only ones who support the students who want to make change,” she said. At the same time that the extra, uncompensated advocacy work drains faculty and staff of color, it’s also a major reason why some stay despite the institutional challenges they face. “There are a lot of students I didn’t want to leave alone,” said Fuentes-George “I didn’t want them to just be here with one less voice to advocate. There’s few enough for them already, so [I decided] to stay here and advocate for them.” Supporting BIPOC students also animates Chase Sanchez’s work, especially in light of his own experiences trying to navigate through a predominantly white college as a Latino student. When Chase Sanchez told his advisor — who was white — that he wanted to become a professor, Chase Sanchez recalls him replying, “Someone like you wanting to be a professor is what makes someone like me laugh.” Chase Sanchez turned his advisor’s doubt into motivation and worked triply hard to prove that he belonged in academia despite what his advisor thought. But he knows this kind of experience can set other students back or discourage them from pursuing their original goals altogether. This year’s Zeitgeist survey found that BIPOC students reported feeling imposter syndrome — “the experience of doubting one’s abilities and feeling like a fraud” — at a significantly higher rate than their white peers. “I remember what it feels like to have no one believe in you,” Chase Sanchez said. “I always want to help other people going through that, because it's a very tough space to navigate.” TRAINING While the advocacy of BIPOC faculty and staff and the promise to increase institutional diversity are crucial to students from underrepresented groups feeling supported, Del Sol Nava emphasized that the practices of the entire staff and faculty body must shift. “I think more students at Middlebury would feel more supported if they saw more people who looked like them, but that doesn’t mean that is the only step we take,” she said in an email to The Campus. “It also means teaching our current faculty and staff to learn and unlearn how to make students feel more comfortable.” Wells hopes that the Inclusive Practitioners Program (Strategy #7) will help usher in the culture change necessary to shift people’s practices and reform the institution in the long run. The program, launched in the fall of 2019, consists of a series of workshops within which faculty and staff “engage in critical conversations and skill building related to diversity equity and inclusion.” “It is about creating the kind of critical awareness that builds people’s skills and capacity to actually change their practices,” Wells said. “It's about developing your ability to actually change what you're doing and how you're doing it in ways that create more access, and opportunity, and equity and inclusion.” While many of the workshops have focused specifically on race in the wake of the murder of George Floyd and the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, Wells has begun reincorporating other workshops in the series with topics that range from “Designing Accessible Course Syllabi” to “Knowing and Respecting Who's in the Room: A Guide to Using Gender Pronouns.” “They were really valuable,” Food and Garden Educator Megan Brakeley, who has attended eight workshops, said. “I think that part of the power of doing this work is the power of it being done in community. There's so much that can happen when we are literally sitting in the same room.” Partly inspired by the lessons she’s learned in those workshops as well as through the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, Brakeley has worked to make antiracism a cornerstone of her job at the Knoll, including reevaluating the organic farm’s mission statement, learning to identify and address harm as it happens and holding BIPOC affinity gardening hours. Assistant Professor of Environmental Studies Mez Baker-Médard has attended 10 Inclusive Practitioners workshops and incorporated the lessons they have learned, including redesigning their course material to include more diverse voices and “bringing a lens of power onto the work” they are doing. “I think it's opened my eyes to a variety of ways in which I can really work on this in the classroom, and there are just so many ways that I can be thoughtful and more nuanced,” they said. “Engaging in that way, it's kind of an act of appreciation and respect for my students, and myself, as well as my own ignorances.” The workshops are optional to ensure that those who attend want to be there and are willing to put in the work. But it does mean that participants are self-selecting and the staff and faculty who might benefit the most from this education often never show up, according to Wells. While the Inclusive Practitioner Program aims to increase awareness and proper practices in and beyond the classroom, the DEI plan does not address the curriculum or broad pedagogical reform at an institution-wide level, steps Associate Professor of Education Studies and CDEI Chair Tara Affolter views as crucial for the next action plan. In the meantime, the initiatives in the plan are supplemented by the work of the Committee on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (CDEI), a body for faculty governance on DEI issues formed this year. They created a grant program for academic programs and departments to “find structural ways to engage in anti-racist work” and awarded grants to three departments — Luso-Hispanic Studies, Educations Studies and Economics — this year, according to Affolter. MOVING FORWARD All those interviewed for this article emphasized that, while they were optimistic about the potential for the DEI strategies and other current initiatives, they are only the start in a long road towards reforming the college. “This is a marathon, not a sprint,” Baker-Médard said. “The landscape of learning and teaching needs to shift as society shifts.” Despite the uphill and prolonged battle ahead of them, most expressed a feeling of hope for the future of Middlebury. “I’m definitely hopeful,” Fuentes-George said. “If I thought that there was no hope I probably would have left.”
College tackles multi-year anti-racism and DEI action plan
(05/20/21 9:58am)
Since the 1960s, Middlebury has conducted intermittent diversity climate assessments every six to seven years, according to Chief Diversity Officer Miguel Fernández. The most recent of these initiatives is the Action Plan for Anti-Racism, Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, a multi-year plan published in September by the Office of Institutional Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (OIDEI). OIDEI began writing the plan in fall of 2019 and circulated the plan to key stakeholders in the spring. Like many of its predecessors, publication of the 2020 Action Plan followed a discrete campus or national event: in this case, the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolisis police officer last summer, which set off a fresh wave of protests about racial justice and equity in communities around the country. The plan is ambitious in both objective and scope, aiming to “identify and implement strategies that will engage the entire campus community in the work of fostering greater access, equity, inclusion, and full participation for Middlebury students, staff, and faculty.” Though Fernández and Directory of Equity and Inclusion Renee Wells spearheaded the Action Plan, they consulted numerous constituencies, including students, faculty, staff, administration, trustees, committees and alumni. They also looked at nearly two dozen reports, assessments and data to identify the institutional barriers that are mentioned in the report. From the feedback they received, the original plan underwent several iterations of revision. “Diversity plans often present lofty goals but lack specificity and strategy and therefore lead to ‘diversity clutter’ with a host of disconnected initiatives,” reads the Action Plan. To avoid these usual pitfalls and increase accountability, the Plan is broken into five foci: Faculty and Staff; Students; Fostering and Restoring Community; Accessibility; and Transparency and Accountability. For each of the 61 initiatives described, the Action Plan details the responsible units, a proposed timeline and a measure of accountability which delegates the responsibilities of the initiative. Still, the Action Plan introduction specifies the document should be viewed as a “roadmap,” not a “mandate.” When asked to confirm if strategies in the Plan would definitely be accomplished, Fernández acknowledged that fiscal realities as well as student and faculty initiatives could slightly shift the Plan’s approach. Wells said that the timeline may accommodate strategies as they become financially feasible. “Our goal is that all of this gets accomplished and more,” Fernández said. This Middlebury Campus investigation reports on the progress of the initiatives in the Action Plan with a particular focus on those with a proposed timeline of the 2020-2021 academic year. This project is split into five sections — one for each the Action Plan — and is the product of dozens of interviews with staff, students, committees and administrators. “The United States of America has not solved racism or issues of equity and inclusion in 200- plus years. I do not expect Middlebury will resolve it in five years,” said Fernandez in an interview with The Campus. “So I'm sure there is going to be plenty of work to do in five years, [but] I hope we'll be in a much better place.” Introduction by Hannah Bensen '21.
Breaking bread: Dining halls lay the foundations for community life at Middlebury
(05/13/21 9:59am)
Many of the quintessential dining halls scenes — students shouting at each other from across the table, trying to hold a conversation over the deafening din of the Ross dinner rush, sitting elbow to elbow on the floor around the perimeter of Atwater, watching the lunch line stretch out the door at lunch, peering down from the Proctor balcony to point out a crush — have been replaced with a conspicuous emptiness in today’s age of physical distancing requirements. The three dining halls have historically served as social nexuses and vital centers for the formation of Middlebury as a community. But even as reduced capacities limit how much students can gather, the food we eat — whether perched precariously on a high stool in Atwater, sitting on the Gifford Amphitheater steps outside Proc or tucked in our own dorm rooms — continues to tie us together. The Campus spoke to Atwater Commons Chef Ian Martin and Ross Commons Chef Christopher Laframboise about how the dining halls function and how they view their roles as cornerstones of the campus community. Martin has worked in the college kitchens for 26 years and Laframboise began working here while he was in high school, 36 years ago. Shifting tastes Both Martin and Laframboise have noticed shifts in students' tastes over their long tenures. Students are leaning more towards healthy, fresh food over processed alternatives. Vegans were a rarity 20 years ago, and Martin met a person with a gluten intolerance for the first time 23 years ago. When Freeman International Center was Freeman Dining Hall years ago, many students made a beeline for the station where they served burgers and fries every single day. Before the pandemic, Atwater only offered one meat entree per meal and had many more vegan and vegetarian options. “In the last quarter century, many more young people are more aware of what they're eating, and more conscious of the impact of what they eat on everything else,” Martin said. Still, some things have stayed the same. “You still have times that you may run out of something, and you throw chicken nuggets on, and you can’t keep up at that point,” Laframboise said. Martin encouraged students to take the health food craze in moderation and enjoy the freedom of being young to eat whatever they want, though he does think students should at least eat something green every meal. “There's some kids that come through, they get one burger, two burgers, that's all they want,” Martin said. “Like, what about vegetables? What about your mother?” Some of the most popular meals right now are Thanksgiving and chicken parmesan, according to the two chefs. While it’s not on their current rotation, breakfast-for-dinner is normally a fan favorite. Martin loved to watch students “hunt and gather” for their meals, deftly mixing ingredients from the salad bar, lunch offerings and other items from around the dining hall, using the microwave or grilling on the panini press to come up with masterful new creations. With many of the microwaves and other amenities — such as a full salad bar — currently unavailable due to health and safety precautions, he misses witnessing students’ innovation and is eagerly looking forward to when that can return. Fostering connection Though they have remained in their positions through many generations of students, Laframboise and Martin still feel closely connected and treasure the bonds they have formed with students. “The dining halls are really important to student life,” Laframboise said. “It’s our role to facilitate that [connection] and to make good food to keep the students happy.” Laframboise makes a point of trying to meet and help out first-year students. At meals during orientation, Laframboise looks out for students who seem lost or confused. He will often approach them, strike up a conversation and try to help them through whatever is troubling them. Both Martin and Laframboise said they have developed relationships with students who seek them out, particularly those with dietary restrictions who need special meals or accommodations. They have also formed particularly close relationships with students who work in the dining halls, some of whom have told Martin that working there was one of their favorite parts of going to Middlebury. Some of the most gratifying relationships are with kids who have worked with us over the years,” Martin said. “We’ve had some really great kids.” Laframboise described the kitchen as “a family”; staff support each other on busy days, play practical jokes, poke fun at each other and get under each other’s skin — just like any other family. Many cooks come to view the dining halls as their own campus home and feel a real attachment and pride. “I certainly feel privileged and lucky to have the staff that I have,” said Martin. Making the menu Normally, each dining hall functions more or less as an island unto itself, using its own recipes on its own five-week rotation and only occasionally coordinating with the other dining halls for popular meals like chicken parmesan. This year, to even out demand and reduce crowding, the dining halls are running on the same, pared-down, three-week cycle. Though the servery is normally buffet style, dining staff have been serving food to students this year to reduce the number of people touching utensils. This has drastically increased the workload of a reduced staff team, making it impossible to cook large numbers of complex dishes each night. The dining halls have had to pare down their menus to expedite the serving process and make sure lines don’t get out of control. The weekend Chef’s Choice brunches remain an outlet for innovation, even as processes become more standardized. Chefs examine what ingredients or dishes are left over for the week and whip up something new. If the dishes are successful, they are sometimes incorporated into the regular rotation. Chef’s Choice is also a good opportunity to pilot new meals. Occasionally, one of the cooks will see a recipe online or enjoy a dish at a restaurant and want to try their hand at making it for the student body. Brunch, where the meal counts are low and there are more options, is a great chance to see if meals are a success. Other recipes — like one of Martin’s favorites, pork griot — come from students submitting recipes from home. Laframboise loves recipes from home and enjoys the puzzle of figuring out how to adapt them to the needs and portions of the school as well as connecting with and learning about students through their requests. Looking forward Neither Martin nor Laframboise are certain what the future will hold. Without the normal schedule of finals week, senior week and commencement, Martin can’t rely on past experience to plan how much to cook in the next two weeks. And no one knows for sure what the fall will look like, though the college has thus far painted an optimistic picture of a return to mostly normal operations. “This year has just been kind of rough. We've never had a year like this, so it makes it very stressful for us sometimes,” Laframboise said. “Hopefully, we're back to normal [next year] because that would just relieve a lot of pressure off everyone, students and staff.”
Behind Sunday Tacos, Alejandra savors home from Mexico to Middlebury
(05/06/21 10:00am)
Stuck on campus for the entire semester, many students long for home-cooked meals and the warm smile of someone preparing food just for them. Alejandra’s Tacos supplies both, accepting orders for tamales, empanadas, tacos and more. The go link go/sundaytacos leads to a sign-up form for Alejandra’s email list. And the menu, which goes out to her email list Friday evenings, changes each week. Alejandra makes the deliveries Sunday at 12:30 p.m. at the drop-off shed in front of 75 Shannon Street. Alejandra prioritizes affordable prices over profit — $3 for each item on her campus menu — because, above all else, she wants to be able to share the joy of her cooking and culture with those around her. “I was born poor, and I’m sure I will die poor as well,” Alejandra said. “I’m never going to be a millionaire, but that’s not my goal. I have a different, more human goal: to create bonds, to give a little bit of Mexico to those who don’t know her, and, for my countrymen, to give them a dish that makes them remember their mother, their home, their grandmother. That’s what I want, and that’s what makes me happy.” Alejandra makes all of her food by hand, including the flavorful salsas that accompany each order of tacos and the corn masa shells encasing each empanada. Students can order for a Sunday lunch or stock up on items like tamales to pop in the microwave for a delicious meal throughout the week whenever dining hall food isn’t quite doing it for them. In addition to now selling food to Middlebury students, Alejandra sells a wider variety of dishes out of her home in Addison County each Sunday and prepares meals for migrant workers on a daily basis. She hopes to continue to grow her business and save up enough money to eventually return to Mexico. Alejandra first immigrated to the U.S. in 2009 from her hometown, Querétaro, in central Mexico, joining her father in North Carolina. He owned a Mexican restaurant and taught her how to cook when she was not working her job at the paper factory. Within a year, her father moved back to Mexico to be with her mother, and Alejandra moved to Vermont, where she struggled to adjust. The cold came as a brutal shock to Alejandra, who had never seen snow before. She spent her first winter stuck inside her house, unable to drive on the icy roads, longing for the community she left behind. Soon, she met and fell in love with the man who would become her husband and began cooking for her own family. Over the next couple years, they had three daughters together — twins who are now 11 years old and their now nine-year-old little sister. While her husband went to work at a dairy farm, Alejandra struggled to find a job. She takes great pride in her work ethic, and she couldn’t afford to sit idle. She needed to support her parents back in Mexico, and her medical bills for her diabetes were a constant strain on the family’s finances. Alejandra decided to start her own business selling food to other migrant farmworkers, many of whom work 12- to 14-hour shifts, leaving them little energy to cook. Her business and her reputation grew steadily as she began to cater some college events, providing food for the Spanish house, Juntos and other groups. Two years ago, she was offered an opportunity to teach a Mexican cooking class at City Market in Burlington. She quickly befriended her students with her vivacious personality and unfailing optimism, and they encouraged her to branch out and sell more of her own food. She started a mini restaurant out of a makeshift kitchen she set up in her garage and began selling food on Sundays. Over the last two years, her business has grown considerably, almost entirely through word of mouth. She now employs one or two other women each week to help her out. Sundays are a marathon. Alejandra begins cooking at 4 a.m., and the other women arrive to help her five hours later. They cook “until the meat runs out,” sometimes stopping at 2 p.m. and sometimes continuing until 5 p.m. It's grueling work, standing on her feet in a hot kitchen all day, though the music and the company of her friends lightens the load considerably. “My body is tired,” Alejandra said. While the hard work combined with her diabetes symptoms leave her completely drained, she still loves to cook. “Cooking is like therapy; it takes away a little of the sadness,” Alejandra said. “I’m not thinking about when I can return to Mexico. Instead, I feel comfortable and relaxed. It excites me to think about how my dishes will taste, if it will taste good. I love to see the happy faces of people when they say, ‘This is delicious!’” Though she loves Vermont, Alejandra longs for home. She misses the market she used to visit with her mother. Perusing the stalls for ingredients to use in their dishes, they would chat with local farmers selling their harvests and friends and acquaintances they ran into. She misses Sunday evenings when she would sit on the benches outside of church after mass and lick an ice cream cone from one of the vendors parked right outside the gates as everyone mingled in the afternoon glow. Most of all, she misses the sense of community and togetherness imbued in every aspect of life in Mexico. Some days, Alejandra closes her eyes and imagines she is a bird. With just a few flaps of her wings, she is airborne, soaring over the Vermont pastures, past the Carolinas where she first lived after migrating to the U.S. She flies across the border, over the Rio Grande, and through the desert. She imagines in just a few minutes, a few wingbeats she will find herself back home. But when she opens her eyes, the spell is broken. She feels closest to home on Sunday afternoons when her customers gather on her lawn to eat her food. They set up picnic blankets and chat amongst themselves about their lives, troubles and families. Gazing over the picturesque tableau each week, Alejandra is reminded of the community she left behind in the new one she is creating through her food. “I think that cooking is a form of communication, of demonstrating love, of creating bonds with those you love,” she said. “It’s a form of saying, ‘I love you, and I care for you.’ And that’s why it makes me so happy to cook.” Editor’s Note: The interviews in this piece were conducted entirely in Spanish, and the quotes were translated by the reporter, Sophia McDermott-Hughes. The translation of all quotes featured in the piece were corroborated by an independent native speaker. Alejandra’s full name has been redacted to protect her privacy.
Students struggle to keep afloat as isolation, workload and grief compound
(04/15/21 9:59am)
Students have struggled to stay afloat during a year rife with uncertainty, grief and isolation. Counseling Services has seen a marked increase in students showing signs of anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts on intake forms this year, according to Associate Director of Clinical Operations Ben Gooch. And for many students, the pandemic’s toll on mental health is only increasing, with stressors emerging from every corner of student life. Living in a pandemic Many students are grappling with existential questions about what it means to live through a global tragedy of this scale, according to Gooch. Over the last year, students, along with the rest of the world, have watched Covid-19 deaths rise nationally and internationally and witnessed suffering on a massive scale. Many students come from cities and viral hotspots like Los Angeles and New York City, where they have witnessed the devastation of Covid-19 ripping through their communities. Many students are also grappling with the personal grief of losing loved ones. Isaac Byrne ’21 lost both of his grandmothers just before the start of the spring semester. One of their funerals fell within the two-week pre-arrival quarantine window, and Byrne had to negotiate with the college for approval to attend. Soon after Byrne arrived in Middlebury, his uncle also passed away. As classes ramped up and Byrne’s work as a club leader began in earnest, he had to attend the funeral over Zoom. He watched his family’s grief and his mother’s pain through a screen, unable to be with them as support, then immediately had to transition to doing his homework and running a club meeting. While students deal with the profound personal and existential grief, they are struggling to keep up with the rigorous course load of a college semester. “Students are coming back here and asked to be totally normal students who can perform 100% just like they would at any time with no recognition of the trauma and everything that's going on,” Ciara Carlson-Healy ’22 said. No new normal Rather than becoming accustomed to the “new normal,” many students are experiencing worsening stress and mental anguish as the pandemic stretches on. “The one thing that we know about stress and the effects of stress is that it's additive,” Senior Student Life Dean Jennifer Sellers said. “Even if [the pandemic] doesn't directly influence someone, that still adds an element of stress. If you're compounding these things, either the direct effects or just the overarching, it just adds, and then you add on the real stressors of school and finals and things like that. It's just a lot on people's shoulders.” For Carlson-Healy, the campus seemed to be in a perpetual “state of crisis” during the fall semester. With Covid-19 and its impact in the forefront of everyone’s mind, Carlson-Healy felt that a culture of empathy helped to alleviate some of the pandemic stress. She feels that has been lost this semester. “You can't remain in crisis for that long because you're just exhausted,” she said. “We've tried to create this new normal, but in that, I think that we have lost our discussion of how incredibly hard it is to exist in this new normal. Because even though it's familiar now, social isolation is only building up and causing more and more problems over time.” While students in a pre-pandemic semester could turn to social activities to replenish their mental energy and let loose, the social isolation only compounds the standard stressors of a semester with little relief, according to SGA Co-Director of Health and Wellness Eloise Berdahl-Baldwin ’21.5. In years past, the number of students seeking counseling drops in the run-up to spring and Thanksgiving breaks as students anticipate the relief of time off at home with family. With an abbreviated break and no chance to leave campus, the number of students seeking counseling this spring has instead risen steadily throughout the semester, according to Gooch. Along with heightened levels of isolation, students seeking counseling are reporting shortened attention spans and an inability to focus, as well as getting “stuck in their thoughts” and in spirals of negative self-talk, according to Gooch. Academic stress These issues are also impacting students’ abilities to perform academically. Carlson-Healy said she dropped one of her classes this semester because she was feeling overwhelmed. But, even with three classes, she still struggles to keep up with her ever-growing workload and the stress of this semester, an experience she feels is widespread among students. Carlson-Healy also noticed that her professors were no longer checking in with her and her peers at the beginning of class, and both workload and course expectations seemed to return to pre-pandemic levels. In light of students raising concerns, the Faculty Council and Educational Affairs Committee sent an email to all faculty members on April 7 urging them to adjust their teaching strategies to alleviate some of the pressure on students. The email encouraged professors to lighten reading loads, reduce the total number of assignments and exercise flexibility in their deadlines and grading, among other measures. “We want to acknowledge that both students and faculty are also struggling,” the email said. “Some [students] feel overwhelmed because they believe that faculty have returned to a normal workload this semester despite the ongoing pandemic... While our teaching and learning might feel a bit more normal this semester, they still aren’t.” Counseling services and MiddTelehealth Counseling Services saw more than one in every six eligible students (17%) during the fall semester, according to Associate Director of Clinical Operations Ben Gooch. Based on data from Gooch, The Campus calculated that Counseling has already met with about 14% of students living on campus or in Vermont this semester, with an average of just under five sessions per student. Appointments conducted over MiddTelehealth were not included in these calculations. !function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); Compared to last year, the data shows a dip in demand for counseling, which Gooch attributes to the difference in on-campus population. Many of the students who struggled the most with mental health before the pandemic and most frequently utilized the counseling services chose not to return to campus, taking semesters off or studying remotely instead. Counseling Services are also only available to students in the state of Vermont. Remote students studying elsewhere in the United States have access to the online health platform MiddTelehealth for counseling, the statistics for which are not included in the above graphic. Finding a lifeline Gooch encouraged students struggling with mental health to seek counseling if it feels right for them. Students on campus or in Vermont can schedule a Zoom consultation with Counseling Services, with options for regularly scheduled visits or more immediate sessions. Students throughout the rest of the United States can schedule sessions through MiddTelehealth, which offers the same two options. The Health and Wellness Education Center also offers programming for cultivating good mental health practices. The programs seek to develop students’ skills in coping, self-advocacy and help-seeking; foster a sense of belonging; reduce the stigma around mental illness; and increase awareness of available mental health resources, Assistant Director for Health and Wellness Education Maddie Hope said in an email to The Campus.
Students quarantined for Covid-19 violations regardless of evidence of exposure
(04/15/21 9:57am)
Middlebury students have become accustomed to quarantining when they have been exposed to Covid-19 or as a preemptive move-in measure, but a new and unannounced policy temporarily places students into quarantine housing after they’ve committed Covid-19 policy violations if those violations included high-risk behavior. This new measure, which Dean of Students Derek Doucet said has impacted around a dozen individuals, puts students in quarantine for Covid-19 protocol violations that the Office of Community Standards deems “a credible allegation of behavior that might lead to transmission.” Doucet said that the policy is designed to combat potential public health risks. The policy The college enacted the policy of quarantining students who violated Covid-19 guidelines at the beginning of this semester, according to Doucet. Administrators realized that existing disciplinary procedures did not take into account the immediate public health risk posed by certain types of Covid-19 protocol violations like large gatherings in small spaces without masks. “When we have those incidents, we're really worried about the possibility of exposure and transmission, and so we ask those students to go into quarantine as a public health measure,” Doucet said. “It's not intended as a punitive measure.” Though this policy has reportedly been in place for months, the college never informed the student body of its implementation. While the Spring Campus Guide Conduct Expectations section does inform students that they must “participate in isolation and quarantine when directed,” it does not mention the possibility of being placed in quarantine for a Covid-19 rule violation. Instead, the Contact Tracing, Isolation, and Quarantine section describes quarantine as “a way for individuals who may have been exposed to Covid-19 through close contact with an infected individual to limit their contact with others while it is determined whether they have Covid-19.” Students were not placed in quarantine until up to two days following their violation. Doucet says administrators try to process Covid-19 conduct incident reports and meet with students within the first two days of the incident because “the science suggests that the chance of passing on the virus remains low in that time period.” Students may then be instructed to complete a quarantine if it is found that there is a credible allegation that the student engaged in unsafe behavior. Unlike students under quarantine as close contacts, who are tested separately at Parton to avoid exposure to other students and in accordance with the exact timing of their day-seven tests, students quarantined for violations are tested at the Virtue Field House during the normal testing times with the rest of the student body, according to Environmental Health and Safety Coordinator Jennifer Kazmeirczak. Doucet said the discrepancy is “related to a different level of perceived risk.” “Quarantining students who have violated the covid guidelines is done out of an abundance of caution because of the heightened chance of exposure. Quarantining close contacts is done when there is known exposure,” Doucet said in an email to The Campus. “Sending students with confirmed exposure into close proximity with others [at general testing] is higher risk than asking a student about whom we're concerned about a heightened possibility of exposure.” Students whose Day Seven test falls outside of the college’s regular testing schedule may be able to schedule a test at Parton or at the Vermont Department of Health’s Creek Road testing center in town, according to Kazmeirczak. Students quarantined for Covid-19 guideline violations also do not receive daily phone call check-ins from the college’s Covid Operations office asking about their health status as close contacts do. They are expected, like all students on campus, to fill out daily Policy Path health surveys for symptoms, according to Kazmeirczak. The college also does not extend the disciplinary amnesty policy, which allows violations revealed through contact tracing to go undisciplined, to those quarantined for Covid-19 guideline violations. Students quarantined for Covid-19 guideline violations are not asked who else attended the gathering, but if other students are revealed to have attended, they will not be exempt from disciplinary action, according to Doucet. These students quarantining for conduct violations are not listed on the Covid-19 reporting dashboard, which only displays the number of quarantining close contacts. According to Doucet, that is not an intentional omission, and the college is “considering adding conduct-related quarantine numbers to the dash.” A timeline of a Covid-19 violation quarantine The Campus spoke to 10 students who were quarantined for Covid-19 guideline violations in early March. Here’s a look at how the policy — which was confusing to many of the students quarantined under it — works. 11 p.m. Friday, March 5 - A group of 15–20 first-year students gather in the cavernous student activity room in the basement of Forest Hall on the night of Friday, March 5 to celebrate their return to campus. 11:30 p.m. - 12 a.m. - Several Public Safety officers and Reslife staff members block two of the three entrances and demand IDs from the students. Some bolt for the open exit but others mill about in confusion, unaware that, though a sign on the wall advertised a 30-person occupancy limit, students are only able to gather outside and in groups of ten. DPS reports 10 students to the Office of Community Standards for Covid-19 violations. Weekend - The cited students go to the dining halls, attend in-person classes, practice with their sports teams and spend time unmasked with close contacts. Monday, March 8 – Cited students attend in-person classes. Cited students go to mandatory testing. 7 p.m – Students receive an email from Dean of Community Standards Brian Lind asking them to schedule a disciplinary meeting. 3:39 p.m. - Nine of the students receive an email from Dean of Students Derek Doucet instructing them to begin room quarantine immediately and to prepare to move into temporary housing. They receive no guidance about their roommates who had not attended the gathering, with whom they had interacted closely. “We are concerned this gathering could have presented the opportunity for transmission of Covid-19,” Doucet writes in an email to cited students. Doucet says it was unlikely that any students were contagious yet if exposed, but that the choice to isolate students is necessary as they entered the period where transmission of the virus is most likely, had they been exposed to Covid-19 at the Forest gathering. One cited student reportedly receives no such email. Midday Tuesday, March 8 - Students receive a call from Covid Operations telling them to move into quarantine housing at Porter, about three and a half days after their possible exposure Friday night. Students ask why they were being quarantined, but Covid Operations staff are reportedly not aware of the policy and unable to provide clarity. Covid Operations Coordinator Daniel Celik confirmed administrators had not informed them of the policy. 7 p.m. Wednesday, March 9 - Lind emails students informing them of the disciplinary decision of removal from campus held in abeyance, which means that students will likely be kicked off of campus if they commit another Covid-19 rules violation this semester. They are informed that they will be released from quarantine pending a negative test result and are reminded to get tested at Virtue Field House the next day. Thursday, March 10 – All students get tested at Virtue Field House alongside the rest of the student body. Friday, March 11 - All 10 students receive negative results and expect to be released from quarantine. Upon further inquiry, they discover that this does not count as a Day Seven test, and they will have to wait until the next general testing day on Monday in order to be released on Tuesday, 11 full days after the gathering. By this point, they have already missed several in-person classes. Saturday, March 12 - At their request, Doucet allows the students to temporarily leave quarantine and walk to the Department of Health’s Creek Road testing center in town to get tested before the next college-administered student testing day on Monday. Morning of Sunday, March 13 – All students receive negative test results and inform Covid Operations. 4-6 p.m. Sunday, March 13 - All students are released from quarantine — nine days after the Forest Hall gathering and seven days into their quarantine. The gathering is shown to have resulted in no positive cases.
A match made in algorithm: 60% of students participate in the ‘Middlebury Marriage Pact’
(03/18/21 9:56am)
Last night, 1,511 students opened their emails to find the name of their “optimal” match. They stared at their screens. They laughed, seeing their friends, or grimaced, recognizing an annoying classmate. They dismissed it or agonized over it, drafting and redrafting the same message over and over again. After all, how do you write an email introducing yourself to your future spouse? The Marriage Pact launched at Middlebury seeking to find each student’s most compatible partner on campus. Entries closed on Monday with nearly 60% of the student population responding, and participating students waited in eager anticipation until they received their matches yesterday. The pact The Marriage Pact — a project originally launched out of a Stanford economics class in 2017 — consists of an algorithm that uses participants’ answers to a 50-question survey designed to find their optimal romantic — or platonic — match. The Pact’s mission is to find participants’ most compatible long-term partner and marital “backup plan” in case they end up single later in life. “Among all the people at a school like Middlebury what are the odds that the one person you happen to be friends with because you met them freshman year, or you happen to be in the same a cappella group is actually the best person [who you could make a marriage pact with]?” said Liam McGregor, one of the Marriage Pact creators. "But surely, there's someone at Middlebury who's probably good enough, right? They might not be your soulmate. But, out of all the people, that's probably someone who is good enough for you to marry.” Since its founding, nearly 96,000 people have participated in the pact, forming 43,582 matches and one confirmed marriage. This year, the Stanford team began working with students at 33 colleges to launch the Marriage Pact on their campus, according to Mei-Lan Steimle, Stanford ’21, one of the Middlebury launch team project managers. Kennedy Coleman ’21, one of the two students at Middlebury who helped bring Marriage Pact to the college, said the ultimate goal of the Marriage Pact at Middlebury is to “bring the community together at a time when we have to be ‘one Panther apart.’” “I'm just excited to be doing something collectively again,” she said. “Having a big chunk of the campus be in on something just feels really good and needed right now.” The matches Participating students received an email with their match, their email, a list of shared values and how compatible they are compared to other pairs on campus. The top ten matches also received their ranking. From then, it was up to them to decide whether to reach out and chase after love. However, 260 straight women were left without that option. Consistently across schools, the Marriage Pact is much more popular with straight women than straight, bisexual or pansexual men, leaving a “gap” of extra women with whom there is no one to match. Middlebury Marriage Pact (MMP) launched an Instagram and email campaign calling for men who are attracted to women to “be a hero” and “fill the gap,” but was ultimately forced to cut off romantic pairing for straight women for anyone who filled out the survey after 11:26 p.m. on March 10. https://twitter.com/taiteishomo/status/1370891374128734208 Any straight female participants after that date were paired off with each other in the most compatible platonic matches. Out of the 755 pairings, 625 were romantic and 130 platonic. With an odd number of responses, one lonely student was left matchless. The survey The survey began with demographic questions like class year, gender identity, sexual orientation, political stance, race and religion before branching into questions designed to get at participants’ core values and life outlook. Questions ranged from asking participants if they “prefer politically incorrect humor” to whether they would run a red light if no one else was on the road. Your values uniquely represent you,” said McGregor. “[The algorithm] will look at your values and how all of those interact, and [from there] it will look for your ideal partner.” The Marriage Pact works with school partners to tailor the process to each school. While the majority of the questions remain the same across colleges, local students like Coleman help select a few key questions based on the culture of their campus. The Middlebury Marriage Pact, for example, asked students if they agreed or disagreed with the statement “I keep some ‘friends’ here at Midd because they might be useful to me in the future.” The Marriage Pact normally contains a question that allows participants to indicate their racial preferences for their matches, which is designed to protect BIPOC participants from racist matches. However, the Middlebury Marriage Pact decided to remove this question for fear that it might inadvertently invalidate or make students of color feel unwelcome on Middlebury’s predominantly white campus, feedback that Steimle has heard from other schools. “The Marriage Pact looks to find the best match possible for each person here on campus,” their online explainer reads. “How devastating would it be if a BIPOC student were matched with someone who was outright racist toward them? The most important thing the Marriage Pact questionnaire can do is discover discrimination like this privately, so that students won’t be exposed to it when they get their match.” Liza Obel-Omia ’21 is excited to receive her match, but worries that, without this option, her match may be expecting a white partner and be disappointed to find out she’s Black or may fetishize her for her skin color, traits she says are easier to ferret out and avoid when meeting people in person. The MMP does allow participants to exclude potential matches based on religion and political affiliation and asks heterosexual participants if they would feel comfortable having gay children. Similar to the original race question, the idea is to protect LGBTQ+ participants from matching with someone homophobic, according to Steimle. The participants Much of the school partners’ job is to create excitement surrounding the Marriage Pact and a fun user experience. In the week leading up to matches, Midd Twitter buzzed with Marriage Pact memes and jokes. On March 13, participants received emails with their “hot takes,” the answers they gave that were the most different from the rest of the school population. Tuesday evening, as participants anxiously waited for their matches to be revealed the next day, they received an email with their matches initials and a taunting message to “stay tuned for matches tomorrow night.” https://twitter.com/miishapokladd/status/1370826401998372870?s=21 A self-described hopeless romantic, Obel-Omia is still hopeful that the Marriage Pact can help her find “the one.” “I think it’d be a really cute story: to say, ‘Yeah, we both randomly did this thing, and we are meant to be together according to science,’” she said. “I think that's pretty romantic.” Obel-Omia came to Middlebury expecting to meet her spouse here. Her father, a Middlebury alumnus, met her mother at a summer program at Bread Loaf School of English, and many of his old college buddies met their spouses at Middlebury as well. Olin Robison, the Middlebury college president from 1975 to 1990, used to greet new classes at commencement by telling everyone: "Look to your left, look to your right: Two out of three of you will marry a Middlebury graduate." According to an article in The New York Times, he took credit for popularizing the myth that two-thirds of Middlebury graduates marry each other. In reality, between 1915 and 1991, 17% of alumni married other Middlebury graduates, although love was in the air in 1929 when that figure jumped to 29%. Calin Laine ’23 and Keith Chatinover ’22.5 have both resisted the romantic pull of the Middlebury marriage myth and were both more skeptical about the survey’s chance of success. Laine doubts he’ll find his future spouse, but he is looking forward to the opportunity to make a new friend. “Best case scenario, maybe I meet somebody new who's interesting and cool,” he said. “Given what's going on with Covid and stuff, it's cool to have the opportunity to get to know somebody who I potentially have never even heard of.” After initially dismissing the Marriage Pact out of hand, Chatinover was drawn in by the Twitter buzz. He filled out the survey Thursday night with several of his close contacts as they laughed over the questions, drank beer and celebrated the upcoming weekend. For him, falling in love or even having a crush is about intimate personal connection, so he doubts he’ll find his soulmate from an algorithm. But even the staunch cynics are not completely without hope. “If I somehow meet the person I end up being with from this, I'm gonna have a lot of crow to eat,” he said. Correction: An earlier version of this article mistakenly used the phrase "sexual preference" to refer to sexual orientation. An earlier version also misspelled the name of Olin Robison, the Middlebury College president from 1975 to 1990. These errors have been corrected.
Which Way Home? International students navigate the pandemic world
(03/10/21 1:30am)
When Middlebury suddenly announced it was shuttering the campus on March 10, 2020, international students were faced with a difficult decision. Should they stay or should they go home? Where would they live and how would they get home? The decisions were particularly difficult for first years, who had only just begun to adjust to life in the U.S. Here are the experiences of three of them. Assif-Ul Islam Asif-Ul Islam ’23 told his parents not to pick him up at the airport. But after not seeing their son for 448 days, “they couldn’t stay away.” When school suddenly closed in March, there were no flights to Islam’s home country of Bangladesh, so he decided to stay in the U.S. He had no idea it would be almost 15 months before he saw his family again. His roommate’s family hosted him in the Cleveland, Ohio home throughout the duration of the spring semester. When new ICE guidelines threw student visa-holder’s statuses into question, Islam worried about getting stranded in Bangladesh should he return home. He decided to stay in the U.S. over the summer, renting an apartment in San Antonio, Texas. His twice daily calls home did little to assuage worries. When his parents got sick and his dad’s garment factory suffered during the economic downturn, he could do nothing to help. And as cases continued to rise in the U.S., his parents also could do nothing to protect their son. Islam had never spent such a long time away from home. He missed the comfort and ease of speaking his own language. He missed the buzz of Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh where he grew up. He missed the cram of the city’s 18 million residents filling the streets and the chatter of friendly passerbys greeting each other. He missed his family and his childhood friend and surrogate brother, Meshqua. And he missed seeing his now 12-year-old sister grow up. After hugging his crying mom in the airport and traveling 20 minutes home, the reunion came as a shock to Islam. “I was like who was that? She doesn’t look like my baby sister anymore,” he said. “Her voice has changed. The way she talks has changed.” After over a year of longing for home, living in Dhaka again was an adjustment. The busy city he had missed so much kept him awake at night as cars honked outside his window until the wee hours of the morning. But slowly, he grew accustomed once again. After a month at home, Islam rested easy. Lynn Chai When Lynn Chai ’23 found out about the school closing, she knew she had to act fast. Though it was 3 a.m. back home in Shanghai her parents were awake and worrying as they tried to buy plane tickets together over the phone. She managed to book a flight from Burlington to JFK and from there to home on March 15. She made it to Burlington Airport without a hitch, but everything went downhill from there. Her flight was delayed for five hours, hours she spent anxiously checking on her connecting flight to Shanghai and watching the layover window she had carefully built shrink bit by bit. When she arrived in JFK at last, she rushed off the plane and caught the shuttle to her departing terminal. As she waited in the shuttle car, a man approached her and asked, “Are you from Wuhan? Are you Chinese?” When Chai didn’t respond, he pushed her six bags off her luggage trolley in anger. By the time she snapped out of her shocked silence, the train doors were opening and the man was gone. She hastily gathered her luggage and rushed to the check-in counter, only to find her plane had stopped boarding. Feeling defeated, she called home to tell her parents what had happened and figure out her next moves. Anxious and shaken by the incident with the strange man, Chai held in her tears. “I had to pretend to be fine,” she said. “If I cried, it would make them more anxious.” Chai spent a panicked night in the airport hotel refreshing pages over and over to find another flight home. At first, it seemed she wouldn’t be able to return until April and May even if she could afford the soaring ticket prices. Luckily, a last minute cancelation gave Chai a chance, and, though she had to spend eight times the usual price, she pounced on the opportunity. She was going home at last. Patrick Wachira Patrick Wachira ’23 knew he couldn’t go home. He spent the week of March 10 meeting with his commons dean, Scott Barnicle over and over again to try and figure out his next steps and get approval to stay on campus. When he found out the college was letting him stay, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. At first, the campus was eerily quiet, filled with “the air of emptiness of a place used to having a lot of people.” But the 120 students who stayed through the spring semester quickly adjusted and made their own little community. The shrinking population gave those left on campus more opportunities to connect. As Vermont’s mud season gave way to a gloriously green spring, Wachira did most of his school work outside with friends, both new and old, “half working, half talking with friends and basking in the sun.” They went on near daily bike rides across campus and took frequent forays to Hannaford for grocery hauls, returning to the Forest kitchens to cook fried chicken, fish soup and any variety of recipes they found online. It was an almost idyllic time in many ways, but, though he was enjoying campus life, Wachira worried for his home country. As Kenya’s economy took a hit from prolonged lockdowns, desperation increased back home and crime rates rose in the capital city of Nairobi. He watched the news daily and called home often to see how his family was doing. After attending boarding school, Wachira was used to spending long periods of time away from home. He frequently flipped through old diary entries of days spent with family, memories he’d stored in anticipation of not seeing his family for months. After dinner, he often made himself a cup of tea, a tradition at his grandmother’s house. Though separated by over 7,000 miles, Wachira never struggled to “feel the love” of his family back home as he surrounded himself with the love of a new family on campus.
Board of Trustees approves tuition hike, takes steps toward balanced budget
(03/04/21 11:00am)
After Middlebury took a financial hit due to the pandemic, the Board of Trustees met in the last week of January to establish a plan for financial stability. The Board of Trustees established three main conditions the institution must fulfill to achieve financial stability: operating at a surplus by fiscal year 2022, growing the endowment and paying off half of the institution's outstanding debts. To achieve those goals, the board increased tuition and fees by 2.5%, limited the endowment draw to 5% and instructed the administration to begin making principal payments on half of the institution's outstanding debt. Middlebury will not make any decisions about extending or ending the wage and hiring freezes until May. Generating a surplus Middlebury has operated at a budgetary deficit since 2012. When the board appointed President Laurie Patton in 2016, they established the “Road to a Sustainable Future,” a plan to break even on the budget by FY21. Middlebury was on track to achieve that goal by FY21 before the pandemic arrived, but instead closed out FY20 with a $11.6 million dollar deficit due to the pandemic. Middlebury initially projected a $18.5 million deficit for fiscal year 2021 — which stretches from July 2019 to July 2020 — but the latest projection estimates a $10.2 million deficit instead. Middlebury experienced worse-than-expected losses from the shuttered schools abroad and a lack of revenue from room and board fees for remote students. However, unexpected “federal and state support for Covid-19 related costs and lost revenues” decreased operating costs and better performances by the summer Language Schools and the Monterey Institute made a significant difference, Executive Vice President for Finance and Administration David Provost said in an email to The Campus. Despite recent losses, the board decided to resume the effort to balance the budget in the January meeting. They instructed the institution to produce a small surplus by 2022 and operate at a surplus of at least 1% by FY23, or $2.6 million. A major part of balancing the budget relies on the college raising tuition. Though the college’s 3.25% tuition hike for the 2020-2021 academic year was met with staunch protest from students, parents, faculty and staff, the board decided to raise tuition and fees by another 2.5% for the upcoming year. Students will pay a total of $76,820 — $59,330 in tuition, $17,050 for room and board, and a $440 student activities fee. But tuition increases alone will not close the budgetary gap, at least as the college defines it. The college has defined the deficit based on the total revenues, which include the annual amount drawn from the endowment. If the college kept the draw on the endowment to a consistent figure closer to the endowment’s actual rate of growth — between 6 and 7% on average — instead of limiting the draw to 5%, the college may well be operating at a surplus instead, according to Professor of Economics Peter Matthews, who serves as co-chair of the the Middlebury chapter of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP) Finance Committee and as a member of its Executive Committee. A hard cap on the endowment draw artificially limits the resources available, a decision that may force the college to make unnecessary cuts and sacrifices in the future, according to Matthews. “It's one thing to say that the sacrifice is absolutely essential to the well-functioning of the institution,” Matthews said. “But I am at the least incredibly uncomfortable with sacrifice on the altar of some arbitrary definition of deficit and surplus.” Limiting the endowment draw Between July 1 and Dec. 31, 2020 — the start of FY21 and the end of calendar year 2020 — the endowment grew by more than 15.4%, a $170.21 million increase. The institution is still awaiting information on the fourth-quarter returns, but Provost estimates that growth may actually exceed 16% or even 17%, making it the largest growth in more than a decade and more than twice the rate of growth in 2019. As of Feb. 2, Provost estimated that the total value of the endowment exceeded $1.25 billion. The annual endowment draw is calculated based on a rolling average of the endowment balance for the previous three calendar years. The 5% Middlebury will draw for FY22 will come from the mean size of the endowment over 2018, 2019 and 2020 as of Dec. 31 2020. This strategy ensures that an individual year’s spike or decrease does not cause massive fluctuations in the amount of the draw, according to Provost. Middlebury increased the endowment draw to 7.5% in FY21 in response to the pandemic, but the board elected to limit the endowment draw to 5% for FY22 and beyond. Middlebury assumes that the endowment will grow an average of 6 or 7% annually over a 10 year period. A 5% draw would therefore allow the endowment to grow by 1 or 2% each year, according to Provost. Financial mismanagement by the previous administration ate through the institution's unrestricted reserves — the portion of the endowment not earmarked for specific purposes or programs by either donors or the board — which currently amount to just $4.7 million. Provost said the institution has to grow the endowment so it will be prepared for the next “rainy day” after the pandemic ends. “The endowment is a multi-generational investment tool to support multiple generations of students and programs,” Provost said in an email to The Campus. “It is not a bank account, and we cannot use it to solve the dilemma of the college living beyond its means for the last decade nor solve the short-term strains of the pandemic.” But Matthews questions why Middlebury is trying to grow the endowment for a future rainy day while the institution is currently in the midst of a crisis. “It's important that we preserve a Middlebury for the next generation that is at least as good as the one that you're enjoying,” Matthews said. “But it works in both directions. [Current students are] entitled to a Middlebury that is at least as good as the Middlebury that future generations are going to enjoy.” The AAUP advocated for an annual endowment draw of at least 7% in a statement published in May of 2020. A draw of that size would keep pace with the endowment’s average yearly growth. While the endowment would not grow, it also wouldn't shrink, fulfilling what Matthews views as the extent of the institution’s duties to future generations at this current moment. “Especially during the period of Covid, [limiting the endowment draw to] five or even 6% effectively punishes this generation [for the sake] of future generations,” Matthews said. “[Current students are] one of the generations that count when we talk about intergenerational equity.” Repaying debt Rather than increase the endowment draw, the Board of Trustees during their summer meeting authorized the institution to borrow up to $30 million over the next five to seven years to make up for budget shortfalls. The institution will decide on how much money they will borrow in April or May, according to Provost. Provost estimates that the loans will have interest rates between 1.75% and 2.25%. However, the real interest rate — what the institution will actually have to pay back after adjusting for inflation, typically around 2% — may very well be negative, meaning that the institution would pay less than they originally borrowed, according to Matthews. “If one needs to borrow in order to cover shortfalls, this is not a bad time to do so,” Matthews said. Even as the institution is proposing taking out more loans, the board’s latest plans prioritize paying back its current $268,093,000 debt. Rather than continue to pay only interest and defer payments on the principal of the loan, Middlebury amortized half of the outstanding debt, meaning the institution will make principal payments of $5 million to $13 million annually over the next ten years. Provost believes that continuing to refinance the loans, even given current financial hardships, would not be “fiduciarily responsible” and unfairly punish future generations. “With interest rates so low, some would argue that we should push out debt and not pay back the debt, just keep rolling it over,” Provost said in an email to The Campus. Instead, Provost advocates for paying back debt taken on to acquire assets as they are being used. This way, future generations are not burdened with the responsibility to pay for amenities that previous generations enjoyed. The board also authorized renovations to Warner and Voter Halls as well as Dana Auditorium in Sunderland Hall in their January meeting. Construction is set to begin this summer and is projected to cost $10.8 million. The majority of those funds come from 2010 bonds, which have to be used within 36 months of the date the institution refinanced them last year. The decision to focus on paying back debts and continuing with large-scale infrastructure renovations directly contradicts the AAUP’s call to “prioritize people before buildings and debt retirement” in their May 2020 statement. “It is people, not capital assets, that define the Middlebury community, and funds otherwise set aside for infrastructure or accelerated debt repayment should be diverted in a crisis,” the statement said. Middlebury has yet to make any decisions about many of the people-oriented issues the AAUP referred to in their priorities — including lifting the hiring freeze, adjusting faculty and staff compensation and ending or extending wage continuity. Provost said such decisions will come in May, when the institution does its normal budgetary planning for the coming fiscal year. Moving forward The Board of Trustees’ announcement came as “a complete surprise” to faculty, according to Matthews. Not only were they not consulted or part of the decision making process at all, faculty were not even informed that these decisions were being made. Matthews views these financial decisions as central to the values Middlebury prioritizes, values which he says the entire Middlebury community — faculty, staff and students included — should be a part of determining. “We still need a conversation about what our common goals are and what kind of financial practices would allow us to achieve those goals that aren't unilateral and don't presuppose some assumptions about the way financial markets work that's completely untethered from reality,” Matthews said. The AAUP will meet in March to discuss the Board of Trustees’ announcement and to develop a formal response.
Jack Langerman ’19.5 memorialized through creation of Sports Innovation Lab internship
(03/04/21 10:59am)
After Jack Langerman’s death on Jan. 17, his former co-workers at Sports Innovation Lab gathered on Zoom to grieve and share memories: the days when the company president teased him for having a worse throwing arm than “the old man,” the time Jack ran out and bought Pop-Tarts for a distraught friend, and the fact that he was so proud of working for the company that he helped recruit another Middlebury student after he left. Through the tears and laughter, a plan began to emerge to honor his legacy and keep his memory alive at the company and at Middlebury. The Sports Innovation Lab, in collaboration with the Center for Careers and Internships (CCI) and the Langerman family, created the Jack Langerman Internship. The internship will accept one Middlebury student each summer for a two-month paid position at the sports marketing analytics startup where Jack worked during the summers of 2018 and 2019. In the two weeks the application was open, 30 students applied for the summer 2021 position. The partnership with the CCI only officially extends over the next three years, but Sports Innovation Lab president and co-founder Josh Walker ’96.5 hopes that the position will continue long past then. “Selfish[ly], we're trying to just keep him,” Walker said. “Now we have a tool to make sure that future Middlebury students say his name and know why they’re [at the company]. It'll make us remember Jack every year and keep him a part of our company . . . [because] I don't want someone like Jack Langerman to be forgotten.” Jack’s lifelong love for and dedication to sports started long before he began working at the Sports Innovation Lab. From the moment Jack first entered Fenway Park at age three, he was hooked on baseball. It was a game for the ages: the Yankees and Red Sox were playing off for a chance at the 1999 American League Championship Series with pitching legends Roger Clemens and Pedro Martinez facing off. Jack’s parents, Scott Langerman ’87 and Vicki Langerman, were determined not to miss a second of it. Evidently, young Jack agreed. His parents had set up multiple contingency plans of relatives and friends who could pick him up if the normally squirmy toddler decided to throw a fuss, but “from the first pitch to the last out,” Jack didn’t move a muscle. Jack’s love for baseball eventually led him to walk onto Middlebury’s baseball team, where he played at first base his freshman year. However, sophomore year, Jack left competitive play and spoke to the new head coach, Mike Leonard, about creating a position for himself where he could still be part of the team and contribute, even if he wasn’t on the field. Jack served in the newly created role of director of baseball operations for his last three years at Middlebury. Jack went to every practice and game. He helped as an assistant coach in the dugout, welcomed and mentored new players, scouted teams, analyzed players skills and weaknesses, helped develop strategy and more. But Leonard said Jack’s biggest contribution came in the team culture he helped form. “Our program would not be what it is today without Jack’s influence on it,” Leonard was quoted as saying in a campus-wide email. “His ability to bring people together, foster team cohesion, and represent the program’s highest ideals in everything he did set him apart. He was kind, thoughtful, and a gifted communicator who welcomed new members of the team to campus and gave them an instant support system. The relationships he built strengthened connections within our group and made everyone who was a part of it feel like a family.” Jack’s time as the director of baseball operations gave him insight into what he could do within the sports industry off the field. His search for a career path led him to the Sports Innovation Lab, where he hoped to build a resume and set of skills that could serve as a launching point. “His [dream job] would have been General Manager of the Red Sox,” Scott Langerman said. “I'm not sure if he ever would have accomplished that, but it would have been fun to watch him try.” Scott Langerman hopes that those who receive the Jack Langerman Internship will learn to love sports and experience the industry in all of its forms, just as Jack did. “If somebody walks away from the experience and [thinks], ‘Wow, now I understand why Jack made such an impact. I understand why he enjoyed it so much, and I understand why he loved this industry,’ that, to me, is a win,” Scott Langerman said. “And hopefully, they'll walk away from him wanting to do something similar for somebody else.” For many at the Sports Innovation Lab, the internship is a way of thanking Jack for the multitude of ways he helped the company and its employees. Molly Tissenbaum, one of his former coworkers, recalled being visibly distraught at work one day after her visa application was rejected. Jack, who sat across from her, noticed immediately. When she began crying after telling him what was wrong, he ran off in search of a way to comfort her in the form of her favorite snack. “The next thing that I knew, he had left the office and come back with a bag full of Pop-Tarts and just put them on a table in front of me. That week he was constantly checking in on me and making sure that I was OK and fully stocked with Pop-Tarts. And that, to me was the epitome of what Jack was all about,” Tissenbaum said. “He did whatever he could do to make somebody else smile or feel better.” When Eliza Van Voorhis ’21.5, the Sport Innovation Lab’s current intern, reached out to Jack for advice on applying to the company, she was blown away by the outpouring of support she received in return. He immediately met with her at lunch to answer her questions, give advice and connect her with people from the company. After his passing, Van Voorhis spent an afternoon scrolling through their text exchanges and was astonished to see the volume of messages of support he sent, checking in about her application and helping her troubleshoot until she got the job. One of Van Voorhis’ biggest regrets is not properly thanking Jack for all his help and generosity. She hopes helping to set up this internship in his honor can serve as a way to demonstrate her gratitude, even if he isn’t here to receive it. While she recused herself from participating in the final decision-making process, Van Voorhis coordinated with the CCI to create the internship and Handshake entry and helped schedule interviews and coordinate with the 30 applicants. Tissenbaum hopes that the first recipient of the Jack Langerman Internship can help find the next recipient and so on in a chain of the kind of acts of service for which Jack was known. “He was a huge proponent of paying it forward, and we felt that this was a really nice way to pay his legacy forward and keep people from Midd, which is something that he was so passionate about and that he clearly loved, close to us and our company,” Tissenbaum said. “This seemed like a way that we could continue to keep him top of mind, and that we could remind ourselves that he's still having an impact on not just us as individuals, but as our company as a whole.” Jack’s family was heartwarmed, if not surprised, by the depth of the connections he formed with his former coworkers. Jack loved people and constantly sought out connection with anyone and everyone. For eight years, Jack participated in a fantasy football pool with the Langermans’ 80-year-old neighbor, trading yard chores and Red Sox T-shirts as prizes for the winner and the loser’s forfeit. Once he had befriended someone, Jack held on. Jack was born in Atlanta and lived there until he turned three, when his family moved to Maryland. Jack kept in touch with the women who worked at the daycare he attended in Atlanta for his whole life. When he traveled with the baseball team to Emory University for a game and spring break trip, he invited them to the game and hung out with them afterwards, despite not having seen them for nearly 20 years. “I think Jack can be described most simply as everyone’s friend. It didn’t matter who it was — the 90-year-old neighbor next door, the quiet kid in the back of the class, the friend of a friend of a friend — Jack approached each person with the same non-judgement and genuine interest,” his sister, Jenny Langerman ’22, wrote in an email to The Campus. “He had a knack for making people feel special, for making them feel welcome and wanted, for seeing in them what they have trouble seeing in themselves. He was a master of the masses and a great connector of people, and everything was a little brighter with him next to you.” In the wake of his passing, the Langerman family has created the Jack Langerman Community Foundation. While they are still formulating plans for the foundation, they hope it can serve as another way of carrying on his legacy. “There are so many things that Jack was so passionate about, so many things that he would have done if he was given more time,” Scott Langerman said. “We feel that the world is a far lesser place without somebody driving those things. We want to drive those and really take care of the people he would have taken care of and take care of the places that were so important to him and shaped him.” Scott Langerman is also working to establish an additional summer sports internship for Middlebury students in Jack’s honor. For more information on the Jack Langerman Community Foundation, please email jacklangermanfoundation@gmail.com.
Middlebury Schools Abroad project $3.5–3.7 million deficit
(01/28/21 10:59am)
The college canceled its spring abroad program in Japan on Friday, marking the last of the 16 schools abroad to make the decision to close. While the schools typically generate over a million dollars in surplus, the college is projecting a $3.5–3.7 million dollar net loss from the schools abroad alone in the Fiscal Year 2021. This loss comprises more than one-third of the latest $10.2 million deficit projection, according to Executive Vice President for Finance and Administration David Provost. In pre-pandemic years, the Middlebury schools abroad program has typically enrolled 700 students annually, accounting for $10–12 million in tuition revenue. Operating costs have amounted to about $9.5–10 million each year, and the collective Middlebury schools abroad have routinely generated an annual surplus of $1 million, according to Dean of International Programs Carlos Vélez. Though the schools abroad are closed for in-person instruction, Provost estimates that they will generate roughly $1 million in total revenue through FY2021 in tuition from online classes and internships offered through the schools. While not having to host students cut operating costs in half, Middlebury’s commitment to wage continuity for all of its employees means the college will still spend an estimated $5.2 million on schools abroad in FY2021, according to Provost. Middlebury schools abroad directly employs 47 full-time staff members across its 16 schools, all of whom are included under Middlebury’s commitment to maintain wage continuity through June 30. They primarily serve in administrative roles as directors, assistant directors, deans and housing and program coordinators, Vélez said in an email to The Campus. In countries that offer them, the schools have availed themselves of government-subsidized furlough programs to cut costs while still maintaining wage continuity, according to Provost. The rest of the schools abroad staff are primarily contracted on a short-term basis according to program enrollment. These positions, which include course instructors, orientation assistants and program tutors, among others, do not fall under the umbrella of the college’s wage continuity pledge. As a result, schools have been able to cut costs by not hiring anyone to fill those positions, according to Vélez. The remaining skeleton staff of the schools continue to work hard despite closures. Staff spent much of the fall semester trying to plan and make possible school reopenings in the spring. Middlebury had hoped to run at least 75% of the programs but ultimately decided to keep them shuttered. The staff will resume planning in anticipation of restarting their programs in the fall of 2021. In the meantime, several schools are offering online classes, including seven courses that were available to Middlebury undergraduates in the fall, as well as facilitating and coordinating remote internships. Vélez said 83 students — including some graduate students — enrolled in online schools abroad offerings this fall, and the schools plan to hold more than 30 remote courses over J-Term and spring. Some schools have also hosted activities for students within their respective language departments, keeping the remaining staff busy, according to Vélez. Vélez said Middlebury fully intends to reopen the majority of the schools abroad in the fall of 2021. The college considers a number of factors before deciding to open a school for in-person instruction, including the state of the pandemic in host countries, travel restrictions and availability of medical care and appropriate housing options. “The safety of the students in our schools is our central consideration in making these decisions, followed then by our ability to maintain the core academic mission of the programs,” Vélez wrote in an email to The Campus. However, even if some schools cannot reopen for the foreseeable future, the college has no plans to make any closures permanent. “There are no discussions right now about backing away from study abroad. There are no discussions about closing programs,” Provost said. Although the Middlebury schools abroad as a whole are profitable, some of the individual schools do not turn a profit, even during pre-pandemic times. Provost and Vélez emphasized that the schools are considered a collective regarding finances, so Middlebury does not consider the profitability of any individual school. “This overall financial picture allows us to place the importance of offering options in specific languages and of having a presence in certain regions of the world ahead of revenue considerations in making decisions about each school,” Vélez said. The college remains committed to ensuring the quality of a Middlebury education, including the opportunity to study abroad, despite the financial difficulties posed by the pandemic, according to Provost. “One of the key pillars of [what makes Middlebury, Middlebury] is our distinctive global network, and study abroad plays a critical component of that,” Provost said. “Our thinking this year has been, we can manage through this once-in-a-century pandemic. But it will not change our commitment, or the importance of a Middlebury education, inclusive of that global network.”
College revokes Giuliani’s honorary degree
(01/13/21 2:48am)
Middlebury revoked Rudolph Giuliani’s 2005 honorary Doctor of Laws degree today in light of his role in fomenting the violent insurrection at the United States Capitol on Jan. 6. Giuliani, President Donald Trump’s personal lawyer and former mayor of New York City, has spent months pushing the disproven conspiracy theory that Trump received more votes than President-elect Joe Biden in the November election. After repeatedly failing to provide evidence of voter fraud and overturn the election in court, he called for a “trial by combat” at the “March to Save America” rally in front of the White House on Jan. 6 in support of Trump. Later that day, the crowd violently stormed the capitol in a riot that left five dead. Middlebury announced it was formally considering revoking the honorary degree on Sunday just hours after The Campus published an editorial calling for it to do so. “Earlier this week, I spoke of our responsibility for safeguarding and improving our fragile democracy, especially those of us privileged to be in higher education,” President Laurie Patton said in reference to a campus-wide email sent after the violent insurgence at the Capitol. “As we pursue these goals, we must not be indifferent to the actions of those who are actively working against them, and opposed to our institutional values.” Immediately after announcing that Giuliani’s degree had been revoked, an all-student email from Dean of Students Derek Doucet warned students of the “volatile climate” surrounding this issue, and offered resources for those who felt threatened or were in need of support.
‘Frustrating and demoralizing’: Trans students struggle to have preferred names recognized on Middlebury’s online systems
(12/03/20 11:00am)
Choosing and beginning to use a new name is an important milestone in the transitioning process for many transgender individuals. For trans students at Middlebury, that process is complicated by the bureaucratic ordeal of navigating the college’s many online platforms. In an ideal system, the preferred name and pronouns a student registers in BannerWeb would carry over to the college’s other online platforms. In reality, this information flows inconsistently and sometimes does not flow at all, making it incredibly difficult for trans students to fully transition at Middlebury, according to Director of Education for Equity and Inclusion Renee Wells. Legal names — typically the name a person is given at birth — are those that appear on government-issued documents. Changing them can prove an expensive and arduous process, depending on the state. Many trans students have yet to change their legal name because of these difficulties and because doing so could require them to come out in ways they may not feel ready or safe to do. Preferred names refer to names some trans people choose as a way to better encapsulate their identity in the meantime. Some platforms, like the students’ email accounts, automatically update once students change their names in BannerWeb. Others, like Canvas, require students to change their names on-site. Still others neither update from BannerWeb nor allow students to update them individually. StarRez, which manages rooming assignments, falls into this category. Students often use the platform to see who their roommate will be, which can inadvertently out trans students, especially first years. A.S. ’23 came out and began transitioning in high school, looking forward to a more “normal” college experience where he could live on a gendered floor and interact with people like his cisgender peers without having to be completely open or come out to everyone. Like many of his fellow first years, A.S. waited in nervous anticipation to find out his future roommate. When he checked StarRez and saw that he was listed with his legal name, that excitement turned to sickening dread as he realized that this stranger — whose attitudes were unknown and with whom he would be living in close quarters — already knew he was trans. “I shouldn’t need to come out to anybody without making that decision for myself,” A.S. said. “But especially to people I live with and work with and who I just don’t know how they’ll handle it if they find out I’m trans. That, I think, is the most important recognition of privacy and responsibly using students' information.” While other first years idly chatted and got to know each other in hall meetings, A.S. sideyed his roommate and first year counselor, wondering who exactly knew and what their reactions might be. While other first years nervously shifted in their seats during their first college classes, A.S. worried that his professors might inadvertently out him to the class during roll call. While other first years stressed about registration, making friends and forging their identities in this new environment, A.S. feared for his safety. Students also cannot change their names on Presence, the platform student organizations use to take attendance, organize activities and manage their members. When student leaders search for students using their emails to add them to the organization’s page, they immediately see the students’ legal names. Presence outed A.S. to several peers against his will, uncomfortably expanding the network of people who know that he is trans. The platform hosting the mail center’s data, the Center for Careers and Internships, and Advocate, the platform through which the college processes care and discipline reports, all fall into this category as well. This means that trans students often receive packages labeled by the mail center with their legal names or letters from the college addressed to their legal names. Repeatedly facing their legal names and incorrect pronouns causes substantial harm to trans students, many of whom feel invalidated or stigmatized by these experiences, according to Wells. For some trans students, seeing their legal name also brings up painful memories of family who do not accept who they are and weaponize their names to repeatedly reject their identity. This harm is compounded by the inconsistency of college platforms. Trans students never know when their legal name will appear and are often blindsided and unprepared for the harm it causes, according to Charlie R. ’21, president of Middlebury’s Trans Affinity Group. The increasingly online world of the Covid-19 pandemic has only heightened the difficulties trans students typically face when changing their names and pronouns. Students inevitably have had to spend more time on online platforms both inside and outside the college system, forcing trans students to encounter their legal name more often, according to Charlie. Correcting these issues often involves outing themselves to professors, classmates, administrators, human resources employees or Information and Technology Services (ITS) staff. For example, CourseHub, one of the platforms that hosts class rosters, experiences problems with displaying trans students’ correct names and pronouns. In the past, it consistently failed to update students' names. Now it often lists students’ preferred names in parentheses after their legal name, according to Assistant Vice President and Chief Information Officer Vijay Menta. Due to this set-up, professors who use these rosters to take attendance or call on students may misgender or use trans students’ legal names rather than their prefered names. This mismatch forces students to correct their professors, often in front of an entire class, effectively outing them as trans, according to Wells. While medical, financial or student records often necessitate the use of legal names, many internal documents and interactions do not require them, even in these departments. Neither staff nor trans students have always received clear guidance on when they absolutely must use their legal name. This uncertainty creates issues, especially regarding students’ health care. Appointments, emails and discussions between students and Middlebury’s various health care providers can legally occur under students’ preferred names but do not always, according to Wells. Francis S. ’23, who uses they/them pronouns, scheduled an appointment with MiddTelehealth this semester. Though they indicated their preferred name and pronouns when they created an account, their healthcare provider repeatedly misgendered them and wrote the appointment report using incorrect pronouns. A month later, Francis arrived at Parton for their mandatory flu shot and identified themselves by their preferred name. When the medical provider couldn’t find their appointment, Francis had to introduce themselves by their legal name, an incident they say many of their trans friends also experienced. Repeated instances of being misgendered or referred to by their legal names reinforce an oftentimes troubled relationship with healthcare and discourage trans students from seeking help when they need it, according to Charlie. Parton currently requires that students identify themselves by their legal names at appointment check in, though the center plans to work with their electronic health record to alter this process in the future, according to Associate Executive Director of the Center for Health and Wellness Barbara McCall. Health Services had never provided services on such a large scale before Covid-19 necessitated mandatory flu shots and was unprepared for the nuances of trans healthcare. McCall pledged to address this issue. “Misgendering, deadnaming and other kinds of identity invalidation can significantly affect people’s relationships with medical and mental healthcare, including not seeking services when needed,” McCall wrote in an email to The Campus. “The Center for Health and Wellness is committed to on-going training, systems evaluation and the integration of student feedback to meet the healthcare needs of Middlebury students, including honoring and respecting their identities.” Healthcare and financial platforms also are not required to display students’ legal names in their on-site interfacing, but many do anyway. Each time Francis opens Oracle — the platform that hosts student employment payments, records and communication — they are greeted by a large banner on the top of the screen referring to them by their legal name. When Residential Life sent an internal roster to student employees, they pulled names from Oracle and listed Francis by their legal name, outing Francis to their supervisors and peers. Some online platforms have internal information flow problems as well. Even after successfully changing their name and pronouns in Handshake, Francis still receives emails from the platform with subject lines like “[legal name], we think you’ll like these new opportunities.” These display issues not only force trans students to confront their legal name more often, they create added stress as students worry their peers might see these sites or emails open on their computer. A.S. remains constantly vigilant while navigating Middlebury’s platforms. Everytime he opens a problem platform or email, he looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s alone, and he never leaves those sites or emails open on an unattended computer or phone. Even when college systems do allow trans students to change their name, they inconsistently display them. After updating their names in BannerWeb, some trans students’ emails and school directory listings continue to display their legal name and place their preferred name afterwards in parenthesis, as if it were a nickname. Displays like those effectively out trans students with every email they send or recieve, especially when either their legal or preferred name carries a strong traditional association with one gender, according to Wells. Because the college assumed that all of the systems for changing students’ names functioned correctly, no complete resource guide exists to guide trans students through the arduous process of changing their name throughout the many online platforms. Students must hunt down the individual instances where their legal name appears and attempt to change them one by one, Wells said. Francis estimates that they have sent more than 10 emails to try to correct the name displayed in Oracle, to no avail. "I had so many emails back and forth with HR that I just sort of gave up," Francis said. “It's really frustrating and demoralizing . . . [and] it takes a lot of time that I could be spending doing what I actually like doing. . . They see it as a minor inconvenience, but, for me, it's just another reminder that the world is hard for trans people.” Many trans students also see the challenges they face while trying to change their name in Middlebury’s online systems as an indication that the college does not fully welcome or accept them. Every time Francis sees their legal name or has to correct someone, “it’s another reminder that [they’re] not exactly understood or safe [at Middlebury].” That feeling of exclusion is even greater for students whose genders are not recognized by the college’s platforms at all. Students wishing to change their pronouns in BannerWeb are only given three options: he/him/his, she/her/hers and they/them/theirs. These options exclude genderfluid, bigender, demigender and agender students, among others, as well as those who use neopronouns like xe/xem/xyr. “The institution needs to create space for people and affirm people,” she said. “When we're sending out messages that are invalidating them, we're doing the opposite of that… It creates a lot of harm that's being done by the institution that you've chosen to make your home for four years.” This year, Digital Learning and Inquiry (DLINQ) added pronoun options to Canvas, which will display alongside students’ names on the class roster, discussion posts and other interactions. Students whose preferred pronouns are not included in the drop-down menu can submit a consultation request form to customize their pronouns, according to Heather Stafford, a DLINQ instructional designer. Wells approached ITS in the fall of 2019 to resolve these issues across Middlebury’s various online platforms. According to Menta, ITS has since made some small strides towards fixing the many problems, including creating space in CourseHub to display students’ preferred names and pronouns, but much of the problem remains unresolved. “There is no unilateral fix that will resolve all the existing errors,” Menta said. “There are many systems that need to be coordinated and important issues of accessibility and security to be considered as we make changes.” ITS’s former project manager got as far as addressing some small issues and identifying the key problems before he left in January. Unfortunately, the department has been unable to hire his replacement since the college instituted a hiring freeze last spring, and the project fell by the wayside. ITS is committed to addressing this issue “as soon as the pandemic is behind us,” according to Menta. Trans students who are currently forced to navigate the inadequate name-changing system are dissatisfied by Middlebury’s long-term approach to fixing it. “I totally understand that people are spread thin right now, but students still deserve to see their real names (not their given names) on Middlebury platforms,” Francis wrote in an email to The Campus. “When a friend comes to me saying that they want to change their name in Midd's systems, I hate having to tell them that it's an uphill, often impossible battle.” While trans students wait for an institutional fix, they must rely on each other for help navigating this process. For some students, the Trans Affinity Group fills the holes left by the lack of institutional support. Trans students use the meeting space and group chat to troubleshoot the process of changing their name across college systems, spitball name suggestions for transitioning students and provide a safe space and support as they attempt to navigate a college that does not always accommodate or prioritize their needs. “Being trans is beautiful. Being trans is fantastic. Transitioning is hard but has wonderful outcomes,” Francis said. “But [difficulties with updating my name on college platforms] are still a reminder that institutions...are not set up to make sense of who I am.” Editor’s note: Some interviewees have been granted partial anonymity for their own future privacy and protection. A.S. ’23 is a member of The Campus’ staff. Trans students seeking support can reach Charlie R., president of the Trans Affinity Group, at crouhandeh@middlebury.edu.
Mara Strich ’22 competes for Miss Vermont as Miss Otter Creek
(11/19/20 11:00am)
Cooped up with her family in upstate New York and facing an interminable period of quarantine boredom, Mara Strich ’22 searched for a project she could focus her restless energy on. She decided to apply to the Miss Vermont competition on a whim in early September and was pleasantly surprised when she was notified of her acceptance a week later. With the Miss Addison County title already claimed by another competitor, Strich decided to compete under the title of Miss Otter Creek, to represent her love for and connection to the Middlebury community and the meandering river that runs through it. Strich describes herself as “adventurous” and a lover of learning new skills and frequently takes on passion-projects. Last winter, she learned how to hunt and obtained a license. During her two years at Middlebury, she has taught herself how to ski. In high school, she picked up the timpani and the saxophone on top of continuing to seriously practice the flute. In fact, she is a classically trained flautist and played in Carnegie Hall at the age of 17. Strich views her venture into the world of pageants as the latest in a long string of adventures. The Miss Vermont competition attracted Strich because of its nonprofit status and emphasis on leadership, scholarship and public speaking, as opposed to beauty. Miss Vermont does not have a swimsuit portion, and Strich was not asked to include a photo of herself in her application. “We help develop the next generation of Vermont women leaders. We are here to cultivate personal growth, develop professional skills, promote personal connections to community, encourage the pursuit of education and celebrate the unique talents of each individual,” the home page of Miss Vermont Scholarship Organizations’ website proudly states — all above a big gold button asking visitors to “become a candidate.” While applications are still open, Strich is currently slated to compete against 11 other women between the ages of 17 and 25 in the pageant on May 29 and 30 in 2021. The Miss Vermont competition is just one of the many pageants that fall under the Miss America Organization, which claims to be among the largest providers of scholarship assistance for young women in the world. The winner of each of the competition’s segments receives scholarship prizes, with those who place in the overall competition receiving larger sums. Scholarships include both cash prizes and access to personal and professional development courses. Miss America competitions, including Miss Vermont, are divided into four portions — social impact pitch and on-stage interview, red carpet, talent, and interview. The Miss Vermont Organization hosts biweekly Zoom workshops to help contestants prepare for the competition in May. Strich views these workshops as learning opportunities to grow outside of pageant preparation, and she has already seen their benefits. Shortly before interviewing for summer internships, she attended a public speaking and presentation workshop, which taught her how to talk about herself with confidence and gave her additional interpersonal skills that helped her interviews go smoothly. Besides preparing contestants for the interview portion, workshop topics include crafting a social impact pitch, using social media as a marketing tool and practicing on-stage questions. With so much time to develop her pitch, Strich has yet to finalize her social impact project. For now, she plans to focus on community mentoring, to which she has dedicated her time at Middlebury. She is involved in several on-campus mentoring groups, including Community Friends, Language in Motion and peer mentoring. She also served on Reslife last year and has led Middview trips. Drawing from her previously acquired skills, Strich plans on playing the flute for her talent portion. Should she win in May, Strich would spend the next year as Miss Vermont. Traditionally, Miss Vermont tours the state during her “year of service,” making appearances at events, promoting the Miss Vermont Scholarship Organization and the Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals and conducting her social impact project. Miss Vermont is also obligated to participate in the competition for the Miss America title in December of 2021. The Miss Vermont 2020 competition was canceled due to Covid-19 concerns, and it is unclear whether the 2021 competition will be able to proceed or, if it does, what the year of service would look like. Strich, however, appears unperturbed. With her schedule full of classes, assignments, extracurriculars and pageant preparations, she doesn’t have time to worry about things she can’t control. For now, she’s just happy to be along for the ride.