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(09/30/21 10:00am)
Two weeks ago, we editorialized on the importance of testing as a means to mitigate community spread. Now, Middlebury is offering opt-in asymptomatic testing on Mondays. However, many questions and contradictions remain regarding Covid-19 risk and safety protocols on campus.
As a board, we are again asking for more transparent channels of communication and clearly stated guidelines. Our semester depends on it.
We, as students, feel as if we’re being kept in the dark. We’re being asked to navigate a situation in which we know that risk is present, but we don’t know where or how much. It doesn’t seem as if the administration wants us to know how prevalent Covid-19 is on campus, even if this awareness would lead us to make more risk-averse decisions.
Though the college does have some sense of the prevalence of Covid-19 on campus through sporadic testing, students aren’t being notified of cases on campus until days later. The Covid-19 reporting dashboard is only updated on Mondays, even though individual students are notified about their test results several days prior. This seems like an arbitrary, and ultimately unsafe, decision to withhold information about positive cases in our community — especially given that the current timeline for releasing information means students may go into the weekend without an accurate case count.
Even if we disregard how delays in updating the dashboard may make the case count outdated, the number of active cases right now — idling around four — is only representative of the cases found in the distinct fraction of the student body who have been tested, meaning that many cases may go unidentified in students that aren’t being tested.
An email sent out by the SGA quoting CDC guidelines notes that testing is recommended for high-exposure activities such as “attending large social or mass gatherings, or spending time in crowded or poorly-ventilated indoor settings.”
Spoiler alert: if you’ve eaten lunch in a dining hall, this includes you.
And we are not only unsure of the number of cases on campus — we also don’t know what the college’s plans to do if there is an outbreak.
In addition, this week was the first time many of us had heard of contact tracing efforts being undertaken this semester, and it remains unclear to what constitutes an exposure, or what students are expected to do if notified. Should they still go to the dining halls? Attend in-person classes?
Some official contact tracing alerts also seemed to occur days after students were already aware of a proximate case, leading them to seek testing in town far before they were required to do so on campus. One of our editors noted that she was contact-traced via one of her classes, but her professor was not notified.
Though CDC guidelines state that vaccinated individuals do not have to isolate, we also must acknowledge that those guidelines are not necessarily targeted toward a residential campus. (And if any CDC official were to step foot in Atwater on a Saturday night, they would likely rethink their regulations.)
In essence, we want to be safe. But again, we’re not sure how to do that — what constitutes concern is still incredibly unclear. We’re told to cautiously travel off campus though we know hoards of parents from all over — whose vaccine status is currently assessed based on the honor system — will arrive on campus next weekend. And as fall break looms, students are unsure if they should just stay put over the four-day weekend to limit potential exposure; however, without transparency regarding Covid-19 testing, students don’t even know how safe it is to be on campus at the moment.
We’re unsure if we’re supposed to skip class and quarantine if we have a dull headache or the sniffles, and if we do decide to isolate, there’s no guarantee that professors will accommodate our absences.
The cases identified on campus thus far demonstrate that vaccines cannot be our only safeguard. Keeping each other safe means knowing what safety levels actually look like on campus day to day. Middlebury students are ready to hold up our end of the bargain — but we can only do so if we know the costs.
(09/23/21 10:00am)
This summer, when it became readily apparent that the student body would be significantly overenrolled for the fall 2021 semester, the college immediately sought out potential solutions. They made arrangements for dozens of students to live at the Bread Loaf campus and the Middlebury Marriott. Most notably, they purchased the Inn on the Green for $1.285 million.
In essence, Middlebury saw a problem and acted expediently to address it. Other critical issues on campus, however, have lacked this level of urgency, with one issue standing out in particular — the staffing shortage, which has now reached troubling levels.
This shortage did not occur overnight. Semblances of a labor deficit began to surface in late spring, giving the college more than enough time to anticipate this semester’s staffing crisis. However, this crisis is playing out without any of the same urgency afforded to the housing crisis.
Dining halls are bare-boned in their staffing. Two dining hall workers had to relocate to staffing Bread Loaf. Facilities staff are supposedly down 30 people and are prepared to begin hiring subcontractors. Last week, student organizations were given funded volunteer opportunities to help out with set up and clean up at the Student Involvement Fair due to critical understaffing, and MiddView leaders were told that a central reason for this year’s lack of orientation trips was the shortage of staff.
The student experience is deeply interwoven with that of the staff; every aspect of our time here depends on them. Therefore, this year’s over-enrollment has put even more undue pressure on the staff. If the college has committed to enrolling over 300 extra students, they also need to display this same commitment to supporting those whose tireless work permits those students to be here in the first place.
Yes, Middlebury may be a microcosm of the larger national labor shortage. But it shouldn’t have to be. As displayed in the college’s purchase of the Inn, we have the financial resources to tackle problems as we see fit. But Middlebury gets to selectively choose what it considers to be investments, and whom it considers to be expendable.
The college should be doing everything in its power to hire adequate numbers of staff and support them long-term. The $750 retention bonus for individuals who remain throughout the fall semester is evidently a short-term band-aid solution that fails to address the root causes of harm: an environment that necessitates one person doing the work of many, all for a below-livable wage. In addition, working at Middlebury still presents a constant health risk, particularly for staff members with children under the age of 12 who cannot be vaccinated.
It is beyond clear that the people who feed us and clean up after us, those who work to keep this school running, deserve more. As a Board, we don’t claim to know every intricacy of college finances and hiring practices, but we know from our weeks on campus thus far that actionable steps should have been taken long ago; many of our reporters have spent hours talking with staff members whose frustration is palpable.
Ultimately, livable wages should be the floor — not the ceiling. Staff need to feel valued, day in and day out, and our attention towards them shouldn’t falter if and when we hire the necessary numbers.
How Middlebury opts to handle this will be indicative of how they respond to future crises. We all know that the college has the ability to quickly mobilize its capital, and it’s far past time they do so to support staff.
(09/16/21 10:00am)
Since the start of the academic year, Colby has had 11 Covid-19 cases, Amherst has had 23, and Bowdoin has had 42. Tufts has had 25 this week alone, and a significant outbreak at Connecticut College resulted in 180 positives since students returned to campus. And while we too like to believe that Vermont is a magical, mountainous utopia where Covid-19 has ceased to exist, we also know that this is not the case. President Patton herself acknowledged in her fall welcome email that this semester does not offer “the COVID-free return that we had hoped for.”
As Middlebury students, we are currently suspended between the refreshing return to normalcy and the nauseating worry that there could be invisible cases piling up. Unlike the aforementioned schools that are testing their student body at least once — if not twice — weekly, we truly don’t know when our blissful sense of denial may come to a grinding halt.
The spread of the Delta variant and the subsequent breakthrough cases late this summer caught many of us off guard, and we as a board acknowledge that Middlebury may not have anticipated the need to test all 2,800+ of us. However, this need is now starkly apparent. Hundreds of maskless students crammed into Proctor dining hall like sardines, residential halls filled beyond their usual capacity and students all but touching shoulders in classrooms are only some of the scenes on campus this week that ultimately necessitate routine testing.
What makes this difficult is that we’re grateful for these same moments. We missed cramming 15 people at one table, piling into our friends' dorm rooms and hearing the chatter of our classmates by our side. But we want these practices to be sustainable. Without testing, and without consistent and clear messaging, they’re far from it. At the end of the day, students aren’t going to be dissuaded from going to Atwater mosh pits if they know they have the same chance of being exposed on chicken parm night.
Inherent contradictions like these only make it harder for students to know which rules to follow. Spaces like the college store and the gym have maintained capacity limits while most other space guidelines have dissolved. Vaccinated international students coming from low risk areas were tested several times on arrival, but students hailing from high exposure domestic regions were not. Some students report not being asked for their PCR test upon arrival, while others expressed frustration that they could not acquire an arrival test on campus if they couldn’t receive one elsewhere for free. Although guests are restricted from accessing campus, students have no limits on travel or interactions they can have outside of Middlebury.
All of this begs the question: why has Middlebury seemingly thrown in the towel when it comes to preventing community spread? As can be seen at peer institutions with similarly high vaccination rates, relying on those numbers isn’t enough. Our lack of testing also renders members of our community even more vulnerable — such as immunocompromised individuals and the children of faculty and staff under 12, for whom the risk of becoming seriously sick remains evident.
We’re not asking for campus to be put under draconian guidelines. Rather, we want to see systems and structures enacted so that our “normal” college experience — whatever that has come to mean — can remain feasible. As far as we’ve seen, there doesn’t seem to be a feasible Plan B in regard to accommodating a large volume of sick students. Our best shot at a safe and fulfilling semester means making Plan A work equitably and realistically.
Ultimately, we as students are warned to be careful, but are not given the resources to do so. And we know that if the s**t hits the fan, we’ll be the first to shoulder the blame. Safety measures like testing may be financially or logistically inconvenient, but simply pretending like we don’t need them anymore is not the answer.
It's far past time to start testing if we care at all about preserving these delicate moments of authentic college life — and the lives of our most vulnerable community members. If we look to peer institutions for clues, the reality is that there are almost certainly cases on campus as we speak — it’s now up to Middlebury to decide how many there will be. We're not disposable.
(05/20/21 10:00am)
While the school year may be coming to a close, a new fiscal year — and the implementation of a new College budget — is fast approaching. This is a moment to reflect on what should be included among the college’s highest priorities before these decisions go into effect on July 1.
Paying all staff at least a livable wage should be at the top of the priority list.
At the college, benefits-eligible starting wages begin at $14. The livable wage in Vermont is estimated to be at least $15.72 for workers without children. For part-time staff working under 1,000 hours per year, starting wages begin at $12. As staff describe waiting in line at the food bank or struggling to pay for the gas they need to get to work, the college needs to take a look at its lowest paying jobs — unlivable wages are unacceptable and do not represent the value that the college ought to place on staff, nor do they reflect the respect for human dignity that the college should prioritize as an employer.
We commend the college for honoring their commitment to maintaining wage continuity throughout the pandemic, as this was an important first step in ensuring fair compensation of workers. But as the college assesses its budget for the coming fiscal year, it is crucial that further steps are taken to guarantee a livable wage for staff.
A hiring and wage freeze was put in place at the dawn of the pandemic — while hiring seems to be resuming, current staff have been asked to do more work over the last year with less manpower and stagnant pay. We need both new and existing staff to be paid a livable wage now more than ever, especially as the college struggles to fill those open positions.
While this decision rests on the Board of Trustees, who approve the annual budget, students can be aware of these shortcomings and continue to voice their support for staff. Student activism in the past has garnered progress and forced the College’s hand, such as when base wage increases happened in large part due to student calls for action in the fall of 2019.
The onset of the pandemic has only made the jobs of staff more arduous. The College has provided amenities for students, such as food trucks and tents, to try to appease student concerns. If the College is willing to address student needs, students have the power to advocate for higher staff wages. We can use our privilege to highlight the importance of staff in the community — this means vocalizing our support for fair wages.
At the end of the day, however, this issue falls squarely on the shoulders of Middlebury College and its Board of Trustees, who have the final say regarding institutional priorities. If we are to show that we truly care about the invaluable efforts of our staff — whose hard work and sacrifices allowed us to successfully weather on-campus semesters through a pandemic — we need to compensate them with a livable wage.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’ editorial board.
(05/13/21 10:00am)
Though it’s been over a decade since the infamous “Midd Kid” music video first graced the internet, many current students are still well acquainted with its catchy chorus. The satirical video premiered in 2010 to mixed reception — some commended the parody for highlighting long-standing stereotypes on Middlebury’s campus, while others took issue with many of its narrow and privileged representations, many of which persist at Middlebury today.
The four-and-a-half-minute track features groups of mostly white, preppy students flashing stacks of cash, boasting about trips to Nantucket and throwing up on female partygoers. While some viewers believe “Midd Kid” comically critiques these behaviors, others think it glorifies them. But one thing is clear regardless: they have endured.
Both alumni and current students see many elements of their college experiences reflected in the video, despite its exaggerations. (And, as many of us can likely attest, it’s not that exaggerated.) One YouTube comment on the video reads, “Midd ‘97 here, true now and true then.” A comment on the 2010 Campus article states, “Being an alum, it’s nice that this song can take me back [...] puts a smile on my face every time.”
But the issue at hand here isn’t a lighthearted satirical video, it’s that we all recognize that these flamboyant depictions of whiteness and wealth do indeed reflect many facets of our Middlebury experience. The same is true for the heteronormative and fraternity-esque portrayals of hook-up culture, expectations of academic productivity and busyness, and exclusionary representations of “crunchiness” and outdoorsiness. None of these issues are exclusive to Middlebury; many aspects of the video would be familiar to most college students. Nevertheless, these stereotypes have been codified and embedded into what we would consider “Middlebury culture.”
The cultural contexts and the power dynamics that “Midd Kid” highlights were clearly prevalent long before the production of the video, and they will continue to be applicable long after. Instead of brushing “Midd Kid” off as an unrealistic and outdated representation, we should instead contend with the fact that these displays of entitlement — no matter how sarcastic — remain salient. At a predominantly white, elite institution in which nearly a quarter of the student body comes from the top 1% income bracket, Middlebury culture is regrettably yet understandably dictated by privilege.
This doesn’t mean we have to throw in the towel; instead, it is critical that we reflect on our values as a community and identify the aspects of our culture that need to shift.
Covid-19 has, by nature, interrupted the continuity of many of these stereotypes — whether that be exclusionary parties, athlete culture or the ever-present fact that affluent students have the means to visit remote locales over breaks and weekends. But institutional racism and severe income inequality still persist on campus, with or without Covid-19. As we transition back towards a more conventional Midd experience next year, we can and should use this reset as a chance to rethink some of the more unsavory pillars of student life here.
We do not have to remain cemented in outdated notions of what college is “supposed” to look like, especially when these expectations benefit some and marginalize others. As students, we have the autonomy to influence four years of campus culture and change the elements we don’t believe serve our community. Middlebury is not a static, unchanging entity. If we want to reestablish our priorities, we have the ability to do so — even if we want to keep our Nalgenes.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’ editorial board.
(05/06/21 10:00am)
In a year when dining staff have faced longer working hours and increased responsibilities, the bare minimum we can do as community members is return our to-go containers in a timely manner. But students have failed to do even that this year — forcing custodial staff to pick up containers en masse, and necessitating the purchase of an additional 4,200 containers to replace the original 2,000 in circulation.
Our custodial and dining staff work tirelessly to create a healthy living environment for students. A refusal to return to-go containers — and dumping them in public spaces such as hallways, stairwells and outside buildings — shows a gross disrespect and lack of appreciation for their work.
After weeks of cleaning up after students, Residential Life staff announced that custodial workers would no longer be responsible for removing dining hall to-go containers scattered across campus.
“It is not fair nor reasonable to add this additional task to their already packed list of responsibilities. They are not here to clean up after you,” wrote several Residential Directors in building-wide emails to students last month.
But that shouldn’t have been the responsibility of custodial staff in the first place.
Students’ refusal to carry out this simple task demonstrates a sense of privilege that has continually characterized Middlebury culture. This semester is not the first time students have left dining supplies unreturned: A February 2019 article detailed how nearly 1,700 pounds of dishes were either abandoned or thrown away across campus over one J-Term. This attitude of negligence and laziness remains unacceptable, especially as Covid-19 has changed the ways we access food.
This sort of community-wide behavior is not only disrespectful to staff, but its consequences also widen inequities. As to-go containers have continued to pile up in public spaces like hallways and lounges, RDs have informed floors and building communities that they could be billed for the cost to clean up and return their neglected boxes. In the previous article about discarded dishes, a member of the custodial staff raised concerns about how such a fining system might disproportionately affect low-income students, forcing them to clean up after their peers to avoid these dorm-wide fines.
We echo these concerns — and ask that students consider not only the impact their individual decisions may have on their peers, but also how they increase the workloads of already overburdened dining and custodial staff.
Our Middlebury staff and custodial team are just as integral to the function of our community as the student body. These hardworking people are not anonymous, and their time and effort should not be treated as dispensable or less important than ours.
By failing to take the time to do simple tasks like properly returning to-go containers, we are acting as though we see staff members as nameless faces that are simply here to serve us.
And if you think that this is the way that Middlebury operates, then you have fundamentally misunderstood your role in this community. So, return your to-go boxes — and be conscientious of the impact your decisions have on the broader community.
It is a privilege to be in person while many other institutions are either fully online or functioning at significantly reduced capacity. This privilege requires both respect and responsibility.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’ editorial board.
(04/29/21 10:00am)
This editorial is a reflection on the Zeitgeist 2021 survey results. You can read all of the results here.
As we near the end of our second Covid-era college semester, we should take a pause and allow ourselves to mourn what could have been. What could have been a student’s first year characterized by spontaneity rather than loneliness, a sophomore year filled with unexpected run-ins and meetups with friends new and old, a junior year spent getting to know your major’s professors and the eclectic books on their shelves in Davis, or a senior year memorialized by “lasts” of everything left on your bucket list: Proc Crush Lists hook-ups, spring breaks in anywhere but Addison County and of course a crowded graduation with all your family and friends present.
But none of these dreams were realized. Instead, one fourth of our college experience (or more, if you started counting last March) has been tainted by distance, isolation and shattered expectations. This is a eulogy, in a way, to what we lost.
College students around the country and abroad experienced unique struggles during this pandemic. While most of us at Midd came back to campus this year, many of our friends studied remotely or took the semester off entirely. When we arrived on campus we were greeted by unfamiliar “SIX FEET APART” stickers, regulations dictating which dining halls we were allowed to eat at, and only a small circle of “close contacts” to satisfy our need for connection. Not only were these challenging adjustments to make, but they often felt like mandatory sacrifices we had no choice but to accept. The temporariness of college made these changes particularly painful.
Our 2021 Zeitgeist survey contextualized these struggles and demonstrated how many of these sacrifices were felt universally in our community, though perhaps to differing degrees. A vast majority of students reported feeling some pressure to break Covid-19 protocols to be included in social activities (and this pressure particularly affected first years and baby Febs). The number of students who claimed to be part of multiple friend groups shrank from about two thirds of respondents last year to less than one third this year. Students rarely saw Zoom events as places of connection, and modality (being an in-person or remote student) had a stark impact on the shaping of social life.
We lost so many significant, quintessentially college things — we must take a moment to recognize that.
In relishing the nostalgia of past years and far away experiences, we should observe how important those aspects of life were to us. Covid-19 has brought to light everything we took for granted, whether we liked it or not. We had not appreciated the unexpected encounters with friends of friends or in-person classes and meetings. We had not recognized how lucky we were to have such proximity and intimacy with each other until we were forced to spend this year mostly alone.
The silver lining is that with the ongoing vaccine rollout, the fall will provide us with an opportunity to implement everything we learned from this experience. The fall is our chance to heal and rebuild our community exactly how we wish to. The pandemic allowed for increased transparency and honesty surrounding mental health struggles — we gave each other permission to share what was previously kept private. This year we also were more intentional with our friendships, making sure to follow up with people to grab meals or take walks. We also got better at spending time alone, whether that was when we got sent home last March, or during our time back on campus. Taking solo meals or even entire nights for ourselves to recharge should not be judged but understood as valuable and necessary.
We were wholly unprepared to deal with the unwelcome changes that came from this global pandemic, and we must allow ourselves this time to reflect and grieve what could have been. This year’s Zeitgeist results reflected loss, isolation and uncertainty in a student body struggling to cope with profound change — yet they also showed resilience. Here’s to hoping next year’s Zeitgeist results show healing.
(04/15/21 10:00am)
The editorial board is proud to endorse Roni Lezama ’22 for SGA president. As the current vice president, former co-chair of Community Council and member of the Institutional Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Committee, he has copious experience working alongside institutional bodies to advocate on behalf of the student body. We trust that he will use his pre-existing relationships with administrators and key stakeholders to push his agenda items and make them a reality. With a strong commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion, he has a clear vision of what remains to be done at Middlebury to make it a place where all feel welcome and supported. We have no doubt that he will rise to the occasion.
Although Lezama has strong leadership skills, he also understands that the SGA operates not as a central authority but as a catalyst for change. His honesty and sense of realism regarding the SGA’s abilities is not only refreshing but necessary to convert ideology into action. Previous candidates for SGA president have had more theoretical approaches to students’ concerns in lieu of substantive ideas and were, often unable to realistically deliver on their hopeful promises. With a concrete action plan and the credibility to back it up, Lezama has accountability built into his platform.
In his conversation with The Campus, he explained that he joined SGA due to personal struggles he faced during his first year. He promised himself that he would do as much as he could to make sure that no student ever feels what he felt, and to ensure that Middlebury is a place that feels like home for every individual, including and especially members of marginalized communities.
Running alongside Lezama as his vice presidents are rising sophomore Meg Farley ’24 and rising junior Charice Lawerence ’23. Farley and Lawrence offer a vital perspective that is necessary for understanding the broader range of student experiences. By having representation from an array of class years on his executive team, Lezama is much more likely to maintain a pulse on the issues that are affecting people at various levels of the student body.
Lezama and his opposing candidate Myles Maxie ’22 share a genuine desire to make Middlebury better and have the passion and determination to do so. Myles and his team, comprised of Arlo Fleischer ’21.5, Niyafa Boucher ’22, and Bakari Moitt ’X, have similar ideals for the future of the Middlebury community, and we commend them for their continued dedication to uplifting marginalized communities and centering anti-racism as well as diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives. We believe in their capabilities and their convictions, and that they will continue to advocate for these principles.
Going into next fall, we as a community will continue to grapple with the collective trauma and grief experienced in this past year. Covid-19, the turmoil surrounding the presidential election, the ongoing Black Lives Matter movement, the push for LGBTQIA+ rights, and climate justice, to name a few, will continue to affect us all. Moving forward, it is necessary that we have leaders who intend to center the voices of those marginalized groups who have been impacted the most and whose action plans put their needs at the forefront so that Middlebury College can serve as a better community for all.
Lezama has already demonstrated an awareness of the importance of such community. In speaking with us, he noted that at the end of the day it’s his team’s job to help lead the SGA. We believe this mindset of teamwork over individualism will be incredibly beneficial. As a team, Lezama, Farley and Lawrence’s empathy, care and passion already shine through.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’ editorial board.
(04/08/21 10:00am)
In the recent weeks, we’ve witnessed students scramble to sign up for Covid-19 vaccinations amid widespread confusion as to whether BIPOC students — and members of their households — are eligible to receive a vaccine. In the wake of this rush to get vaccinated, many BIPOC students were left feeling tokenized and exploited.
A policy allowing household members of people of color to also register for the vaccine excited students who were under the impression they were several weeks away from falling into any eligibility category. But as everyone living on campus technically holds the same address, this vague “household” qualifier has created a situation where students must individually judge their own qualifications. The nitty-gritty details, like whether a “household” includes college roommates, suitemates, housemates or close contacts, are left up to us to decide.
We’ve seen qualifying suites and roommate groups sign up for vaccines together. That’s fantastic. But as Divya Gudur ’21 and Melynda Payne ’21 wrote on Instagram in a widely shared post, it can also leave BIPOC students feeling frustrated and tokenized to see white peers scour their list of friends to find that one BIPOC student they can use to register for the vaccine.
For many BIPOC students, this is reminiscent of experiences where they feel reduced to their identities for the convenience of their white peers, such as when they are asked to educate their peers by offering their opinions as — and only as — a BIPOC person.
If you had to think hard about whether or not you’re technically in a household with a BIPOC student, then you should carefully consider whether your choice leaves your friends and housemates of color feeling exploited. You might ask yourself, do you only appreciate their cultural and racial identity when it is convenient for you?
We want to encourage students to register for appointments when they feel that they are eligible. But if you’re going to use this method to get a vaccine, the least you can do is make sure you tell the person who has qualified you and confirm that they’re okay with it. And if they are, make sure they have already been able to schedule their own appointment before making yours.
This rule was created for a reason: to protect BIPOC individuals in the state. And while everyone benefits when the most people are vaccinated, your immunity should not leave your peers feeling used and disrespected. Get your shot. But don’t exploit your relationships with your BIPOC peers to get there.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’ editorial board.
(04/01/21 10:00am)
The world has waited with bated breath, and today we break our silence. A little over a week ago, the infamous Ever Given container ship ran aground in the Suez Canal, blocking the channel as well as the 12% of global trade that flows through its waters.
Although she has recently been freed from calamity, we drew on the brilliant minds of our editorial board to propose a set of alternative solutions. Without further ado, here is each section of our board’s plans for foolproof boat-dislodgement.
From the News Desk:
We feel that the Middlebury administration could take steps to alleviate the crisis in the Suez Canal by issuing a vague statement in support of the boat. If necessary, the administration could even call upon donors to unrestrict earmarked endowment funds for this essential procedure. While we wait, the administration should send daily emails about how the boat hasn’t moved but may move in the future.
We also recall that the college has handled sudden evacuation processes in the past. Telling the Ever Given it needs to leave by Friday and sending some boxes and tape might help the boat get a move on.
The Ever Given’s crew could also make use of some fidget spinners, Oreos, expired bread and a mental health flier in order to manage stress.
If all else fails, the administration can just delete the boat.
From the Local Desk:
We suggest finding two Middlebury horses to pull the ship. Each horse would have to pull 111,000 tons, which seems reasonable for a garbage-pulling horse considering the amount of dining hall containers that Midd students throw in the trash.
We also propose dumping enough milk into the canal to refloat the boat. Vermont currently produces 2.3 billion pounds of milk annually from 135,000 dairy cows on about 1,000 dairy farms. In the meantime, we don’t think Midd students will have any trouble subsisting on oat milk.
And if that doesn’t do the trick, we’re sure that Midd students can drunkenly tear the boat apart on Friday night and bring the pieces back to their dorm rooms.
From the Arts & Culture Desk:
After much thought, we at Arts & Culture have decided that the best course of action is to move the boat emotionally. We suggest blasting Olivia Rodrigo’s “Driver’s License” until the boat’s emotional flood-gates fly open, unblocking the canal. The onlookers will surely be in a celebratory mood, but the boat will be a total wreck.
We also workshopped hiring the producers of “Up” to tie a million balloons to the boat and float it away. And if that doesn’t work, we suggest replacing every piece of the ship one-by-one and having Philosophy majors ponder if it is the same boat.
From the Opinion Desk:
The captain of the Ever Given just submitted a long-awaited NFTD (“Notes from the Deck”) affirming that the boat forgot to fill out its Policy Path, and is now in isolation housing under “dubious circumstances.” We await responses from the community.
In order to get the boat moving, the Opinions Desk has decided that a Hamilton Forum debate is in order, so that we can get to the bottom of contested questions such as: Are boats and canals compatible? Should Suez Canal maritime affirmative action be size or cargo-based? And finally, does the boat deserve to be unstuck?
From the Sports Desk:
We all know the men’s and women’s swim and dive teams were starved of a season this year, so why not give them a chance to compete? After the countless hours they’ve invested into weightlifting and carb-loading, you would think they’d have the power to free the boat stuck in the Suez Canal. I mean, if they’re not up to this task, how can they expect to compete against Williams or Amherst?
“We’re one of the strongest teams in the NESCAC, and strong teams are expected to do big-time things,” a Middlebury swim and dive coach definitely didn’t say. “I mean, it’ll be great to just see the swimmers get out there and compete. The away trip will be a longer one than usual, but thanks to all the homework professors have been assigning, I think the kids will be able to stay engaged throughout the journey.”
From the Online Team:
The online team encourages the ship experts to try turning it off and back on again.
From the Photo Team:
Why don’t they just photoshop it out of the way?
It’s overtly clear that a group of college students residing in land-locked, rural Vermont has the maritime skills necessary to maximize efficiency the next time around. If only they had called upon us last week…
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(03/31/21 5:59am)
Confusion, shock and anger rippled through the Middlebury community yesterday when Gov. Phil Scott announced that out-of-state college students in Vermont are ineligible to receive the Covid-19 vaccine. The announcement was a surprise to many as it conflicted with information shared by the college, and it left many who have recently signed up for vaccine appointments under the state’s recent expansion of eligibility to people of color wondering how to proceed.
We, too, were taken aback, and we stand in staunch opposition to this short-sighted, illogical and dangerous restriction. The most prudent policy for the health and safety of our community is to vaccinate everyone in it — including students who claim residency in another state.
Gov. Scott said during the press conference that the state must “take care of Vermonters first.” But who are Vermonters? Does this category not include the students who pay taxes in Vermont, vote in Vermont and are counted as Vermont residents in the census? And were these students not included as Vermont residents in the American Community Survey, which was used to determine state vaccine allocations?
Scott’s rhetoric of “Vermonters first” is both disconcerting and disappointing. It feels especially hypocritical given Scott’s desire for young people who come to Vermont — for college or otherwise — to build a life here. This nativist, protectionist approach estranges students who spend nine months or more out of the year living and working in Vermont. But more importantly, it denies them important access to the most effective protection against Covid. Under this new rule, all out-of-state students are ineligible in Vermont — even those with high-risk health conditions.
While this affects individual students, it has much larger ripple effects into the wider Middlebury community that we call home. The longer students remain unvaccinated, the higher likelihood that there could be an outbreak on campus and students, where staff and faculty alike will be placed at risk, especially college employees who work in person. Moreover, an outbreak could endanger the local Middlebury community, placing an undue burden on those who have no choice but to interact with students.
While the college has allowed some students to return to their home states to receive vaccines, this policy privileges those with cars who live on the East Coast, and leaves many other out-of-state students without the vaccine, until at least the end of the spring semester. For some, the outlook is even bleaker, especially for students from countries that don’t have access to the vaccine yet, and others who may have to jump through more hoops to get appointments.
Vermont is one of the only states so far to have instituted such a rule. This means that many Vermont residents studying at colleges and universities in other states will be vaccinated with those states’ allocated doses. The majority of states that Middlebury students hail from will be vaccinating Vermont residents at their colleges and universities, yet Vermont is refusing to do the same.
Only students with a 14 Old Chapel Road address are impacted by this guideline — the many students studying remotely this semester will be eligible for a vaccine in their home state. What’s more, students studying off campus who are located in Middlebury or other areas in Vermont will be able to access the vaccine. Scott’s rule is arbitrary — ‘residency’ isn’t the logical metric by which to assess and protect a community. The point should be to protect the people who are here — and right now, students are here. In fact, most of us can’t leave.
Today, Governor Phil Scott sent a message loud and clear to Middlebury students: no matter how much you buy into your life in Vermont, contribute to your community, support local businesses, work to preserve the health and wellness of your fellow Vermonters or call the state your home, Vermont won’t claim you as one of its own.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(03/25/21 10:00am)
Pia Contreras
Their names are Soon Chung Park (박순정), Hyun Jung Grant ([김]현정), Suncha Kim (김순자), Yong Ae Yue (유용애), Xiaojie Tan (谭小洁), Daoyou Feng (冯道友), Delaina Ashley Yaun and Paul Andre Michels.
On March 16, these eight lives were taken in a series of shootings in Atlanta. Six of the eight victims were of Asian descent, and seven of them were women.
In almost all media coverage of the incident, parallels were drawn between the hate crime and the mounting anti-Asian sentiment during the pandemic stoked by former president Donald Trump’s xenophobic rhetoric.
But such a lens cuts the story short: America’s painful history of discrimination against individuals of Asian-descent has been centuries-long. It did not start with the Covid-19 pandemic and certainly won’t end with it.
Just as it is not a new phenomenon, this display of racism and hate against Asian-Americans is not isolated, either. We acknowledge the personal pain and grief this national event has brought up for many individuals of Asian descent — both in our Middlebury community and beyond — who are all too familiar with illustrations of discrimination and targeted exclusion. This one example is only a small part of a much larger trend of ongoing violence and discrimination.
The recent attack also underlines the intersectional component of this racially motivated crime. Women of Asian descent have historically been the target of harmful stereotypes — much of which is rooted in American imperialism. American soldiers and mission workers overseas regarded the Asian women they interacted with as subservient and exotic, stereotypes that endure in popular media today. The depiction of Asian women as both submissive and promiscuous engenders the sort of violence that occurred last Tuesday.
Harmful stereotypes and microaggressions are not as separate from the horrific events in Atlanta as some may think. It should not take the death of eight victims to make people listen to what Asians and Asian-Americans have been saying for years: this violence is nothing new.
Day-to-day incidents of discrimination against Asian students often materialize again and again without being called out, and Middlebury is no exception. They can come in the form of mixing up Asian students in classes or social settings, neglecting to refer to students at all or failing to correctly pronounce names such as Yuan, Yue or Feng — or any other name as common as Smith, Johnson or William.
So, what can you do for your Asian and Asian-American peers? Start with learning how to pronounce Asian names, including those of the recent victims. Have some courage to speak up for a friend (or stranger) when you hear or see something problematic. Make a financial contribution to the communities that are hurting if you are able to.
Even more importantly, learn how to call out your own mistakes and correct yourself. Interrogate your own thoughts and do research on your own time to position yourself to be a strong ally to your friends and peers. Professors and student leaders, make anti-racism part of your syllabus or platform. Your private and public efforts go hand in hand.
This past summer, following George Floyd’s murder and an increase in national attention to systemic racism and police brutality in the United States, we editorialized on the importance of not treating anti-racism as a trend. We want to remind you of that sentiment now. In the following weeks, when infographics stop appearing on your social media feeds and conversations become more about midterms and less about broader societal issues, remember that your Asian and Asian American peers are still affected by your behavior — no matter the news headlines.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(03/18/21 10:00am)
Although it’s our fourth week on campus and our second Covid semester, policies around testing remain nebulous. Since arrival, the student body has been tested for Covid-19 twice a week, every week. This schedule has been a drastic change from last semester’s system of “targeted dynamic testing” in which students were tested intermittently — and seemingly randomly, sometimes not for weeks at a time. Needless to say, there remains widespread confusion about the rationale by which certain students got chosen for testing and when. This confusion has carried over into the spring semester.
No college update has clarified what exactly the testing regime for the rest of this semester will be. It’s unclear if “targeted dynamic testing” will be making a comeback or if we should permanently build walks to the Athletic Center into our Monday and Thursday routines. While there is frustration around this lack of clarity, and partially around the inconvenience of making the trek across campus, it’s important to note how necessary regular and widespread testing is in order to prevent an outbreak and sustain an on-campus spring semester.
We editorialized on this very topic toward the end of the fall, emphasizing that “increased testing availability supports not just the physical health of our community but our mental health as well.” Getting tested twice a week, which already occurs at most other NESCAC schools, means that we’re much more likely to catch cases before they spread, especially if people are asymptomatic.
During a year marked by uncertainty, one of the powers we do have is simple: continue consistent testing and following other protective measures. We urge the college to continue this mandatory, twice-a-week testing for the remainder of the semester. We also encourage the college to offer this kind of accessible and frequent testing to our faculty and staff, as they are vital members of our community.
No one should assume they are exempt from this process just because they are not symptomatic or feel as though they have done enough testing to be safe. Covid-19 testing only works if we all participate, enabling us to know how many positive cases are on campus and slow any developing outbreaks. We all have school assignments to do, friends we want to spend time with and busy schedules to manage, but taking 30 minutes out of our days to get tested is the least we can do for the protection it provides. Not all of us can afford such a danger to our personal health, or may not have somewhere safe to evacuate to if necessary.
The outbreak at Duke University this past week serves as a cautionary tale. Even though more Americans are receiving vaccinations and new cases are declining, college campuses are still particularly vulnerable to sudden spikes, especially when students disregard social distancing guidelines. Duke has also been testing their students every week, demonstrating that testing is only reactive in nature and highlighting the importance of students following preventative measures. Frequent testing is not a panacea, but if students continue to wear masks, sanitize, and follow social distancing protocols, regular testing will demonstrate how these preventions minimize the number of active cases on campus.
It can be stressful to add another task to your workload, hard to find the motivation to walk across campus in the cold and irritating to receive yet another automated email. But the inconvenience of testing is a small price to pay for the safety that increased testing provides. Now, the college just needs to let us know what the plan is.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(03/11/21 11:00am)
Many of us recall the turbulence and excitement of our first few weeks at Middlebury: struggling to memorize hundreds of new faces and navigate the campus and doing our best to settle in despite the seemingly perpetual chaos. Those transitions, as we know, already seem like more than enough to withstand. Yet when a new first-year Feb returned to their room in Forest Hall last week, the whiteboard on their door had been vandalized to display a homophobic slur.
Their first moments in a new home were tarnished by an anonymous and repugnant act, one that took five seconds to commit but may very well take interminably long to forget. As much as we’d like to steadfastly affirm that this isn’t who we are and that this event doesn’t represent Middlebury as a community or an institution, we know by now that hateful incidents are not anomalies here. During the fall semester, two students were called the n-word by a white peer while walking near Ross. Last week, transphobic comments were made in a Student Activity Fair meeting.
It’s time to call Middlebury what it actually is: a campus that prides itself on inclusivity and compassion while concealing a dark underbelly of entitlement, cowardice and hate. This is not a utopia, and we are not immune to these cruelties. Middlebury will always be a microcosm of a world beyond it — a world that frequently aims to berate individuals for the sole act of being who they are.
There is no plausible way to know who defaced the whiteboard of a new student who had been on campus less than two weeks. As an editorial board, we condemn the disgusting and callous act committed by an individual we can only describe as a reprehensible coward. Though we acknowledge the improbability of being able to hold this person accountable, it is imperative that we do not walk away from this and continue on as usual.
We as a student body have to own this and recognize how this event and others are embedded in the fabric of this institution we have all woven ourselves into. Moving forward, we cannot sit idly by while friends, roommates, and classmates suffer at the hands of their own peers. This is a failure at the community level — but this doesn’t have to be our reality.
Be vigilant. Challenge yourself and those around you to interrogate implicit biases and bystander behaviors. Listen actively and attentively to your LGBTQ+ friends, but don’t speak for them. Call out discriminatory comments and actions when you see them and not after the fact. And welcome new students the way we all want to be welcomed: warmly and without hesitation. It’s the human decency all of us deserve.
Resources for LGTBQ+ students:
The Anderson Freeman Resource Center (AFC), the Queer Studies House (QSH), the Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies (GSFS) department, Queer and Trans People of Color (QTPOC), and the Trans Affinity Group (TAG) offer a variety of resources for queer identifying students.
A list of non-residential gender-neutral bathrooms can be found here.
Learn about displaying your chosen name and pronouns on BannerWeb here.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(03/10/21 10:00pm)
Here we are, a year in. A lot has changed in the past year and it seems like we’ve almost achieved a certain milestone. For us, it’s been a time to reflect. It’s been a time to make sense of the chaos, turmoil and loss that we’ve experienced in the past 365 days and to look ahead. Our staff has been tossing around these thoughts in editorial meetings for months, never quite fitting them together. We’ve written about the difficulty of being a first-year in a Covid-19 world, about students struggling to follow Covid-19 protocols, about busyness culture, and about a remote J-term; clearly it’s been on our minds. In trying to make sense of this turbulent year, we’ve had to consider all that has been gained and all that has been lost.
It’s been a full year since Middlebury students received the email telling us that we’d all be sent home, away from the college and away from each other. We have experienced loss. Personal loss of our friends and our family passing away. Social loss of our ability to see and be around one another. Many of us have lost our attachment to the college’s campus, unable to take part in the “living learning” environment that the college prides itself on. Back in February 2020, before the pandemic had reached Vermont, a Chinese international student was barred from entering Middlebury as a Feb because missing the first two weeks of the semester on campus was too great a detriment to the “living learning” education the college offers. Now, more than a year after publishing the story, we find ourselves facing a reality that was unfathomable then.
The identity of our college has changed. We fear the loss of so much of what makes Middlebury ours. We fear the loss of the random, the spontaneity that our small campus offered: striking up conversations with professors on the walk to and from class, random encounters with friends in Atwater dining hall, midnight breakfasts and weekend trips to Burlington. We fear that students won’t fly paper airplanes through BiHall or pile into Proctor for midnight churros during finals week, that no impromptu performances will take place in the Gamut room and no spring concerts will blare in Kenyon, that first years won’t bond over scrappy meals on hectic MiddView trips. We fear the loss of our identity in a year of so much change.
It has been a year of change, and while Middlebury is anticipating an eventual return to normal, do we want it to be just that — a return? It would be foolhardy to act as if this year didn’t happen; to forgo all the changes that have happened and return to the status quo. We have become a more empathetic, understanding Middlebury, one where professors, students and administrators have become more conscious of one another. Flexibility is no longer a rarity, but has become an essential part of our new normal. The administration has made mental health services less taboo by creating better access to counseling, and students are, in turn, placing greater emphasis on their own mental well-being. We have cared for each other through the Mutual Aid forms, and the college has prioritized staff wage continuity. We have strengthened our community even in our fractalized state.
In this year of reflection and introspection, where students have had an abundance of time to themselves, much of the way we view the college has shifted. Maybe it’s for the better. Students are no longer moving forward on the “should be” conveyor belt but are instead taking a more individualized approach to Middlebury. We can envision a Middlebury where students prioritize their wants and needs over what is perceived to be “right.” We have become more deliberate in our friendships and in our gatherings, taking time to consider who we interact with and how it impacts our life. We have decentralized Middlebury’s party scene, making smaller, more intentional gatherings. Middlebury has become a place of flux, where social and academic life is molded and shaped to support the students who make it up.
As our first year of Covid-19 college nears an end, we should take the time to consider what we’ve lost and what we’ve gained. Consider whether the changes to our college’s culture have been for the better. Consider how certain members of our community have historically been excluded. Consider whether the togetherness we felt over a year ago was actually as together as we remember, or whether we may have been farther apart than we thought
We should not forget the empathy this year has taught us nor should we forget to care for ourselves just as we care for others. We should continue to strip the taboo from mental health, from taking a semester off, from needing flexibility. We should continue to be a more mindful and intentional Middlebury. But while we welcome these changes that this year has brought us, we should also remember all that we have lost and all that we wish to bring back.
We welcome a return Middlebury’s spontaneity, and we hope to arrive back soon to a campus where we can walk into Proctor dining hall alone and find a group of friends to sit with, where we can bump into a professor on a walk and strike up a chat, where we can once again feel like a close knit community. But let us not forget the lessons of this year as we make our way through the next one.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(03/04/21 11:00am)
For new students, the first few weeks at Middlebury can feel like a crash course in knowing everything you can about life here — and playing off the things you don’t. We remember what it’s like to show up for class in Twilight when you’re supposed to be in Axinn, so let us help you avoid that mistake (and quite a few others).
Google Maps can take you to specific buildings on campus. Apple Maps can’t.
Wilson Cafe is in Davis Library. Wilson Hall is in the McCullough Student Center.
The shorthand AXT is not Axinn Center – it’s Twilight Hall, the brick building by town. (Axinn is AXN.)
The second floor of Hepburn holds both a room of study carrels (called “Hep carrels”) and a theater (called “Hep Zoo”).
There’s also a performance space on the bottom floor of Gifford called the Gamut Room.
There are bathtubs in Battell. (We do not endorse their use.)
Students have free subscriptions to The New York Times, and The Wall Street Journal (but not the crosswords).
There’s free sushi for lunch in The Grille on Thursdays.
You can print posters in BiHall and Davis Library.
Yogurt City, the frozen yogurt store in town, sells boba and dumplings.
To see the dining hall menus, go to go/menu, go/lies, go/noms or go/food.
Carillonneur George Matthews, the man who plays the bells from Mead Chapel, gives free bells lessons to any student with piano experience.
The Ceramics House holds open wheel hours for anyone who wants to throw pottery.
You can take free student-run yoga and spin classes on campus.
If you submit recipes to the dining hall through the “Recipes From Home” form, the dining hall chefs will add them to a future menu.
If you leave your bike unlocked, it may be taken for a joyride on Friday and Saturday nights, or disappear permanently.
Students have free access to the full Adobe Suite.
There are printers at Midd Express and in LaForce (a dorm in Ross).
You can write for The Campus anytime you want (and we hope you do)!
The Middlebury vernacular is an important part of feeling at home here — or at least understanding what anyone is talking about. Here are a few terms that may be confusing (or, at least, that perplexed The Campus’ editors when new students).
AC = the Athletics Complex
AFC = The Anderson Freeman Resource Center, a center dedicated to supporting students of color and first-generation students
Pub safe = Public Safety
Go/… = Go links, or web shortcuts, allow you easy access to common websites when you’re connected to Midd’s wifi. Popular links include go/lies (for daily dining menus) and go/directory (to find where anyone lives on campus). If you’re using Safari, add an extra slash at the end
BevCo = Middlebury Discount Beverage, students’ go-to beer source
Tindia = Taste of India, Middlebury’s Indian restaurant
Sabai = Sabai Sabai, Middlebury’s Thai food and sushi restaurant
The Bowl = The Snow Bowl, Middlebury’s ski mountain
BiHall = McCardell Bicentennial Hall
Proc = Proctor
Battell Beach = The field between Battell and Ross
Kenyon = Kenyon Ice Arena, the hockey rink in the AC
KDR = the old Kappa Delta Rho house that houses juniors and seniors
Tav = Tavern, one of Middlebury’s five residential social houses
The Ross Challenge = spending your entire J-Term in the Ross Complex, including eating, sleeping and learning, without stepping foot outside. (At least, it was a “challenge” before the pandemic.)
NESCAC = New England Small Colleges Athletic Conference, including Middlebury, Amherst, Bates, Bowdoin, Colby, Connecticut College (or “Conn College”), Hamilton, Tufts, Trinity, Wesleyan and Williams
Two Bros = Two Brothers Tavern, a restaurant in town often attended for first dates or parent visits
Ups = Mr. Up’s, a 50-year-old restaurant and bar by the river in town
BBM = Big Beer Monday, a night for low-priced beer hosted by Mr. Ups and attended heavily by seniors
Parton = Parton Health Center, the campus’ in-person medical building
Porter = Porter Medical Center, the nearest off-campus hospital
WRMC = Middlebury College’s student-run radio station, 91.1 FM
The Marquis = the small movie theater in town (that serves Mexican food)
Rosie’s = Rosie’s Restaurant, the longstanding breakfast spot on Route 7
Midd Bagel = Middlebury Bagel and Deli, students’ go-to bagel source
GrillMe = The Grille delivery service for late-night food
(03/04/21 10:59am)
As we begin another semester that challenges us to embrace the new and the unknown, we’re greeted by a comforting tradition of each Middlebury winter: the welcoming of the next Feb class.
For those who are beginning their Middlebury experience now — which also includes transfer students and those who were remote in the fall — the current Middlebury is likely not the college experience you anticipated. Following an entirely remote orientation and a Covid-safe arrival to campus, Febs were greeted by delivered meals, online classes and perhaps only vague ideas of what lies beyond the confines of their dorms.
Considering this uniquely challenging semester, we wanted to extend a friendly welcome to those joining us by offering some advice for this transition and for the next few years. (Think of this as a conversation you’d have at a crowded Proc table of yesteryear or walking from class with an upperclassman who hopes to impart a few lessons they’ve learned along the way.) And for a quicker read, check out this cheat sheet to Middlebury slang and things to know.
Let’s start with the topic of making friends. It’s no question that socializing is one of the biggest questions right now. It’s easy to assume that you’re the only one feeling lonely. Believe us, you’re not. Trying to meet “your people” is just as much on any junior’s mind as it is on yours. And believe us, “your people” aren’t usually found through Atwater parties anyway. Without parties, forging connections will have to be more intentional. Embrace that. (We often wish we did earlier!) Be the brave soul who asks the people in your halls or your classes to grab meals. And remember that you can go beyond your Feb class or even your year to make connections. Be open to cross-grade friendships, too — you’ll probably be happy you were.
And when you start to reach out to more people and expand your circle, don’t put too much pressure on those initial relationships. It’s natural to want to spend all your time with the first few people you meet, but remember that spending time alone is important too. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to a “happy” social life, so don’t compare yourself to your roommate or peer. [pullquote speaker="" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]Friendship is not a race, and you are not behind.[/pullquote]
Evaluating who you genuinely click with is hard, and it’s not a process that ends with freshman year. This is only one semester of a four (or more) year journey.
Moving onto academics — presumably a big reason you ended up here. You’re lucky enough to be surrounded by students and professors who care a whole lot about whatever it is that they’re studying (or teaching), so take advantage of that. Go to your professor’s office hours even if you don’t have a specific question. Reach out to peer tutors and professional tutors at the CTLR early in the semester to start off on the right foot. Engage with your classmates in and out of the classroom. Reach out to upperclassmen to find out about all their favorite classes and study spots on campus.
Speaking of spots on campus, take advantage of physically being here. Just because classes are online and there are limits on room capacities doesn’t mean you can’t safely explore different corners of campus. Take a walk to The Knoll. Do your reading in Davis. Go to the Athletic Center to get a workout in, not just to get your Covid test. Explore the town of Middlebury — when you can. And while the weather’s still cold, go skiing, DIY sledding and ice skating, or warm yourself by the fire pits.
Before you know it, you will get to experience all the stereotypical aspects of college and life at Midd. You will go to loud, crowded parties with people you barely know and squeeze yourself into a table over breakfast, recapping the night before. You will get to know the rest of Vermont and maybe even go to Montreal for Feb break. You will go to sports games and trek up the Bowl for Winter Carnival.
And as for all the readers who aren’t baby Febs, if you see a Feb by the fire pits or aimlessly wandering around campus, reach out and say hi. And maybe give them directions. In a semester where physical isolation means safety, we must find ways to socially integrate Febs into a campus community so excited for their arrival.
But for now, baby Febs, just hang tight. Don’t waste too much time hypothesizing about what could have been or wishing you waited another year to start here. Get excited for the normalcy that’s to come, but don’t let it put a damper on whatever great memories the next few months hold.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(02/04/21 11:00am)
A sleepy-eyed student wakes up at 5 a.m. to start class from their home in China. The next day, another on the West Coast rises at 4:30 a.m. for class registration. This certainly isn’t the “J-term, play term” that was so often quipped by tour guides.
This year, we’re strewn across the country and the world in a relentless pandemic that continues to get the best of us. Yet many students are still finding a piece of that “play term” while others are stuck at home unable to feel the joy and community that J-term is supposed to bring.
A remote J-Term is exposing the disparities of access and of behavior when students are left to their own devices. We left a campus of shared responsibility and constant testing, entering into thousands of different communities with varying levels of both — not to mention the winter months causing Covid-19 rates to skyrocket.
With three months between our departure from campus this fall and our arrival in the spring, time and temptation have been abundant. Many students sought to spend the winter with friends, and as we hit J-Term, that temptation grew stronger. Those who wanted to replicate a normal J-Term — and had the means to do so — often did just that.
One of the hallmarks of J-Term is experiential living and learning. Our commitment to one class, often dedicated to out-of-the-box topics and new methods of teaching, is an incredible academic gift. When that’s done in a shared environment on the Middlebury campus, the experience becomes even more unique and collaborative. With only one class, free time abounds, bringing our living situations all the more to the front of mind.
This year, the disparities of location, means and behavior are quite evident — and often intertwined. Not only have the actual academic opportunities become more difficult, but those navigating living and learning at home have to see some friend groups enjoying living and learning together. Many students are showing — visibly on social media — their ability to move to warm climates or ski with friends in Vermont, Colorado or Utah. Privilege abounds and, without a shared, grounding on-campus experience, allows for some to exploit their remote J-Term while others struggle just to stay engaged.
Our remote J-Term comes down to this: responsibility. Covid-19 dealt us all a pretty terrible hand: to first years entering this fall, to seniors trying to enjoy their last year, and to everyone in between. The normal Middlebury experience is all the more desirable now that we can no longer take it for granted.
But just because we’re not at Middlebury this J-Term doesn’t mean we don’t have the same responsibility wherever we are to be extra vigilant. It is on each and every one of us to do everything we can to take care of the community we are returning to. As we prepare for another school semester, we must also prepare for a return to campus policies necessary for keeping one another safe.
As we head into the final week of our remote J-Term, we ask the student body to be cognizant of how their behavior could impact hundreds of other students and those living in the town of Middlebury. Wearing a mask, socially distancing and committing to the two-week pre-arrival quarantine are absolute musts if we want to have another successful in-person semester.
The disparities on display are representative of the pre-existing realities of Middlebury’s student body. As the start of our two-week pre-arrival quarantine is only days away, we must each hold ourselves responsible for the group accountability we need to cultivate again this spring. No matter where we are during J-Term, it’s on each of us to play our part in establishing a safe campus so that we can build on our success from the fall. With vaccines slowly but surely making their way through the country, there is an end in sight. Let’s not let our behavior set us back now.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(01/28/21 11:00am)
Two in three students broke Covid-19 guidelines during the fall semester. More than three in four experienced worsened mental health. Although the college was successful in its mission of delivering in-person classes with no major outbreaks, the results of a Campus survey reveal that in the apparent trade-off between Covid safety and the emotional well-being of students, we’re losing both battles, and badly.
Let’s get this straight: students are disregarding rules, for one reason or another, and they’re experiencing significant spikes in feelings of hopelessness, isolation and overall despondency as they navigate elevated stress and exhaustion in academic and social situations. Twenty-nine respondents indicated an increase in non-suicidal self-harm; 51 indicated an increase in suicidal thoughts. While this tug-of-war between physical and mental health is an exceptionally complex one — ripe with nuances regarding harm reduction and compromise, one thing is clear: the spring semester cannot be a carbon copy of the fall.
We in no way condone violations that put our community at risk, but our survey reveals that there is room for criticism of how those rules are created, communicated and enforced, and that there are consequences to those rules, particularly on student mental health. And while superspreader parties remain condemnable, the survey suggests that most students broke less dangerous rules, such as having more than four close contacts — violations that also reveal a desire for greater social interaction and connection.
One challenge of the fall suggested in our survey results is a lack of access to spaces for socializing and events. More than 75% of students felt the options for places to safely spend time with friends were inadequate — and a similar proportion said there were not enough spaces to host events. A slow rollout of access to libraries and dining halls introduced early-semester social and academic challenges. Buildings that usually offer ample opportunities for both hanging out and studying — such as Bi Hall and Axinn — were open only to a limited number of students for a good part of the semester. If we’re to live and learn on this campus for another twelve weeks, the college should provide sufficient places for the organic socialization that has been integral to Midd’s community building.
The college must also introduce measures to increase equity for students by providing the equipment and funds for social activities to those who lack them and ensuring consistency in treatment of different groups. Efforts should be made to allow controlled student access to resources such as the gear room and Bergen Lodge, encouraging safe outdoor activities and providing a greater sense of normalcy to students who feel isolated or who spend much of their time in virtual classes on Zoom. Providing these resources also levels the playing field for students who may not otherwise be able to explore Addison County to the same extent as students who own outdoor gear.
Furthermore, while sports teams were able to gather and practice in all of their enormity, other student organizations were relegated to Zoom meetings, even as most of us sat within a two-mile radius of each other. Clubs learned that the college allowed this discrepancy because sports teams had coaches and therefore expert supervision to enforce Covid rules — but if it’s this supervision that is necessary, then the same opportunity should be extended to all student groups that provide meaningful socialization and collaborative opportunities, or the college should find another way to make safe gathering opportunities an option for all student groups.
The survey also illustrated that almost half of students found the college’s Covid-19 guidelines to be poorly communicated, an issue that some suggested led to unintentional rule breaking and anxiety over getting in trouble, especially since disciplinary action for the same violation often varied widely. This problem could be solved with a centralized go-to location that lists regulations, predicts student questions and clarifies beforehand what consequences for breaking regulations will be as they evolve throughout the semester — and by reworking the SafeColleges training video series, which offered lengthy (and often repetitive) information, little clarity on discrepancies and another few hours in front of the screen after long days on Zoom.
When we arrive on campus this February, we will be greeted with the new challenges of a frosty campus quarantine and a more severe Covid-19 crisis in Vermont. It is the responsibility of each student to keep our peers and our broader community safe. But as we students strive to do our part, we hope administrators will understand that these issues run deeper than boredom and impatience.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
(01/10/21 6:07am)
“...Winning is wonderful. Winning in sports. Winning elections. It beats losing them. But the reality is that winning is only fulfilling if you do it through the rules, and you do it by being able to contribute to other people.” These were the words that Rudy Giuliani spoke in his commencement address to Middlebury’s class of 2005. Then known for his swift response to 9/11 as mayor of New York City, Giuliani received an honorary degree during the ceremony.
More than 15 years later, Giuliani spent months peddling false claims of voter fraud in an effort to subvert the results of a free and fair democratic election. These efforts came to a head on Jan. 6 when Giuliani stood before a crowd of Trump supporters and called for “trial by combat,” provoking a violent insurgence that targeted the Capitol building and disrupted the election confirmation process in a riot that resulted in five deaths.
Giuliani has been unwavering in his propagation of this rhetoric, standing alongside the president to put America’s people and values alike in jeopardy. Even when the tangible dangers of this rhetoric became apparent on Jan. 6, as the mob breached the barricades to the Capitol, Giuliani tweeted, “To all those patriots challenging the fraudulent election...You are on the right side of the law and history.”
This attack on our democratic institutions could not be further misaligned with Middlebury’s values. President Patton made a point of reaffirming these values shortly after the incident. “Yesterday’s horrifying, violent events by domestic terrorists, incited by the president, have undermined the basis of our most cherished American values, and we condemn them,” she wrote in an all-community email on Jan. 7.
In light of Giuliani’s role in these violent events, Middlebury must act on such condemnation by revoking his honorary degree.
We acknowledge that the revocation of an honorary degree is not to be taken lightly. However, such measures are not unprecedented: several colleges and universities, including Yale and the University of Pennsylvania, revoked honorary degrees granted to Bill Cosby once he was revealed to be a serial rapist. And, within the days since the Capitol riot, both Lehigh University and Wagner College have revoked honorary degrees formerly granted to Donald Trump, citing his attacks on the foundation of democracy.
A symbolic degree has nothing but symbolism to offer. It represents the acknowledgment of a college’s values embodied by individuals and their work. For Middlebury to continue to bestow this honor upon Giuliani — whose actions directly endangered lives while instigating insurrection — would betray its values as an institution. To revoke it would be to fortify them.
This editorial represents the opinions of the Middlebury Campus’s editorial board.
