"Stretching the Bubble" is a series of firsthand accounts given by displaced Dartmouthers of their off-term experiences dipping their toes into the vast and fabled ocean that is the world beyond Hanover.

Mild laughter and restrained elevator music, ice delicately clinking in free cocktails from the bar (not for us underage types), light conversation on politics, on careers, on Dear Old Dartmouth. This is our second alumni event, this is the National Press Club in Washington, DC, and this is mingling, or schmoozing, or, according to Civic Skills Training—the five-day crash course that inculcated in us the skills we’d need to become the most effective interns possible this summer—a networking goldmine, if, that is, you truly care about your personal success in the future. And as you circulate around the goldmine, you ought to recall etiquette training and balance your cocktail glass on top of your plate and napkin, all in one hand, with dexterity. And remember to smile, because after all these formalities are considered, when it comes down to it, you’re simply meeting a person. So remember to be a person. “Hi, from your nametag I see that you’re a ’54. I’m Rebecca Goldberg. Oh, and I’m a ’10 – I’m one of the First Year Fellows. Nice to meet you.” And freeze.

Oh yes. I’m a First Year Fellow. I’m living in a five-apartment townhouse here in DC two short blocks from the Capitol with twelve other potential Public Policy minors from the Class of 2010. We each receive a $1,000 stipend for food to carry us over until our internships end in late August, and our housing expenses are paid for by the Rockefeller Center. The metro takes us around town, we have no UGA in our apartment building, and most activities in DC are free. Our only commitment is to be the most effective interns possible at our nine-to-five jobs Monday through Friday. Because our internships are individually matched to align with our interests and because each of us has a Dartmouth alum as a mentor—for example, my co-fellow works for House Rep. Kirsten Gillibrand, D-NY and Dartmouth ’88—this commitment to our work isn’t exactly burdensome.

After only a few weeks here so far, I have developed a morning routine for my schlep to work. I open my eyes, eat breakfast, check the news and blitzmail, throw on an Ann Taylor business casual deal, say ‘bye to my lovely roommates (shout-out: Jessica Guthrie ’10 and Joanna Pucci ’10), and fly down the stairs to be at the Union Station metro by 8:30. The metro ride takes about fifteen minutes, during which iPod-listening and book-reading are realistic possibilities, and people-watching is always a viable option. On the metro, I stand inches away from roughly six people at any given time, yet all diligently avoid anything more than instantaneous eye contact, and the mistake of touching is always uncomfortable. At my stop I enter a characteristic Washington metro station of modern barrel-vaulted architecture, though I hardly take a moment to admire my surroundings as I am herded to the exit by hordes of professionals on their ways to work in Washington DC’s Golden Triangle business district. I step inside my office building and humbly ask the elevator attendant for floor eleven while I hastily replace my comfy flip-flops with dress-up shoes that hurt but look nice. In my cubicle, I turn on my computer and glance at the time to evaluate the accuracy of my targeted 9 AM entry. And so begins a day of researching food aid in depth for my department and undertaking typical intern duties such as Xeroxing and telephone-answering.

My Dartmouth mentor is a young and zestful ’06, and her desk is just across the hall from mine. All day she emails me proposals to edit, and assignments to fulfill. My major assignment for the summer is a comprehensive country profile on Burundi. In the non-profit international development organization for which I work, my division, Global Agriculture and Economic Growth, will use it as grounding for a proposal for government funds to be submitted come January so that it may pursue development initiatives in that country. From researching for my independent project and carrying out customary intern responsibilities in the office to meeting coworkers and learning about their lifestyles and career goals, my summer job is a glimpse into a world of corporate culture that I have never seen before.

The longer I walk around in heels, the more my feet hurt, but to play the part of professional-in-the-city during my freshman summer is incredible. Besides, as I descend in the elevator at 5, I sneakily put on my comfy flip-flops again. Art exhibition, anyone?