Dear soon-to-be-Dean of the College Thomas Crady,

It's been said that Dartmouth is a small school, sir, and there are those who love it--but it's also been said that this place is a bubble in which the occupants pay little attention to the outside world while they eat, drink, and drink a lot more--sometimes in costume--and usually in smelly-ass basements amongst people who cultishly refer to one another as brother and sister in spite of no evident blood relation. So now that you have a holistic view of Dartmouth couture, it's time to move on to the important stuff. Namely, what exactly are you going to do here? And, do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?

Allow me to introduce myself! I'm Carolyn, class of 2008, which makes me a senior girl, a species of student around here also referred to as "jaded, drunk and chubby" at the "bottom of the sexiness pecking order." Bitterness aside, I've done my part over the past three years to enact change on campus! and facilitate dialogue!, which has led me to the resigned understanding that student activists petitioning for campus change come across as whiney and useless: particularly when the administration doesn't back them up beyond spouting bureaucratic psychobabble and sending out a few special cyber-words, in feeling, caring, thoughtful blitzes (that's e-mail to you Earthling folk). That being said, if you weren't an outsider I wouldn't bother writing this letter--it's a known fact that nothing ever changes here, ever, ever. But because you're coming from the Other Side, I can sense a faint glimmer of what used to be my idealism begging me, feebly, to try one more time. Perhaps if I get through to you before Dartmouth does, there might be hope yet.

You have been hired to be Dartmouth's Dean of the College, which means you're in charge of basically every aspect of student life. From the Dartmouth website (a highly trustworthy source of neatly packaged propaganda, you'll soon learn): The principal purpose of the Dean of the College's office is to enhance undergraduate education.

It's all so clear now.

The Dean of College is in charge of lots of really important and official offices, which range from the Forensic Union, to Career Services, to the troublingly ubiquitous Student Life. You're in charge of these offices, which means you're about to inherit all their flaws. While a seriously daunting task (I understand that there are only 24 hours in a day, future-Dean Crady), I think it's important for you to decide now (or soon) how you want to make a difference. You have been assigned to enhance our collective undergraduate education. What does that mean to you?

To me it means doing whatever you can to make our experiences here richer. Aside from the Academic Skills Center, most of your jurisdiction falls over offices that manage and oversee the social, out-of-classroom aspects of our Dartmouth education. Career Services prepares us for a world beyond the classroom. Counseling and Human Development is there for when we're feeling gloomy. The Office of Pluralism and Leadership seeks to enhance and diversify our out-of-classroom time. Residential Life handles where we sleep and live. And so on. Your future job, future-Dean Crady, is to make sure that we're growing in non-intellectual ways.

Okay, great. Now we know what your purpose is. The next question, then, is how do you go about fulfilling that purpose?

I'd start by talking to students and actually listening to what they're telling you. I've heard through the grapevine that you plan to take a seat in Collis (one of our filling-stations) and chat with students if they want. It's a fantastic idea, and one that I fully support--who better to inform you on what's wrong with the system than those who are frustrated by it every day for four years of their lives? The thing is, future-Dean Crady, this plan reminds me of other such plans that exist already. Lunches with the President to discuss the state of the College spring to mind. My question for you is this: Will you truly be accessible, or will you follow in the footsteps of other administrators and only promise accessibility, while in the meantime allowing yourself to be swept away by tradition, bureaucracy, and inside-the-box thinking?

Here's an example on how to listen actively: If a student says "I wish there were other options besides the Greek system," I dare you to look beyond the immediate problem and try to see the bigger picture. In this case, the immediate problem is a lack of options on a given Saturday night. The bigger picture is that we're members of a small community, compelled to engage in activities that most other people engage in as a means of feeling a part of this community. The problem isn't that there are so few things to do--the problem is that if you're not a part of the community, you're all alone, a single voice crying out in the wilderness. You can't make a person feel included, or part of something bigger, by offering reduced ticket prices at the Nugget (although that's a really sweet deal, if I say so myself). Instead, offer other community options. Allow dorm parties. Allow people to stay in the same dorms for more than two terms, or however long they're on campus, to foster a sense of place. Arrange for a better system of public transportation that allows students better access to the surrounding communities. Do what you can to improve town-gown relations. Open our eyes to the fact that Dartmouth College isn't all there is in this middle-of-nowhere New England town. That within Dartmouth College, there are community options besides East Wheelock and the Greek system.

I realize you don't actually begin your job until January, but with only two months left until the Big Day, it's time to preemptively brace yourself for the giant icy fist of higher education that's about to knock your extra-thick wool socks off. What giant icy fist, you ask? That of the collective student body, prepared to hold you accountable for their collective emotional, cultural, and psychological growth and well-being! You say you're listening? Prepare yourself for an earful.

Welcome to Dartmouth! And good luck.

Most Sincerely,
Carolyn Kylstra '08
Facilitator of Dialogue; Broken-Down Idealist