Hamilton College Admission Journals: Amanda Besinger

Leaving Home

Mon, 22 May 2006 20:24:18 GMT

    Packing up at the end of the year is never easy-- I can't say it's something I enjoy doing over and over again. But this year, it's my last time. Ever. And even though it's hard to pack up all this stuff I've accumulated, it's even harder to pack up the four years that are behind all that "stuff." I've been able to drive home at the beginning of every summer with my stuff stored in a closed plastic bin, and then leave it closed until it's time to drive back on up the hill-- but after graduating-- let me think here-- yesterday, it's another story...
    Every time I take a picture down from my wall, or roll up a poster, it scares me to think that I don't know what walls I'll next be decorating. Just a few hours ago, I bought myself a Hamilton Alumni keychain, and then looked at my keys and realized that I won't have any dorm keys to put on it. Sure, my comfy room in Babbitt is just a place, and the Philosophy building is just a bunch of offices, and Minor Theatre is just a stage. But I can't just consider these place to be those things. I have so many fantastic memories attached to all of these places that it's very hard to leave them behind.
    Things may just be things, but the "things" at Hamilton happen to have contributed to the best four years of my life. And as proud as I am to have graduated, I can't believe that, as of yesterday, I've now become an alumna. My professors are no longer grading me, my schedule is no longer determined by what classes I'm taking, and my weekends are no longer devoted to college parties or catching up on that next paper that's due Monday. And after I leave Hamilton, when my friends call me, their words will travel across signals and wires spanning hundreds-- even thousands-- of miles, rather than just checking in from across campus.
    When I came to college, I knew my life was going to be different: I was told that it was going to be the best four years of my life, and I knew (or, rather, hoped) that by the end, I'd be leaving something special behind. And though I'm no psychic, I have to say that those predictions have come true. I took a risk on Hamilton-- even though I did some pretty in-depth college research, nothing could truly prepare me for what was to come. But after four years on the hill, I couldn't have made a better decision. Some of the things that have made Hamilton so fantastic are the things you see in the guidebooks: the close relationships I've made with friends and professors, all the things I've been able to do that I'm really going to miss (ahem, Yodapez, Untitled, Theatre, Philosophy, KSA--that's you...). But a lot of how I feel about Hamilton is in response to the stuff you won't find in the guidebooks, because some things you just have to experience yourself.
    Every year at Commencement, for the processional, the graduates walk through a sea of people to the sound of bagpipes. The bagpipes are almost like a signal to the crowd-- "This is it, here they come!" But this year, for me, it was a signal that it was time for me to move on, and to leave a place that had been so special to me, a place that had become my home. And as soon as the bagpipes began, I felt like my heart had dropped into my stomach. And later, as I walked across the stage at Commencement, I turned to Dean Thompson and whispered, "I'm not so sure I can do this."
    And even though, of course, I put one foot in front of the other and received my diploma, the way I feel now is indescribable-- the only description I can attempt to make is that it feels like leaving home. Perhaps it's the kind of thing that only Hamilton graduates can relate to, or maybe it's the kind of thing any college grad can tell you about. Or maybe, for those of you prospective students graduating from high school, it's the kind of thing you're experiencing right now. Hamilton's people and places have marked a very important and special time in my life. As I pack up my room, hug my friends goodbye, and laugh and cry with them for what might be the last time for a long time, I can't even begin to say how happy and proud I am to have spent these last four years at Hamilton. I've made memories and friendships that will last a lifetime.
    Even though I'm ending this journal, and about to leave the hill, my Hamilton experiences are far from over. These past four years have been amazing...just the past semester alone could have inspired countless journal entries! And not only looking back, but looking forward at what's to come, I couldn't be more excited about what Hamilton has given me. So wrapping up this entry poses a bit of a challenge-- I'm not sure what else to say, except for one word:

Thanks!

-Amanda:)

Can you Balinese Dance?

Thu, 27 Apr 2006 15:16:53 GMT

    This journal entry was too random an experience for me not to comment on. Well...at least it would be considered random for most people. (For a theatre major, it's not that unusual.)
    The workshop was pretty casual, and only had a handful of students present. But it was just the right size class to have enough room to awkwardly bend our legs and our elbows in all different directions, struggling to keep up with the percussive Balinese music. Our professor (Craig Latrell) and the lecturer (Dr. Mark Hobart, an anthropologist) looked on as dancer Ni Madé Pujawati (who we called "Madé," pronounced mah-dey) demonstrated how to do the basic movements of Balinese dance: male, female, and cross-gender.
    At first, the music and the movements themselves might seem strange to a Westerner. But to watch this type of dance was really entrancing-- especially because Madé not only danced with her body, but used very strong facial expressions as well. Her elbows were at an angle, and her hands were pointed straight up. Her fingers were constantly moving, and she'd open her eyes wide and glance from one side to other, tilting her head. Looking at it, at first, it seems so simple: it's not like she was doing any crazy spins or lifting her leg above her head. But when we tried it, it was very hard! At the beginning of the workshop, Dr. Hobart put it this way: you will be sore the next day, and your elbows will move in ways you never thought possible. Thankfully, I wasn't very sore. (Maybe I'm not doing it right?) But the movements did feel very different.
    Later that night, Dr. Hobart explained his research during the lecture in the chapel. It was titled, "How Creative Are the Balinese Performing Arts?" and explored how European influences have contributed (or in some ways, detracted from) Balinese dance, music, and theatre. At various points during the lecture, Madé demonstrated the different types of dances. And at the very end, she performed a piece that she created for a benefit for the victims of the Tsunami. It was incredibly moving, and incorporated a song in Kawi, or Old Javanese, about a 14 year-old girl who lost her family to the Tsunami.
    Altogether, it was very cool to be exposed to something so different, and to get the chance to try my hand at it, too! And although it was a bit unusual, it was also very typical of Hamilton. In my four years as a theatre major, I've been able to participate in workshops by internationally-acclaimed artists, right here on the hill. Madé is no exception, and is well-known not only in her native Bali, but internationally, as well.
    But I have to say, although I was taught by one of the best, I can't say I'm the greatest Balinese dancer. In fact, I can't say I'm great at all. But it was very cool to try-- when else would I get this kind of experience?

"Thesis: Talk to Me Friday"

Thu, 27 Apr 2006 14:43:59 GMT

    Like many Hamilton students, I live on Cafe Opus espresso drinks and Dunkin Donuts iced coffee. Last week, I wished they made IVs of the stuff. I bought a pair of comfy pants the weekend before my thesis was due, and proclaimed to Professor Doran that I'd be wearing them all week. (A prediction that became almost true.) My room looked like it was hit by a tornado-- Although my friends are accustomed to...well...let's say "occasional mess," this time, you could tell I meant business: stacks of books and papers everwhere, bottles of vitamin water scattered about my room. I had crawled into my thesis-hole, and was determined to get it done-- and get it done well-- before I dared crawl out of it. No Thursday night stop at the pub, no time to watch a movie. I made sure my friends knew that I was occupied with my new 20-something-page best friend. My AIM away message said it best: "Thesis: talk to me Friday."
    So when Friday came, it was evident that the final push was going to be a hard one. I had spent the semester determining the moral purpose of the family, and I had until midnight to get it done... or I'd turn into a pumpkin. (A pumpkin who would be in serious trouble.) I must say, it had been a challenging semester. My proposal to write a Philosophy Honors Thesis was approved in December, and since then, I'd been scouring books in ethics, feminist philosophy, and especially Aristotle, to find what I needed. And even when I had all the right books lined up, I still had to come up with my argument, and work the sources in to provide the necessary support. Two years ago, when I declared my philosophy major, I had no idea the work would be like this. I remember once my father asked, "What do philosophers do? Just sit on rocks and think?" Well, thinking is certainly a big part of it, but it's much harder than just sitting with your chin on your hand. (Thanks, Rodin.)
    And so, by the time Friday came along, I certainly started to feel what the word "culmination" really meant. Wow, four years of philosophy, and here I am, working on my thesis. Thankfully, as hard as it got, my professors were always available to help. Professor Franklin told us that the structure of our theses was like a set of monkey bars...and that we had to make them strong enough to withstand the tugs of 300-pound philosophers. As a result, he started tugging right away at our ideas to make sure they were solid, maintaining the sense of humor that produced the 300-pound-philosopher image. And I could always catch Professor Janack in Cafe Opus when I needed her. She was willing to share an Opus cookie with me at the end of the day, sticking around a little longer on campus just to help me make sure my paper was on track.
     And finally, on the day it was due, Professor Friend met with me at a local coffeeshop to talk about my thesis. I brought my draft, and she read it right then and there. Not only did she give me final comments then, but she also gave me her home phone number to call if I had trouble, and offered to read over a section of my thesis via e-mail, only a few hours before it was due! And, because she lives nearby, she also said that if I needed anything in the hour or two after she left our meeting, I could knock on her door for help.
    When I was applying to Hamilton, I knew that I would have a good chance of getting to know my professors simply because it's a smaller school-- our student-faculty ratio shows that. But what the statistics don't show is the sincere, personal attention I've received from my professors-- even up to the very day I turn in my senior thesis! (What other professors would review it on the day it's due?) ...and because today is the oral exam for my thesis, I'll be getting especially personal attention as they question me on my argument... a little scary, I must admit. But at least I've got the image of a 300-pound philosopher, tugging on monkey bars, to get me through...

They're Baaaack: A Visit from Alumni

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 21:51:14 GMT

    Like I mentioned in the introduction, I remember asking about alumni relations as a prospective student, but I didn't really know what that meant. It's the kind of thing you read in college statistics, and it's definitely one of the kinds of questions I'll hear my parents asking. And at 18 years old, I have to say, I wasn't nearly as concerned about alumni as I was about, say, the social scene on campus. But now, as I'm bracing myself for "the real world," or as I like to put it, "life after Hamilton," I'm starting to see what all the talk is about.
    This past weekend, I knew alumni were visiting, but I was still very surprised to see how many alumni there actually were. There were alumni from all over, old and young, wandering around campus, reading the Spectator and even eating in the dining halls. And, there were a ton of events -- there was an alumni reception for seniors, and all kinds of performances, workshops, meetings and sports games.
    The first event of the weekend for me was an improv workshop. Both of the alumni were members of Yodapez, Hamilton's improv troupe, and it was really great to see them again. One of them was a senior when I was a freshman, and the other actually graduated a couple years before I came to Hamilton. Then, later in the day, I sat in on a rehearsal for a performance that featured even more alumni. Called Love is in the Air, the show was written by a Hamilton alum, and is produced by a company created by Hamilton alumni...and, last but not least, Hamilton alumni perform in the show too. The show has been successful in New York, and even was accepted into the Fringe Festival last summer, and so it was a really great opportunity to be able to see it here on campus.
    On Saturday, I was able to reconnect with friends who were just visiting for the weekend. Some of them I knew through theatre, while others I knew through my sorority, and others were just friends I had known from going to school with them. Talking with them reassured me about leaving college and getting started on life after Hamilton, and it was fantastic to learn about all they've been doing since they left. Some are working on their master's degrees, while others are working at internships and jobs, and others are just working at living their dreams.
    Now I know that might sound strange-- living their dreams? Come on. ...But actually, I was surprised at how happy alumni were with their post-Hamilton careers. One alum who I was talking with works in outdoor education, and was talking about all the fun stuff he gets to do for his job. (Okay, so he does have office work...but he also gets to play outside!) Another alum was telling me about living on your own, and was really excited to talk about her apartment and life in Boston. And then there are alumni who have made been doing improv professionally-- which is actually something I want to do! And that was really great to hear-- although I'm somewhat familiar with the improv community, it's really reassuring to talk to people who are not only doing what I want to do, but share a similar background, having gone to Hamilton. In fact, I recently met an alum who is one of the founders of my improv troupe-- it was crazy to think that even after so many years, we could talk about this common interest, and I would have a resource for planning the things that I hope to do after I graduate.
    Even tonight, a couple days after Volunteer weekend has come to a close, another alumna is coming to visit to talk with students abour careers in journalism. Although I'm not planning a career in journalism, I am still very excited to see her-- she is one of the founders of my sorority, and also one of my good friends. It's great to know that you can still keep in touch with friends after they graduate, and I'm really excited to hear about all that she's accomplished after only a year out of college.
   Meeting so many alumni and talking with them has not only been fun, but I think it's also been very helpful for me as I prepare for this transition from Hamilton student to Hamilton alumna. Certainly, I'm looking forward to experiencing so many new things after I graduate...but I'm also looking forward to sharing those experiences with Hamilton students, just as other alumni have done for me. I love Hamilton, and I'm going to be sad to leave, but all of this just serves to remind me that even if I can't relive my college experience, I can at least come back to visit!

A Rare Opportunity

Thu, 06 Apr 2006 03:36:49 GMT

    For my Senior Project in Theatre, I decided to write a play about fairy tales. During my research, I came across a really helpful book that mentioned an illustrator named George Cruikshank. (He became famous mostly for his illustrations for Charles Dickens.) So I thought I'd look him up in our library catalog. Strangely enough, almost every book that came up was labelled as a part of the "Rare Collection." I wasn't really sure what that meant, so I asked for some help. The librarians explained to me that the Rare Collection houses some of the college's older and more unique books, books that need extra attention and care. Because they're old, they tend to be more fragile, and partly for that reason, they're kept in a separate part of the library. So I made an appointment to take a look.
    I wasn't really sure what to expect -- I had figured that the librarians might watch you like a hawk as you turn the fragile pages with white gloves. Or maybe, I thought, you don't get to touch the books at all -- maybe they turn the pages for you, while you're only able to look on. But surprisingly, when I met with the librarian, he was more than happy to help, and told me that I'd even get to turn the pages myself. He took me to look at what I needed, explaining that the books I wanted to look at were in their overflow room. So, we had to take the elevator to the basement of the library, and continued down a hallway, through a set of doors into a small room, where the maze led us to another room filled with shelves of old books. It was kind of suspenseful, because I wasn't sure exactly where we were going. But finally, we found the Cruikshank collection... all the way in the back corner.
    And, to my surprise, we didn't need to wear white gloves. When I asked the librarian why, he explained that as long as your hands are clean, they decided it's better to touch the books with your bare hands than risk tearing the pages (because you can't feel as well through the gloves). He let me look through the titles, and even allowed me to pull the books off the shelves myself. I was amazed at how many books there were -- especially because it was only the overflow room! When I mentioned my surprise to the librarian, he grinned from ear to ear. Here I thought they would be so protective of these precious old books. (...And they are, in that they take good care of them.) But when I thanked the librarian for his help, he was actually very quick to thank me back, and said that he only wished more students would look at the books in the Rare Collection.
    And I can see why. It's fascinating to hold a piece of history in your own hands, and I couldn't believe I was looking at the pages of books that were over a hundred years old! The more books I looked at, the more interesting it became... and then, finally, as I opened the cover of one book in particular, I noticed that something was written on the inside- a signature from the author himself, dating back to 1869! Looking at the Rare Collection turned out not only to be very helpful for my project, but a really interesting experience in itself -- something I didn't even know existed, right here on the Hamilton campus. All from a simple library search.