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(10/14/16 12:27am)
On Friday, Oct. 7, the 39th presentation of the Paul Ward ’25 Memorial Prize acknowledged student members of the Class of 2019 who have produced outstanding essays for their first-year writing classes. Over half of the 50 nominated students and their families gathered in the Twilight Auditorium in the afternoon for the hour-long celebration hosted by Mary Ellen Bertolini, Director of the Writing Center.
The Paul W. Ward ’25 Memorial Prize in Writing was established by Paul Ward’s widow, Dorothy Cate Ward ’28 in 1978. For 38 years, the competition has honored excellent writings by students in their first year at Middlebury College across all academic divisions. As a journalist and diplomatic reporter, Paul Ward valued “precise and exact usage of words, exact meanings, phrases expressed lucidly and gracefully,” as put by Mrs. Ward.
Students’ essays are nominated by faculty annually and evaluated by an interdisciplinary panel of judges.
“We are impressed this year, that among the nominees and winners are students for whom English is just one of the many languages they speak,” Bertolini said in her welcome speech. “And we are impressed at the range of interest that your writing represents.”
Among the nominees’ work were personal narratives, critical arguments, creative works and research papers from various departments.
The honorable mention awards went to Gemma Laurence ’19.5 for “The Morality of Happiness: A Comparison of Aristotelian and Kantian Ethics,” Sarah Rittgers ’19 for “Nationalism and the Collapse of the Soviet Union,” Leo Stevenson ’19.5 for “Natural Environments and Human Cognition” and Kevin Zhang ’19.5 for “Natural Selection for E. coli Resistant to Triclosan and its Effect on Developing Cross Resistance to Therapeutic Antibiotics.”
A mere glimpse of the titles of their work gives a sense of how diverse the topics are. Nominating faculty members presented the certificates, and spoke of the students’ work, highlighting how across different areas of academic study, the awarded essays showed the students’ excellent writing skills of formulating effective and lucid communication.
During the presentations of the two runner-up awards and the first-place award, the audience had the chance to listen to the student recipients read excerpts from their winning essays. Each recipients of the runner-up prize received $250 .
Abbie Hinchman ’19 was awarded the runner-up prize for her paper “The Geography of Occupation: Examining the Use of Location in Out of It,” an essay for her first-year seminar on post-colonial literature.
Sarah Yang ’19.5 won the other runner-up prize for her essay “Space Control in the Soviet Union.” The paper fulfilled the task of applying a Marxist concept to a concrete historical example, assigned by Assistant Professor of Spanish Irina Feldman in her seminar Introduction to Marxism. “I barely corrected it,” said Feldman afterwards, commenting on the Yang’s use of precise and elegant language.
The first-place prize, along with a $500 award, was presented to Caroline Snell ’19, for her essay “Mastery at Any Cost: The Dominance and Damning of Standard Oil”, which she wrote for her first-year seminar Power and Petroleum in Asia taught by Assistant Professor of History Maggie Clinton. Notably, the winning essay was Snell’s very first paper for that class, which showed her talents in writing and her ability to follow guidelines even before coming to college.
According to Professor Clinton, the paper topic was not easy, as it asked students to analyze how the rise of kerosene changed the 19th century, drawing from three challenging books.
“Caroline more than rose to the occasion,” Clinton said, adding that the paper “meticulously captures the nuances of historical change.”
Professor Clinton was optimistic that Snell’s talents will bring her more success.
“If she could write beautifully about kerosene, she could write beautifully about anything,” she said.
Each year, the nominees for the Ward Prize are invited by the Center for Teaching, Learning, and Research to train as peer writing tutors.
“We hope you talented writers of the Class of 2019 will share your gifts with incoming classes,” Bertolini said.
Indeed, the students nominated did gain valuable insights through producing these outstanding essays. For Zhang, recipient of honorable mention prize, taking the time to revise was essential.
“Even though it takes time, it is not until I start editing my work when my ideas and arguments truly become a lot more clear and concise,” Zhang said.
As a couple nominating professors mentioned how the prize recipients were active and considerate contributors to class discussion, talking about ideas seems to be equally important. Shan Zeng ’19, one of the nominees, said that speaking to professors and students about her essay was especially helpful.
“When you are forced to present an idea to someone else, you have to clarify it so that other people understand,” Zeng said. “It’s a very effective way to organize the complicated information.”
On the Friday just before this year’s Fall Family Weekend, many of the award nominees’ families were there to celebrate “some of the best 18- and 19-year-old writers in the country,” as Bertolini put it.
She especially expressed gratitude to the family members, stating, “They were there on the spot to recognize and encourage your very first words from the time you were toddlers, posting your accomplishments on Facebook and refrigerator doors.”
On behalf of the faculty, Bertolini also emphasized the College’s vision of writing in a liberal arts education.
“It is our commitment to encourage you to use writing as part of your own life-long learning process, and thus to make a difference in the world,” she said.
(10/13/16 7:59pm)
I would consider myself a pretty punctual person, but when I arrived at the Robinson Concert Hall for the fourth annual Cocoon, the seats were already brimming to capacity. Only after climbing to the balcony did I manage to find a place to hear the six stories that would enchant and move me that night.
Three students, two Middlebury community members, a Middlebury alumna and a faculty member took the stage on Friday, Oct. 7 to share stories of love, loss, journeys and hijinks in front of a 400-person audience.
As Co-host and Co-producer August Hutchinson ’16.5 described, “Cocoon is meant to be a pleasant and thought-provoking way for individuals to communally spend an evening, and an experience through which they can better understand the minds and lives of others.”
The annual Cocoon event is a quasi-spinoff of the monthly Middlebury Moth-Up events. More formal and with a two- or three-fold increase of attendees, Cocoon invites members of the community, faculty, alumni and students to tell their stories.
Before the show began, a palpable hum of anticipation filled the concert hall. Like many others in the crowd, I had been to the Middlebury Moth-Up before and knew that something wonderful was about to unfold. The Moth events are not usually so well-lit, but they are always just as packed.
We waited patiently for a few minutes before the two co-hosts, Celia Watson ’17 and August Hutchinson ’16.5, strode into the spotlight. Their brief introduction detailed the concept of the Cocoon and the Middlebury Moth-Up: each speaker has ten minutes to tell a story completely from memory. They promised a riveting show, both with their words and the zeal behind them.
And then Watson and Hutchinson, who also served as co-producers along with Tabitha Mueller ’18, welcomed the first speaker.
Rachel Liddell ‘15 detailed her post-graduate job/soul search with the confidence and style of a seasoned speaker – in part due to her previous position as the Middlebury Moth-Up co-leader during her time at the College.
Her journey across the country and back again dredged up her fears about never finding a job she loved. A chance job offer in an industry she had no experience with, however, gave her the opportunity to do what she loves best: tell stories.
Eric Mortensen, the second speaker, introduced himself as “the kid from the Bronx who married the farmer’s daughter.” A Middlebury community member, he presented the story of his own marriage, beginning with a bold phone call that would be answered by his future wife.
For the first time in Moth history, a duo told the next story in tandem. Brother and sister Olivia Wiggins ’18.5 and Kai Wiggins ’16.5 opened their tale with the possibility that they may have the same heart condition that took their father’s life. Together, with wrenching honesty and beautiful strength, they brought the audience back to the unimaginable day they lost their father.
After a brief intermission, community member Elizabeth Christensen recounted her dynamic career as a lighting technician for stage plays. Her run-ins with forty-foot ladders and the CIA painted for us a picture of a woman devoted to her craft and endlessly interested in expanding her horizons. She now works for the College as a coordinator for the Americans with Disabilities Act.
Second to last was the charismatic and eloquent Dominick Tanoh ’18. His deep voice and professional cadence gave way to a remarkably silly romp about friendship, Chicago, the end of summer, the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum and White Fire OG Kush.
Finally, Associate Professor Psychology Kim Cronise detailed the journey she made with a painting, an heirloom that brought with it the wisdom and love of the woman who gave it to her – her mother. Mired in the tumult of her life, the painting carried her through relationship turmoil, cross-country moves and job changes by representing the strength and love of her mother.
The beauty of the Cocoon and the stories that unfold on the stage come from the mutual understanding of vulnerability and trust between the audience and the speaker. They trust us with some of the most personal stories of their lives and we trust them to be honest. What we witnessed last Friday was an emotional and powerful journey through the terrains of diverse yet relatable human experiences, with each story centered on the theme of revelation.
“Revelation to me is a realization,” Watson explained, “a moment of reflection that points to something of greater significance or understanding. I also think of it as a moment that sheds new light on a particular situation and ultimately causes a turning point in one’s life.”
These moments ranged from gaining a better understanding of friends from afar to realizing the transcendent ways our family enriches our lives, from landing a dream job to finding the people we want to spend our lives with.
As speaker Tanoh put it, “Those moments [of revelation] are so rare but when I have them, when I have my revelations, it seems like I can finally see one small part of the patterns in an aggressively chaotic universe... What a revelation is to me: finding some moment of vision despite the constant turmoil that constantly catches us off guard.”
(09/28/16 11:59pm)
What is mindfulness, and why does everyone keep talking about it? These two basic questions served as the focal point of this year’s Clifford Symposium, entitled “Fully Present: The Art and Science of Mindful Engagement.” Last Thursday, Sep. 22, the College hosted Amishi Jha, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Miami, as the keynote speaker, who provided context to a weekend packed with mindfulness-based events.
In a talk that filled the Mahaney Center of the Arts Concert Hall with faculty, staff, students and community members, Jha examined the effects of mindfulness training on the brain’s attention system to answer the underlying question of this year’s symposium: why does mindfulness matter?
“The human brain is exquisite in mental time travel,” Jha stated. To offer a metaphor, she explained the parallels between the mind and an MP3 player. Rumination on the past is represented by the reverse button, while the tendency to worry and plan ahead is likened to the fast forward button. Meanwhile, the play button symbolizes the ability to pay attention to the present moment experience. According to mindfulness studies, this is the foundation upon which our mental wellbeing rests.
Any fear that the lecture would consist of rambling, jargon-filled prose was quickly dispelled by Jha’s engaging demeanor and accessible language. She offered a simple definition for the often misunderstood concept of mindfulness: a “mental mode characterized by attention to present moment experience, without conceptual elaboration or emotional reactivity.” Contrary to popular belief, mindfulness does not entail shutting down all thoughts, deep breathing or relaxation techniques. Nor does one need to practice mindfulness for hours or years in order to see results.
Assuring the audience that mindfulness is not an “esoteric, mystical way to achieve a special state of being” like levitation, Jha joked, “I’ve never had anyone hit the ceiling. It’s been very safe.”
While stress degrades the brain, mindfulness leads to mental enhancement. Why does this happen? Because, as Jha aptly put it, “A stressed mind is a wandering mind.” Within the field of psychology, mind-wandering is defined as having off-task thoughts during an ongoing task or activity. The process is both unproductive and unintentional. As high stress compromises our ability to pay attention, mindfulness training seeks to dissuade harmful mind-wandering, such as by focusing on the sensation of breathing within one’s own body. If the mind strays to other topics, thoughts, memories or sensations during a mindfulness exercise, the individual must attempt to guide it back to the practice at hand – be it breathing, observing or even eating – with gentleness and intentionality. This is, of course, easier said than done, but the benefits can be profound.
For any audience members who remained unconvinced, Jha provided a neurological explanation for the power of mindfulness to combat mind-wandering. Different brain networks become activated when we engage in different activities: the salience network controls the act of noticing, the central executive network selects and maintains and the default mode is connected to mind-wandering. These three parts are antagonistic, working against each other and competing for the limited resources of the mind. Without mindfulness training during periods of high stress, the consequences of mind-wandering become pronounced, causing attention and performance to decline.
Jha put this theory to test in her own psychology lab at the University of Miami, in which researchers sought to simulate mind-wandering by asking subjects to participate in a sustained attention response task. The 18-minute task was specifically designed to provoke boredom and thus mind-wandering in subjects. Results found that poor performance correlated with mental disorders and poor sleeping patterns. In other words, increased levels of mind-wandering correlated with poor psychological fitness.
Previously, humans have attempted to tame the brain through medications, psychotherapy and computer-based training. Mindfulness differs from these treatments in its low-tech, self-guided nature: this is a form of psychological fitness that requires no doctor’s note or hefty paycheck. A 2014 study cited by Jha found that the impact of mindfulness training was equivalent to the impact of antidepressants, without the toxic side effects. Overall, research has pointed to the beneficial results of mindfulness on the body, mind and social relationships, touching on everything from chronic pain to depression to workplace dynamics.
Popular media has helped to fuel the mindfulness movement, as major corporations, politicians, veterans and athletes have publicly advocated for its positive effects. However, Jha was quick to note that in order to be responsible consumers of science, we must acknowledge the limits of existing research on the topic.
“The power of positive thinking skews mindfulness studies,” she stated. In other words, the growing mainstream popularity of mindfulness has created an echo chamber in which positive news articles are sensationalized and inconclusive studies are ignored rather than examined.
Over 300,000 articles were needed to establish the cultural understanding that daily physical exercise is good. Currently, only 2,000-3,000 such articles exist for mindfulness. What is more, researchers have engaged mostly in reverse inference about functional brain changes in relation to mindfulness – which means that they cannot say with certainty that causation occurred; they simply observed something and assumed the cause. This ambiguousness suggests that much more research is necessary before we can arrive to any sweeping conclusions on the topic.
Speaking clearly and concisely, Jha provided a perspective on mindfulness that managed to acknowledge both its status as an uncertain newcomer to the scientific field and its potential to radically transform the way we take care of ourselves. For many audience members, perhaps the gift that had been bestowed to them as they filtered into the hall earlier in the evening – a small, smooth gray with the words “fully present” etched onto the surface – attained a newfound clarity.
As Jha made her closing remarks – “To end, thank you for your attention” – and the hall burst into applause, a spell seemed to break over the audience. The contemplative silence that had permeated the air only seconds before dissolved. People began rising from their seats, waving hi to friends and teachers from a few aisles over and – in an automatic, ironic reaction to a presentation on the importance of grounding oneself in the present moment – checking their phones for new notifications. But as individuals dispersed slowly into the night, perhaps it was with a more thoughtful awareness that they noticed the weight of their bags on their shoulders, the feeling of their shoes against the concrete and the sight of the stars shining overhead.
(09/15/16 7:58pm)
It’s an understatement to say that the Paul Ward ’25 Memorial Prize merely recognizes extraordinary writing talent among the first-years of Middlebury College — it seems instead to be a premonition of the success to come for its recipients.
This is certainly the case for Emma Cline ’10 who won the Paul Ward Prize in 2007 for outstanding young writers while a sophomore at Middlebury. Her short story, entitled “What is Lost,” took top spot. Fewer than ten years later her first novel, The Girls, sent ripples across the literary world.
The book, which came as the first of a three-book deal with Penguin Random House, recounts the summer of 1969 that Evie Boyd spends entangled in a cult bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Manson Family.
Evie Boyd, the story’s narrator, recalls the summer when she turned fourteen and stumbled upon an unsettlingly pretty girl rummaging through the dumpster. Evie, driven by her desire to be liked, eventually joins a cultlike commune lead by a charismatic leader.
Yet it is not the group’s male leader who draws her in, but instead the girls — particularly the dark-haired Suzanne — he recruits for his commune living on a farm who do. The themes explore the lengths to which people go to feel loved, to feel seen and to feel powerful.
Cline, who went on to complete her graduate studies at Columbia University, writes with a hyperreal focus. She details the most mundane events in a burningly urgent way, the way a fourteen-year-old would obsess over the same things, for instance the gaze of an older boy, how her skin looks, the words of adults around her.
It is difficult not to compare the plot to the events that took place in the California desert in 1969. These events began in 1967 when Charles Manson, after his release from prison, began gathering followers who were mostly women. Over the course of a few years, the Manson Family evolved into a group of murderers, killing seven people.
The Girls is a quasi-retelling. Its plot certainly mimics the real events of the Mason family, like group driving an old school bus, dumpster diving to find food and escalating into darker and crueler territories.
What Cline does not do is write-off her main character.
“I took it as a challenge to write a book about teenage girls, who are so marginalized and objectified and given no agency and subjectivity,” Cline says. “How do you write about them in a way that takes them seriously? I knew this topic was begging a certain literary type to dismiss it.”
The story is told through the lens of a girl and focuses on how this girl’s relationships with other women are shaped by this disturbing experience with the commune — an experience cast beyond most of what we have encountered before.
Cline shapes her world by examining how we examine ourselves and questioning how we question others. It is told in the spellbinding way a car crash happens; though we might be disgusted and confused by what happens, we are also fascinated. All the while, the plot consumes us with the feelings we are all too familiar with but would rather not stomach: jealousy, embarrassment, the need for attention and discomfort.
Visceral and tightly woven, The Girls is neither Cline’s first success nor her last.
(05/12/16 9:50pm)
What does it mean to combine laughter and healing? To be the “perfect” survivor? And what do clowns and “panda puppies” have anything to do with it? Trying to explain the Post Traumatic Super Delightful (PTSD) play to those who did not watch the show was challenging at best. Performed in Hepburn Zoo on Thursday, May 5, Post Traumatic Super Delightful is most simply described as a one-woman show about a community trying to heal after a sexual assault. In practice, it is a heartbreaking, hilarious and nuanced tale of survivors, perpetrators and bystanders – and the impacts of a system that has not done anyone any favors.
Post Traumatic Super Delightful is written and performed by Antonia Lassar, directed by Angela Dumlao, stage-managed by Olivia Hull and further supported by a large team of women with varying backgrounds and skill sets. The fictionalized content stems from interviews with survivors, perpetrators, administrators, faculty and staff within the judicial system, and contains only two moments from Lassar’s real life. Director of Health and Wellness Education Barbara McCall, Molly McShane ’16 and Rebecca Coates-Finke ’16.5 worked to bring the play to campus through the Department of Justice Grant.
First, we meet the clown – a woman dressed in typical clothing who dons a red nose and performs ridiculous antics against the backdrop of voiceovers and music. Each interlude featuring this nameless, smiling character is infused with humor and stark realizations. At one point, the clown walks out with a pile of placards and begins to dance to the pulsing beat of “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child. One by one, she shows the front side of each placard: “I’m pretty.” “I’m white.” “I’m a girl.” “I’m the perfect survivor.” (She pauses after “I’m white” to show off her most awkward and invigorating dance move yet, before pointing to the sign again in a hilarious, self-deprecating recognition of her own whiteness.) Flipping the cards to the opposite side, she continues: “I’m not like the angry ones.” “I cry but I’m not a mess.” “I hate my rapist.” “None of you know him so none of you doubt me.” “I’m also perfect.” “At rolling my tongue.”
The clown proceeds to roll her tongue repeatedly with impressive dexterity, causing the audience to laugh in bewilderment. The contrast between this hysterical demonstration and the difficult truths conveyed by the placards is strategic and intentional. Society has constructed the narrative of the “perfect survivor” of sexual assault – white, female, pretty and not too teary-eyed, among other characteristics – to the detriment of anyone who does not fit this elusive mold. The clown highlights these identity politics by presenting the situation in the most straightforward manner possible.
“The play takes the trauma and pain that may be associated with being a survivor and doesn’t try to define it, which is the purpose of the clown,” Coates-Finke explained. “It’s responding to the myth of the perfect survivor, the narrative of what one should do and how one should be. The clown takes away identity in some ways, and just gives space.”
Lassar, who drew on her own training as a clown to create Post Traumatic Super Delightful, sees great potential in healing through laughter.
“Clowning has been used in sacred rituals in some cultural contexts. The sacred clown can be a presence that reflects back the truth of the community to the community, and mimics what you are doing,” she said. “The laughter is a recognition that we do act like that, people do talk that way. Getting a group of people to laugh about anything is to acknowledge that it exists. This is very powerful in a society that often invalidates survivors’ experiences.”
Though Post Traumatic Super Delightful was written largely for and by survivors, “Julia” – the fictional college student who was sexually assaulted by “Bryan” – never makes an appearance. Instead, her name comes up only in heated conversations featuring Lina, the school’s Title IX Coordinator, faculty member Dr. Margaret Roach and Bryan himself. Because it is a one-woman show, however, these conversations are enacted in a one-sided manner by the ever-evolving actress Lassar. Responses are implied rather than uttered aloud – and due to prominent changes in vocal and physical expressions, there is never a doubt as to which character is speaking at any given moment.
Lina uses brash language cloaked in a thick Russian accent, with inflammatory statements such as, “But I push her [Julia]! You know, I can file complaint myself, but if she won’t let me use her name, it won’t go anywhere. I’m not upset. I am upset. I shouldn’t be upset, but this is my first case. I want justice!” In contrast, Margaret speaks with a stiff, high-strung formality, while Bryan’s light Texan drawl marks all of his confused, frustrated and painfully honest musings.
In featuring a variety of voices, Post Traumatic Super Delightful is a reflection of how sexual assault is perceived by – and therefore affects – an entire community.
“Instead of hearing a story from a very singular perspective – which is a really important perspective of a survivor, but which can be limiting in terms of a full understanding of sexual assault and the ripple effect – we get a context and a way to process the pain,” Coates-Finke said.
“It allows us to think bigger about what the possibilities for awareness and activism are – the way that sexual assault affects people beyond the two or more people involved in one encounter,” McShane added. “It’s exciting both for people who are new to this conversation and for people who have been having this conversation for a long time.”
Through the dialogue, the audience becomes aware of the ways in which harmful narratives are reproduced.
“Bryan is not capable of rape. He is not a monster,” Margaret, his faculty advisor, says at one point.
“Julia does not look like a rape victim, okay? I had her in class. I know her.”
In response to the question “Do you think she was making it up?” Margaret states, “When you’re a drinker, there’s always the possibility you misremembered.”
Bryan’s pain and misconceptions also come to light through his interactions with Lina, the Title IX Coordinator who is adamantly advocating for Julia.
“I’m a freaking 21-year-old-boy! I’m going to have sex!” Bryan exclaims. “Rape is about power, it’s not about sex. What if this was just about sex?”
“I knew a guy in high school who got raped, real raped. And it’s really different. It’s like, I mean, he was bleeding. It was like on a walk home from a bar, and someone just appeared on the street. That’s rape. When you have to fight.”
Faced with these faulty assumptions – that drunk sex does not ever count as rape, that only monsters are capable of rape and that rape victims must look and act a certain way – it becomes clear why sexual assault has become such a blurry and complicated issue, particularly on college campuses. Post Traumatic Super Delightful addresses this complexity partly by stating these misconceptions aloud in the first place, and partly by emphasizing the humanness inherent in everyone involved.
For instance, though Lina demonstrates care and compassion, she is not always great at her job. She pressures Julia to file a Title IX complaint in the name of “justice,” but then realizes, “What is point of justice, if survivor will still be hurt?”
Meanwhile, Bryan is an accused perpetrator – yet his goofy demeanor and adoration for baby animal videos defy the common expectation that rapists cannot possibly be human. According to an anonymous feedback form submitted by an audience member, “It was tough to watch/hear from the perpetrator, because he was so nice… Ugh. I guess it’s easier to think of perpetrators as horrible evil people.”
Amid the stress of the judicial process, Bryan explains that all he can handle at this point is watching videos of “panda puppies” – a confession that drew huge, perhaps empathetic laughs from the crowd. Combined with his genuine, pleading questions – “I don’t know what I did! How could you not know if you raped someone? What’s non-consensual? What’s consensual?” – Bryan’s confusion becomes obvious. And in some ways, his actions become understandable. Like everyone else, Bryan is the product of a system, his thoughts shaped by a flawed education and harmful media messaging. All of these factors have led him to misunderstand what it takes to hurt another individual, or what it means to be a “good” or a “bad” person.
If certain lines from the play resonated with you in a strange or uncomfortable way, it may help to remember that we are all products of a system. Through our words, actions and willingness to listen to those around us, however, we can all play a part in dismantling rape culture.
“Even if you think you don’t know a survivor and you think you don’t know a perpetrator, everyone is so connected and complicit and responsible and in a positon to do something about sexual violence,” Coates-Finke said, “because you definitely know a survivor and you definitely know a perpetrator on this campus. Especially on one as small as ours.”
The multifaceted characterization within Post Traumatic Super Delightful proves that nothing and no one exists in black-and-white terms. Through its nuanced telling, the story becomes more real, and thus more relatable. Above all, it shows that laughter can, indeed, serve as an unexpected catalyst for healing.
Perhaps the anonymous feedback from the audience phrased it best: “I am feeling heavy and light simultaneously,” a 21-year-old female stated. “Trauma and sexual assault is not an easy topic to face, but I feel the load is always a bit lighter with the aid of the community and new tools.”
“As a survivor, I thought it was healing to see this performed in a serious and comedic way,” a 19-year-old male wrote. “I feel hopeful.”
(05/12/16 8:02pm)
In many ways, this year at Middlebury felt like occupying a community divided. Three different events this weekend com- posed an especially ironic display of Middlebury’s climate: Derby Day, a symposium entitled “Activists, Allies and Accomplices: Responses to Racism Today” and the Distinguished Men of Color (DMC) Block Party. At Derby Day, mainly white students boarded buses to an off-campus party, wearing summer dresses and big hats — paying tribute to a horse race and, de facto, to southern culture. I was one of those students. The symposium, which most students in this community could benefit from attending, addressed the issues of class and race that were exemplified all too well at Saturday’s Derby-themed affair. The Block Party, a spring tradition, included a basket- ball tournament, BBQ and music performances. The racial split between each event was stark. On this day, I reflected on this interesting and ironic way to end my time at Middlebury as we continue to be divided as a community, with our social life more stratified than ever.
This isn’t the only irony that I have con- fronted this year. Another irony that I have grappled with is my own identity as a black woman and my position as the head of an institution deemed racist and classist by many. As Editor-in-Chief, I have spent all year defending The Campus newspaper, our policies and the importance of our role. That was my job. It isn’t my job anymore. Now, I am going to give you my perspective as an individual and not as a representative of this institution, because components of my identity have informed how I have approached the role.
Being a person of color has complicated my role as Editor-in-Chief. Submissions that contained inflammatory, at times offensive content affected me on a deeply personal level, as they did for many other students within this community. As a woman of color, I have been outraged by the suggestions of certain submissions. I think that at times my silence has been perceived as an implicit endorsement of these ideas when that could not be further from the truth. What differentiates me from other students on the campus, including other students of color, is that my role as Editor- in-Chief required that I choose content objectively, without letting my emotions cloud my judgement. This means that I have ap- proved the publication of content that I vehemently disagree with and have had to live with those decisions. These choices were not made indiscriminately. I agonized over them; however, I felt compelled to prioritize my responsibilities as an elected leader over the indignation I felt.
Those decisions defined the perceptions of my editorship. As our community discussed race, identity and privilege, it be- came clear that my role in these conversations would have to be as a representative of the newspaper, not as an independent person. The unique perspective I offer as a POC was not acknowledged, and it never was. Instead, my decisions and policies were attacked. As one student wrote to me, “I continuously expect more from you and am continuously disappointed ... I don’t expect change, but I do expect that a sentiment like this will stick with you and hope- fully make you think twice in the future.” I was painted as someone unsympathetic to
the minority experience on campus, even though I am a minority. My experience and my perspective was invalidated, I believe, for a number of reasons — including my role in the newspaper. I am not telling you this so you will feel sorry for me. I don’t need sympathy. What I do need, however, is the acknowledgement that my experience, while not all that unique, is indicative of a broader issue — a community that has developed very strict standards for what it means to be “black” and what it means to be “white.” And, for another subset, what it means to be a “white ally.” These standards have undoubtedly been imposed by both sides. I have been called “so white” by other students — including friends — numerous times. The problematic implication of this is that whiteness is associated with certain traits and that we have developed a narrow definition of what it means to be “white” or “black.”
The unfortunate and inevitable outcome of these narrow definitions has been the radicalization of conversations surround- ing race. Those who do not fully embrace the stances and objectives of one side have been excluded from the conversation. I, too, have felt this exclusion at times. Responses toward my decisions ranged from pedantic and hard-to-grasp to aggressive and emotional. If we want to be a truly inclusive community, then we need to reassess our constructions of “whiteness” and “blackness” and leave room for more fluid interpretations of identity.
Despite my plea for a community-wide shift, I am also complicit in the construction of the culture we have developed. Even though I stand by the editorial decisions we made, I still struggle to reconcile the expectations of my role with the fact that a student told me that I had personally made them feel unsafe and that my deci- sions have made them not want to leave their room. How do you come to terms with that? The guilt I feel, however, stands alongside the duty to lead this paper, which serves our entire student body and reflects the climate of our campus — as disappointingly narrow-minded as it can sometimes be.
Though I am leaving Middlebury, my hope for this community is that it will continue to embody the progressive spirit so fundamental to its ethos — to push bound- aries and set new standards, but while do- ing so, to recognize the humanity of those around us. Somewhere along the way, our anger and indignation drove us further apart. We imposed one-size-fits-all definitions of identity on one another and forgot that, in the words of Ta-Nehisi Coates, “We should seek not a world where the black race and white race live in harmony, but a world in which the terms black and white have no real political meaning.”
Middlebury will continue to grapple with these issues — the insidious nature of privilege at this school, class and racial divides — but my hope is that while we approach these issues, we remember that a great deal of nuance guides our thinking. I hope we continue to have these difficult, but important conversations. With that, I wish the best of luck to Ellie Reinhardt and Christian Jambora as they take the helm of The Campus. To my editors, you know the respect and admiration I have for each of you.
Abbadi, out.
(03/24/16 3:37am)
I’m only human, but I think it’s long past time for me to shrug off the pitiful garments of my victimhood and take a stand, and as a person with Black heritage, I believe that I am an authority in my community and can thus speak for all of us. I mean, all Black people are basically the same, and it’s not like there are intra-community nuances, right? Why else would white people keep confusing me with the three other Black people at Middlebury? Actually though, I don’t even want to claim the label of “Black.” When I look at myself I don’t see race. I don’t see anything at all; I don’t even have a reflection. I’m not sure if I’m “colorblind” or just a vampire, but that’s beside the point.
What is the point, you ask? It’s that I can say pretty much whatever I want in the Op-Ed section, call it freedom of speech, and get away with it. Psych. The point is that racism is over — that at this point if people of color don’t succeed, it’s on us. Who cares that Black women only earn 63 cents to a white man’s dollar; it’s probably because we’re lazy. We just need to work 37 cents harder so we can pursue the traditional American dream of getting rich, and maybe, someday, finding a marginalized group of our own to oppress.
Which group could it be? Who can I persecute? Refugees fleeing conflicts that were caused by U.S. policies? Children with chronic illnesses that were the result of federal negligence? Some people might say, “that sounds evil Elizabeth!” But I say, “yeah, so what?” If I’m doing well, who cares about other people? This country is founded on the powerful exploiting the weak, why break away from such a great system now?
I get it though. Maybe our first instinct when we see such imbalanced and unfair dynamics of power between people is to respond with sympathy or empathy. But those emotions have no place at Middlebury College. I’m pretty sure “treat everyone who is not white, cis, straight, male or rich as subhuman” is a rule in the student handbook. Not that I’m going to fact check that.
When people of color experience racism, I think we need to ask the question, who is really being hurt here? Is it us? Or is it actually white people? It may hurt to experience “racism,” but imagine being accused of racism? Imagine living in a community so “politically correct” that you have to go on Yik Yak just to call someone the N word? Imagine not being able to check your own white privilege long enough to not become immediately defensive when a person of color looks you in the eye, and has the pure unadulterated nerve to not be cleaning your house or working in your fields? Imagine how much that hurts.
It’s just not fair.
Elizabeth Dunn '18 is from Atlanta Georgia
(03/23/16 11:54pm)
Achilles. One of the most famous heroes in all mythology. He’s a hero of Homer’s Iliad, and he’s one of the most instantly recognizable names from Greek mythology. His fabled “Achilles heel” remains a colloquial expression for a weak spot to this day. His strength and invulnerability are the stuff of legend. Patroclus, on the other hand, you may not have heard of.
It is Patroclus, however, who narrates Madeline Miller’s Song of Achilles, and it is through his eyes that we get an up-close and personal look at that famous Greek hero. After being exiled from his homeland for murder, albeit an accidental one, Patroclus is taken in by Peleus, Achilles’ father, as a ward. Over the years, he and Achilles grow close, first as friends, and then as lovers. Ultimately, of course, Paris carries off Helen, and they are both obligated to go to Troy together. However, the famous Trojan War and Achilles’ unsurpassed skill in battle, while present, are not the heart of this novel, nor do they drive the narrative. Song of Achilles is, first and foremost, a love story.
Though it arguably takes a significant departure from his characterization in classical source material, Miller’s novel strives to envision the man behind the legend. Our narrator is a less-than-mediocre soldier, and he has no interest in dwelling on Achilles’ military feats. He presents those that are necessary to the plot, and admires them insofar as they please Achilles himself and bring admiration, adoration or jealousy from those around him, but Patroclus keeps his focus firmly on their time together. We get vignettes of nights spent sleeping side by side and telling bad jokes, of days spent enjoying the sun or wandering through the forest.
There is no single major antagonist to the novel. The Trojans, though arguably the obvious enemy, hardly appear at all, Agamemnon is an antagonist but also their ally, and Thetis, Achilles’ mother, both comes between Achilles and Patroclus and does her utmost to protect her son. All of the characters have questionable motives that guide their actions, and none of them can be construed as evil or even wholly opposed to our main characters. In this sense, there is a grounding reality to the story: there is no black and white, no clear right and wrong path to follow.
On the other hand, there are some strongly mythological elements to this story. The most obvious is its fantastical edge: gods are not only an accepted part of this universe, but they can and do appear and intervene. Miller also includes bizarre events that are acceptable in myths but seem out of touch with reality, such as a warrior being able to convincingly disguise himself as a young woman.
All of this together – a myth that is also a slice-of-life story, the legend of a famous warrior told by a man who would happily avoid all fighting if he could – creates an oddball mix of a novel. It is touching, sometimes beautifully narrated, and if you’ve grown attached to the characters by the end it will be heartbreaking. The key word, though, is “if.”
There’s a curious sense throughout the novel that not very much seems to happen, or at the least, that any major events seem to happen very slowly and spaced far apart from one another. Miller’s indulgence is giving Patroclus time to describe his admiration and love of Achilles over and over. Sometimes he spends so much time on it that it grows unsettling, and seems more like hero worship on Patroclus’s part than a reciprocated relationship. The amount of time he spends extolling his friend could almost certainly have been cut down without losing the relationship they build. They could even be replaced with scenes that show more interaction between the two. There is a great deal more action as the book draws to its climax and conclusion, but up until that point there are long stretches of almost eerie calm. The problem is that it makes it difficult to empathize with the characters. Although later in the book Patroclus makes a name for himself as a medic and takes a stronger moral stance against both Agamemnon and Achilles, up until then he spends much of his time following Achilles around like a lovesick puppy while we are subjected to his continuous songs of praise. There is not a great deal in those early chapters that make me care about or root for either one of them.
Whether you love the masterful prose and slowly building relationship, or detest the swollen and repetitive nature of Patroclus’s praise, Miller’s novel is indisputably original. She weaves together myth and life, and the end result may be flawed yet it remains powerful. Find it at the library at go/bookingit.
(03/23/16 3:19pm)
This Monday, Mar. 21 marked the launch of SensusAccess, an application that allows Middlebury users to automatically convert documents into a variety of accessible formats. Now free to all students, faculty and staff members at both the College and the Middlebury Institute of International Studies at Monterey, the web-based service supports learning, teaching and research in innovative ways. Anyone with a working College or MIIS e-mail account has unlimited, free access to the service.
Users have the option to convert a wide array of formats (including Word and PDF) into an mp3, e-book, Braille document or DAISY (Digital Accessible Information System) or an audio book, among other selections. The complete list of supported file types includes .DOC, .DOCX, .PDF, .PPT, .PPTX, .TXT, .XML, .HTML, .HTM, .RTF, .EPUB, .MOBI, .TIFF, .TIF, .GIF, .JPG, .JPEG, .BMP, .PCX, .DCX, .J2K, .JP2, .JPX, .DJV and .ASC. In a straightforward, user-friendly process, individuals can either upload the file, enter the URL or type the text of the document they wish to convert. Next, they select the output format, specify options and enter their e-mail address. Depending on the size and complexity of the file type, users will receive the results in their inbox within a few minutes to a few hours.
SensusAccess is capable of transforming a photocopy or a photograph of text into a format that can be edited in Word or read aloud by high-quality voice software. The audio conversion feature of this self-service supports a wide variety of languages, including Arabic, Bulgarian, British and American English, Danish, Dutch, German, Greenlandic, French, Hungarian, Icelandic, Italian, Lithuanian, Polish, Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, Slovenian and Castilian and Latin American Spanish. There are limits to the application, however: SensusAccess cannot convert audio files into written texts; it also does not translate from one language to another. The company is currently working on these issues.
In an e-mail sent out to the entire Middlebury community on Monday morning, Director of Academic Technology Bill Koulopoulos emphasized the everyday utility of SensusAccess. “Different formats create greater opportunities to learn and to engage,” he wrote. “For example, when you’re traveling, taking a walk or working in a dimly lit space, an audio version of an article might be more accessible than a print version.”
Based in Denmark and powered by the award-winning RoboBraille service, SensusAccess markets itself as “a self-service solution for print-impaired students, faculty and alumni at universities and colleges.” The movement to bring its services to the Middlebury community stems from the collaborative efforts of the Center for Teaching, Learning and Research (CTLR), the Academic Technology Group and the Advisory Group on Disability, Access and Inclusion (AGDAI). AGDAI was formed a few months ago as part of President of the College Laurie L. Patton’s vision for a more inclusive and accessible Middlebury.
In Patton’s inaugural address last fall, she stated that “diversity is an everyday ethic to be cultivated, made richer and more vibrant.” By supporting a wide range of learning contexts, SensusAccess is a step in this direction.
As Susan Burch, AGDAI member and Associate Professor of American Studies, explained, “Each source format has inherent assets and limits. Flexibility is key. For certain situations, a Word document format may work best for an individual, but in a different context an audio file may be more accessible. Having different source formats readily available enables support for our diverse learning community.”
To learn more, visit go/sensusaccess.
(03/17/16 1:26am)
Only in a show entitled Sexpectations would it make sense to utter the words “biddy,” “Atwater” and “Grindr” within mere minutes of each other. Last weekend (March 11-12), students flooded the Hepburn Zoo to watch the first ever play based on Middlebury hookup culture. Written and directed by Mary Baillie ’18 and Roxy Adviento ’18, Sexpectations was born from 57 anonymously submitted stories and brought to life by 10 students: Haroon Ashraf ’18, Sam Boudreau ’19, Stella Boye-Doe ’19, Emily Cipriani ’19.5, Ian Driscoll ’18.5, Lucie Heerman ’19, Ojaswi Pandey ’18, Madelyn O’Kelley-Bangsberg ’19.5, Omar Valencia ’19 and Elizabeth Warfel ’19. Following a mere two weeks of rehearsals, the cast danced, delivered monologues and occasionally donned scanty outfits in a humorous and at times uncomfortable reflection of life at the College.
Describing the show as “a series of depictions of the stupid stories that everyone has to go through every day at this place,” Baillie was intentional in portraying as many experiences as possible.
“We wanted to represent a diverse range of people, because hooking up can mean so many different things to different people,” she said. “We tried to use all the definitions.”
The play opens with a scene that is likely all too familiar (and cringe-worthy) to many: A swarm of sweaty bodies moves to a pulsing beat in an Atwater suite. The room smells of cheap alcohol, and an eager male student, played by Valencia, is in search of a hookup for the night. His inner monologue blares through the speakers as he surveys the room: “Okay, Matty. This is it. This is the night when you finally finally get some legit, real-life pussy. Do not f*ck this up.” When he finally finds Lisa, played by Cipriani, on the dance floor, awkwardness immediately ensues – from the moment he utters the phrase “Yeah, baby” in a misguided attempt at sexiness to a run-in with Lisa’s roommate that prevents the two of them from ever getting past first base.
The disastrous night ends with the roommate, portrayed by Boye-Doe, saying to Matty, “Umm....can you get the f*ck out now?” Overwhelming sympathy seemed to be the sentiment in the room, as the scene likely prompted audience members to relive their own awkward hookup experiences, be it untimely boners or a “cock-blocking” roommate.
A sense of goofy self-awareness pervaded much of the show, particularly in scenes centered on Tinder, the popular dating app, and Grindr, its gay-male equivalent. Tia, played by O’Kelley-Bangsberg, smiled and waved to the audience while an invisible narrator read her profile out loud in a tone so exaggeratedly serious, it could have fit right into a National Geographic documentary.
“Tia is a sex-positive gal looking to have fun. Sunglass emoji,” the narrator stated. “Ergo, she wants to weed out the creepers. Her pictures consist of one mysterious selfie, one sexy group with her friends, one smiling and one full body pic. Tia doesn’t want to work on her profile much because she is not THAT desperate.”
In acknowledging the ridiculous amount of thought that goes behind any online dating profile, Sexpectations perhaps validated many audience members’ own self-doubt.
Meanwhile, the Grindr skit featured a wide range of gay males, from an anonymous lurker to a toned, 6’1 guy who likes long walks on the beach, to the boldly named user “BottomBoy248.” Portrayed hilariously by Driscoll, this final character states with an unabashed eagerness that he enjoys “choking on cock, getting pounded hard, hands tied, rough stuff.” The crowd watched on curiously as the males attempted to navigate this provocative, complex and at times frustrating platform, where users may block other users upon receiving an unflattering face pic, have their boundaries pushed to uncomfortable extremes or arrange for a sexual interaction within minutes of virtually meeting one another.
Grindr can be a strange and scary place, but it can also lead to lighthearted fun between individuals who would not have otherwise connected. Sexpectations sought to shed light on both of these aspects. Baillie and Adviento consulted with members of the cast who were familiar with app to ensure that the scene was representative of Grindr culture. They explained that the characters they chose to spotlight did not stem from common stereotypes of gay males (although that may have seemed to be the case), but rather from real-life accounts of stereotypical Grindr profiles.
Amid the silly reenactments, the show gave way to several moments of somber reflection concerning inequity within heterosexual relationships. In a tense interaction between a male and female student, played respectively by Boudreau and Warfel, the boy demands a blow job from the girl on the false assumption that she will “want it again.” When she refuses, he responds, “What the f*ck?! Okay fine bitch, whatever.”
The emotional monologue that Warfel delivers in the next scene recognizes the “strange barbed wire of careful sexuality” that females must walk if they want to participate in college hookup culture.
“I like to have sex, have fun and be liberated. But there can only be so much, ya know?” Warfel states. “They see my body, I see theirs. But when they don’t even know my f*cking name, I literally become just a f*ckable body.”
Another point of concern arises during the Atwater scene, as bodies bump and shake against one another in the semi-darkness.
“Stop touching me!” one girl exclaims.
“Well, f*ck you then!” the random guy who is trying to grind on her responds.
In our world of structural gender inequality, women are simultaneously shamed for their sexuality and expected to go out of their way to please their male partners, regardless of their own desires. Meanwhile, consent exists as a blurry concept rather than as the bare minimum for all interactions. Sexism and double standards are not a problem of the past – and in refusing to shy away from the painful, lived experiences of individuals all around us, Sexpectations offered a powerful contribution to a dialogue that deserves far more attention than it currently receives on our campus.
Beyond the acknowledgement of harmful patriarchal norms, the show also brought to light subtle, but equally concerning, issues concerning race and gender. At one point, the characters all describe their “type.” Their answers include “smart athletes,” “Ben Wyatt,” “the slightly geeky but still coordinated music enthusiast,” “high IQ” and “someone who stops when I say ‘no’” – but some mention racial and ethnic stereotypes, such as “half Asian, half white guys,” “Jewish guys,” “black guys,” “Hispanics,” “Scandinavians” and “girls from Russia.” The fact that these phrases came from real-life submissions is concerning, as they reflect society’s tendency to fetishize members of different identity groups based on racist generalizations. Even worse, the problematic nature of these preferences often goes unchecked, since they are perceived as compliments rather than as objectification.
During the scene in which a girl makes out with her Atwater hookup, her “sexiled” roommate says angrily, “Wait, what?! I swear this is the third time!” to which she responds, “I’m no slut.” The culture of slut-shaming – that is, the sense of inferiority that society instills in young women whose sexual expression clashes with traditionally rigid, patriarchal norms – rings painfully clear in this exchange. Whether intentionally or not, Sexpectations brought this unfair double standard to light, and in doing so, hopefully pushed some audience members to think twice about their own choice of words.
It is unclear how aware the playwrights were of the implications behind these subtly problematic scenes. After all, the purpose of the show was to portray hookup culture on campus as it currently exists, not as how it ought to be. In terms of entertainment value, Sexpectations was a success, bringing laughter to every corner of the room and reminding us just how endearingly awkward young love can be when it is not taking place on the Atwater dance floor. On a more uncomfortable note, it also revealed the ways in which we, as a campus community and as products of large-scale media messaging, may not be nearly as progressive as we consider ourselves to be.
(03/17/16 1:23am)
Once every year or so, ABC graces us with a season of television unlike any other; one lucky man (or woman) has the opportunity to date approximately 25 mostly-white women (or mostly-white men), all desperate for love. As the season goes on, the “bachelor” (or “bachelorette”) slowly eliminates people until they are left with two in the final episode. In the series finale, these final two contestants meet the parents of the bachelor, who then chooses one of them to propose to, and one to kick to the curb. As someone who has watched The Bachelor and all its offshoots religiously since 2010 (Ali Fetodowsky’s season), I found myself uniquely qualified to synopsize and review this Bachelor finale in the context of the many superb finales that have come before it.
This season has followed Ben Higgins, described by some as “the most boring bachelor of all time” on his quest for love. Ben began the season six weeks ago with 25 beautiful women, roughly 13 of whom appeared to be normal, gainfully employed and publicly sane. Going into the finale on Monday night, Ben had eliminated all but two: Lauren B., a fake southerner from Portland who won Ben’s heart early on by quickly snagging the first one-on-one date, and JoJo, something of a dark horse in this competition, who really did not seem to make much of an impression on Ben until the second half of the season. Here is all you need to know to be caught up: against the rules of the show and his own better judgment, Ben has told both Lauren B. and JoJo that he is in love with them. Only one of them can win.
The following are my live reactions from watching the finale on Monday night:
Looks like this episode is going to take place in Jamaica. I’m not even going to get into the socioeconomic implications of that. It looks like Lauren B. will meet Ben’s parents first – let’s see if she can use her fake southern charm to convince them that her son proposing to someone he’s known for six weeks is a good idea.
Lauren is able to immediately charm Ben’s parents with a witty anecdote about their first date but does seem a little intimidated going into her conversation with Ben’s mom (rightly so, perhaps – Mrs. Higgins has the facial expressions and general demeanor of a wryly discerning dachshund). Ben’s mom doesn’t seem all too impressed by Lauren B.’s golly-shucks southern belle vibe, emphasizing the difficult realities of marriage and occasionally suggesting with an awkward laugh that, perhaps, this whole experience makes her want to die inside. Mr. Higgins is little more forgiving in his chat with Lauren B., seeming most concerned by the length of his cargo shorts and occasionally gazing off into the distance, as if to wonder “I was young once, where did the years go?”
JoJo’s outfit choice for meeting Ben’s parents is a little more conservative than her usual apparel – definitely a smart play but potentially damaging in the long run, as wearing rompers have not boded well for women this season (we’re looking at you, Jubilee). Ben’s dad has little to say to JoJo, having seemingly DGAF’d the entire process by this point. Ben’s mom seems touched by JoJo’s tears, seemingly a little drunker than she was for Lauren B.’s visit and thus a bit more forgiving. By the time JoJo emphasizes that her and Ben’s relationship was founded on an ability to get through hardships (to the degree that hardships can happen on what is essentially a three-month-long romantic vacation), Ben’s mom is firmly in Camp JoJo.
Ben has taken after his father wardrobe-wise for both dates, opting to wear a simple blue polo that emphasizes the utter inoffensiveness of his personality, perhaps in a play to make us forget that he slept with three women last week only to send one of them home and immediately tell the other two that he loved both of them. His facial stubble, an interesting variable to watch out for in an otherwise bland season, has grown to the peak of its pathetic amplitude. After introducing both women to his parents, Ben returns home to get their take on the situation, which is, basically: “Aww, honey, we really liked both of them, especially that JoJo. They were both great, but that JoJo really is a lovely gal.”
Ben walks off into what looks to be a Chrysler Town & Country (at what point in the season did they stop chartering limos?), muttering to himself like a small child with an Adderall addiction. “What am I going to do?” he shivers dramatically. “I’m in love with two women. And I love both of them.”
When we return from commercial break, a freshly shaven Ben embarks on his (final?) date with Lauren B., emphasizing that he has prayed a lot for guidance about what the right decision would be. You go Ben, never compromise those morals that got you this gig. Lauren B. and Ben’s date consists of riding around on a boat in Jamaica and kissing each other’s necks, but it’s not all fun and games. In her talking head about two minutes into the date, Lauren shrewdly notes that “[Ben] has a heavy head,” beginning to worry about the state of his relationship with JoJo.
When she asks Ben if he has any doubts, he immediately replies, “No.” This is the man who has spent the entire episode telling us how conflicted he is because he is in love with two women. Ben goes on to say that Lauren B. is too perfect, ending his speech with a poignant thought (and this is an actual transcript that I rewinded multiple times to get right): “When things get too good to be true, I get v – really nervous. I mean, I, I, I knew I loved you f – in like, right away and I didn’t even know why. And it freaks me out and it’s weird and it’s crazy and it’s good and it’s life. What in the hell is hap – like, that’s where my mind’s at, is just…” That’s it. Never let it be said that men on The Bachelor aren’t perfectly capable of expressing their feelings.
Ben goes on to talk about how his relationship with Lauren is too perfect – as opposed to his relationship with JoJo, the other gorgeous women he has been traveling around the world with for the past six weeks, which is, apparently, not too perfect. But maybe better? At this point in the episode I’m unsure, confused and ready to get off Ben Higgins’ wild ride.
The night portion of Ben and Lauren B.’s date brings little in the way of clarity. Ben broods like a less interesting Bruce Wayne, staring at Lauren B. like he knows that she would never date him outside of this show. “Lauren, no matter what happens … you’ve made this whole thing better,” Ben says before leaving, not exactly providing the assurance she might expect of the man who is potentially proposing to her in two days. The date ends with the haunting words of a red-eyed Lauren B., looking a bit like a wounded baby hawk whose mother has not brought it food for some time now: “I feel like tonight was the last time I heard Ben say that he loves me. I don’t really know … I don’t really know what I would do.” And so we enter commercial break, our hearts somber and Lauren B.’s romantic horizons looking dim.
We come back from commercial break to even more stock videos of the Jamaican countryside, but JoJo walks into frame before too long. Ben immediately begins kissing her neck and making “grr” noises. “I am confident I am going to be Ben’s wife,” says a steely JoJo in one of her talking heads, presenting a stark contrast to the constant fretting of Lauren B. this episode. Us longtime Bachelor watchers, though, will be quick to note that finale bait-and-switches are quite common, so perhaps JoJo should not be so confident after all.
Stuff happens, Ben and JoJo are kissing under a waterfall and eventually she begins pressing a newly defensive Ben for information about why he is being such a weirdo. “Let me guess, there’s two people … and you’re confused,” probes JoJo, to which Ben tactfully replies, “Yeah.” At this point, both girls are terrified that Ben loves the other one more and the show takes a noticeable uptick in quality. This is why we watch The Bachelor – to watch people terrified of having their hearts broken have their hearts broken. When JoJo begs Ben to tell her one thing about their relationship that worries him, he replies that there isn’t one, to which she begins frenetically breathing and twitching. This is the face of desperation, of a woman who has no power over her own happiness.
“I feel like I always have to compete with other people; I’m so tired of competing,” cries JoJo after accosting Ben on the floor of his hotel bathroom, seemingly unaware that she is currently a part of a reality dating competition, where competing is sort of the point. After some more bathroom-floor crying by both parties, JoJo takes us into commercial break by powerfully setting the stakes for the rest of the episode: “The next time I see [Ben, he] could make me the happiest person or … could make me heartbroken, you know?” Oh we know, JoJo. We know.
After roughly another seven minutes of Ben brooding in a resort wicker chair, in a hotel bed, and on a balcony to his own dramatic voiceover (at one point, he actually says, “I’m a lost man right now”). Ben gets a special visit from Neil Lane, famous jeweler and perennial Bachelor finale visitor who gives the bachelor a free engagement ring, usually massive and gaudy, in exchange for gobs of free publicity. But alas! As Ben gazes at the ring he has chosen, he says with a sly grin, “I think I know who I’m going to pick.” Neil Lane doesn’t react – we all know he doesn’t give a s*** but, for how much they’re paying him, the least he could do is pretend to be interested.
Next, we’re treated to a montage of both women getting ready for Ben to either propose or break up with them. This is the moment we have all been waiting for, the peak of any Bachelor season and, perhaps, the part of the show that reveals the cruel barbarism it is at heart. Each of the women will helicopter to a private island to find Ben standing alone, suited up and holding an engagement ring. The first girl, whoever she is, is the reject, and Ben will cast her aside like leftover copies of Chris Harrison’s failed romance novel. She will probably yell at him and cry a bunch, but will then be driven off in a discreet black SUV, never to be heard from again. Next will come the other girl, who Ben will propose to, hopefully with some kind of speech that makes up for the fact that he really only just made up his mind about all this yesterday. We cut to commercial break with baited breath.
First we see her feet stepping out of the helicopter, then the body of her dress. Soon, it becomes obvious. This is JoJo, first to the island, first runner up, the woman Ben will send home in a monumental display of exploitation porn. As JoJo approaches Ben we get a voiceover from her about how much she loves Ben and how she knows he would never blindside her. JoJo gives Ben a heartbreaking monologue about trusting him, about him being her best friend in the world, about how she’s never going to run from this. Ben responds, detached, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t know if I could find love… Um, I found it with you… but, I found it with somebody else more.”
Pure spite from JoJo, who angrily looks into the distance and passive-aggressively tells Ben “it’s fine” while on the verge of tears. “Can I walk you out?” Ben asks, to which JoJo replies, “If you want.” She is emotionally desolated, having just realized that her hugely embarrassing moment will be broadcast on national television. “I want to go home,” JoJo cries in the limo on the way home.
The rest of the episode is all kisses and roses. Lauren B. tells Ben that she didn’t know love like this existed before him and Ben tells her that he never wants to say goodbye to her, falling on one knee and pulling a massive rectangular ring out of a small black box. “Lauren, will you marry me?” Ben asks, to which she sputters like an animatronic owl. They kiss to some incredibly romantic stock music, and, as Ben offers Lauren his final rose, the episode ends on a hopeful note, suggesting that love is available to all of us, even those who type reviews of reality television shows alone in their rooms late at night. Yes, if this season of The Bachelor has taught us anything, it’s that love is available to all of us. Except for JoJo.
(03/17/16 1:22am)
According to Nimrod Sadeh ’17.5, cellist and co-President of the Middlebury College Orchestra, “Attending a chamber recital is watching and listening to four people conjure a temporal realm, a celestial world where the creative energies of all members are understood without words, a communicative work of art in real-time. Playing chamber music is the closest thing we have to telepathy, and Jupiter’s magic is that they have mastered it. “
As we welcome Jupiter String Quartet’s seventh Middlebury performance this Wednesday, March 23, we invite you to join the party. Performing with the dastardly duo of duos will be violist Roger Tapping and cellist Natasha Brofsky. This will mark the eighteenth time Tapping has graced our halls. Together, the group will perform works by Schubert and Brahms, as well as Schoenberg’s haunting and beautiful “Transfigured Night.”
The Jupiter String Quartet is known around the world for its blazing, passionate and energetic performances. What truly sets the group apart, however, is the unparalleled chemistry and communication visible in every piece. Chamber music is unique in that it vigorously diminishes the stodgy barriers that could keep new audiences from enjoying the genre. Equally important to hearing the music is watching the interplay between musicians as they form an organic composition that is built on sheet music but can tower as high as the group can take it. For Jupiter String Quartet, the stars are the limit.
The quartet’s strong sense of connection is partly due to their intense musical attention to one another, but it is also due to the fact that they are literally family. Within the quartet, violist Liz Freivogel and second violinist Megan Freivogel are sisters, and Megan is married to cellist Daniel McDonough. Violinist Nelson Lee rounds out the quartet. Their guest artists — violist Roger Tapping and cellist Natasha Brofsky — are also a married couple. This level of intimacy between players adds a layer of dimension to their playing that unlocks pieces in a way that is rarely experienced.
Performing Arts Series Director Allison Coyne Carroll writes, “It’s only into the hands of family that I would entrust a story as intimate as Schoenberg’s ‘Transfigured Night.’ This lush, dense and highly chromatic work is inspired by a poem by German poet Richard Dehmel, describing a couple in love walking through the woods on a moonlit night. She reveals she’s pregnant with another man’s child, a man she never loved. The man lovingly accepts her, and the child as if his own; and the unborn child, man, woman and the night itself are transfigured from darkness into light.”
Now in their thirteenth year of making music together, the members of this tightly knit ensemble perform across the United States, Canada, Europe, Asia and South America. As winners of an Avery Fisher Career Grant and a Cleveland Quartet Award from Chamber Music America, they have enjoyed playing in some of the world’s finest halls, including New York’s Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center, Kennedy Center and the Library of Congress. From 2007 to 2010, the Quartet was in residence at the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center’s Chamber Music Two. Now, they are the String Quartet-in-Residence at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana, where they maintain private studios as well as responsibility for running the chamber music program.
Doors for the Jupiter String Quartet concert with Roger Tapping and Natasha Brofsky will open on Wednesday, March 23 at 7:30 p.m. in the Mahaney Center for the Arts.
Tickets are only $6 for students. To find more information or purchase tickets, stop by either of the box offices in McCullough or the MCA. Visit go/freetickets to learn about the MCA’s various opportunities for complimentary tickets.
(03/16/16 8:56pm)
This article is not meant to be comprehensive as it neither discusses the depth and complexities of policing, prosecution and incarceration nor the intersections of identities. We encourage you to explore how trans and gender non-conforming people, queer people, people with disabilities and impoverished people might acutely bear the negative impacts of mass criminalization.
Nowhere is it more apparent that we do not live in a post-racial society than in the United States criminal justice system. At an incarceration rate of over 700 per 100,000 people, the United States holds five percent of the world’s population, yet a staggering 25 percent of the world’s incarcerated population (and one third of the world’s incarcerated women). This is not an easy statistic to grasp, considering that the incarceration rates of China and Russia combined are still less than that of the United States. In absolute numbers of people under correctional control, the United States again takes the gold with over 2.3 million people incarcerated and nearly five million more on probation.
Racial discrimination marks every stage of the criminal justice process, from arrest to sentencing to incarceration. While the Fourth Amendment in theory “guarantees [the] right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects” and guards “against unreasonable searches and seizures,” its protections have been largely undermined in recent decades. Beginning with the Supreme Court’s 1968 decision in Terry v. Ohio, legal restraints on police searches began to soften. As Michelle Alexander articulates in The New Jim Crow, so long as a police officer has “reasonable articulable suspicion” that a person may be involved in unlawful activity, “it is constitutionally permissible to stop, question, and frisk [them]—even in the absence of probable cause.” Take New York City’s infamous stop-and-frisk practices, for example. In 2012, 55 percent of the 500,000 people stopped and frisked were Black, despite the fact that the city’s Black population was only 25 percent of the whole population. Although the NYPD reports that rates of stop-and-frisk have dropped within the past three years, over 50 percent of stops target Black people, with a rate of innocence above 80 percent (NYCLU). In Arizona, indigenous peoples were 3.25 times more likely to be stopped and searched, despite no correlation with illegal conduct. According to a database of civil rights complaints brought against law enforcement officers, U.S. attorneys have declined to prosecute cases 96 percent of the time (Justice Department, National Caseload Data; Pittsburgh Tribune Review).
The racial component of police violence can be difficult to track given that many law enforcement agencies do not report arrest-related homicides by race. In 2011, the CDC reported that Black people were more than twice as likely as white people to be killed by law enforcement. Recent estimates from the Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS) indicate that this racial disparity could be even greater. Notwithstanding the potential margin for error in these statistics, the numbers fail to expose the gruesome and violent actions that U.S. law enforcement inflicts on Black and Brown people. As just one example of such action, Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old holding an airsoft gun in a Cleveland park, was shot and killed by two police officers before their patrol car had even come to a stop. Rice received no first aid from the offending officers, and died the following day of gunshot wounds. The officer was not indicted. It is difficult to argue that the same fate would have befallen a white child in Rice’s shoes; in a recording released after the homicide, the 911 dispatcher asks twice whether the suspect was Black or white before sending officers. Rice’s 14-year-old sister arrived at the scene and was immobilized by the police officers, handcuffed and put in the police car, unable to bring final moments of comfort to her little brother.
Incidents of police brutality that do not result in homicide are even more difficult to track. Emergency room records reveal that from 2001 to 2012, Black people suffered five times as many nonfatal injuries from law enforcement than white people. Furthermore, a study conducted by the BJS in 2008 found that “the percentage of Black people who reported experiencing the use or threat of force during their most recent contact with police was nearly three times that of white people.” These are the very people that U.S. police forces pledge “to protect and serve.” Marissa Alexander from Jacksonville, Florida, a survivor of domestic abuse, fired a warning shot through a wall, injuring or killing no one, after her husband threatened to kill her. She feared for her life since her husband had physically abused her. She was sentenced to 20 years in jail. Activism surrounding the case helped get her released after three years of serving her sentence. Florida’s “stand your ground” law didn’t seem to apply to her in the way that it applied to George Zimmerman.
Incarceration and police practices in the U.S. reflect highly racialized criminalization patterns. The U.S. imprisons a larger percentage of its Black American population than South Africa did at the height of apartheid. Latino, Indigenous and Black men are incarcerated at three, four and five times the rate of white men, respectively. This disparity extends to women as well, with Black and Indigenous women incarcerated at a rate six times that of white women and Latina women incarcerated at over two times the rate of white women (Bureau of Justice Statistics).
Like the racial overtones to police violence, racial disparities also plague sentencing practices. Though the War on Drugs may not be the primary driver of the mass incarceration boom, it is perhaps the most striking example of disproportionate treatment of Black people under the criminal justice system. Despite evidence that the rates of drug use and sale do not vary significantly among Black and white people, Black people are disproportionately arrested, charged, convicted and imprisoned for drug crimes. Three-strike policies, mandatory minimums and overall harsher drug sentencing laws mean that drug arrests that previously did not result in extensive time in prison are now four times more likely to result in prison sentences.
According to the International Centre for Prison Studies, 21.2 percent of prisoners in the U.S. (roughly 465,000 people) are un-sentenced at any given time, i.e. held in jail or prison on bail, usually awaiting trial or sentencing. If someone is unable to pay for bail, even though in the eye of the law they are “innocent until proven guilty,” they are still imprisoned, unable to go to work or take care of family members. To cite one case, 16-year-old Kalief Browder, arrested on robbery charges, spent three years in jail without a trial. Two of those years were spent in solitary confinement. Browder committed suicide two years after being released.
Incarceration’s detrimental effects are not isolated to the sentenced individual; consequences ripple within their family and community. Not only do families of incarcerated people generally lose an income, they then have to pay, on average, about $13,000 in fines and court fees for their family member, as shown in the report “Who Pays: The True Cost of Incarceration on Families.” Costs continue throughout the sentence as families pay exorbitant phone rates and travel fees for visitation. These costs impose a tremendous burden.
Once marked by the criminal justice system, a person is also subject to an onslaught of legal discrimination. A person who has been arrested or incarcerated can be barred from jobs and schooling because of requirements to “check the box” on applications. They can also be excluded from SNAP (the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, commonly known as food stamps), denied public housing benefits and stripped of their voting rights. Moreover, conditions of probation and parole can dictate where a person may live or be at any given time, with whom they can associate and when they must be in certain places. All of this is to say that even despite the most earnest attempts to reintegrate into communities, legal and structural impediments make this extremely difficult, if not impossible.
Hundreds of books on mass criminalization and its racialized components have been published and we urge everyone to further their research on this topic. The implications of what we have highlighted, however, are this: while the majority of Middlebury students regularly break the law without fear of consequences, when Black, Latino and Indigenous people behave identically, their hyper-policed bodies and minds are more likely to be criminalized, disrupting the lives of individuals and communities they interact with. Mass incarceration is part of a chain of institutions designed to strip the constitutional rights of people of color. In other words, law enforcement is not one bad apple within an otherwise functioning system; the entire tree is rotten from its core. These incarceration statistics are the synthesis of quota- and profit-driven policing, over-policing in communities of color and systematic racial discrimination within a judicial system designed in many ways to disenfranchise Black, Latino and Native people. As white people, it is essential to keep asking, whom does law enforcement protect? And how do we maintain these systems of policing and pre-emptive criminalization on the basis of race?
What we are reading:
“Thanks to Republicans, Nearly a Quarter of Florida’s Black Citizens Can’t Vote,” (The Intercept).
“Kalief Browder, Held at Rikers Island for 3 Years Without Trial, Commits Suicide,” (The New York Times).
“Native Americans are the Unseen Victims of a Broken US Justice System,” (Quartz).
“Obama Bans the Box,” (MSNBC).
Senghor, Shaka. (Writing My Wrongs: Life, Death, and Redemption in an American Prison).
Aliza Cohen ’17 is from Chattanooga, TN
Juliette Gobin ’16 is from Harrison, NY
Emma Ronai-Durning ’18 is from Salem, OR
Anna Iglitzin ’17.5 is from Seattle, WA
Annie Taylor ’16 is from San Carlos, CA
(03/10/16 4:27am)
In 2007, Middlebury College’s Commencement speaker was former President Bill Clinton. If you weren’t here then, it is probably still possible for you to imagine the attention that was garnered by his presence on campus. We dealt with increased security, the promise of an audience that extended well beyond family and well-wishers, and how to keep the day focused on our graduates. It was busy, bordering on chaotic. Almost nine years later, though, I don’t actually remember the logistics or the specific headaches. I remember a single anecdote distilled into a single phrase: “I see you.” Here’s the relevant excerpt from President Clinton’s speech:
(03/10/16 4:13am)
This student has requested to remain anonymous, and given the highly personal and sensitive nature of the piece, the Campus has honored this request.
Though the John Doe case was settled months ago and he is no longer enrolled at Middlebury, I nonetheless feel compelled to weigh in. I empathized with Doe. I’m not saying he is innocent, but I’m not calling him guilty either. I, too, was accused of sexual assault (and cleared after an extensive investigation, more on that later). There is a myriad of ways a rape investigation can go wrong. There are several factors that can adversely affect alleged perpetrators, alleged victims and the integrity of the investigation.
We have evolved as a society. Student activists have fought for the rights of silenced voices. Now, previously marginalized voices are heard, and this has changed how we view some of the most painful experiences these individuals go through. Nowhere is this clearer than in conversations regarding sexual violence. I would like to believe that we are slowly moving away from victim-blaming and that we take any allegation of sexual violence with the seriousness it deserves. On this campus, I feel that it is unthinkable to stand in front of someone who claims to be a victim of sexual violence and dare ask: “are you sure?” Anyone who questions a victim publicly would be shamed and ostracized.
Yet in academics, skepticism is the defining trait of a good learner. We are taught to inquire and doubt everything that surrounds us. And so it is striking when we are prevented from doing so in cases involving sexual violence. This “always believe the victim” mentality implies that the person at the other end of the accusation must be guilty. He’s being accused ergo, he must have done it. The presumption of innocence goes out the window, along with due process. How does this affect someone? People might be reluctant to be seen with or talk to the accused. Who wants to be associated with someone who has been called a rapist? As a consequence, the person who has been accused is left isolated and confused, all because of one person’s testimony.
And the effects don’t end there. After a student has reported an incident, a No Contact Order (NCO) will be put in place. This prevents the alleged victim and perpetrator from having any type of contact. While this is a good measure, it poses a different set of challenges. If two individuals happen to have a common group of friends, or live in the same house/dorm, it will reinforce the state of isolation, pushing the accused to move out of his or her room and creating a divide among friends. This also gives the alleged victim an outlet to push his/her own version and interpretation of events. If someone approaches you and asks “did you do it?” it feels an awful lot like the “are you sure?” question we choose not to ask alleged victims.
If someone is (unofficially) accusing another person of rape and causing significant harm, could you initiate an investigation to clear your name? The answer is, surprisingly, no. You are powerless, trapped between bureaucracy and one person’s account of how things happened. At this point, I started questioning the “judicial system” we have at the College. I put it between quotation marks because it is a farce. It claims to be fair, but it lacks transparency and allows for situations like the one I described above to happen. It can make promises, but there is no guarantee they will be fulfilled. Title IX states that students will be protected and not discriminated against in such a way that prevents them from learning or creates a hostile environment for learning, yet I was subjected to a hostile environment where my social life, academic career and mental health were all in jeopardy. All this happened before an official investigation had been launched.
According to Middlebury’s handbook, complaints of this nature need to be resolved within 60 days. My case took over 150 days. This investigation extended from the second week of J-term until two weeks after classes were over. I was forced to balance the emotional burden of my investigation and my academic career for half a year. I thought it would only take 60 days, but as I got deeper and deeper into the process, the further away the conclusion to this awful ordeal seemed. For those unfamiliar with the process, it goes something like this:
1. A report is made to either Public Safety or the Judicial Affairs Officer (JAO).
2. A No Contact Order (NCO) is requested, preventing both parties from having any form of contact.
3. A formal request for an investigation is put forth by the alleged victim.
4. A private investigator is appointed to collect materials relevant to the case. The investigator collects official reports, statements and conducts interviews regarding the alleged incident.
5. The accuser and accused receive all the materials collected by the private investigator and have a chance to review them. They then have the opportunity to hand in a written response regarding the evidentiary materials.
6. Responses are reviewed and those in charge of the investigation decide if the written responses contain any additional leads that should trigger another investigation or further interviews. If the people in charge decide there is a need for further examination, the process goes back to step 4.
7. If the evidence is conclusive, it will be passed on to the Human Relation Officer (HRO) for examination and deliberation.
8. An interview between the HRO and the accused is conducted (merely a formality at this point since no more evidence can be introduced).
9. A decision and rationale for said decision is usually made within a week of the interview.
The first two steps are fairly straight-forward: the alleged victim contacts Public Safety or the JAO. The alleged perpetrator is notified and served with the NCO. The issue with this is that only the alleged victim has access to this “judicial system” and it completely excludes the alleged perpetrator, preventing him/her from ever filing a complaint against someone who unfairly accuses them of a despicable crime. Reputations can suffer on both ends. I also take issue with point five. I was promised the evidence acquired by the private investigator on two separate occasions, but these promises were nothing but lies. When the administration finally delivered the first round of evidence, it was the first week of midterms, on a day I had a test in one of my hardest classes from that term. All of my inquires before this date about the availability of the evidence was met with a firm “by the end of week” and every disappointment generated by the failure to deliver the evidence was met with a vague “next week.” At this point, I was angry and no longer trusted the people presiding over the case. It felt that they were trying to get rid of me. Midterms are difficult enough as is, but I now also had to grapple with reading approximately 15 accounts of the night I allegedly raped someone. Reading the same story from 15 different people’s perspectives, one after the other, is an incredibly tough experience. It requires mental preparation. I was advised to have someone I trust go through this process with me. After two weeks of being dismissed with a “sorry, next week,” the school finally released the first round of evidence. The presentation of evidence was incredibly disorganized and additional evidence, not included in the initial email to me, was added multiple times, creating a long, incoherent record. But I thought that this was the only way I will ever get to clear my name. There was nowhere else to go, so despite the fact that I did not trust the College officials overseeing the process, I needed to gather the courage to finish. So I followed the procedure. I wrote a response defending my account and pointing at evidence that supported it. Unfortunately for me, my alleged victim lied again and told the investigator that my group of friends had covered up sexual assault in the past. This led to yet another investigation. I had to go through points four and five again. New evidence was released “coincidentally” during the second week of midterms (this was, of course, after requesting the evidence twice again). Now the school was making learning impossible. I felt that I was being harassed using bureaucratic means with an end goal of having me fail, so that I would be kicked out. From the very beginning I cooperated with the school. I provided a detailed and consistent account of the events that transpired. Yet I felt that this was not good enough and the school wanted to get rid of me.
The College’s system for dealing with sexual assault does not give you what you deserve, regardless of whether you are an alleged victim or alleged perpetrator of violence. The “preponderance of evidence” standard employed by colleges, in which you are guilty even when you are only 51 percent likely to have committed a crime, is much weaker than the “beyond any reasonable doubt” standard used in courts. There is no reason to prove that you actually committed a crime and this leads to a weak due process. In case the school does find you guilty, you could face a suspension, expulsion or a nasty comment on your record. I have witnessed people do reckless things at parties like illegal drugs, destruction of school property and underage drinking that could land them the same punishment as sexual assault. As a victim, you could end up facing your attacker a semester or year after the incident. You want justice? Don’t go to the administration, go to the police. The college system is not a safe one. The system is very prone to make mistakes, mistakes that weigh heavily on people’s mental health. From a student perspective, next time you hear someone has been accused of sexual assault, take a moment and look at this process critically. Not everyone who is accused is guilty and not all those who report sexual assault are victims. If you think I’m wrong, go ahead, challenge my words. I would love for activists to disagree with me. There is a much needed debate regarding the standards to which we should hold ourselves accountable.
(03/10/16 4:11am)
Last week, former Campus copy editor Dan Bateyko submitted a strongly worded criticism of the Opinions section. He challenged us to publish it and we did, despite its scathing tone.
The concerns that Dan raises are not new to us — they are concerns that our board wrestles with on a regular basis. In spite of his use of phrases like “insipid Millsean argument,” we will address Dan’s concerns with respect.
The Campus is not the New York Times. Running Middlebury’s only newspaper comes with a specific set of responsibilities that major publications are behooved to ignore. We firmly believe that it is our responsibility to provide a space for all voices, even the voices that members of our community would rather not grant a platform. Dan correctly points out that a newspaper should not be a “glorified spam filter.” We agree. However, we do not view the opinions of students on this campus – all of which are published because they ostensibly have something to contribute to this community – as unsolicited contributions best placed directly into the trash. We reserve the right to deny publication for any reason, but we do not desire to exercise this right. This is not due to a lack of submissions; rather, it is due to a desire to represent as many people in these pages as we can.
That said, the Opinions team has decided to exercise increased editorial power over the submissions that come our way. We maintain that all submitted opinions have a place in these pages, but they do not have to be printed more or less as they come. Of course, we will not print direct violations to our code of conduct. But we also have been wary of editing beyond stylistic and grammatical changes; there is a fine line between editing and censoring student voices. We also worry that we become complicit in arguments we dislike by elevating their quality.
While we are still grappling with our editorial role, we believe that the Opinions team can and must exercise more editorial control over our section’s content. There is a middle ground between denying publication to opinions we find offensive and letting all the “drivel” through. Moving forward, we intend to work with writers to make sure their opinions are expressed in an intellectually rigorous and coherent manner. We believe that more agency over the opinions in this section will result in a better paper and higher caliber of campus discourse.
Our stance against anonymity is part of this quest for a better campus discourse. If people can’t stand behind their arguments openly, it calls the argument that they are making into question. People think harder about pieces they have to put their name on. However, there is a place for anonymity and we have willingly granted it in compelling cases. Earlier this year, we published an anonymous op-ed from a student suffering from mental illness, as well as one this very week from a student accused of sexual assault. In both of these cases, authors asked us for anonymity and we found their reasoning compelling. Anonymity is not something that we take lightly.
Dan asserts that the editorial board contradicted itself by calling for “a higher standard of speech — one that respects and acknowledges the power dynamic at play” when we published recent “unpopular” opinions. Our board holds itself to this standard and hopes the student body will do the same. However, when student contributors fail to meet this expectation, their unpopular opinions still have the right to be expressed. Our board often writes about what we wish our community would strive to become, not necessarily what it is today. We can both convey these expectations and fulfill the most important democratic promise — freedom of speech — without contradiction. As we write in our Feb. 24 editorial “A Paper for the People,” “… we understand that community standards may be shifting around what is acceptable speech. We hear those voices and we care. At the same time, we prize freedom of expression and don’t want to limit it without a very serious discussion from the student body about what exactly those standards are.”
As for concerns regarding lists and poetry, we stand by our policy to reject pieces that do not comply with standard journalistic form. The policy about lists and poetry has changed since the example he cited from 2013, when no members of the editorial board held their current positions. Dan insinuates that requiring a certain form of submission equates to a journalistic poll tax. Journalistic writing may be classist in a broad sense of the national landscape, where many people don’t have access to the education that grants their opinions legitimacy. At Middlebury, however, every student at this school is held to a certain academic standard that makes them more than capable of adhering to the form that this paper requires. While we agree that this is not the only form an opinion can take, we are not excluding any individual from having their voice heard. There are other outlets on this campus for more creative engagement.
We would also like to take this time to quickly clarify other issues that were raised. We do not strictly enforce a word limit, and our publication of longer pieces by President Patton is not an act of privileging the administration. We let plenty of our columnists and op-ed writers go over the word limit if they feel it necessary.
We thank Dan, in addition to other students who have publicly and privately voiced their criticisms of The Campus. We hear you, and we have been tirelessly working to evaluate these concerns and make changes where we feel necessary.
(03/10/16 12:26am)
Hepburn Zoo has always been known as a venue for unconventional art performances, but last weekend’s performance may have topped them all: On Friday, March 3 and Saturday, March 4, the doors opened, free of charge, for Middlebury Discount Comedy’s second ever show, Much Love in this Air.
Founded last fall by Shannon Gibbs ’18, the campus’s first sketch comedy group is comprised of 11 students: President Gibbs, Vice President Isabella Alonzo ’18, Producer Liana Barron ’18, Head Writer Greg Swartz ’17.5, Head Director Alexander Herdmann ’17, Faraz Ahmad ’19, Dan Fulham ’18, Sebastian LaPointe ’18, Peter Lindholm ’17.5, Jack Ralph ’18 and Marney Kline ’17.5. Coming from a wide range of experience levels and majors – from computer science to theatre to English, with no discipline in the clear majority – the company produces all of its sketches through a collaborative round-table format.
Posters for the show featured all members of the company lying in a sea of roses, completely nude save for a few petals photoshopped strategically over their private parts. According to Gibbs, the provocative, creepy and vaguely romantic vibe behind these promotional pieces was completely intentional and particularly accentuated by the fact that Much Love in this Air premiered nearly three weeks after Valentine’s Day. ‘Who says the season of love is over?’ the posters seemed to ask, foreshadowing the unconventional sense of humor that lay behind the entirely student-run production.
Gibbs opened the show with a list of trigger warnings for sexually explicit material, violence, abortion and other inflammatory topics. In the 24 sketches that followed, ranging in length from a mere 30 seconds to several minutes, these themes were escalated, decontextualized, satirized, broken apart, muddled up and in some instances, oddly mishandled. Puzzling at some moments and shocking at others, Much Love in this Air proved to be far more unsettling a performance than even its posters could suggest.
Sexual content was pervasive throughout the show, beginning with a three-part series of sketches in which a male student, played by Swartz, is taken hostage and forced into a sexual bondage by a female Public Safety officer, played by Alonzo. Another student, played by Barron, watches on in helpless horror. The premise for this story is understandable enough: two students are caught drinking underage, and the officer must confiscate their alcohol. However, the situation quickly escalates into a bizarre commentary on the tense relationship between Public Safety and the general student body. As Barron appeals to the administrator to release her boyfriend, she ends up screaming hysterically into the phone, “Right, you’re trained, but who the fuck are you helping?” followed by, “Why do I voluntarily go into this bureaucratic shit hole?” She is eventually transferred to the Department of Existential Crises, where a soothing voice on the other end, performed by Ahmad, instructs her to “imagine yourself running through a field of puppies with a middle-aged, robust Public Safety Officer” and to “gently breathe in and lock your fingers underneath your cheeks.”
“Now, if you have a tight little asshole, press two and you will be transferred back to Public Safety,” Ahmad says in the final line of the sketch, leaving the audience to pause and then giggle in bewilderment.
Such was the nature of most of the night’s performances: Shameless in their absurdity, the sketches were often cloaked in dark humor and met with relative silence, as the viewers struggled to process what they had witnessed onstage. For the most part, MDC’s outlandish approach to comedy seemed incongruent with the audience’s taste – but this did not seem to faze the actors, whose emphatic voices and humorously exaggerated facial expressions remained as strong as ever from beginning to end.
Another sexually explicit scene, innocently titled “Science Class,” featured a teacher offering his students a “more hands-on experiences” through a new form of “dirty work.” This euphemistic language quickly gives way to the crude question, “How many of you have been f**ked in the ass before?” The class proceeds to split into pairs to carry out this activity, with one student’s clear discomfort becoming the focal point of the lesson. Perhaps surprisingly, the blatant ridiculousness and obscenity of the sketch drew considerable laughter from the crowd, though many audience members were undoubtedly left asking themselves what exactly they were laughing at – and what message the outrageous script was trying to convey.
The line between outlandish humor and incomprehensible absurdity was crossed at a few points throughout the night. For several uncomfortable minutes, the audience watched as Winston and Lydia, a dysfunctional young couple as portrayed by Gibbs and Fulham, broke out into a fight at a night club, dancing feverishly together the entire time. The juxtaposition between their volatile words and cheery, perfectly synchronized choreography was clever, though their enunciation was often obscured by their quick movements, making it difficult to follow the conversation. The parts that were audible, however, were often too over-the-top and intentionally lewd for the audience to feel comfortable laughing.
“You mean you’ve been using condoms this whole f**king time?” Lydia shrieks at one point.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a f**king slut c**t we would think twice about it, Lydia,” Winston responds.
The tendency to veer too far into unsettling extremes escalated into outright violence during “Faraz’s Final Rose,” a scene based on the wildly popular reality show The Bachelor, as well as during a couple of abortion sketches. Firstly, the final rose ceremony – in which the bachelor selects one of three beautiful girls to be his wife – concludes with Chris Harrison, the host of The Bachelor as portrayed by Lindholm, chasing down and shooting the first runner-up, played by Gibbs. “I’m still alive, asshole,” are her final words in this unnecessarily grotesque scene. What had begun as an entertaining commentary on the problematic premise of The Bachelor devolved into an unwarranted display of violence.
Next, in what was likely the most disconcerting performance of the night, a pharmaceutical clinic offers a list of painful options to women seeking an abortion, including but not limited to hypothermia, being thrown down a flight of stairs and a series of punches to the gut, courtesy of a creepy man named Lucifer. In this jarring satire of the current health care system, lines like “I think sluts like you deserve a 50-50 shot” and “My father took me hostage so I wouldn’t murder the child we made” are delivered with a sort of bluntness, a blatant desire to provoke, that comes across as inappropriate. When the first woman to request an abortion emerged blood-stained from behind the curtain, followed by a stab to the torso that took the life of the second patient, the disapproving silence from the crowd seemed to be directed not at the real-life issues that inspired the sketch, but rather at the wildly disturbing content of the sketch itself.
Recognizing that their self-identified “Freudian” style can be more than a little odd, Middlebury Discount Comedy (MDC) writes all of their sketches with the hopes of highlighting the severity of real-world problems.
“We take an issue that’s pertinent to us as Middlebury students or as citizens of the world and we blow it up to an extent that it’s so decontextualized that people can see the satire we’re trying to go for,” Barron explained. “We’ll heighten it and heighten it and heighten it until finally, it’s violence.”
“This show tackles issue that are a bit more sensitive and takes them to a darker place,” Swartz added.
Not all moments in Much Love in this Air were completely off the mark, however. A 30-second public service announcement, delivered by Fulham, brought the crowd to a roaring laughter with its sheer, deadpan simplicity: “Now, remember, kids,” he said. “Drugs. One day, you just start doin’ em.” In contrast, a cult-like sing-along of the phrase “Prepare the way of the Lord” in “Trump’s Inauguration” introduced an eerie sense of hysteria to the room. This creepy take on the political storm that has ravaged the United States was met with a positive reception, as disgust toward the Trump campaign is a common sentiment amongst the overwhelming majority of Middlebury College students.
Meanwhile, in terms of prevalent on-campus issues, a sketch entitled “Atwater Speed Dating” resonated with many. In this well-executed performance, a female student meets one unappealing candidate after another – from the insensitive and dull to a guy who refers to himself exclusively as “Jaboi” – during a night out. Taking place amidst blaring music in a shadowy suite, it is an apt interpretation of a social scene that many students have described as stifling, unsatisfactory and frustratingly cyclical.
“People like it when you talk about things that are relevant and happening right here, in here, in this bubble,” Barron explained. “We have a tone to us that’s very idiosyncratic and dark.”
Following a whirlwind perusal of relevant issues both on campus and in the real world, a stand-out sketch of the night centered on the group’s round-table sessions. All 11 members of the company gathered onstage to parody the process of pitching ideas and writing scripts, with one major plot twist: the actors were all topless (save for 3-D heart attachments covering the girls’ nipples). As the scene progressed, the inexplicable half-nudity began to make more sense. Gibbs proposes that they all be topless together for their next show, to which Alonzo responds, “I don’t think that’s really tasteful, Shannon; not all of us are comfortable with our bodies like that.” A heated debate ensues – “What’s the joke?” “What’s the context?” – and as the audience stared at the bare-chested group of people before them, the irony became suddenly clear. Infused with a strong dose of Freudianism, the scene ends on an abrupt and meta note.
Comedy has long served as a vehicle for powerful social commentary, bringing humankind’s ills under the most revealing of lights and inviting all to observe. However, the humor behind Much Love in this Air hinged largely on a brash insensitivity that alienated audience members more than it challenged them to explore the difficult issues at hand. Though there were certainly moments of clever satire sprinkled throughout the night, if the uncomfortable silences were any indication, the show was deeply perplexing and perhaps too heavy to bear at times. Whether in moments of laughter or quiet unease, MDC pushed the audience to consider why they were or were not laughing, as their shotgun-firing, belly-bleeding sketches blurred the line between what is appropriate to convey and what is not.
(03/10/16 12:17am)
The somewhat erratic release of The Life of Pablo has proven such an utter whirlwind that Kanye West might actually still be scribbling in some last-minute changes to the record as it slowly infiltrates pop culture. From the spontaneous private listening party at Madison Square Garden to his bemusing appearance on Saturday Night Live to the innumerable manic-depressive tweets explaining the chaos thereafter, Kanye has left the world rather perplexed with this one.
Pablo seems but a dream to most people right now, and their questions abound: What is this new record all about? Where did it come from? Is any of this even real?
Is any of this real?
Well, in pursuit of what this album is truly after, taking that question into serious consideration can lead us to some fairly interesting places.
What is important to recognize is that the entire thing does not actually exist to most people right now. In a percipient business move, Kanye decided to release Pablo exclusively through TIDAL, the streaming service of which he is a major stakeholder. This strategy did attract significant numbers, but the vast majority of people have now either poached it online or lost enthusiasm to seek it out. The Life of Pablo seems peculiarly unreal – in fact, it is doubtful that a single hard copy even exists – but the truly extraordinary thing is that the music within the album entirely substantiates its dreamlike state of being.
Most striking are the quick changes in tempo and harmony throughout, tearing the audience from the previous theme and transporting them into this strange new world that must be quickly understood. And then, like a dream, the moment you begin to feel grounded, the track ends immediately and a new bit-crunched synth drops in with those dark falsetto tones acting as a snare – something only Kanye can let loose. The most haunting track, “Freestyle 4,” epitomizes such a quality while inspiring a notion closer to that of a nightmare than a dream.
This kind of tactic naturally follows the surreal impermanency of Yeezus, but it seems so haphazardly put together that the audience is left questioning how much of this is rightly intended. Well, Kanye lets us in on a little secret during “FML,” telling us, “I been thinking about my vision / Pour out my feelings, revealing the layers to my soul.” Somehow, the great Mr. West seems utterly lost, driven by his anxiety and afraid to tell the truth.
The following track, “Real Friends,” breaks everything down – hostile music included – and he explains how, really, life is just too fake. This has all been fake: the words, the intimidation, the pulsing bass, crunched-up synths, brick-wall limiters – it is all part of the façade. And it is these slowed down drums echoing off the walls, the looping melancholic melody, the repeated phrase, “Real friends / Till 3 a.m. / Calling just to ask you a question / To see how you was feelin,” that bring everything back to reality.
But Kanye is a pretty capricious character.
He does not miss a beat as he drags us back down the rabbit hole, back into his phantasmagoria of music and performance. Perhaps the strangest moment actually lies outside the album proper, and onto the stage of SNL. His performance of the opening track “Ultralight Beam” on Feb. 13 was baffling, to say the least, with the cavernous light board behind his gospel choir, a mellowed-out clerical revival at the end and a more than uncomfortable finish of Kanye jumping around the stage screaming at people to download TIDAL and listen to the album right now.
If nothing else after watching this, the audience is left with a bizarre sense that they may literally be dreaming right alongside Yeezus. Again, the questions abound: What should we make of that? If this is art, how do we respond to that, and what does it matter to anyone? Assuredly, The Life of Pablo was designed for us to ask those questions exactly.
To narrow the scope a little: as college students, we too are oftentimes left with this overwhelming sense of discursive dreaming. There is fervency and vision, but we also feel lost among the crowd. We are told we can make a difference, that our education is what will change the future; but for now, we remain in a state of limbo, consumed within that “bubble” that everyone always seems so desperate to escape. Where is reality? Existing in a place of perpetual change can sometimes challenge our understanding of how “real” we are being within our community. People always talk about community, and where is that then?
Living inside this centralized, energized academic setting can bring forth some fairly heated discussions: discourse that we ask to be a part of because we acknowledge that we are here to engage with and learn from one another. If we neglect community, though, we see arguments as one-sided. We affirm our own beliefs and block out the rest of the noise. We burrow down and seek individual answers, instead of seeking together. It is important to recognize that we exist in a place of learning – and that it is best to learn from mistakes – but that does not erase the fact that we oftentimes act impetuously, hurling forth our sophomoric disputations into the daunting realm of academic debate. It is true of all college students that we are quick to act on our emotions.
And this kind of behavior does not seem too far off from the message that Kanye’s album and his accompanying online performance have brought us in the past couple weeks. The numerous explanatory tweets and exclusionary tactics further build that tension between fakeness and realness, and it all seems like some kind of hoax or dream. But, as if further contradiction is required, its inspiring beacon of hope through this endless sea of emotion and uncertainty is that of ultimate love.
It is incongruous and ironic that the same artist who raps with such heated vulgarity is able to produce an album that contains the simple plea for love. Kanye poses his troubles, wondering how any of this life could be real when things seem to be so different. As he says, “We’re on an ultralight beam. / This is a God dream.” But instead of acting out of reckless emotional attack – which he has had his fair share of – he finally comes around to tell us how he has seen the real message of love and unity at the end of that beam of light.
(03/09/16 10:59pm)
By Renee Chang
As spring semester gets underway, the College is abuzz with activity. From classes to sporting events, there is hardly room to deny that life at the College is anything but uneventful. But besides classes and extracurricular activities, there is something else that lingers on students’ minds this season: the summer internship.
In addition to navigating the process of applying for suitable internships, students may face the challenging task of securing funding for opportunities that do not provide compensation. While the financial burden of an unpaid internship may deter students from taking on an otherwise exceptional opportunity, the Center for Careers and Internships (CCI) hopes to remedy this situation. Last year, the CCI rolled out a new funding program wherein rising juniors and seniors could apply for a fixed grant of $2,500 that would go towards funding an unpaid opportunity.
Cheryl Whitney Lower, Associate Director of Internships and Early Engagement at the CCI said, historically, students were provided with “significantly less” funding than the current $2,500 grant.
“The grants cover more expenses and allow students decision-making power over how they want to spend their summer and gain experience or explore an interest,” Lower said. “This amount will typically cover a significant portion of a more expensive experience in another country or in a city away from home, for example. Others may choose to do an internship with lower expenses and use some of the money to offset lost summer wages.”
And for Joel Wilner ’18 and Andrew Hollyday ’18.5, the grant did just that. Wilner and Hollyday both received funding to participate in the Juneau Icefield Research Program (JIRP), a program that recruits a select group of undergraduate and graduate students to participate in hands-on research in glaciology, or the study of glaciers.
Wilner, who hopes to pursue a PhD in glaciology, says that his time in Juneau, Alaska, was the perfect complement to his interest in glaciers.
“I have always been fascinated by the Earth’s cold regions, from both scientific and cultural standpoints,” Wilner said. “Even when I was very young, my favorite geographical areas to study were places like Greenland and Antarctica. I became interested in studying glaciology in an academic capacity after climbing the glaciers of Mount Rainier before coming to Middlebury. ”
In Alaska, Wilner’s scientific and cultural interest in glaciers naturally converged. On top of “traversing the entire width of the Alaskan panhandle” from Juneau to Atlin, British Columbia — all on a single pair of cross-country skis! — Wilner also got the opportunity to assist in first-hand scientific research.
“I worked with Dr. Seth Campbell, a research geophysicist from the University of Maine and the Cold Regions Research and Engineering Laboratory,” Wilner said. “We used ground-penetrating radar to investigate how surface meltwater percolates from the surface of glaciers to form layers, which has important implications for improving our models regarding how glaciers will respond to climate change.”
Nonetheless, the value of Wilner’s time in Alaska went beyond simply gaining work experience.
“The most memorable part of my experience at JIRP was staying at Camp 8, which is essentially a one-room metal shed near the summit of Mount Moore, a 7,000-ft-high jagged mountain near the US-Canada border,” Wilner said. “Two other students and I took a three-day shift at Camp 8 with the purpose of relaying radio messages between other camps on the Juneau Icefield that couldn’t communicate with each other directly by radio. Because this was our only real duty for those three days, we had a lot of free time. We spent this time looking out over a vast expanse of the Taku Glacier watching the sunset from our sleeping bags on the roof of the shed. The solitude was simply enchanting and life-changing, despite the abundant mold and mouse droppings in the shed where we lived!”
For Camille Kim ’16, the $2,500 grant went primarily towards paying for housing and provided a jumping off point for exploring her interest in software development. As a summer intern at the Wyss Institute for the Biologically Inspired Engineering at Harvard University, Kim was given the opportunity to develop her own software.
“The main project I was working on involved writing software to operate a device that researchers would use to automate the process of growing bacterial cultures, as well as a web application and user interface that would allow users to control and monitor their experiments remotely.”
Kim said the most satisfying moment of her internship was when the code she authored was allowed to run on its own.
“I still remember the first time we actually hooked up all the different hardware components and just let our code do its thing — it was a really satisfying moment to see what we’d been working on all summer start moving and coming to life,” she said. “It was a huge feeling of accomplishment to see that happen right in front of me.”
Similarly, Divesh Rizal ’17 says that teaching science and mathematics to eighth and tenth grades at the Udayapur Secondary English School in his native Nepal would not have been possible had it not been for the funding he received from the CCI.
Surrounded by “highly energetic, mischievous and curious” students, Rizal views teaching as an “art” that requires a heightened sense of awareness.
“Teaching is an art that requires an acute understanding of people around us,” he said. “It requires a state of being when you can truly speak to somebody, ensure your words are being heard. An important aspect of teaching is learning about the art of teaching itself, about your audience, about their opinions.”
Although he was only able to spend a month at Udayapur, Rizal found it difficult to distill his experience into a single memorable experience.
“Almost everything was memorable,” Rizal said. “But perhaps the most would be the impromptu singing competition we had in our class one day. It was the day when it rained heavy outside. Since the classrooms do not have glass windows, the water disrupted the class and the students on the opposite side made more room for the students by the window. Since we had a rather dense part in the room, we abandoned our books and took on a suggestion from one of the students. The ‘competition’ was between girls and boys in the class. The girls did a rather great job and they won the competition without a sweat.”
In addition to the $2,500 grants for rising juniors and seniors, the CCI also offers $1,000 “Explore Grants,” which are targeted towards first-year students and first-year Febs who have not yet committed to a particular career path and simply wish to “explore” different fields.
Students who posses a strong passion for dance can also take advantage of the CCI’s “Dance Festival Grant,” which Lower said were designed keeping in mind that “for many dance majors, participation in these festivals is important to their development as dancers and artists.”
To learn more about the different kinds of grants offered by the CCI and how to apply, visit go/funding.
(03/09/16 10:54pm)
Christian students, faculty, staff and alumni gathered on March 5 in Axinn 229 to discuss how to find communities of faith and meaningful work after graduation. The all-day workshop, titled “Living Faith: Christian Leadership on Campus and Beyond,” featured a morning prayer and panel discussions with alumni who graduated as early as the Class of 2005.
For Gilbert Kipkorir ’16, the weekend provided an invaluable forum to network and meet alumni several steps ahead of him on lives driven by faith in God.
“If my experience this weekend is anything to go by, such events are definitely vital,” Kipkori said. “Not only was this event encouraging to me, but it also gave me a picture of what life might look like after graduation. Being a senior, this could not have come at a better time.”
Chaplain of the College Laurie Jordan ’79 described the event as helpful for students who hope to incorporate Christian values into life after graduation.
“The weekend was supposed to be a chance for people to talk about these things that I think they really do think about,” Jordan said. “Often, the faith dimension, the religious values dimension isn’t always pulled in and so it was fabulous to have these alumni talk because they were very willing to be transparent and open to talk about what kind of journey they’ve been on.”
She said that the use of “God language” varies among people. “Compared to your average conversation around work and talent and passion, this was a time when people could really freely use their God language.”
Armel Nibasumba ’16, who sits on the leadership team for Middlebury Intervarsity Christian Fellowship, said he enjoyed the event because it stressed that there is “no model path” for Christian life after college.
“This past weekend’s event raised questions I never considered,” Nimbasumba said. “The different experiences that the speakers voiced showed the various paths taken but importantly the importance of keeping Christ at the forefront of their careers. It is possible to prioritize one’s Christianity in non-religious careers.”
He added that alumni of faith bring a different wisdom and breath of experience that current Middlebury students can benefit from. “It’s always great to hear perspectives of people who have been in your shoes and can now look at it from a different angle.”
Jordan organized a workshop similar to this one in 2006, when she hosted alumni who returned to the College to share their working experiences with students curious about Christian life after graduation. The event focused on vocational and cross-cultural aspects of the Christian faith.
Jordan said that the term “vocation” is now seen through a secular lens, but that it has historical roots in Christianity.
“In the Christian tradition, the word ‘vocation’ comes from the Latin for ‘to call.’ So both vocational and talking about your ‘calling’ were originally theological concepts,” she said. “Many of these theological concepts have obviously and easily been secularized. So now, vocational sometimes as a track in high school means that you’re learning some kind of trade or skill.”
Jordan explained that for some of the alums who returned Saturday, their vocation is both their calling and their day-job work. For others, the work they do pays for their passion, or their true vocation.
“Sometimes you get really lucky, and you feel, ‘God has given me the brain, the skills, the talents to be a really good doctor, social worker, whatever.’ Then your paid work and what feels like your mission and life are the same,” Jordan said. “Sometimes it might be that computer coding you’re remarkably excellent at it, but that actually is just going to help you fund what you feel is your passion in life, which might be completely unrelated.”
“Of course, it could be that computer coding is also your passion and you’re going to figure out a way for that to be grounded in your values and you won’t choose to work for certain kinds of companies and so on,” she added.
For alumnus Devon Parish ’05, the faithful foundation she laid at the College served her during the move to working life.
“I think my undergraduate years were kind of a huge growth time in terms of my faith. I was also a religion major, studying it and experiencing it at the same time. I think since then it’s been about how to fit faith with experience of the real world. If it hadn’t had that strong of a foundation, there wouldn’t be that much left,” Parish said.
“Having the community of people that you can come back to even when you’re in a period of transition or you don’t have a church, you don’t have a body to relate to, I still have my Middlebury people to relate to. This was the place where I understood my faith and these were people with whom I could be my true self.”
