Different?

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Maybe it’s just me, but if you’ve ever studied in the West Hall 2 antelounge after midnight, sometimes you hear a certain tapping. It’s not a faint ticking, but rather a loud, consistent beating that goes on for hours. It’s happening right now as I write these words. 83 beats per minute. You can tune it out, but it’s still mildly alarming – like someone’s stuck outside where it’s cold and snowing, slowly freezing stiff, waiting for you to prove something or go to sleep.

Tap tap tap or go to bed. To be clear – I’m not here to complain about Olin’s work culture. Work is honestly the last thing on my mind right now. I’m talking about the relentless restlessness of Olin – to prove, to socialize, to care. I still really really love the college and the people and community. But therein lies the problem. Tap tap tap or go to bed. 

Last semester, I wanted to write an article criticizing the criticism at Olin. The lack of empathy, the blatant disregard for one’s own privilege, the excitement of being in a cushion community where students listen when you yell. It all disgusted me. When I saw Olin staff and faculty have emotional breakdowns in the face of disrespectful student criticism, it made me so so angry. 

But I never found the time. Winter Break happened, and my position completely flipped. I was now angry at the administration. I was frustrated with how clubs were being asked to create safe spaces at Olin; spaces that Olin loves to advertise but should be created by the institution in the first place. About how Olin’s administration needs to rebuild fractured trust among students with more leadership, openness, and professionalism.

But the reality is both. We’re a baby school with big dreams striving relentlessly to prove ourselves. An insecure college with small grounds but wide-open skies. A little colony of people trying to establish themselves and softening under the protection of a pressure-cooker community. Tap tap tap or go to sleep.

The phrase that makes me shudder the most at Olin is, “Everybody here is -”. So much has been appended to that. Liberal, privileged, burnt-out, anti-capitalist, an engineer, well-intentioned. And the truth is – at least MY truth is – that’s never the case. It’s one thing to have a shared culture, and another to assume unwavering conformity to it. The vibe I feel running through campus runs through us all, but it doesn’t mean we all interact with it in the same way.

I’m not making a revolutionary point here – we’re all different. Period… or not, for your take on this may be different from mine. And a lot more can be accomplished at Olin if this simple fact is culturally recognized.

Some examples:

There is mistrust between students and Olin’s administration. Trust that needs to be rebuilt. And the key insight lies in recognizing that not all students mistrust the administration. Unfortunately, the students with the least faith in Olin’s administration, in a twist of cruel irony, are also the students who need the support of the administration the most. But acknowledging that not everyone has this attitude reduces frustration among students who feel privileged to be at Olin in the first place! Much more importantly, an administration that recognizes this nuance can use it to improve their approach – reducing the burden of advocacy on struggling students, creating structures to proactively be a resource for students, stepping in to break the self-destructive cycle of “Need Information (/assistance/health support/accommodations) Now? Just Ask” – because for many there’s never a “just” to asking.

Or the assumption that everyone at Olin has the best intentions. This is a tricky one, because all the way back from OFYI we’re taught to “assume best intentions”. And that’s definitely a huge part of Olin, an intrinsic piece of our culture. But again, it’s naive to assume this is always true, certainly not in the world, but even at Olin. I have been in situations where people have definitely NOT acted with good intentions in mind, and I have struggled to find ways to deal with those situations simply because I don’t know how to. 

There is a danger to the mindset of “we’re a close-knit community of nice people and we look out for each other”. ‘Cause while a lot of us agree with that, it really sucks for those who don’t. Olin becomes a 4-year long summer camp of trying to fit into your niches, finding your Olin brand, and having a happy, productive time overall. Good vibes only, cause we’ve created something special here in this little innovative school. Tap tap tap or go to sleep.

To reiterate: I love this college. I love the people who run it, I love being able to say hi to people I walk by and (mostly) getting a response, and I just feel so gosh darn lucky to be here. Yet, on the days that I’m exhausted and pissed and don’t want to say hi to the people I walk by, I don’t feel like Olin’s got my back. And that would be okay – except I feel pushed from the front by the sheer Olin-ness of things. What do you mean you’re not going to join the laughter in the dining hall but sulk in the mezz of introversion, privacy, and tight friend groups? 

I want to emphasize one last thing before I go to bed. Don’t take this scrappily-written article as the only perspective. My complaints about Olin are by no means important: something that everyone – students, staff, and faculty – need to recognize. The students who this college is harshest on don’t write  articles, buzzing with middle-school energy. The folks who need to be heard the most are the ones who don’t feel empowered to speak up. Listen to what they have to say, be honest and gentle, and create that space. It’s okay to be uncomfortably different. Or disagree with me and tell me about it!

The Day Everything Changed Pt. 1

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It was a normal day; a day like any other. I awoke at 5 AM to the sounds of birdsongs and Harry Styles’s voice angelically singing the chorus to “What Makes You Beautiful,” which was radiating from my iPod Touch. My breath tasted awful, I probably shouldn’t have snuck to the kitchen and ate that cookie dough while my parents were asleep. As I rose out of bed, I felt another twinge of regret from my late night binge and rushed to the bathroom. Like I said, a normal day like any other. 

After the color returned to my face, and I brushed my teeth I started heading to the kitchen. The day didn’t feel like a breakfast day, so I sipped on some orange juice. While savoring the taste of citrus mixing with toothpaste in my mouth, I glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was 5:50AM, did I spend that long in the bathroom? I shot a glance at the freezer, and a shiver ran down my spine as I visualized the half eaten tub of cookie dough. Shamefully, I opened the drawer next to the fridge and grabbed a spoon. But as I started to open the freezer, my mouth salivating at the sugar waiting for me in its cold plastic packaging, I heard shuffling from upstairs.

I quickly shut the door and returned to my glass of orange juice as my father entered. 

“Good morning, Tracy.” He said, paternally. He examined my face for a moment before adding, “Got into the cookie dough again?”

I put my hand, still holding the conspicuous spoon, behind my back instinctively, trying to get out a very convincing “What makes you think that?” but only succeeding in snorting on my half-swallowed OJ. My father smiled in amusement, handing me a roll of paper towels while simultaneously texting something on his Blackberry. “Careful there!” he said with a chuckle, “You’ll need all of that orange juice to get the energy you need for today!”

I might’ve asked what he meant by that if I hadn’t been so annoyed and embarrassed. Wiping my face off, and wishing for nothing more than for my father to just get out and get to work already, I said, “Thanks, Dad,” while barely suppressing an eye roll. I probably didn’t have to hide my teenage disgruntlement though, because he was still fixated on that tiny plastic keyboard, clicking away as he walked through the kitchen. “Where are you going?” I asked before he could reach the door.

“What?” he said, not even looking up. His phone buzzed, and he said, “I’m off to work–you’d better get ready for school, honey. You never know when it’s going to be a big day!”

Whatever he meant by that I couldn’t tell, as he did not elaborate before heading into the hallway and out the front door. And while, as I said, this was a normal day like any other, my father was correct about one thing: that I needed to get ready for school. With the clock now reading 5:55 and my mousy brown hair looking positively feral, I was in no position to be headed to school.

I rushed upstairs and blasted the sweet sweet sounds of pop rock as I groggily got myself together. When I was ready, I switched over to my portable earbuds (after spending about 15 minutes untangling them, of course) and, shoving an untoasted piece of toast in my mouth (because who doesn’t have time for bread?), ventured out the front door and into the unforgivingly harsh light of morning.

The rumble of the school bus gave me the perfect ambiance for a mid-morning nap. A nap which, if I’d had it my way, could’ve been longer, but the wheels of the bus had unfortunately ceased to go round and round. I followed the line of tired students into the highschool and prepared for a long boring day of doing anything I could to avoid learning anything in my classes.

At the strike of the 8:00 AM bell, Ms. Rogers, the most dreaded Calc 1 substitute teacher, jauntily walked into class. I opened my text-book and pulled out some sheets. And with a sigh, I started folding an origami crane.

“Tracy ‘cookie dough’ Evans, there is a message for you!” I snapped out of my origami frog reverie (the latest in a dreamy, artistic 2-hour sequence) to see the teacher waiting with a piece of paper. I cringed. ‘Cookie dough’ Evans, from the freaking substitute teacher? 

I felt the eyes of the rest of the class burying their gaze into me as I walked to the front and accepted the slip. 

“Please come outside; I’m waiting in the parking lot. It’s urgent.

-Mom”

“Huh?”

Still confused, I left the classroom and made my way out to where my Mom was waiting for me in her Dodge Charger. 

“Hey Mom, is everything okay?” I asked nervously. She didn’t seem stressed, but the energy in the car was weird. 

“Yeah sweetie, everything is fine. We do have some news for you, but I think it’s best if we go home first.” Her calm tone was slightly reassuring, but did not answer any of my questions. I studied her face as she started to drive, and found no hints of stress. 

“Maybe we are going on a surprise vacation,” I thought to myself. I allowed myself to feel some excitement, as we passed the suburban houses dotting the street. It was still during the day, so there wasn’t much going on. It was weird to see the street so quiet, there’s usually some liveliness when the bus passes through at the end of the school day. 

After a few more minutes, we pulled into our driveway, and my mom released a slight sigh. My nerves returned as she looked at me solemnly and said, “Tracy, please know that no matter what, your father and I still love you.” 

My mind was racing, what on Earth could be going on? As my mother led me inside, I felt the urge to run but then my dad opened the door and invited me in. 

As I stepped through the threshold of the door I heard a beautiful voice count down from three, and then an angelic “You’re insecure, don’t know what for, you’re turning heads when you walk through the door” crawls out from the living room. My heart skipped a beat, and I ran over to see Zayn, Harry, Louis, Niall, and Liam standing in front of my couch singing “What Makes You Beautiful.” My jaw dropped. 

Before I could say anything, I felt my mother’s hand on my shoulder. She knelt down and gave me a hug. “You’re going to live with One Direction now.”    

What happens next? You decide!

Link: https://forms.gle/BtdjLsBLLHd9jeMw7

What Your Dining Hall Plate Type Says About You

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Maroon – You want to blend in at the busiest lunch table, but being around people is scary. Not as scary as being alone, though.

Red – You always sit down at the busiest table in the dining hall, you need lunch buddies to fill the void of loneliness in your heart.

Orange – You love sunlight and golden hour. You’re sad that the sun sets so early in winter. You’re… not from around here, are you?

Yellow – You aren’t good at checking your phone, which means you never know when your friends are eating lunch. So when you sit down at the table they all get up to leave and you are left there with your sandwich with only one bite in it and your thoughts. 

Lime green – Like the green m&m you were once sexy and cool but now you’ve changed to be more appealing to the public (and to distract from the child slavery lawsuits).

Teal blue – Are you a California kid who’s missing the beach and warm weather? This won’t get you any closer, but props for trying. 

Navy blue – You enjoy sitting alone on cold, winter nights. Loser.

Purple – You talk with your hands, and always a tad bit louder than the person you are talking to. You have main character energy but your friends like you anyway.

White – Your Mii is the default Mii, you are more basic than pumpkin spice, you haven’t changed your laptop’s wallpaper.

Black – You’re feeling edgy, trying to relive your middle school emo phase. You have RGB LEDs in your room that you never turn off. 

Has only used navy blue plates since you started at Olin – You are Bennett Taylor… why?

Napkin – Class started 5 min ago you are never going to be on time again in your life why did you ever think “Olin time” was funny? You haven’t done your laundry in at least two weeks.

On Solidarity, or What ‘90s Rap, Role-Playing Games, and Labor Activism Can Teach Us in Times Like These

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One of my earliest exposures to the concept of empathy came in the form of Everlast’s 1998 one-hit wonder “What It’s Like,” a slow rap on a backdrop of folksy guitar with all the requisite sound effects and turntable wiggles of the era. It’s no masterpiece, but it was overplayed on the radio beyond all measure of sensibility when I was in middle school, meaning it’ll stay lodged in my head for the rest of my days. Still, with its lyrics about the pain of addiction, poverty, and loss, it was among the first times I can remember hearing and thinking about the phrase “walk a mile in [someone else’s] shoes.”

This article is not about the bizarre pop hits of the late ‘90s, though hit me up if you ever do want to have that discussion. I bring up “What It’s Like” because, musical merits notwithstanding, it has an important lesson to share: empathy isn’t possible without understanding. And understanding isn’t possible without the story, detail, and background of what someone else is going through. The word “narrative” serves as a good catch-all for story, detail, and background. In society writ large, certain narratives get more airtime, representation, and discussion than others. The system of U.S. higher education is no exception to that, nor is Olin as a particular location within that system.

Because we live in a society, the narratives of certain groups do not tend to get attention at our institution.1 But we need information in order to empathize, and because the narratives of certain groups do not get attention, information that could lead to empathy for those groups goes unheard. Without that informed empathy, people become akin to non-player characters (NPCs)—characters in games that are not controlled by a human player, like the iconic “Hello, my friend! Stay a while and listen” guy from Diablo.2 They are creatures without agency that do not exist as ends in themselves but rather as a means to an end for others, perhaps moving one narrative along while not having a narrative themselves. It’s also tempting to assume you know what’s going on with NPCs when you don’t, because it’s easy to stereotype someone or assign their motives when you don’t consider them to be fully human.

Understanding and empathizing with each other takes effort, though, and if there’s one thing we don’t have a surplus of right now, it’s energy. Earlier this semester, I had a conversation with students about the cognitive dissonance between acknowledging that people are burned out and over capacity and needing to try harder than we normally would to be patient and understanding with each other. A friend at another institution who serves as a vocal labor advocate in her faculty union suggested to me that the extra expenditure of resources—if it’s truly in the name of supporting one another—is worth it, even (if not especially) when we’re this exhausted. It’s a rare case of pushing ourselves in a way that does not have to be exploitative, but instead can lead to what labor activists and sociologists call solidarity. Quoting the Wikipedia3 entry: “Solidarity is an awareness of shared interests, objectives, standards, and sympathies creating a psychological sense of unity of groups or classes4, which rejects the class conflict.” You could think of students, staff, and faculty as separate groups or classes, and you could think of what might unite them as solidarity. To know what might unite these groups, you need some amount of understanding about what each of them is experiencing. Without that, you’re prone to start seeing members of groups other than your own as NPCs.

As I’m writing this in late November, there are abundant reasons to be annoyed, scared, and furious at larger forces in the world, at the U.S., at late-stage capitalism, at the criminal justice system, at tech giants, at the construction of pipelines on stolen land, at the COVID cases ticking back up yet again, at the effing Omicron variant. Not one of us asked to be living through history, and here we are, muddling through a watershed event with no end in sight. It’s valid to feel overwhelmed and hopeless in the face of these things. That said, if we work to build understanding, empathy, and solidarity, we might find ourselves with a way forward. This is not a solution, nor is it a new construction, but instead is a common ground we might be able to stand on if we try to find it.

There are many barriers to solidarity at Olin, as there are anywhere (again, we live in a society), but the big one I want to leave us thinking about is the compartmentalization of students, faculty, and staff. These roles have a meaningful functional difference and this is no argument for dissolving them, but true solidarity can and should overcome categorical distinction. If we can find no solidarity between students, staff, and faculty, this effectively denies the potential, and perhaps the very existence, of higher education. We also need solidarity between faculty and staff because as we try to walk the walk of incorporating ethics, inclusion, and humanities into our mission and offerings, we cannot deny the importance of expertise and lived experience of all kinds in this work. Not to mention, a lack of solidarity between different types of labor in any workplace is a liability when any one of us wants to push for better working conditions.5 Many members of our three groups want to see a better world, and many of us have quite similar visions of a better world, and that looks like a path to solidarity. This is not healing, or resilience, which asks us to impossibly return to a “before” state that can no longer be accessed and often negates our experience. This is not turning a crisis into opportunity. Instead, solidarity asks us to find a shared reason to come as we are, broken and mistrustful, from different levels of the system and with our pain validated. It’s a shift away from deficit logic, not toxic positivity6 or a denial of what we’ve been through, and therein lies its power.

The last line of the bridge in “What It’s Like” is this: “You know, where it ends, it usually depends on where you start.” We might try to start from a place where we acknowledge there are many larger and smaller intersecting systems impacting us inside and outside our Olin bubble, where all the players are seen as human, where we’re patient with each other’s mistakes, where solidarity helps us keep going as a group even when individuals feel as if they’ve got nothing left. In the uncertain times of COVID, we are all “stuck in a route of confusion, changing and waiting and seeking the truth of it all.”7 So let’s try to walk it together, if for no other reason than that the forces in the world we want to stop and reverse would like nothing more than to see us breaking off alone.

  1. See “Olin: An ‘Alien’ Perspective” in Frankly Speaking vol. 14, issue 3.
  2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2alFLXjty9o
  3. Spoiler alert: Librarians actually love Wikipedia, and many of us help keep Wikipedia entries up to date.
  4. Note that this is an oversimplification; of course there are many subgroups of identities, class years, job types, and much more within these three, but for the purposes of this article, we’ll keep it zoomed out.
  5. https://www.upbeacon.com/article/2021/11/university-of-portland-faces-staffing-issues-beyond-the-labor-shortage
  6. https://rightasrain.uwmedicine.org/mind/well-being/toxic-positivity
  7. I’m quoting a Swedish death metal band here in hopes of balancing all the Everlast. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhohQNdSt7g

Quiz: Is This QEA, or a Scene from Inception?

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  1. People keep repeating certain numbers and you don’t know why.
  2. A team is working together to solve a near-impossible task.
  3. You have no idea what’s going on.
  4. People keep falling asleep.
  5. Some things feel purposefully ambiguous.
  6. Time feels like it’s moving much slower than it actually is.
  7. You have to keep track of so many confusing things that you feel like you’re losing it.
  8. People are constantly asking themselves “how did I get here?”
  9. You’re still confused after someone tries to explain what’s happening.
  10. Things are happening very quickly and you feel that it would benefit from slowing it down so you could understand it better.
  11. You think you get it. Wait, just kidding, no you don’t.
  12. Even after the end of it, you still have so many questions.

Answer Key:

QEA: 1-12

Inception: 1-12

The New NATO Phonetic Alphabet

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First of all, the NATO Phonetic alphabet is a spelling alphabet, and not a phonetic alphabet at all (if you want that, look into the International Phonetic Alphabet on Wikipedia). In case you don’t know, the NATO Phonetic Alphabet is the system of using the words Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, and so on to spell out words (typically over the radio).

However, while it is not a true phonetic alphabet, real phonetic alphabets exist to provide symbols for every type of sound that humans make while speaking. It’s an incredibly powerful tool. Want to learn an accent? Simply go to something like www.dialectsarchive.com, which attempts to collect every common accent of the English language. From there, you can listen to real people talk and go through each word replacing the sounds in that word with a symbol. Compare your own speech with those symbols and practice the differences. If you made your own symbol you’re well on your way to making your own real phonetic alphabet. However, try to use the NATO Phonetic alphabet to sound out words, and you will sound like you’re one of those crazy theater people.

By the way, the NATO Phonetic alphabet isn’t even its official name. It’s officially called “The International Radiotelephony Spelling Alphabet”. The IRSA went through many revisions before it landed in its current state. By the way, why they landed on spelling Alfa with an F and not a PH I will never know. Words were swapped out and it was worked to be optimized to include distinct words and sounds common to all languages. The last update to this system, devised to clear up pronunciation misunderstandings, was on 1 March 1956. Because of the lack of an update, I have taken it upon myself to propose an update that is clearly superior in every way. Please use only this henceforth.

Symbol                Code WordTraditional International Phonetic AlphabetPronunciation
AAirɛərair
BBuscemi,Stevebuːˈsɛmi, stivboo-SEM-ee, steev
CChesterˈtʃɛs tərches-ter
DDudeduddood
EEcstaticɛkˈstæt ɪkek-stat-ik
FFuddle-dum-rumpleyˈfʌd l dʌm ˈrʌm plifuhd-l duhm ruhm-plee
GGnomenoʊmnohm
HHeirɛərair
IIncomprehensible(ˌ)in-ˌkäm-pri-ˈhen(t)-sə-bəlin-kom-pri-hen-suh-buhl
JJabberwockyjab-er-wok-eeˈdʒæb ərˌwɒk i
KKkeɪkay
LLigmaˈlɪg məlig-muh
MMancy ˈmæn siman-see
NNosferatuˌnɒsfəˈrɑːtuːNOS-fuh-RAA-too
OOrwellˈɔr wɛlawr-wel
PPneumaticsnʊˈmæt ɪksnoo-mat-iks
QQuaykikey
RRamuliferous¦ramyə¦lif(ə)rəsram-u-​lif-​er-​ous
SSchadenfreudeˈʃɑd nˌfrɔɪ dəshahd-n-froi-duh
Ttsk-tsktǀˈtisk
UUranusyoor-uh-nuhsˈyʊər ə nəs
VVroommmmmmmvrumvroom-mmmm
WWritheraɪðrahyth
XXenodocheionologyˌzenədəˌkīəˈnäləjēxen·​o·​do·​chei·​on·​ol·​o·​gy
YYeastyˈyi stiyee-stee
ZZaddyˈzæd i-zad ee

An Open Letter to Current and Future Olin Improvisers

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As this semester comes to a close, I find that I do not have time to teach all that I know about improv. I write this to impart some last bits of knowledge to you, the reader, in the hopes that it helps you improve the quality of your improv performances at least a little. The following are things that I have picked up from either books, or other improvisers, or my own experience that I feel I must share.

1. Freedom, Power & Responsibility

First, there was nothing. Then, there was improv. When two people initiate a scene, the person who speaks first, whether through words or actions, has the freedom to do or say whatever they want. When the stage is empty, you could walk on and say, “Shit, that was a wrong turn,” or ,”Doc, my face feels like it’s on fire,” to quickly establish part of a platform (Who’s there? Where? And what’s happening?). Actions like digging or fishing can also help establish who your character is through the use of body language. As the improviser to initiate the scene, you walked on and had the freedom to make the empty space your own.

Now, the person who responds has the power to interpret your words or actions and establish a direction for the scene. For example, in response to the wrong turn line, your scene partner may respond, “Oh! The scenic route!” or, “Jackie, at this rate, we’re going to miss the wedding!” Even an audible huff establishes that your character often misses turns and that your partner character’s patience may be wearing thin. Responses need not always be words. Let’s say that you begin a scene by digging. Your partner walks up, crosses their arms, and watches. By not helping (and with their body language), they are saying that yes, you are digging, and I am supervising. If they were not helping, but were holding a shovel too and wiping sweat from their brow, then they have used their power to say that you two are coworkers, allowing the scene to have a very different set of interactions.

The initiative now shifts back to you. After your freedom to do anything and your scene partner’s power to interpret your anything, you now have the responsibility to continue the scene using that same interpretation. If your scene partner responds to you saying, “Doc, my face feels like it’s on fire,” with the statement, “I am a cardiologist. I barely know what a face is,” then you have the responsibility to continue the scene in that direction, wherever it goes. In this specific case, we’ve established a precedent of asking for help in all the wrong places, which is a very funny pattern to continue in the same scene or future scenes with that character.

To summarize, the first person has the freedom to do or say whatever. The second person has the power to take that and establish a direction for the scene to go. The first person then has the responsibility to continue the scene in that direction. This is the idea of freedom, power and responsibility.

2. Give gifts, generously

In improv, giving a gift means giving a scene partner something to work with. The general suggestion is that you should give gifts as much as possible, and that the best improvisers make their scene partners look amazing through gifts.

Gifts in the context of improv do not need to be physically handing someone an object. Usually, a gift takes the form of an idea that can be further explored. Take, for example, a scene where two improvisers are talking over lunch. They may touch upon the minutiae of their day to day or describe the food they’re eating or restaurant they are in, but that is world building if anything. The scene really gets going when one person says something like, “Let’s get down to business. You say you want my house?” This question has the obvious, interesting answer of, “Yes, I want your house,” and gives the other improviser both a strong motivation and the power to answer the question of why their character wants the other’s house. Giving gifts tends to take the form of statements or questions with obvious, interesting answers that elaborate upon motivations, shared history, or other relationships a character may have. Good gifts help further the development of the scene, the characters as individuals, and their relationship with each other.

Newer improvisers sometimes struggle with establishing strong characters or inserting themselves in larger group scenes. A gift in their case may be a strong and clear character trait to help them find their footing in a scene. Easy characters to gift are spouses/ significant others, bosses/the president (of anything) or business partners. These characters are easy to support and explore around, allowing for other gifts to be given during the lifetime of the character.

3. “Yes, And” means agreement between actors, not necessarily characters within a scene

The backbone of improv is the idea that actors must agree with each other to fully create and explore a scene. The quickest way to do this is by agreeing to ideas your scene partner brings.

For example, say there is you and another person initiating a scene. The other person approaches and says, “Mother, I wish to attend a party at David’s.” If we apply the idea of ‘Yes, And’ to the characters themselves, then the Mother must acquiesce the request. The child gets to go to David’s party.

But if we apply ‘Yes, And’ to the actors and not the characters, then the mother has the power to say, “No, Honey. I’ve never met David or his parents.” And can respond like a mother. This allows the improvisers to explore and resolve the conflict that has been presented, exploring the world of the child and mother along the way.

4. The performers are in charge, not the audience

A long, long time ago, we held a show that did not go well. We as performers gave the audience so much power that it hindered our ability to perform and our general consensus after the show was that it could not have gone much worse.  For complete transparency I will name this event as the rotten food show from 2 years ago. The best thing that came from that show was a decision to never do it again. But I think it’s worth saying why it didn’t work because that topic comes up in other places.

As improvisers, we learn how to bring ideas from our head onto the stage. We also have a filter for words and topics that the audience does not. To that end, and for the comfort of the actors and general audience, the final say of what happens on stage is in the hands of the performers and no one else’s.

For example, take the game of Pillars. Audience members are sat onstage and tapped on the shoulder for words and phrases to fill in the blank. Let’s paint ourselves a scene where a parent and child are cleaning out their car. The child finds an object that they do not recognize and are unsure where to put it. They ask their parent. The parent says, “Oh, that? Just put it –” and then taps one of the pillars, an audience member, for a suggestion. Let’s say the pillar replies with the phrase, “in my ass.” While the response is funny in a non-sequitur sort of way, and the improvisers may be able to continue after the audience calms down, there is nothing wrong with hitting the pillar for a second time and saying, “again,” or, “another one,” to get a different word or phrase. One of the joys of working with an audience is not knowing what you’re going to get, but I dare say the experience is so much better when it’s collaborative in nature and no one is trying to trip up the other.

Remember this and remember it well: the word of the audience is not law. Do not chase the audience’s laugh. You can control what is brought on stage.

5. An improviser is a storyteller

Again, improvising is hard. There are soft boundaries everywhere that you hit and have to bounce back from. Sometimes, especially when improvising with individuals new to the world of improv or experienced with a different troupe, these boundaries will appear within improv scenes.

Sometimes scenes will begin or move in a direction that you, as an improviser, will not like. Maybe your character is pushed in a direction or given qualities that hit you personally. Maybe the scene is delving into a topic that is making you increasingly uncomfortable and you know is heading in a bad direction.

Change it, I say. This is not real life. This is a story in your head. Your character is an ass? A bully? Not anymore after a quick personal epiphany. Now they’re nice and work to lift up others. Stuck in a bad situation? Feel like you have no control? Good thing you’re the undercover boss. The secret audit officer.

There is no reason you should be trapped in a story you are helping to build. Improv scenes are a collaborative storytelling medium. A good scene partner can recognize discomfort and help shift the scene away from that direction.

Final Thoughts

I swear this was supposed to be light-hearted. I started writing it that way and then realized there were other things to say.

Like many things in life, there’s so much knowledge you only gain through experience and I just wanted to share these tidbits as a parting gift. I wish you all the best of luck going forward and am glad I got to be a part of your journey.

Affectionately,

Luis Francisco Zuniga

I’m A Guy You Just Met, And I’m Already Mansplaining Python To You

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Hey, it’s great to meet you. Did you know that Python uses whitespace instead of brackets? I’m sure you didn’t, because even though the internet exists and there are thousands of tutorials out there, I must be the only person in the world who has ever taken a Python course. 

Isn’t it so amazing that I know basic information about Python syntax that anyone would get from a W3Schools tutorial? Having opinions on the relative merits of camel case and snake case makes me feel like a fully formed human being.

What do you think about the latest Python release? You haven’t thought about it? You must not be a real engineer. I, of course, read the Python changelog on a daily basis, and I tell everyone I meet about it because I think it makes me a well-informed citizen. 

You know, I really feel like being able to use Git is a defining personality trait. Yeah, I’ve only ever used Git to write commit messages like “asdfjkasldflaksdfj i hope this works” and “changed something”, but being able to type two-word commands into a terminal shows that I am a very intelligent person.

Sometimes I feel threatened by the fact that software engineers that aren’t white males exist, but then I go to my room and read the James Damore memo and tell myself that I’m special because I once read the first few chapters of a book on object-oriented programming and then I feel all better.

What’s that? You’ve used Python before? You’ve used Git too? That can’t be right. If you’re not spending all of your time on r/programming, how can you even call yourself a coder?

Well, I just checked your Github account, and my contributions graph has more commits than yours does because I don’t understand the concept of rebase, so I must be a better developer.

Have I told you how cool Elon Musk is? Wait, where are you going? Come back so I can tell you my take on the Cybertruck!

This article was inspired by fun moments as a woman in STEM.

dASSember Whoreoscopes

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Very chaste and conservative predictions for the Franklin Walter Olin College Family.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Among the most oily fries lies a piece of gold. It’s your destiny calling, pick up! If you don’t, they’ll call again soon, but man are they going to be pissed. It’s not every day that destiny calls, and you can’t even get yourself off the toilet to answer. Is this because of the oily fries?

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Have you ever built a snowman? Do you want to build a snowman? Come on, let’s go and play! If you make a mess, that’s okay. Self-forgiveness is important, but make sure to buy some Clorox wipes! And definitely use those wipes to clean your laptop screen. Also, join ASs club.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

When the SolidWorks file crashes, you will crash with it. Beware of zero thickness geometry and always have a license on hand. When the circuit shorts, supply power again and again. The circuit just needs some time. Give it some time!!! Try plugging the USB into your belly button.

Gemini (May 21 – June 21)

After today, never eat chickpeas unless peeled beforehand. It will thank you. Embrace your inner child and you will receive 20% off your next purchase. If you call 1-800-CHILD right now, you’ll get two for the price of one! Now that’s a steal! DO NOT try this for jlcpcb.com purchases unless you are willing to lose a finger.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

In seven years look towards the sun. Close your eyes, though! But keep your third eye open. But if you keep it open for too long, it might get cold! Get some warm green tea and then feed it to the birds. They get cold too. If your corporeal form gets cold, try sitting in the 3rd floor endcap of the MAC.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Your elbow grease is leaking. Get a hold of yourself! It’s going to get all over your Cup Noodles™. You wouldn’t want that to happen– your Cup Noodles™ are so delicious all on their own, now with 50% less sodium! When life gives you lemons, make a battery. But don’t eat it.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

It seems they are watching you eat that cookie. Is it good? Do it for yourself – not others. What if you put a little bit of peanut butter on it? For yourself? Or maybe, you can eat it with ice cream. Or, if you are dairy-free, just stick to the peanut butter. Have you tried jelly on a cookie? Be open-minded. For yourself.

Scorpio (October 24 – November 21)

Call your mom. You need her. Like a servo motor, you spin when someone tells you to. Like an Arduino, you can be programmed. If you would like to opt out of being programmed all you have to do is let us know. Scream “妈妈” really loud in the dining hall. That’s the best way to reach us.

Libra (September 23 – October 23)

Scratch those armpits while you contemplate why you are alive. It’ll be a fruitful meditation, as long as you scratch those armpits. Whose armpits? We’ll never tell! If you say AC instead of MAC, we will tell. That’s unacceptable. One day Olin will consider naming a building after you.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

How do you wipe? You need to figure this out ASAP. Even if you think you know, you should definitely double-check. Once you find out, please let us know because now we are invested. Speaking of investing, the stock market is down <3 i hope this helps :) Now is the time to buy!

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Turn away from your demons at your earliest convenience. That spinach in your fridge is going bad. Eat that pie too! You need to clean out and unplug your fridge or else you will have a stinky surprise (metaphorically). When you are done with the cleaning, take a look inside? Are you clean? What is clean? I have a mop if you want to borrow it.

Cancer (June 22 – July 22)

Hey partner, have you been suffering? Colony Care is a free resource for all Olin College students, and you should reach out if you want someone to talk to. Email Laura Kinney at laurakinney@colonycare.net to schedule an appointment with a Colony Care provider today! Also, tell the person to your left their shoe is untied.

Olin: An “Alien” Perspective

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At Olin College of Unspoken Privilege, we don’t have enough open, honest conversations about the culture that makes you feel out of place for feeling out of place. And a lot of people feel out of place at Olin, a lot of people don’t vibe with the conversations in the dining hall, a lot of people feel awkward, left-behind, lonely – far detached from the caring, close-knit community they were promised at Olin. We need to recognize this, and we need to understand why.

We need to talk. Here’s an international student perspective. 

Over a month ago, I interviewed four international students, each from a different country. Those conversations were some of the most honest and powerful I have had so far in my life, and they made me realize that there are so many powerful stories hidden unexpressed behind these inspiring people, each with rich, unique sociocultural backgrounds. 

I suppose that’s why I’m doing this. To raise awareness that at Olin, there is a small community of students legally labeled as ‘aliens’ by the US government. These students leave behind most of what is familiar to them and fly across the world, and many of them struggle. I’m writing this to help unpack those stories, and to help unpack my story.

I don’t claim to speak for all international students. The opinions in this piece are my personal perspective, with reinforcement from my four interviewees, each of whom come from diverse countries and backgrounds and have vastly different views on America and Olin.

Olin’s work culture for example – coming from the hypercompetitive, scarce work environment in India, Olin initially seemed like a dream to me. People were living their life to the fullest and creating space for hobbies, clubs, project teams – things that brought them joy! But three of my interviewees had the opposite take – they felt that compared to their countries Olin, and in their experience, America in general, has too strong of a workaholic culture. One of them called it ‘internalized capitalism’. Neither viewpoint is incorrect. However, the sharp difference in perspectives was eye-opening, and it made me question my generalizations about my international student experience.

But we, international students, do have many shared experiences. One of the biggest challenges I faced when transitioning into Olin was simply being able to hold conversations. I was not at all prepared for how difficult it would be to engage with people. One of my interviewees spoke about not understanding the references from movies, the conversational contexts, baseball – it all fed into the imposter syndrome, the lingering feeling that they didn’t belong here. It’s often difficult to realize that American insularity exists, especially because of the tiny size of Olin’s international student community. While 28% of Babson’s undergraduate student body is international students, Olin is at around 8%. International students at Olin lack the cultural support communities traditionally available at other, larger colleges, and that can make settling into Olin’s environment significantly more challenging. An interviewee even suggested making an America ‘cheat sheet’ – a list of cultural elements international students need to be aware of before interacting in social settings at Olin. It’s important to recognize that the process of adapting to Olin’s cultural space was, for me and a lot of my interviewees, slow, embarrassing, and occasionally even hurtful. An interviewee shared how hurt they had felt when they got attacked for not knowing what Indigenous Peoples’ Day was – all they wanted to do was understand and clarify. They said, “Give us more slack – assume positive intent. We’re trying to adapt to a new way of life, it’s not always easy.” 

Due to the cultural force of the USA in global media, there’s an assumption in the USA that everyone must be informed of US history, geography, and liberal political contexts. That assumption is simply not fair on international students, who, for example, never learned US history or learned an inaccurate version of it. Moreover, that lack of context can make it difficult to understand prevailing attitudes at Olin.

For example, when I first got to Olin, I was struck by the sheer amount of US-bashing by Americans. “Yeah, America sucks,” was assumed to be the default attitude. Why would anyone like this country, with all of its flaws and inequities? Yet my first reaction was, why would anyone not like this country? There’s so much here – money, resources, jobs, dialogue, freedom of speech.

There’s a very American-centered conversation in the US around empowerment. It recognizes that despite the country’s championing of democracy, a significant number of Americans don’t have access to the aforementioned privileges that dominant groups in the country do. Olin has made some progress in creating a space for this conversation, and I also believe that we have much, much further to go. However, significantly more unrecognized is the fact that many international students come from countries that systemically lack the opportunities available in the US. All that US-bashing can get hurtful – yes, the USA has massive, entrenched problems, but there is so much privilege in being able to complain. And yes, while the criticism should not stop at all costs, it is important to recognize this privilege especially in front of students who have left behind so much – family, familiarity, and a sense of belonging –  to attend college in the USA. There’s so much privilege to be fearless; the last time I expressed significant dissent against India in my high school, I was physically dragged aside and yelled at by two high school teachers in front of my entire school for nearly an hour – an experience that left me disgusted, emotionally exhausted, and terrified. It’s still unbelievable for me to hear people at Olin effortlessly and casually criticize the USA.

Olin, by design, is a privileged space. I recognize that my entire ‘American’ experience has been an Olin experience, and Olin, by any stretch of the imagination, is not representative of the USA. And so I spend a lot of time thinking about privilege at Olin, often through many of the traditional American lenses such as race and gender but also about the privilege of simply being American. All of my interviewees expressed frustration at the lack of recognition of that privilege at Olin – the privilege of being able to return home for Thanksgiving, the privilege of being familiar with Thanksgiving in the first place, the privilege of not being branded as an ‘alien’, the privilege of understanding cultural references, the privilege of not being anxious about your limited time in the USA, the privilege of belonging. And yet I recognize that some American Oliners don’t have these privileges either.

When I first thought of writing this piece, I had initially set out to rant all about how international students feel like they’re left out, in a place of privilege where their time is ticking, unsupported in an unfamiliar culture at Olin by virtue of their background. But a lot of American Oliners feel this way too! People of color, people from low-income families, and many others – and we don’t talk about this enough.

There’s value in making connections, so that diversity and inclusion efforts on campus have another voice. Yet there’s also value in differentiating – international students come from a unique, different place compared to other minority groups at Olin. Supporting the experience of being an international student should be both merged with and distinguished from diversity efforts at Olin. The first step is recognizing that international students should be getting more support.

Thank you to all the faculty, staff, and students – both international and American – who helped me with this piece. You know who you are :)