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This week, the NARP duo decided to take on the ultimate beast— intramural soccer, known colloquially as “IM”. Some friends of ours started a team, and knowing our athletic prowess, have been begging us to join for weeks.
Recording of the Student Co-Chair of Community Council debate [audio m4a="http://middleburycampus.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/SCOCCdebate.m4a"][/audio] Recording of the SGA Presidential Candidate debate [audio m4a="http://middleburycampus.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/SGAPresDebate.m4a"][/audio] Students crowded into Crossroads Café on Monday night to hear from the three candidates running for Student Co-Chair to the Community Council (SCOCC) and the four candidates running for Student Government Association (SGA) President in two rounds of debates. In a dramatic shift from last years’ uncontested elections, the debates brought to the forefront a variety of concerns that focused on calls for change and a stronger campus community. Both races are attracting attention for what moderators Kyle Gerstenschlager ’15 and Naila Jahan ’15 called a divided “insiders and outsiders” status. In the race for SGA President, candidates Josh Berlowitz ’16 and Ilana Gratch ’16 are current members of the SGA. Caroline Walters ’16 and Stuart Warren ’17 entered the race without any prior experience on the SGA. In the race for SCOCC, Durga Jayaraman ’16 currently sits on Community Council (CC), Tiff Chang ’17 was a member of CC last spring and Zak Fisher ’16 enters without prior experience on CC. Experience, typically considered an asset, was challenged in both debates in light of rising student apathy towards both the SGA and CC. In the SGA debate, the first question after opening statements [SGA 2:06] addressed this apathy [SGA 4:44]. Gratch, Walters and Warren spoke to the importance of recognizing issues that students care about and making changes. Gratch referenced her platform, which proposes a weekly dinner with the SGA President and six student leaders on campus; Walters called for more transparency and a restructuring of the SGA; Warren applauded various social justice organizations on campus and encouraged the SGA’s “power to combat oppression.” Berlowitz dissented and defended the accomplishments of the SGA this past year. “Even activists see the SGA as a conduit for change… People go to the SGA when they want to make a change,” he claimed. The SGA debate then moved to the issue of inclusivity in terms of marginalized identity and fostering a stronger campus community [SGA 1:10.55]. After a bill passed by the SGA, funding was allocated to hire a new counselor for the Health and Wellness staff, passed a resolution on sexual respect and created the Director of Sexual and Relationship Respect position. However, all four candidates still pointed to a lack of support for marginalized groups in many areas of the College. Warren spoke first and called upon the candidates to re-evaluate their use of the words diversity and inclusivity: “Too often inclusivity and diversity are used as empty euphemisms,” he said. He referred to his platform, which outlines a plan to make the campus more accessible for students who are not able-bodied, creating a community of sexual respect and making mental health issues a community concern. Warren’s desire to combat oppression and marginalization remained the backbone of his arguments throughout the debate. Berlowitz spoke next and outlined a number of concrete plans for combatting a lack of inclusivity. He proposed a more financially accessible study abroad program, a student-run pub night, and a renovation of McCullough. “I’m running on community. Fostering community and forging connections with each and every Middlebury student,” he said. In her response, Gratch promoted the community support section of her proposal, which includes creating cultural competency resources on campus. She also maintained that the “SGA can be utilized as a microphone to give a voice to students who have been working tirelessly on these issues.” She added: “It’s not my job to co-opt the activism that’s been going on for years here, but I feel incredibly strongly that I can provide a microphone.” Finally, Walters outlined a plan to engage more students. “There are three priorities that we need to focus on,” she said. Walters asserted the importance of supporting the first generation mentorship program, allocating more resources on campus for students in need of mental health support and the importance of following through with the SGA legislation made on sexual respect. The next question asked the candidates to describe their top priority [SGA 17:55]. Gratch outlined more plans for community support including a peer counseling service, Walters called again for transparency, Warren reiterated his desire to combat oppression and Berlowitz emphasized ensuring that all of the College’s resources are available to every student. The candidates also responded to more specific concerns about mental health issues on campus [SGA 22:53], their experiences as leaders [SGA 29:09], how they plan to branch out and reach a wide variety of students [SGA 34:20], what plans they have for addressing environmental issues [SGA 39:43], the student activities fee and finally [SGA 59:05], their position on the use of surveillance cameras [SGA 1:08.43]. The debate intensified in response to concerns about communication between the SGA, the administration and students [SGA 45:23]. Warren captured the attention of the candidates and the audience when he asked, “Why do so many students not want to listen to the SGA? I would suggest it’s because they believe that it doesn’t have the power to make the changes on issues that they actually care about, so they listen to other clubs and organizations that are more related to their interests.” He added later: “I think what we should actually do is try to make the SGA deal with issues that students value intrinsically and are not coerced to go talk about extrinsically.” Gratch, Walters and Burlowitz echoed each other in their defenses against Warren’s claims that the SGA does not represent marginalized students and cannot garner diverse student opinions. The SCOCC debates also addressed issues of inclusivity and communication. The SCOCC debate began with a discussion about the purpose of the CC [SCOCC 2:51], a group of faculty, staff and students that meet weekly to discuss non-academic issues on campus. All three candidates pointed to the importance of diversity on the board. “In an ideal world, the committee would be able to get a whole opinion of the campus community by having people from cultural organizations and sports teams and NARPS and everything. The point of the committee is to let students weigh in on what they think would be good for Middlebury,” Jayaraman said. Later, Jayaraman spoke to the importance of inclusivity again [SCOCC 12:20]. “Sometimes what I’ve struggled with and what we struggle with in decision-making is not having all parties on this campus represented,” she said. She continued: “I think if people are given a platform to voice their opinions, they will. Its just that people don’t know that platform exists now.” Fisher agreed with Jayaraman and added: “I don’t think I need to remake the wheel, I just need to let people know that the wheel exists.” Chang also spoke to inclusivity and outlined a cultural competency plan that includes competency training for faculty, mandating JusTalks and distribution requirement reforms including a new “dynamics and differences in power” requirement. The SCOCC debate also addressed the issue of surveillance cameras [SCOCC 6:13]. Earlier on Monday, the CC had voted down a proposal to draft a guidelines document for the possible implementation of surveillance cameras in limited areas. Fisher rejected the idea of security cameras: ”We have a rock solid sense of community,” he said. He added: “It’s important that we have a place where everyone is comfortable and everyone can trust each other.” Jayaraman, who had voted yes to the proposal earlier that day, defended her position and claimed that the cameras could help limit the number of thefts on campus, some of which have been linked to people outside of the College who are not held to the same community standards as members of the College. She voted yes to “a more informed position,” she said. Chang offered a mixed opinion. “In general, surveillance cameras erode a sense of trust, but really what it comes down to is a cost and benefit analysis,” she said. “What I asked them to do is bring in all of the stakeholders, I wanted them to bring in the people of color, the people who would be most affected by this particular cost of the cameras.” The candidates also spoke about the benefits of being part of the CC [SCOCC 17:31], the AAL distribution requirement [SCOCC 22:03], the role of the CC in promoting staff needs [SCOCC 28:25] and how to make the CC a more effective tool for carrying out and implementing proposals [SCOCC 32:53]. Both of Monday’s debates garnered attention on social media, including YikYak. Posts during and after the debates confirmed the contentious nature of this year’s election and indicate that it will not go unnoticed. Listen to an audio recording of the debate at middleburycampus.com
During the annual Davis UWC Scholars dinner, I met Middlebury graduates, members of the board of directors and the philanthropist, Shelby Davis. They shared tales of Middlebury UWC scholars’ success in social entrepreneurship, science and business. I even spoke in person to the philanthropist who sponsored the 106 UWC students on campus for a four-year education. He told me that four years ago he was betting on my potential to succeed, and now he encouraged me to keep being a winner in my future endeavors. But after the celebratory dinner, I was thinking about the many times that I almost gave up during my four years at Middlebury in so many different aspects. Academically, I cried in my professor’s office the first week during orientation because my first year seminar professor told me that my writing skills were not up to the class standard and I had to switch my seminar. Socially, I felt frustrated when I did not understand all the American popular culture references while grabbing meals with hallmates. Nor did I fully understand what “going out” entailed during weekends. Economically, I became stressed when looking and applying for campus jobs. How do I adjust the balance between classes, studying, social life and 20 hours of campus jobs? Nutritiously, I ate very little because I was not used to the “salad bar, pizza, hot dog and hamburger” diet of an American dining hall. Emotionally, I did not have the means to go home during winter to be with my family, and in the cold harsh snow-filled days I felt really homesick and I missed my parents and talking to them dearly. The point of the laundry list is that navigating campus for a UWC scholar at Middlebury is difficult. It is so because there are three distinct sets of issues we often carry as UWC scholars: firstly, there are international student issues: cultural differences, language skills, diets, social interactions. But in addition to that we also face issues related to socioeconomic background, something similar to that faced by first generation college students. For example, staying on campus for breaks, going on subsidized trips, transportation, looking for jobs and internship connections after graduation. Moreover, lingering on our minds are the so-called “UWC values.” We learned from community service experience and our fellow schoolmates to learn, serve and return to the community. But coming to such a vigorous learning institution like Middlebury, with a myriad of opportunities and choices available, how do we strike a balance between learning and sharing? How should we pace ourselves to strive for that goal in the long term? The administration has made some moves to answer some questions pertaining to the first set of issues: they let us stay on campus during winter, organized tax workshops amd connected us to local host families. These efforts have eased some of the issues as international students. But they don’t fully address the other two sets of issues we have as UWC students. Since there was little support regarding these two realms, we as UWC scholars leaned on one another to go through these issues by ourselves. Someone mentioned going on a subsidized trip, another talked about finding campus jobs, the other got connected to an alumnus and found internship opportunities to further his passion about Brazilian forestry. We also talked about our dreams and how those could serve for the betterment of the world. Without them and their encouraging words, I would have been worn out, frustrated and with no motivation to pursue my passion. But there is only so much our fellow students can do organically to support each other. Even more, this strong sense of camaraderie that unites us to eat dinner or socialize with one another is sometimes labelled “clique-y.” In response to Adrian Leong’s article, I advocate more institutional support for UWC scholars. Given the three distinct issues that we have, some administration-led efforts to form mentorship and advisory programs would be beneficial to both the UWC scholars and the wider campus community. We don’t have to struggle through things on our own. UWC scholars can talk openly about specific socioeconomic issues they face and navigate relevant resources more easily. Instead of “serendipitous, cliquey” conversations, why not engaging with the wider campus community in designated spaces? We can invite the wider campus community to join in the conversation about community engagement, career and services. By engaging other student bodies to collaborate and share, we can invite them to be part of the extended UWC community and deliberate on the meaning of life, career and happiness. I believe these cross-cultural, philosophical, yet at the same time practical conversations and initiatives are what Middlebury needs to be a truly diverse, integrated liberal arts college. During the dinner, the organizing committee shared a moving anecdote about a Tanzanian student went on a run with his American hallmates chanting Tanzanian folklore songs together. I love running too. If I had more time free from looking for resources blindly, dealing with emotional stress, I would have loved to invite my hallmates to sing Chinese pop songs with me while running. But to make these beautiful stories happen, administrative support is fundamental. Without their support, such anecdotes will remain rare and betting on our success as UWC students could turn into a risky business.
My grandfather used to tell me about growing up in the Italian suburbs of New York City. The Church, family, shared hardships – all these made neighborhoods more than a place where you lived. In a time before the Internet and cell-phones, personal connections, loyalties and reputations ran peoples lives. The community was unavoidable, both the bad and the good. Your reputation carried weight and going unnoticed was difficult, if not impossible. Community was not an abstract concept that had to be built; it was the foundation of people’s lives.
I write in to examine the integrity of last week’s article, titled, “Encouraging the Uncomfortable.” The inaccurate premises call in to question the conclusions. While I too would find censorship cause for alarm, the talk to which author Rachel Frank referred was not predicated on censorship, but rather the desire to delve more deeply into the realm of the uncomfortable.
As of April 17, Vermont is one step closer to implementing a new gun restriction law with bill S.141 passing in both the Vermont Senate and the Vermont House. Bill S.141 was passed in the House with a relatively close vote of 80 yeas and 62 nays. Previously in March, the bill passed in the Senate by a vote of 20-8, with two senators absent. Bill S. 141 will restrict convicted felons of certain levels of violent crimes and the mentally ill from possessing firearms. Already a crime under federal law, this bill will create much more accountability for the state. For example, in order to classify an individual as mentally ill and a danger to themselves, or others, the state will introduce the National Instant Criminal Background Check System as a mechanism for reporting. However, certain parts of this bill required extensive revisions. One such section was about the process by which an individual may regain rights to buy guns, once listed on, but later removed from, the federal database. Another contentious point was the length of time before someone who was once listed would have to wait before being able to to purchase a gun. Once the legislature reached a compromise on the language of this section, they took the bill to a vote. Vermont has previously been characterized as one of the least restrictive gun control states. Vermont does not require a permit to carry an open or concealed weapon, and was for a long time the only state to allow this. In addition, as told by the Washington Post, the state of Vermont also allows minors as young as 16 to buy handguns and conceal carry without a guardian’s permission. In light of Vermont’s history with relaxed gun control laws, there was contested debate over the proposed bill. The House explained their votes, and their statements were recorded in the House Journal. Many representatives saw bill S.141 as a challenge to their right to bear arms, a right traditionally respected in Vermont. Rep. Ronald Hubert of Milton explained his vote against the bill as follows: “‘The people have a right to bear arms for the defense of themselves and the State’ are words Vermonters have lived by since July 8, 1777. Now, nearly two and a half centuries later, this founding principle is being challenged by S.141.” Rep. Lynn Batchelor of Derby also agreed that this bill challenged the rights of Vermonters to bear arms: “Vermonters, first in our own state constitution, and later in the American Bill of Rights, have always understood and preserved our right to protect ourselves without infringement from Government – be it local, state or federal. I vote “NO” to stand up for nearly 250 years of tradition and to protect the right to bear arms for future generations of Vermonters.” In contrast to such dissenting opinions, there were many voices in the House who vocalized their support for the bill. As Rep. Steve Berry of Manchester explained, “This is a bill that focuses on the responsibility of legislators to protect and defend all Vermonters from those who would abuse our 2nd Amendment. I was not voting, nor being asked to vote, on the rights for citizens to bear arms. Mr. Speaker, everyone in this chamber has the responsibility to protect the most vulnerable Vermonters.” Other representatives felt comfortable voting for the bill because of its limited scope, and claimed that it was not even a gun control bill. As Rep. Joseph Troiano of Stannard explained: “It strongly represents states rights, it represents the wishes of a majority of Vermonters. This is not a gun control bill. This is not a background check bill. U.S. Attorney’s offices often do not prosecute firearm cases due to lack of resources. This bill makes sense.” There was also some debate among members as to whether this bill followed a state agenda or a national agenda, and many felt that outside forces were pressuring Vermont to give up its gun rights. Rep. Larry Fiske of Enosburgh claimed that the vote was instigated by outside campaigns, rather than his constituents in Vermont: “I vote ‘NO’ because this is not legislation advanced by the people of Vermont. It’s legislation pushed by special interest groups seeking to use our state as a pawn to advance their own national agenda. This legislation isn’t about a safer Vermont. It’s about limiting your rights as Vermonters and Americans, and paying political debts for campaign contributions from outside interest groups.” Now that the bill S.141 has passed both the state House and the state Senate, it will go to Vermont Governor Peter Shumlin. If he signs the bill it will become law, and if he vetoes it then the bill will return to the House and Senate. If they vote again they can override his veto with a majority of 2/3. If Shumlin does not sign the bill and does not veto it within five days after receiving it, it also becomes a law. At this point, Shumlin has yet to make a firm statement on whether or not he supports the bill. As told to Burlington Free Press, Shumlin revealed, “I’ll pass judgment on it when it gets to me. All I can say is that the changes that have been made to the bill since it was introduced make it almost unrecognizable from the bill that was introduced,” he said. “And that’s the bill I objected to.”
The Middlebury baseball team couldn’t slow down a streaking Wesleyan team, which has won 11 of its last 12 contests, and was swept 8-5, 4-2, and 18-1 on April 17-18. The three home losses bring the Panthers to 1-17 overall and 1-11 in the NESCAC as the NESCAC West division slate comes to an end. Entering the weekend, Wesleyan had given up the fewest runs in the conference so far this season — just over three runs per game — and was one of only two undefeated teams remaining in NESCAC play. In other words, it didn’t look promising for Coach Bob Smith and his team that entered with a 1-14 record. Robert Erickson ’18 took the hill for the Panthers in the opening game of the series on Friday, and found himself in trouble from the get-go. With two outs and the bases loaded, a Cardinal single through the left side of the infield scored two. A solo home run the next inning, in combination with Middlebury’s failure to record a hit in the first two frames, gave the Cardinals a 3-0 lead after two. “Scoring in the first inning, or just scoring before the other team, gives you a huge advantage,” Captain Joe MacDonald ’16 said. “It puts pressure on the other offense to come back, it forces the opposing pitchers to be a little more fine around the strike zone while also trying to avoid walks, and it allows our pitchers to throw with confidence to contact and let our fielders make plays.” After both pitchers posted goose eggs over the next two innings, Wesleyan struck again with a double followed by a single to extend their lead to four. Middlebury answered with an identical sequence in the bottom half of the fifth as Raj Palekar ’18 stroked a double to left center and Johnny Read ’17 knocked him in on a single up the middle, scoring the first run for the Panthers. In the top of the seventh, Eddie DeArias ’15 came on in relief of Erickson who surrendered four runs over six innings, giving his team a chance to win the ballgame. DeArias had similar problems as Erickson, allowing the first two batters he faced to reach base before conceding a two-run single. Down 6-1 after six and a half innings, the Panthers threatened to make it a game by loading the bases to start the bottom of the seventh. With one out, Read singled in another run bringing the Panthers within four, but they failed to come any closer, missing a huge opportunity and stranding three runners. They also left two runners on base in the eighth after MacDonald hit a sacrifice fly to make it a 6-3 game. Wesleyan added two insurance runs in the top of the ninth, and Middlebury’s Andrew Corcoran ’18 responded with a two-run blast over the fence in left center to make it interesting. But it wouldn’t get any closer than that, and Wesleyan took the first game of three 8-5. The first half of the doubleheader on Saturday, only a seven-inning game by NESCAC West rules, turned out to be another close game until the final out. Middlebury fell behind 1-0 early again on a single right back up the middle off Middlebury starting pitcher Eric Truss ’15 in the top of the first. Defensive miscues cost both teams in the second as both teams conceded one run on errors. Neither team could muster any offense the next three innings as both pitchers seemed to settle into a rhythm. The Panther defense made amends for the error in the second by snuffing out a squeeze play to cut down a Wesleyan runner at the plate, and with centerfielder Dylan Sinnickson ’15 using his outstanding athleticism to make a diving catch on a sinking line drive. In the top of the sixth, Wesleyan loaded the bases to start the inning and then efficiently scored two on consecutive sacrifice flies. After a Ryan Rizzo ’17 single down the right field line in the bottom half of the inning, Sinnickson crushed a double to score Rizzo and make it a 4-2 game. Unfortunately, MacDonald’s theory proved true when Middlebury couldn’t scratch out any more runs in its last chance at the plate, giving Wesleyan a 4-2 win. “When you’re down five runs or so in the last inning, you can grind and fight as hard as you want, but you can also hit three line drives that get caught and you’re going to come up short,” MacDonald said. After giving the Cardinals all they could handle in the first two games of the series, it seemed like the Panthers had nothing left in the tank for the second game of the doubleheader on Saturday as it was all Wesleyan. The onslaught began in the top of the second when MacDonald, who started on the mound, walked in a run then conceded a two run single to left. A two-run home run the following inning made it 5-0 after through three innings. The game continued to slip away in the fifth when another two-run homer and an RBI double stretched the lead to eight. The Cardinals hit four home runs in the contest to power their offense, while starting pitcher Sam Elias tossed a gem, spinning seven masterful innings of shutout ball. Down 18-0 going into the bottom of the ninth, the Panthers tried to rally and ended the shutout. Alex Deutsch ’18 and Sinnickson led off with back-to-back singles then Drew Coash ’18 singled in Middlebury’s lone run in the contest. Middlebury will be at home again on Thursday Apr. 23 against St. Joseph before traveling to Hartford, Conn. to face off against Trinity in a NESCAC doubleheader on Saturday, Apr. 25.
This Friday, Miguel Castillo ’17.5 and Lorena Neira ’17 use simple, deliberate movements to enact a wordless drama that evokes some of the universal truth we see etched across the history of the world. Together, they will stage a performance that offers visceral interpretation of the timeless idea of Axis Mundi. Traditional depictions often render humankind in the center of a continuum with concentric circles blossoming out to encompass all spheres from the netherworld to the celestial. Directed by Visiting Assistant Professor Jonathan Vandenberg, this piece also represents an intense interdepartmental collaboration where Dance and Theater as well as the Middlebury Museum have come together to create something quite special. The performance will take place in the largest gallery of our museum on Friday at 11 p.m. and Saturday at 1 p.m. Friday’s showing is followed by an “Off the Wall” Lunch and Discussion at 12:30 p.m, moderated by dance artist in residence Scotty Hardwig with the collaborators. Lunch is provided and the event is entirely free to College ID cardholders. Axis Mundi is simultaneously very nebulous and very concrete. To get to the root of the performance, I had the privilege of posing Professor Vandenberg some questions. Middlebury Campus (MC): What does Axis Mundi mean to you? Jonathan Vandenberg (JV): Well what’s interesting about the idea is it’s in many different traditions, it’s not just a western idea, it’s both eastern and western … It’s a liminal space in which there is a fluid gateway between two different realms, an upper and a lower. In many cultures this is manifested in a number of ways. There are geological representations of Axis Mundi such as Mt. Fuji. There is a long tradition of painting this realm, depicting the gateway between the celestial sphere and the terrestrial sphere. We see the earth as a microcosm and the macro in the universe, the infinite. And what is really interesting is that the human body appears in so many of these maps, as if the human body is another concentric sphere. The human body, the earth, the heavens. Ultimately it’s a very anthropocentric view of the world, that the human body is a microcosm of the infinite. MC: What was your creative process like? JV: For me, the axis mundi is appealing for two reasons. First and foremost because it is a very universal idea, it isn’t tied to a specific culture. In theater, I am always looking for a universal language, something that applies regardless background or culture Secondly, I’m very drawn to the polarity. In the piece you have on one hand love and hate, eros and thanatos, you have earth and you have death. The dual nature of the axis mundi becomes part of the dramaturgy of the piece. MC: So is that the connection to dance? That the body can transcend and walk amongst these levels to some extent? JV: I hesitate to use the word dance because I don’t think of it as a choreographic piece but it definitely has dance like elements because it exists in a world that is just human movement. It seems to be a really natural form for the idea because first and foremost, all these diagrams and paintings and images are two-dimensional and I wanted to figure out how we could do it in three-dimensions. It would be impossible to create a diagram of a three-dimensional axis mundi but using the body allows us to begin doing just that. MC: What has it been like working with Lorena and Miguel? JV: It has been very collaborative. I definitely had some ideas when I began but then we worked very organically. We started three weeks ago, meeting once a week to develop a vocabulary of movement and have taken it from there. They have contributed so much; it would never be the piece it is without their bodies. They found solutions to the ideas that I brought. In many instances they made discoveries; it became a kind of research. Their feedback and comments has been vital to the development of the piece. They have an incredible chemistry that saved me a ton of time. We did some exercises in the realm of what we would call “durational performance” because it’s an endurance piece, to perform this for one hour. They move at a very deliberate pace for one solid hour and it’s very physically rigorous, very demanding, very mentally demanding. I could not have done with without those two specific people. MC: Is there an overarching relevancy or connection to our everyday life at Middlebury? JV: In a way, this points out in our quotidian lives there’s also something we’re part of in a larger context. It takes time in a very different way and reminds us that every body is valuable, every individual is valuable and in that regard, everybody is worth seeing on stage. I also think of it within the concept of time, it exists outside of time because it’s a loop, there is no beginning or end. I like the idea that we’re coming in an disrupting everybody’s perception of time. It’s so hard for us in our daily lives, we’re passive spectators all of the time to government, to politics, to advertising, to entertainment. We’re constantly being told what to think. In work like this you have to be an active spectator. The piece is a kind of multivalent, universal language that you project on to. It becomes like a dark mirror, you see it and then read into it through your own personal history and in doing so, you see yourself.
Alright. Four guards patrolling the room to the right, one guard in an alcove to the left. Shoot forward and they’ll all come running. But I’m standing in a bottleneck, so I should be able to get all of them. Okay, let’s do th— Shoot. Dead again. Okay, restart. Maybe I have to shoot and back away really quickly, and get the guards as they come around the corner. Yeah, that’ll wor— Dead. Restart. Maybe I’ll just try charging forward and possibly get to that alcove— Dead. Restart. This is the brutal cycle that doesn’t easily let you go. This is the magnificence and the curse of no load times so you can just restart time and time again until you get through that difficult level. This is the formula that has made Hotline Miami such a hit. And Hotline Miami 2 is more of this brilliant gameplay loop. The game resembles its predecessor in almost every way. The story is more ridiculous, the stages more trippy and technicolored. There’s a little more diversity to the enemies and how they present themselves. New characters give a little bit of a breath of fresh air to the series, as well, injecting a modicum of variety into a game which is otherwise nearly unbelievably repetitive. Because this game is all about playing the same sequences over, and over, and over, until you can get yourself synchronized in such a way as to kill every enemy in the level before they can kill you. It’s a tall task, considering it usually only takes one hit to kill you and to put you back at the beginning of the floor. And yet, even though it can be frustrating, it still works. Its combat puzzles still suck me in, the stages are still mesmerizing in their art and design, forcing me to think through each and every step I take and bullet I shoot. In a sense, it becomes a stealth-action game, but even that isn’t the right word. It’s like a dance game. A rhythm game. In Hotline Miami 2, your goal is to perfect a certain pattern that will get you safely through the level. You become a choreographer, tracking how each move will affect the AI in the game. You have to jump forward and quickly jump back, or spin around in a circle while spraying bullets, or sprint into a room with crowbar drawn and dispatch the enemies before they can shoot you in the face. It’s a beautiful, chaotic mess that forces you to find the order in the disorder. It teaches you to take it slow and to move elegantly and efficiently, wasting no ammo or motion. And when you eliminate every single enemy on a floor of a stage, you can advance to the next part. You’re awarded with a moment of silence and solitude — and a level fully covered in blood and gore. Bodies strewn everywhere. Glass shot out. Destruction wrought on a scale that Hotline Miami trademarked. However much I was entranced by the dance of Hotline Miami 2, I was turned off by its brutality. Although the characters are only pixelated sprites, the animation of bullets ripping into them is still visceral and slightly revolting. Blood sprays out of each character to the point where nearly an entire stage can be painted in crimson. When you incapacitate a guard, you can reach down and break his neck or bash his face in. These executions are over-the-top and gruesome in a way that I had never before thought possible in a game as abstracted from the real as Hotline Miami. Hotline Miami 2, however, is not a game to present you with ethical dilemmas. It’s a game to crush them under the weight of repetition, gamifying murder until the characters aren’t anything more than automatic, motion-sensitive robots designed to prevent your progress. There’s no humanity in this game. Life means nothing. All considerations of morality are erased and buried under scores and times and attempts. Except it’s not even that simple. In one level, you take control of a police officer who must knock out all of the enemies. When you kneel on top of a knocked-out guard to finish the job, the execution animation is extremely slow, as if the officer is actually reluctant to kill. It’s a small technical difference, one that most players will probably not be hung up on. But I cannot get the image out of my head of the officer slowly reaching down to murder the man underneath him. I fashioned a look of horror on my character’s face. It made me not want to kill him. It made me wonder why I was killing anyone in this game. It turned me off from killing in a game that’s about massacring entire houses full of people. If that police officer level showed me anything, it’s that the game would be so much more palatable, and so much more moving, if it used that same reluctance to violence as shown by the police officer. It would effectively be an equivalent game, but you wouldn’t have to wade through the massive amounts of blood and death to get to the brilliant combat puzzles. Additionally, it would allow the character to have some sort of moral investment in the game. Hotline Miami 2 could provide an even more moving commentary about society and games if it let you not kill. If it made you take that extra step to murder, it would provide the sort of extra level of consideration that we ought to have — that we need to have — with regards to violence.
Duke University Dean of Arts & Sciences Laurie L. Patton was in the middle of creating an ambitious new outreach forum, the Duke Forum for Scholars and Publics, when her idea hit a roadblock. The world-renowned historian she had appointed the director of the forum wanted a premier space on campus. The only problem? A dean of academic affairs had already promised the space to university language instructors. “My dean of academic affairs was invested in this and had been working hard on it,” Patton said in an interview. “This new director said, ‘I really want this space.’ And, bingo: potential conflict.” College President-elect Laurie L. Patton spoke with the Campus in a wide-ranging interview during one of her recent visits to campus. Patton has been making periodic trips from Duke University, where she is Dean of Trinity College of Arts and Sciences and the Robert F. Durden Professor of Religion. She has been traveling to the College in order to meet and plan with members of the College community before she assumes office on July 1. Her mediation between the two individuals who could have been at loggerheads says a great deal about Patton and what kind of leader she may be as the College’s 17th President. Time, Space, Money, and Relationships In this case, Patton examined how she could resolve it based on what she calls the key matrix of time, space, money and relationships. Instead of unilaterally moving ahead, her first step was creating the relationship to solve an issue of space. “I said, ‘I’d like you to talk to each other about your common needs and figure out not whether you fight about the space but whether there is another space that the Dean of Academic Affairs could have for the language lab, or if there is another space for Scholars and Publics that you could talk about,” Patton said. “And I want you to talk about it first and not me, because you’re closer to the ground and you know what you need.’ And luckily they are both good people and they talked.” After a few renovations to an existing room, the dean and the incoming director figured out a mutually agreeable solution and the Duke Forum for Scholars and Publics (FSP) was born. Patton was confident that they could figure out a solution despite what originally looked to be a deal-breaker on both sides. “We had to spend more money to do it but that was an example where creating a relationship, forcing them to talk about their actual space needs and investing a little more money solved the problem,” Patton said. Even though this matrix might seem rigid, she said solving problems almost always boils down to a discussion of these four areas. “I’d like to think that even though it’s a thing that I invoke regularly, it’s capacious enough so that you could still be creative with it no matter what,” Patton said. The Sense of the Whole Patton’s rationale for creating FSP fits into her broader thoughts on how higher education ought to interact with the community. “If institutions of higher learning do not become more outward-facing, then we’re in trouble,” Patton said. “I think that’s true of colleges. I think that’s true of universities. I wanted to create a space where scholars, where they live—which is creating their research—could immediately translate their research to the outer world in addition to working with members of the community who are outside the guild to co-create scholarship.” Patton describes FSP as a “signature initiative” for her at Duke and has already met with the Middlebury selectboard to explore potential collaboration between town and College. Patton said, “I wanted to signal early on how much I want to work with the Middlebury community.” She also has experience with the Duke-Durham Neighborhood Partnership. The office facilitates service learning in Durham as well as economic and community development. Patton maintains that Middlebury’s relationship to a local community in conjunction with a global outlook is something few other colleges can claim. “The rural and cosmopolitan is Middlebury’s unique genius,” Patton said. “There is something very profound about that combination that people got when they founded this place and it keeps getting iterated.” The Language Schools and Middlebury’s environmental studies strength were both underway long before “going global” or “sustainability” were buzzwords, said Patton. Nevertheless, these auxiliary programs present challenges when grappling with what seems to be the zero-sum game of administrative resources. For Patton, imagining a bigger sense of the whole is Middlebury’s biggest challenge in the next five or 10 years. “Middlebury has grown and now we’re in this new space,” Patton said. “The College should remain at the center of everything we do but there are all these other units that have amazing trajectories—Monterey being the most recent, but also a lot of others.” Patton, despite being a prodigious fund-raiser while at Duke, said she is not sure you can ever raise money fast enough to always “expand the pie” for every facet of the College. (At Duke, Patton and the development office, through a campaign called Duke Forward, have raised $343 million since 2011.) She said the answer might lie in raising money while also gaining a new perspective on how the component parts of Middlebury can work together so they all benefit. Patton explained, “I want to make sure that any decision in favor of one unit doesn’t mean that I’m therefore going to disfavor the others. That’s a hard step in an institution that is growing. We’re not growing into a university identity. We’re growing into leadership in this third space that is really interesting and really unique and really Middlebury. So, making sure as we grow and create—make Middlebury more Middlebury—how can we do that without reinforcing or creating a zero-sum game? That’s my one big concern: how we encourage all the units to have a sense of the whole from their particular perspective.” Bridging the gaps between Middlebury and its other institutional arms will likely take effort. The College entered a new phase as a quasi-bicoastal institution with the acquisition of the Middlebury Institute of International Studies (formerly Monterey). However, Patton says the College can do habitual ventures that bring together the Institute and the undergraduate College, or the College and Bread Loaf, and so on. One of the ways Patton attempted to unite a broad institutional body at Duke was the University Course series. Faculty from across the university teach a course that is open to all students, whether they are biochemistry Ph.Ds. or sophomore philosophy majors. While acknowledging that what will work at a university will not work at what she calls a “very unique, third-space institution like Middlebury,” Patton said that the idea has potential for the College. “If it was hosted in Middlebury, we could have fellows from Monterey come and also have people streaming in on video who wanted to take the class,” Patton said. “If it was hosted at Monterey the next year, we could have 10 fellows from Middlebury be out there, and so forth. I think that would be a very exciting project.” Just like a student might study abroad, Patton said, the curriculum at the College can possibly reflect the wider world as it relates to the campus in Vermont. “That kind of constant tension between being restless and coming home is something that you learn how to think through and you learn how to be in that space,” Patton said. “So that might be how we plan curriculum: not just that one class but curriculum more broadly, which include this element where we trade places.” In regard to a potential Middlebury Course series, Patton said her approach is iterative; in other words, the College does not have to painstakingly craft the perfect solution that can never be updated. “Rather,” Patton said, “let’s see what happens and if we don’t like it in six months, let’s fix it. I think that’s what we could do with this class, too—let’s see if this helps us imagine a whole and if it could, then we can do it every year.” Challenges and Changing Perceptions Perceptions of certain issues can shift from when one is a candidate for President to the President-elect. Patton said she views diversity as an important and challenging issue that she now sees is bigger at the College than when she was first getting to know Middlebury. “I think it’s particularly acute for many reasons: because we’re at an elite liberal arts institution that has a very unique history of global engagement which would therefore imply diversity, but then we always need to be better and to live up to what we say we are. That means to rethink and to ask the question all the time, ‘Are we living up to what we say we are?’” Patton said. “And I think diversity is the number one place where students are pushing us to ask that question in really good ways.” Students have almost overwhelming praised Patton for the attention she has exhibited, even at this early stage as President-elect, on issues of diversity at the College. Patton said that part of the reason why there is concern over diversity may be generational differences, where the next generation is pushing on diversity while an older generation may believe that the work has already been done. Despite challenges such as diversity facing the College, Patton said that much of her work solving problems as College President might involve lighting a match for preexisting kindling. She sees preexisting groundwork of progress on issues like framing the College’s new identity or improving its relationship with the town. In terms of keeping her finger on the pulse of the student body, Patton said that she aims to continue at the College many of the practices she has developed at Duke as Dean of Arts & Sciences. She also sought to dispel a common negative perception about College administrations, including Old Chapel. “The common thing that people worry about is administrators know students leave, so if they just wait it out…” Patton said. “That’s the cynical view. I don’t want to be that way. I want to say, ‘Okay students, what legacies do you want to leave to the next students?’ The student population is only here four years but it’s a long-term relationship because they’re going to be alums and they’re going to care about what the next students do.” Inhabiting Multiple Places Despite the aforementioned challenges, Patton said the College is a unique institution that ought to be known more for its leadership in certain areas. She praised the restructuring of the Board of Trustees as an example of how the College is gaining recognition as an institutional leader. “My guess is I’m going to keep on discovering ways in which Middlebury really is a national and even international leader and it needs to say more that it is a leader,” Patton said. According to her, in higher education there is the need to be self-critical while also recognizing the ways in which an institution is succeeding. Patton said, “Middlebury is a very self-critical institution, and it pushes—it’s not complacent. I love that because I think that’s the only way institutions of higher education should be.” At the same time, she said, Middlebury ought to feature the different ways it is successful while simultaneously being self-critical. In this regard, Patton cites the new place where Middlebury finds itself—with the Institute of International Studies, the Language Schools, the School of the Environment, and the Schools Abroad—as an area Middlebury can examine yet still keep an eye to its strengths. “The way I put it at Monterey is that we’ve done something really interesting,” Patton said. “We need to tell a story of success about Monterey and making it better and being self-critical all at the same time. One of the things that is very exciting about all of the schools, but I think in Monterey’s case, is we have an opportunity to create a different connection between undergraduate and graduate education that also is an opportunity to inhabit multiple places.” Ultimately, Patton said, administration is about listening and knowing who needs to be consulted, just like in the disagreement over the space in which FSP would be housed. “The key to really good, careful, and subtle administration that creates community is one where you figure out who needs to be the major driver of the decision,” she said. “And when you figure that out and you get that right, everyone wants to be in the community together and they feel like there’s a greater sense of home.”
This June, Peter Jensen, the Foundations of Engineering and Architecture Instructor at the Hannaford Career Center, will be retiring. After working eight years in his current position at the center, and forty years overall in the Middlebury education system, Jensen and his career of dedicated work deserve to be celebrated. After receiving his teaching degree in 1971, Jensen joined the army and was an officer for three years. When his tour was over, however, Jensen immediately went into the field of teaching. “I left my career as an officer because I really had a passion for teaching,” Jensen explained. Once he transitioned into the education sector, Jensen was immediately drawn to STEM programs. “Right from the beginning, I got into programs that allowed kids to make things … the concept was to be creative and innovative,” Jensen said. Throughout his career, Jensen felt firmly rooted in his role as an instructor. “My job as an instructor,” Jensen said, “I have always felt is to essentially be the person who creates the environment in which learning can take place.” Jensen continued: “If I structure the units carefully enough, and introduce them clearly enough, then the students have an opportunity to be encouraged and the desire to be innovative.” When asked how his style of teaching developed over his career, Jensen said, “I think it has been honed over time.” Jensen was sure to make clear, however, that his fundamentals remained constant. “I always had a passion to interact with young people, to allow them the freedom to expand and grow, to develop in whatever was their passion,” he said. In addition, Jensen believes that his core responsibility is to defy the stereotype that the subjects of architecture and engineering are rigid. “I see my job,” Jensen explained, “as connecting creativity within those rigid subjects.” For example, Jensen referenced the groundbreaking work of Bjarke Engels as the level of originality he encourages his students to strive for. When talking about Engel’s work, Jensen said, “Now that’s innovation. That’s the freedom to be creative. That’s the change that the world needs.” At the Hannaford Career Center, a state-funded public education center that offers students the opportunity to be engaged in learning at a broader context, the general focus is to present students with a variety of opportunities to expand their interest in technical skills, the workplace and future educational opportunities. Jensen advises that the career center is “a wonderful opportunity to discover through a year or semester-long program whether or not an interest of yours is strong enough to continue into the future.” “With the incredible cost of post-high school education now presented to a lot of these kids,” Jensen continued, “using their time in high school to make some discovery is really valuable.” Jensen’s course, which is a semester-long course that splits the time evenly between engineering and architecture, is built around five basic concepts: investigate, innovate, evaluate, fabricate and communicate, which are applied to a variety of specific tasks and activities. “Whether you are designing a house, or a new iPad … I use the same basic elements, so in essence a lot of my assignments are mini tasks, which give students the opportunity to be creative,” he said. In his curriculum, Jensen places a strong emphasis on making his content engaging. “One of the precepts I believe very important for kids nowadays,” Jensen explained, “is to be excited about what they are doing and if a kid is adventurous, than they are going to be less likely to be fearful of failure.” Jensen makes his goal therefore to encourage and foster his students to “get into the software, get into their personal motivation as to what they’d like to create, and be creative with that as their vehicle.” As a facilitator of such creativity, Jensen relayed incidents where some students needed a little extra encouragement. “I had one student, let’s call him Bill, who was very nervous about the software. He did not have much experience with computers, and this was in the engineering phase of the course,” Jensen said. “I helped him gain familiarity with the software, and asked him what he was interested in. He was interested in pool. So with my help he went from building a pool stick, to a set of balls, to a rack to put the balls into, and before he knew it, Bill had built an entire pool set.” Reflecting on this experience, Jensen revealed that “to see a student, who started in a relatively timid way, without a lot of self-confidence, grow into an understanding of his ability, and feel his ability his expanding within him, allowing him to take more risk, and to try different things, that’s one of the joys of teaching.” Having dedicated his life to public education and parenting four children, three of which went to four year college institutions, and one who attended a two year automotive school, Jensen is in a unique position to comment on the value of a liberal arts education in comparison to a career-oriented program. First, Jensen was clear to address some of the stigmas associated with the value of technical schools in this debate. “Perhaps part of an academic stigma is that a technical school is for students that won’t be doing too much after school. That’s not true at all. In fact, it’s anything but that.” To further emphasize his value of technical schools, Jensen explained that he had all four of his children take his class at the Hannaford Center, knowing that three of them would continue onto a four-year college institution. Next, Jensen began to distinguish the different skills each type of education provides. Jensen categorizes technical schools as those that provide a student with “a hard skill, or a hard resume.” In comparison, Jensen views the liberal arts education as the development of “the soft skills.” Ultimately, Jensen believes that the two sectors of education work best when incorporated together. “In other words,” Jensen continued, “I can be a brilliant architect, and be hired by one of the most wonderful firms in New York City. If I don’t have the ability to connect with people in a team setting, communicate effectively, compromise, take criticism…those skills will force me to lose my job.” One of Jensen’s four children attended Middlebury College, and he praised the establishment. “Middlebury College is a fantastic institution. Through my own son’s experience, and my awareness of the College, I’ve come to understand that oftentimes the first degree that we choose is not the last degree. And the first job that we enter, is by no means our final job, or a big extensive career,” Jensen said. “The experience that you have at Middlebury College is more about some intrinsic things that occur within you, that give you guidance and maturity, that help you to develop as a person that then can be more successfully applied to the passion, and the direction you want to take your life,” Jensen continued. He also made sure not to undervalue those skills. “If you can gain a feeling and understanding about yourself, a real candid awareness about who you are, and develop the ability to take risks and to get out there and discover, then maybe that degree has served you well.” With his distinguished career beginning to enter the rearview mirror, Jensen makes it clear that the most rewarding part of his career has been working with young people. “Young people are very interesting. They’re dynamic, they’re full of effort and energy…they are the entire reason I came into education in the first place.” Jensen then recalled an interaction with his father, a science and chemistry teacher in a barrio school in Arizona, that fully encapsulates the heightened sense of importance he places on the career of teaching. The summer before his father died, Jenson was building a rather large house. In response to his father lamenting that he had never done anything as creative as building a house, Jensen responded, “‘Wait a minute. How many years did you teach? Dad, you encountered, inspired, encouraged thousands of young kids, haven’t you?’ And he began to think back, and I said, ‘What is more powerful than that?’ One kid is way more powerful than a room in a house, than the entire house structure.” When asked if there is any downside to his job, Jensen responded, “You’re asking the wrong guy. I have enjoyed my career so much. I don’t think there is a down-side for me.” With a smile on his face, Jensen concluded, “I am enjoying it as much today as I did forty years ago when I started, just out of the service.”
This June, Peter Jensen, the Foundations of Engineering and Architecture Instructor at the Hannaford Career Center, will be retiring. After working eight years in his current position at the center, and forty years overall in the Middlebury education system, Jensen and his career of dedicated work deserve to be celebrated. After receiving his teaching degree in 1971, Jensen joined the army and was an officer for three years. When his tour was over, however, Jensen immediately went into the field of teaching. “I left my career as an officer because I really had a passion for teaching,” Jensen explained. Once he transitioned into the education sector, Jensen was immediately drawn to STEM programs. “Right from the beginning, I got into programs that allowed kids to make things … the concept was to be creative and innovative,” Jensen said. Throughout his career, Jensen felt firmly rooted in his role as an instructor. “My job as an instructor,” Jensen said, “I have always felt is to essentially be the person who creates the environment in which learning can take place.” Jensen continued: “If I structure the units carefully enough, and introduce them clearly enough, then the students have an opportunity to be encouraged and the desire to be innovative.” When asked how his style of teaching developed over his career, Jensen said, “I think it has been honed over time.” Jensen was sure to make clear, however, that his fundamentals remained constant. “I always had a passion to interact with young people, to allow them the freedom to expand and grow, to develop in whatever was their passion,” he said. In addition, Jensen believes that his core responsibility is to defy the stereotype that the subjects of architecture and engineering are rigid. “I see my job,” Jensen explained, “as connecting creativity within those rigid subjects.” For example, Jensen referenced the groundbreaking work of Bjarke Engels as the level of originality he encourages his students to strive for. When talking about Engel’s work, Jensen said, “Now that’s innovation. That’s the freedom to be creative. That’s the change that the world needs.” At the Hannaford Career Center, a state-funded public education center that offers students the opportunity to be engaged in learning at a broader context, the general focus is to present students with a variety of opportunities to expand their interest in technical skills, the workplace and future educational opportunities. Jensen advises that the career center is “a wonderful opportunity to discover through a year or semester-long program whether or not an interest of yours is strong enough to continue into the future.” “With the incredible cost of post-high school education now presented to a lot of these kids,” Jensen continued, “using their time in high school to make some discovery is really valuable.” Jensen’s course, which is a semester-long course that splits the time evenly between engineering and architecture, is built around five basic concepts: investigate, innovate, evaluate, fabricate and communicate, which are applied to a variety of specific tasks and activities. “Whether you are designing a house, or a new iPad … I use the same basic elements, so in essence a lot of my assignments are mini tasks, which give students the opportunity to be creative,” he said. In his curriculum, Jensen places a strong emphasis on making his content engaging. “One of the precepts I believe very important for kids nowadays,” Jensen explained, “is to be excited about what they are doing and if a kid is adventurous, than they are going to be less likely to be fearful of failure.” Jensen makes his goal therefore to encourage and foster his students to “get into the software, get into their personal motivation as to what they’d like to create, and be creative with that as their vehicle.” As a facilitator of such creativity, Jensen relayed incidents where some students needed a little extra encouragement. “I had one student, let’s call him Bill, who was very nervous about the software. He did not have much experience with computers, and this was in the engineering phase of the course,” Jensen said. “I helped him gain familiarity with the software, and asked him what he was interested in. He was interested in pool. So with my help he went from building a pool stick, to a set of balls, to a rack to put the balls into, and before he knew it, Bill had built an entire pool set.” Reflecting on this experience, Jensen revealed that “to see a student, who started in a relatively timid way, without a lot of self-confidence, grow into an understanding of his ability, and feel his ability his expanding within him, allowing him to take more risk, and to try different things, that’s one of the joys of teaching.” Having dedicated his life to public education and parenting four children, three of which went to four year college institutions, and one who attended a two year automotive school, Jensen is in a unique position to comment on the value of a liberal arts education in comparison to a career-oriented program. First, Jensen was clear to address some of the stigmas associated with the value of technical schools in this debate. “Perhaps part of an academic stigma is that a technical school is for students that won’t be doing too much after school. That’s not true at all. In fact, it’s anything but that.” To further emphasize his value of technical schools, Jensen explained that he had all four of his children take his class at the Hannaford Center, knowing that three of them would continue onto a four-year college institution. Next, Jensen began to distinguish the different skills each type of education provides. Jensen categorizes technical schools as those that provide a student with “a hard skill, or a hard resume.” In comparison, Jensen views the liberal arts education as the development of “the soft skills.” Ultimately, Jensen believes that the two sectors of education work best when incorporated together. “In other words,” Jensen continued, “I can be a brilliant architect, and be hired by one of the most wonderful firms in New York City. If I don’t have the ability to connect with people in a team setting, communicate effectively, compromise, take criticism…those skills will force me to lose my job.” One of Jensen’s four children attended Middlebury College, and he praised the establishment. “Middlebury College is a fantastic institution. Through my own son’s experience, and my awareness of the College, I’ve come to understand that oftentimes the first degree that we choose is not the last degree. And the first job that we enter, is by no means our final job, or a big extensive career,” Jensen said. “The experience that you have at Middlebury College is more about some intrinsic things that occur within you, that give you guidance and maturity, that help you to develop as a person that then can be more successfully applied to the passion, and the direction you want to take your life,” Jensen continued. He also made sure not to undervalue those skills. “If you can gain a feeling and understanding about yourself, a real candid awareness about who you are, and develop the ability to take risks and to get out there and discover, then maybe that degree has served you well.” With his distinguished career beginning to enter the rearview mirror, Jensen makes it clear that the most rewarding part of his career has been working with young people. “Young people are very interesting. They’re dynamic, they’re full of effort and energy…they are the entire reason I came into education in the first place.” Jensen then recalled an interaction with his father, a science and chemistry teacher in a barrio school in Arizona, that fully encapsulates the heightened sense of importance he places on the career of teaching. The summer before his father died, Jenson was building a rather large house. In response to his father lamenting that he had never done anything as creative as building a house, Jensen responded, “‘Wait a minute. How many years did you teach? Dad, you encountered, inspired, encouraged thousands of young kids, haven’t you?’ And he began to think back, and I said, ‘What is more powerful than that?’ One kid is way more powerful than a room in a house, than the entire house structure.” When asked if there is any downside to his job, Jensen responded, “You’re asking the wrong guy. I have enjoyed my career so much. I don’t think there is a down-side for me.” With a smile on his face, Jensen concluded, “I am enjoying it as much today as I did forty years ago when I started, just out of the service.”
“The more we understand the world, the more voice we have in shaping it.” These were the words of a young student of Kevin Murungi ’01, Director of Human Rights and Foreign Policy Programs at Global Kids, who returned to the College on April 9 to deliver the Spring Symposium’s annual keynote speech. In his speech, this theme of global understanding was highlighted as Murungi shared the story of his journey from Nairobi to Middlebury to his current work in Global Kids, a non-profit education organization, and the incredible stories that he is helping other students write for themselves. Murungi began his lecture with a broad grin. “I’m an educator, so I like to connect with my audience,” Murungi said. Education was one of the driving forces in Murungi’s young life. He grew up in Nairobi, Kenya, “the best city in the world.” (“Where else can you see giraffes on the city skyline?”) Murungi’s parents and older siblings studied at American universities; international perspective was highly valued in his family. Murungi headed to Middlebury with excitement, a feeling that was hardly dampered even when he was pulled aside in the U.S. airport for a “random” security check. This event would foreshadow the presence of social injustice in Murungi’s surroundings, as well as his eagerness to address it. Initially, Murungi believed he would study biology, but three hours of lab per week convinced him otherwise. He turned, on a whim, to political science, and Introduction to Comparative Politics with Professor Emeritus of Political Science David Rosenberg soon became his favorite class. Murungi recalled how this subject really struck a chord with him. “I am a Kenyan, [from a country where] speaking up against social injustice was tantamount to speaking out against the ruling elite.” Even then, though, the significance of a major in political science didn’t weigh heavily in his mind. It wasn’t until a light-hearted conversation with Rosenberg, in which Rosenberg suggested Murungi major in political science, that his life took an unalterable course towards political science and social justice. One of Murungi’s strongest messages to students was to fully appreciate their advisors. “Relationships with professors at Midd are critically important,” Murungi said. “Don’t take them for granted.” His advisor, James Jermain Professor Emeritus of Political Economics and International Law Russell Leng ’60, taught Murungi’s favorite undergraduate course: International Law and Organization. The combination of theory in the classroom and social injustice in his home country spurred Murungi to engage in social activism at the College. He helped plan an annual African Symposium, which still occurs today. Furthermore, when racial injustice surfaced in the Campus, he was at the forefront of protests against it. During one of his undergrad years, the paper published a racist ad featuring a picture of three black men with the title “Thugs, Gangsters, and Hoodlums.” The backlash was ferocious, and Murungi recalled how the ad “stirred in him a desire to face injustices.” Even in Vermont, he was made aware of “what it meant to be a black man in America.” Murungi’s leadership at Global Kids since 2006 enables middle and high school students from underserved areas of New York City and Washington, D.C. to learn about international policy, participate in the democratic process, and become change-makers in their communities. Many of the students come from schools whose dropout rates are 50 to 60 percent, yet students who participate in Global Kids summer programs have a 96 percent college acceptance rate. Additionally, at Global Kids students are expected to spread their knowledge within their communities. For example, students in NYC are at the forefront of a proposal to mandate elementary school climate change education. In his lecture, Murungi imparted his deep admiration for the “cultural competence” of the students he works with. His proudest moment at Global Kids was taking five students to Kenya in 2009, where they assessed the role of youth in human rights campaigns. After the speech, he shared that, at Global Kids, the point of departure is always the students and their stake in the projects. “All I can do is...provide the tools for them to access their global citizenship,” he said, just like the College did for him. Murungi’s story comes full circle; he inspired a Global Kids participant, Amosh Neupane ’18, to apply to and attend Middlebury. Neupane shared his admiration for Murungi and the positive impact of his GK summer building green roofs in NYC public schools. “Global Kids was/is the perfect after-school program — a combination of an academic support group, a mentorship and college counseling program, and a stage for youth empowerment,” Neupane said. “Perhaps the most important thing I learned in Global Kids was to unbridle myself and face my fears with confidence. Mentors like Kevin guided me through this process of development.” Other students were equally impressed with Murungi’s social work in an environment that engages kids and his humility in recounting the opportunities he provides to children. “[His speech] had just the right amount of cliché, but it was also real,” Leo McElroy ’18 said. “I had lunch with him, and he’s a very low-key, very comfortable guy,” Kyler Blodgett ’17 said. “I’m glad he didn’t transform and button-up in his talk; he was the same relaxed guy.”
After putting up an exhibit called Queer Faces of Middlebury in the McCullough Center Gallery, I noticed that the word “queer” turned some people off the project. I personally don’t mind identifying as queer and using it as a personal and political tool to talk about identities and ideas, but I knew that the overall queer community on campus doesn’t feel the same. Queerness grew on me because it was indistinguishable. I knew that coming out as gay would force me into a box and thought it harmless. I thought that if I just dressed more masculine and dated boys and married them, then the world wouldn’t have a reason to hate me. Being gay was a safe zone for my identity because it prepared me for battle. I learned how not to be affected by the foolishness of intolerant people. Then, I started reading some essays on homonormativity and was completely disgusted by the ways in which I too have been subscribing to a commercialized idea of being gay. After reading those texts, I started identifying as queer because on a hypothetical queer planet, there is more room for imagination. Reclaiming a word that was previously used as a weapon and transforming it into a shield of a sort gave me power. Its definition was beyond anything I had ever identified with. One of my favorite readings this year was Eve Kosofky Sedgwick’s essay Tendencies where she defines queerness as an “open mesh of possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances and resonances.” This was also the way I wanted to see myself, as more complex. I was confused when non-straight people didn’t want to identify as queer. To me, getting on the “queer boat” meant that I could finally escape all of the limiting identities. I was wrong. I was just picking a more fitting label but a label nonetheless. I’m conflicted because those labels are necessary to create communities and to make sure that the stories of queer folk are not erased from our culture. It would be ludicrous for me to say that I too wasn’t saved by the labels gay or queer when I first heard of them because they gave me a place of belonging. In a way, queerness has offered myself to me because it simply just exists. The umbrella term rids us of the burden of having to pick on the spectrum, of having to conform. The term “queer” offers a tint of rebellious behavior that I, too, wish to embody. On the other hand, the very same reasons why I like the queer identity is why someone might dislike it. The rebellious aspect and the power that is obtained from disregarding other labels does not make the queer identity free. True freedom of sexuality and gender expression comes from not even having a label to work under. This you-can’t-put-me-in-a-box approach becomes problematic because it assumes a lot of autonomy that cannot be afforded by many. Queerness can provide a community, but what does a non-label person get out of their experience? Is having a queer community always beneficial? There are countless queer folk on campus that don’t feel like they don’t need to identify or interact with any type of queer-centered organization of the event and that is completely fine. I would push those people to further think about the role they can play in sharing their experience with others and centering that experience in a community. I find it difficult to understand why a non-straight identifying person would be opposed to engaging with their queer community. Partly, Queer Faces of Middlebury was a look into the queer community for straight and non-straight people that never cared to reach out and listen to these stories or just don’t have the time. I think that we can all learn a great deal from each other and see the ways in which all of our lives intersect and go on in their own directions. There is a certain uniqueness and candor to each picture that should be recognized. I had many doubts about the ability to portray such strong emotions but the participants were beautifully intentional about their identity. What does your queer identity mean to you?
It takes a certain kind of vulnerability to create powerful theatre. From April 9-11, the stars of the student-produced version of David Ives’ 2010 play Venus in Fur put their acting skills on fearless, intimate display in a 90-minute showing at the Hepburn Zoo. Featuring actors Caitlin Duffy ’15.5 and August Rosenthal ’17 under the direction of Joelle Mendoza-Echthart ’15, Venus in Fur was Duffy’s senior thesis work and a featured performance of the Spring Student Symposium. There may have been only two actors, but the presence of a play within the play made for twice the number of characters to keep track of. The story takes place in a director’s office in modern-day New York City, as exasperated playwright-director Thomas Novachek, played by Rosenthal, struggles to cast the part of Vanda von Dunayev, the female lead in his adaptation of the 1870 German novel Venus in Furs. Just as he is about to call it quits for the day, the stunning Vanda Jordan, played by Duffy, saunters in, late and unannounced. Following a string of profanities dramatically lamenting her tardiness, the bold, brash and conveniently-named actress announces excitedly, “I’m, like, made for this part, I swear to God.” Vanda proceeds to strip off her top layer of clothes, revealing a seductive black leather corset, black underwear and a dog collar around her neck. Her energy is palpable. Thomas, exhausted from an entire day’s worth of fruitless auditions, impatiently tells her to not bother auditioning right now. Desperate for the role, however, Vanda dances around his instructions, first by wallowing loudly in self-pity and then by slipping into her costume – a long, fancy white dress – whilst he is distracted on the phone. And so Thomas finds himself entangled in the longest, strangest and most emotionally-draining audition of his life, with modern-day actress Vanda voicing the role of nineteenth-century, Austro-Hungarian Vanda von Dunayev as he reluctantly reads the lines of her lover, Severin von Krushemski. Duffy’s acting is sharp, lively and above all, utterly daring. Her colorful and unrestrained depiction of Vanda is a constant source of disbelieving amusement. From her ridiculous pre-audition warm up (shouting “KA-KA! KA-KA! INK. SPOT. INK! SPOT!” under Thomas’s impatient glare) to her shameless inquiries, like, “And what’s this? A maypole? Phallic symbol?” in reference to an iron pipe, the audience spends the better part of the beginning of the show giggling at Vanda’s antics. In line with Vanda’s brash personality, Duffy is unabashedly loud and expressive onstage. Her words reverberate loudly through the room, while her abrupt, sweeping movements, coupled with the clacking of her high heels, produce an endless stream of bangs, thuds and crashes. All the while, thunder rumbles in the background, foreshadowing the mysterious and faintly menacing nature of the coming scenes. Vanda’s interpretation of the play clashes heavily with Thomas’ vision. She labels it as S&M porn, while he considers it a beautiful love story. Written by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, the real-life book Venus in Furs revolves around themes of female dominance and sadomasochism, with Krushemski begging Dunayev to inflict sexually degrading acts on him. Indeed, the term ‘masochism’ actually originated from the author’s last name. What soon transpires is a blurring of reality and fiction, as actress and director immerse themselves deep within their respective roles. Though Vanda occasionally interrupts the heat of the dialogue with questions like, “And that’s symbolic, right?” the distinction between the people and their temporary characters becomes increasingly hazy as they progress through the script. Vanda demonstrates a surprisingly detailed knowledge of the play, eventually feeling inclined to instruct Thomas in certain scenes. Yet the contention between the two continues. Vanda insists that the story is pornographic, sexist and degrading toward women, and pauses at several points to protest some particularly inflammatory lines. In response, Thomas rants, “How can you be so good at playing her, and be so fucking stupid about her?” When she tries to point fingers, he tells her, “There are no villains in this piece.” Furthermore, when Vanda tries to connect Krushemski’s thirst for degradation with an abusive childhood, he explodes, “Let’s not be trite, all right? This is not anthropology, or sociology. This is a play. Don’t generalize. There’s a lot more going on here than corporal punishment issues.” Venus in Fur unravels at rapid speed, and the development of Vanda and Thomas’s actor-director relationship moves parallel to Dunayev and Krushemski’s steamy affair. The sexual tension mounts, the degradation escalates and the audition stretches on far longer than anticipated. Each word uttered onstage is strategic and significant. “Everything is interwoven. So if they make a reference to some element of Greek mythology, it relates in some way to what’s going on in the room,” director Mendoza-Echthart said. References to the goddess Venus throughout the script seem to suggest that Vanda is no mortal creature. Her eyes take on an increasingly fierce and crazed look, prompting what appears to be genuine fear within Thomas in the final scene. And so, as the end of the play takes a sudden, jarring, mythological turn – complete with ominous, otherworldly music, crashing thunder and flashing red lights – fundamental questions remain: Is Vanda the goddess of Venus in human form, or an actress pretending to be a goddess? At what point does she decide to punish Thomas, or does she plan it all along? And why does Thomas let her stay for so long? Venus in Fur may be a two-person play with a minimal and unchanging set, but the evolving dynamics are astonishingly complex. Duffy was keenly aware of the dissonance between her views and Vanda’s. “Because I was playing Vanda, I had to believe that she was right most, if not all of the time. But objectively, I agree with Thomas that this play isn’t as simple as good guy/bad guy,” Duffy said. “Vanda is very set in her beliefs, though I think there are some moments that catch her off guard and make her question some of her principles, even briefly.” The overbearing ways of Vanda – both Jordan and von Dunayev – ensure that Duffy frequently commands the attention of the entire room. Thomas, though significantly less dramatic than the wildly reactionary and sexual actress before him, does not let his voice go unheard. Through his lengthy monologues, in which he becomes progressively invested in the role of Krushemski, his utterly serious demeanor casts a powerful weight on the ambience of the room. However, Rosenthal recognized the importance of sometimes subduing his role in order to create a bigger space for Vanda. In the beginning scenes, when Vanda’s theatrical introduction is the focal point of the story, Thomas is intentionally boring and passive. As the audition progresses, however, his character takes on a more prominent role. “It’s important to share the playing, move that experience back and forth,” Rosenthal said. Mendoza-Echthart kept this balancing act in mind while casting for the part. “The play calls for a very specific sort of disposition in the male. He has to have a certain confidence, embody the role with a little bit of arrogance and be able to go head to head with Vanda,” she stated. “The great thing about August is that he has a fight in him. If we had wanted a doormat, we wouldn’t have cast August.” Meanwhile, Duffy’s part as Vanda allowed her to better understand her acting. “I usually get cast as the bitch, the whore, and… well, the bitch and the whore, basically,” she said. Initially, she had thought that accepting the role of Vanda, who is arguably a bitch and a whore, would involve undesirable type-casting. However, she soon realized that the character embodied much more than mere brashness or promiscuity. “I got to make a bunch of wrong choices in searching for the right choice,” she said. “I made a decision pretty early on in our process about who I think Vanda is, where she comes from and why she has showed up at Thomas’s auditions. I had to make that choice because it informed every choice I made throughout the play.” Though Duffy may have established a clear narrative for Vanda in her mind, the actual text of the play teems with uncertainty, neglecting to shed any definitive light on Vanda’s identity or motives. It is meant to be ambiguous, or, as Vanda mistakenly utters on several occasions, “ambivalent.” What the show does accomplish, however, is a rigorous thought experiment. Venus in Fur is more than the dysfunctional story of an actress who seduces and tortures a director. It probes each participant – onstage and offstage – to examine their own lives more closely. “It made us all think about dynamics in a relationship – who holds the power, what that means, if that’s something that we’ve constructed, or if it’s intrinsically part of every relationship,” Mendoza-Echthart said. “We never openly answered the question. I personally don’t have a clear answer.” Early on in the audition, Thomas tells Vanda that he loves the size of his characters’ emotions. This statement holds true for the entire scope of the student production. Neither actor is afraid of full, liberated expression. Even as their true selves and adopted characters become largely indiscernible from one another, the extremes of their experiences are never muted. Fury, passion, jealousy, confusion and myriad other emotions shape this utterly unforgettable story. Though small in operation, with a cast and crew of only 10 students, this showing of Venus in Fur touches on all the big, essential questions. And luckily, it knows better than to try to answer them.
This week, the lauded scholar Harvey C. Mansfield Jr. of Harvard gave a lecture entitled “An Address from the Humanities to Science” at the inaugural Eve Adler Memorial Lecture in celebration of the endowment of the Classics Department. Prior to the event, a number of students and some faculty members expressed concern that Professor Mansfield had been invited to speak, given his unpopular opinions about our increasingly gender neutral society. They said that they were uncomfortable with his presence and the support that Middlebury was giving him in the form of the invitation. On Thursday, Apr. 9, a meeting was held at Chellis House, The Women’s Resource Center, to give those with concerns a forum to discuss their feelings. At the meeting, the Director of Gender, Sexuality and Feminist Studies, Professor Essig, stressed comments that Professor Mansfield had made in the popular press as giving rise to the concern, though she readily admitted that she had read none of his books, including the one to which she objected wholeheartedly. A few students spoke as well, some emotionally, about their feelings related to the impending guest. They objected again to his comments in the popular press as well as to the fact that he did not include much feminist theory in his book on the topic, entitled Manliness. No students claimed to have actually read the book, which I object to, harkening back to the last time I was compelled to write in, when I argued that, as students, we ought to read books with ranging opinions, including opinions with which we do not agree. Alas, I have not returned to reiterate what I said last year, but to instead raise a different but related point: our education ought to make us uncomfortable at times. At Chellis House, the word “fear” was thrown around once or twice. While I question how a small-statured, soft-spoken man such as Professor Mansfield could actually invoke feelings of fear, I also question how his lecture—just words, really—could do that. (That his talk was on science and the humanities makes this increasingly doubtable. As does the relative lack of attention Manliness received and the Professor’s marginalization at Harvard, which likely stems from his conservatism as much as his lack of a full-born appreciation for feminism. But that’s another bone to pick.) Pushed further, I might wonder how shaky one must be in their opinions for a visiting lecturer to invoke fear. Again, though, I think a little fear is a good thing. I readily admit that the thought that our learning process should be one that involves making us uncomfortable was a sentiment expressed to me and to others by Professor Mansfield himself—I certainly make no claim to it. However, it is an idea that I’d like to foster at the College, and choose this platform to do so. Learning is a process of encountering new ideas. We ought not to sit in class and nod our heads at everything we hear; we should ask questions and doubt assumptions. Learning is also a process of finding our beliefs, and sometimes that means encountering other beliefs along the way with which we do not agree. Our minds and our values are evolving constantly—that is not an easy or comfortable situation. If it is, you probably aren’t doing it right. All that said, I have another aside related to Professor Mansfield’s visit: censorship is never acceptable. That there was even a meeting held in Chellis House means that someone considered revoking the invitation, censoring Professor Mansfield and his views. I am sure some people will not agree with me here, but I would make the case for just about anyone with something scholastically valuable to say to be invited, no matter how many unpopular opinions he held. Freedom of speech is a delicate thing and I worry that once it begins to erode, we will not be able to get it back.
Dejima and everything it stood for is at the heart of The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. This novel by David Mitchell, best known for writing Cloud Atlas, is set at the turn of the 19th century, in a secluded and suspicious Japan. Dejima, a small, man-made island in the bay of Nagasaki that functioned as a Dutch trading post, was the sole point of contact between Japan and the Western world. Mitchell’s novel explores the lives of all who came in contact with it: Dutch traders and clerks, Japanese interpreters and magistrates, students, soldiers, sailors, scholars and more. Dejima leaves none of them untouched. Thousand Autumns portrays it as a point of collision between cultures, ideas and values with complicated outcomes. Although the novel centers on its eponymous character, Jacob de Zoet is only one person in a sea of backstories and parallel plots and action. Mitchell creates rich, unique stories and personalities for his characters that enliven the story as a whole. A large portion of the middle of the book barely even mentions de Zoet, focusing instead on two of his Japanese friends: Ogawa Uzaemon and Aibagawa Orito. The book begins a little slowly, and if I had not thoroughly enjoyed Cloud Atlas I may have been turned off of it. However, I had faith in Mitchell’s writing and ability to surprise, so I persevered, though I floundered a little in the sea of Dutch and Japanese names. Jacob de Zoet arrives in Dejima to make his fortune so that he may marry his fiancée back home with her father’s consent. His particular mission is to aid his superior, Vorstenbosch, in rooting out the corruption and underhanded trading that is running rampant in Dejima. His struggle to remain true to his morality and principles in a sea of greedy traders is a driving force in the novel, and what held my interest in the beginning of the book. The other part of his storyline, an infatuation with Japanese medical student Aibagawa Orito, I found trite and frankly annoying. They have few, brief interactions that did not, to me, merit his ardor, although I could understand his interest. As the characters moved into separate storylines and Mitchell developed them apart from one another, I found they were both wonderfully interesting characters to read. I never quite reconciled myself to de Zoet’s love for Aibagawa, but it was only one thread of a complicated tangle of plots and subplots. Mitchell built the suspense and mystery, weaving this tangle expertly, and once I was approximately a third of the way through I was devouring every word. The novel pulls you in with constant new perspectives and pieces of backstory and agonizingly difficult decisions for the characters. That I was annoyed by de Zoet’s hasty and perhaps contrived ardor for Aibagawa hardly mattered at the end, because I found myself thoroughly enjoying each and every character regardless, holding my breath at cliffhangers and desperately captivated by question “What will happen next?” I hesitate to reduce this novel to any particular theme or maxim because it is so rich and so intricate. However, I said that Dejima and everything it once stood for is at the heart of Thousand Autumns because if the novel is about any one thing, it is finding one’s place in a different and unexpected life. The island represented a point of contact, an exchange of ideas and goods and a collision of cultures and values. It was at once valuable and dangerous. It presented opportunities, but fostered corruption. Yet it fostered loyalty also. For Jacob de Zoet, Dejima appears to him almost as a prison sentence at the beginning, and in carving out his existence there he finds he carves out a much richer life than he had hoped for or imagined. The Dutch and the Japanese are almost always at odds with one another, from the prohibition against any markers of Christianity such as crosses or Bibles, to the threatening Dutch ultimatums against the Japanese. However, despite all this, they persist in working together and find a commonality in the desire for trade. With that commonality, they endure the difficulties and isolation of Dejima, and sometimes they even forge friendships. It is these wary yet powerful friendships that bring the novel to life. It is exquisitely emotional. You are never entirely sure who to trust while reading it, but you do always know that you feel deeply for them, one way or another. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is an unexpectedly moving story, full of characters more complicated and thought-provoking than you initially think. It delves into a strange, untold corner of the past where Mitchell picks apart a knot of contrasting cultures. It is fascinating, dangerous and definitely worth a read.
Like many Catholics, I spent last Sunday nodding off in Mass or trying to get the toddler in the pew in front of me to laugh. Like still more Catholics, I promptly forgot the sermon and jostled with my fellow parishioners to exit the Church when the one hour time limit was reached. I went to Church with my family, simply because it was the thing to do. Tradition demanded it and, being a sucker for the old-fashioned way, I hastily obeyed. Now that I am back at Middlebury, I will likely continue my habit of rarely attending Mass. I did not stop going simply due to some strange atheistic peer pressure; it just stopped making sense to me. So I stopped, and happily let my identity be molded by our academic, merit-driven community. Religion is a tricky thing, and all too often it is intensely personal in its definition and application. While I no longer attend Church and do not feel particularly bad about it, there are elements of that community which a place like Middlebury cannot make up for. Religion may not be a prerequisite for a contemplative life, but I am sure most address it in their doctrine. Now before you dismiss me as a little out of a touch, let me explain. At almost any place of higher education we can rely on a few staples. First and foremost is academic rigor. Here we pride ourselves on how hard we work and the quality of said work. Seriously, how many times per Proctor visit do you hear the phrase, “I have so much work.” Similarly – and perhaps this is more Middlebury specific – we take great care to eat healthy and exercise, satisfying our physical well-being. Lastly, many of us strive to be satisfied in our pursuits and satisfy our emotional selves. Bear with me here as I go out on a limb, but there is something in the contemplative and spiritual that is left unresolved in college. I can guess what you’re thinking: something about new age or religious nonsense. Just humor me for a minute. (We all know you’re just killing time reading the paper while you wait for your friends in Proctor). If we were to define a contemplative life as self-reflective and concerned for the well-being of others, how many of you would fill that requirement? I would utterly fail. Who has time for that? We pride ourselves on the strength of our community, yet that very definition of community is unachievable without a common sense of selflessness. In an environment of high stress mid-terms, job interviews, GPA worries and near constant anxiety, is it any wonder we spend so little time wondering how to improve ourselves? Is it any wonder we have so little patience for the problems of others or so little focus on the positive experience of those around us? Religion by no means mandates or succeeds in producing utterly selfless, community-centric people. After all, each one of us knows our share of bigots. Yet, at least it is an avenue for the discussion. In our on-the-run, work-until-you-drop, please-don’t-drop-my-GPA world, we have little time or energy to work on being better people. This is a wonderful ideal. Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone were nice, right? Personally, I have very little energy or patience for my neighbors; I find it weighs me down to take on other people’s worries. Extending that to a stranger would seem an almost impossible task, and certainly one with no guarantee of personal reward. Which is, after all, what we want right? However, none of us can possibly come up with an excuse for not putting any effort into being less selfish people. Even if that means something as small as waking up in the morning and trying to be a better partner, sibling, cousin or neighbor. I had an interesting conversation with a mentor of mine who repeatedly asked me the question, what do you want? I managed to conjure up some professional sounding words concerning a future career. In an hours time, I ended up where we all end up. I want to be around friends and family who I take care of and who take care of me. It is not exactly a complicated goal, certainly not an original one. To achieve it we need to step outside ourselves for just a little bit and pay attention to the people around us. So I leave you with this final thought: decades from now when people talk about you, what would you have them say? My hope is that it wouldn’t be, “they were a pretty good student and made some good money.” Rather, with any luck, it’ll be something like, “they cared more for their friends than they did themselves.”
Middlebury is hard. I have found attending this college to be challenging and exciting, and my experience here has shown me that learning for the sake of itself may be the most rewarding of adventures. This adventure can be characterized as leisure: we are lucky to have this opportunity to study, to contemplate, to wonder, to imagine and to hypothesize. But I have also found Middlebury to aid and abet an unhealthy conception of success, as perhaps it must if it wants to be competitive as a globally leading liberal arts brand name. The importance of brand recognition at Middlebury creates an a-liberal environment that requires us to focus on achieving “success” rather than focusing on the health of our souls. We should strive for leisure, but also recognize that our investment in Middlebury as a brand poses an obstacle to the leisure for which we might wish. A Middlebury professor once noted that we spend an inordinate amount of money to pay for college, and that if the purpose is to secure a higher income thirty years down the line, it is too much. But if we are not just being filled up with facts and prestige, and rather our souls are being turned away from the shadows and towards knowledge of the good, then the high cost might just be a bargain. Liberal education should teach students not just how to act but to act with “firmness in the right.” It should give students knowledge regarding how they should act once they leave the ivory tower. My present understanding of the liberal arts indicates that we should search for knowledge by confronting unanswerable questions, including that most important one: how do I live well? As human beings, we are uniquely qualified to take part in this quest. Allan Bloom once wrote, “Man is the particular being that can know the universal, the temporal being that is aware of eternity, the part that can survey the whole, the effect that seeks the cause.” “Seeking our cause”- – well, if this doesn’t sound like leisure of the most important variety, I don’t know what does. However, I am unconvinced that this sort of activity happens regularly at Middlebury. I find it unlikely that all classes seek insight into the human condition or broach the question of what it means to act with integrity or justice. The current inadequacy of our honor code confirms that Middlebury does not succeed in teaching virtue. In many classes I have taken at Middlebury, we look at things that seem good or bad, and we look at the systems that create these good or bad situations. However, we don’t always ask why something that seems good is good. We deal with the parts, not the whole. While I admit to seeking the whole rather than the parts in some of my classes, it is not just the content but also the form that forces me to question whether my liberal arts education has been one characterized by leisure. Sure, when I read a beautifully worded sentence or explore a complicated concept, sometimes I feel something within me shift. When this happens, I am reminded of this crazy idea – that I might have a soul, and that learning here at Middlebury might be what nourishes it. But I also know that when I am in the library and I hear the lady on the loudspeaker say that it will close in 15 minutes because it is 12:45pm and I still have to memorize the names of Roman consuls and power through 200 more pages of so-called beautiful and soul-affirming literature – well, when that happens I no longer have the time or energy to verify its lofty reputation for myself. Because Middlebury doesn’t just ask us to seek, but also to prove that we have sought. Emily Bogin '16 is from Larkspur, California.
When the Middlebury community learned of the death of one of our own – Nathan Alexander ’17 – we were shocked and saddened. We at the Campus deeply felt this loss and decided that at this time no other subject was as important to the community as the death of one of our students. We cannot hope to fully express the impact that this loss will have on our community or on each of us individually. Yet, whether or not we knew Nathan personally, we grieve that Middlebury College is now suddenly and tragically one less. In difficult times such as these, it is easy for us to feel isolated and to withdraw into ourselves. But despite this impulse, now is the time to reach out to our fellow students. Each time we reach out to one another – even for a brief check-in – we tighten the bonds that create this community. It is this care for each other that will keep us afloat in times of pain and confusion. As our President, all Commons Deans and Parton Health Center staff have rightly repeated: look after those around you, be they close friends or simply classmates. But as we reach out to one another, we must remember that each of us grieves in our own individual way, and it is important to respect each other’s processes. Those who were close to Nathan are in pain right now and we must be mindful of how our actions will affect them in particular. While the shock of losing Nathan may eventually diminish, our memories of him will not fade. Many meetings, events and classes have begun with moments of silence in remembrance of his life. On Monday night, there was a candlelight vigil in his honor. Throughout the week, including tonight, Ross Commons is holding open hours from 9 p.m. to 10 p.m. in the Fireplace Lounge. This Sunday there will be a service in Mead Chapel at 11 a.m. The service is open to all members of the community and will be followed by a reception with Nathan’s family in Redfield-Proctor. We urge students to take advantage of these opportunities to celebrate Nathan’s life. We also urge students to take advantage of the support resources offered by the Scott Center for Spiritual and Religious Life, Parton Center for Health and Wellness and the Commons teams. These resources are here to support us in this time of grief and pain. A drop-in grief support group will be held every Friday at 2 p.m. for the rest of the semester. Chaplains are available for appointments at (802) 443-5626, and individual counseling sessions at Parton Counseling can be scheduled at (802) 443-5141. When offices are closed, the Department of Public Safety at (802) 443-5911 can connect you to support staff. Counseling Services of Addison County is also available 24-hours-a-day at (802) 388-6741. The outpouring of support from the College and fellow students in response to Nathan’s passing ought to give a clear message that we are a community – one that is built around neither Panther pride nor school spirit, but compassion and care for your peers. If we do not take care of one another, we have no community, let alone one to be proud of. Therefore, in these moments of mourning, it is more critical than ever that we live up to the meaning of this word, community. That we put our differences aside and recognize the unfathomable value of each other’s lives. That we make it clear that none of us ever, ever have to be alone while we are students at this school. Rest in peace, Nathan. You are dearly missed.