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Dinner with the Dean
by Sam Stein ’04
This article is reprinted with the permission of The Dartmouth


During the past several years there have been myriad constants at Dartmouth. For instance: DOC Trips will determine your first-year friendships, addiction to frozen yogurt seems inevitable among the female gender and complaints will be made by various op-ed writers for the D. Two years ago, a new tradition started with Tuesday night dinners being held at the Dean of the Tucker Foundation, Stuart Lord's house. It's been this way, every week, for the last two years, and I hope it will continue for a long time to come.

I found myself sitting in the dining room of the Lord Estate thinking about how I was in a truly unique and fantastic a situation. Conversation quickly began among the nine other students who would be joining the dean for dinner. For a moment I felt like a vintage bourgeois Ivy League student, a kid hanging out at a "hahvahd" bar, an eager intellect waiting to demonstrate my knowledge most vociferously. This lasted for a brief moment.

As the group quieted before dinner, Dean Lord, sitting at the head of the table asked us to introduce ourselves. After the introductions were through, the education began. Dean Lord, in a very systematic and subtle manner, transformed a group of 10 students into a miniature, " think-tank." Within several minutes, we experienced a refreshing change from our normal academic driven lives.

To understand this, we must take a look at the history of these "Tucker dialogues." Tucker dialogues were designed to give students the opportunity to share good food and stimulating discussion with the dean of the Tucker Foundation. The conversations are centered around general social/campus concerns, with the focus being on racial and/or ethnic issues specifically at Dartmouth. Over the course of two years, more than 600 students have had dinner on Tuesday nights with Dean Lord. The Dean's house has come to symbolize the epitome of faculty-student relationships -- where no topic is taboo, no issue too insignificant to broach. The focus of conversation during our dinner was how to rid Dartmouth of its exclusivity. More specifically, what reforms could be made to help erase social boundaries that seem to occur between students of different races and ethnicities?

It was during the discussion of such reforms that I came to the realization that what I was doing at Dean Lord's household was both the paradox and the ultimate goal of my time at Dartmouth. During my two years at Dartmouth, I have studied literature, explored history, solved theorems, written research papers and even learned tribal dances. Rarely, though, have I ever attempted to put my knowledge to practical use. Sure I have volunteered my time, done good deeds, even helped a friend with homework once, but hardly ever have I put my expertise into practice. My studies have been more about accumulation and less about implementation.

Deans Lord's guidance and dialogue enabled the 10 of us to converse for about 15 minutes on the subject of racial identity and exclusivity at Dartmouth. The basic facts that were brought up were that students intentionally segregate themselves in social settings and that fraternities and athletic teams play an essential role in this. After those 15 minutes, but without a noticeable interruption in the conversation, our group of 10 had begun brainstorming solutions to the problem. Finally, we came across the most basic of solutions. Two tables in Food Court would be set aside so that students who wanted to meet new students could have this opportunity. There would be no rules, regulations or stipulations of any kind. Which meant no diversity campaign advertised all over the campus. Just two tables, marked by green tablecloths, meant for people to sit down to eat with and meet others. There were concerns about the financial burden that such a reform might place on the College, but we all agreed that it should be done. Sitting around the elongated dining room table, the 10 of us had put our minds together and stumbled upon something so basic, pure and simple, it seemed absurd that it had never been done before.

The experience at Dean Lord's house demonstrated that there are greater things to do at this College than memorizing information. In fact, it exemplified that we can use what we know for a more constructive purpose. I finally concluded that if our reform fails … well there's always next Tuesday at the dean's house.