Tag Archives: olin meta

Discussion of Olin culture, policies, etc.

Are Oliners Okay? 

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Trigger warning: suicidal ideation  

When I came to Olin, I found a community that supported me in ways I had never been able to find before. For the first time, I felt that most of my peers, faculty, and staff saw me as a whole person and genuinely cared about my wellbeing. However, it has become clear to me that here, unlike at other schools I’ve attended, everyone is sick. Many students I’ve talked to have struggled with their mental health and school related issues like I have. Olin’s productivity and overachievement culture often means we often feel pressured to sacrifice healthy priorities and lifestyle, which makes it harder for us to make healthy choices as individuals. 

I felt the pressure to succeed since before I can remember. I’ve continuously been fed the idea that self-worth and quality of future are measured by academic achievement, fancy jobs, and sheer productivity. I wasn’t allowed to relax or have fun until I finished all of my homework. I felt guilty for enjoying myself when there was work I could be doing. 

I found writing particularly difficult, but no one believed me. No matter how much I cried and said I couldn’t do it, I was told that if I didn’t do all of my homework perfectly and on time, then I would never get good grades, would never get into a good college, would never get a good job, and would forever be broke and miserable.  

Because of the grueling writing assignments, the lack of support, and loneliness, I hated school. Since school was my whole life, I hated being alive. I didn’t understand that it wasn’t normal to want to die every day. I thought everyone did, that’s what it sounded like from others.   

I didn’t think I should be struggling or need help. I had a nice family, a nice house, a nice school; nothing “bad” had really happened to me. It didn’t seem like I had any valid reasons to be depressed.

Things continued to get worse throughout middle and high school, compounding with struggles I was navigating in other parts of my life. I contemplated every day if I could keep living. I wanted that happy life with a dream job, but it felt impossible for me to get there. Life was too painful and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I didn’t know if I would be strong enough to keep going. I felt like I could break at any moment and I would be gone. I questioned if it was even worth it to keep chasing my dreams. 

It was always frustrating to hear “it gets better” when I never had any proof. It wasn’t getting better. There wasn’t a clear way for it to get better. I’d never seen anyone else get better. I didn’t believe I would ever get better. 

No matter how miserable I was, maintaining good grades was still my top priority. I put everything I had into schoolwork, making myself more exhausted and depressed every day. I kept pushing to finish my homework, even though it was killing me. I knew I wasn’t ok, but I didn’t know how I could change. I was told I would get even more depressed and anxious if I got behind. There was never a good time for me to take time for myself. It got to the point where I was so depleted that I couldn’t process basic math. My future as an engineer felt completely hopeless. I finally realized that if I didn’t step back and take care of myself, then I couldn’t get good grades, get into my dream college, or do whatever comes after. That wonderful life I was working towards would never exist if I were dead.  

I left school and admitted myself to partial hospitalization. The program was a dumpster fire, but I eventually got what I needed to get better. Fast-forward a few years and I’m now going to my top choice college, on track to achieve those dreams I had always been chasing. I remember the first time I went a whole day without thinking I wanted to die. It was incredible. I enjoy my life now and genuinely like being alive. I didn’t know that was even possible. I am proud of how much I have overcome and am stronger than I ever thought I could be. I have so much to live for. Every day I am reminded how grateful I am to still be here. 

I don’t know just how many people here are hurting like I was, but I believe it’s a lot. I see parts of my old self in everyone around me. 

I’m concerned about how normal it is to be miserable here. I’m disappointed by how often I hear people talk about depression or wanting to kill themselves like it doesn’t mean anything. I hear it at dinner, office hours, or just walking through the halls. This environment makes it feel like severe mental illness and suicidal ideation is not the serious problem that it is. It sends the message that it doesn’t matter if someone is really struggling. It makes it hard to tell when people are in immediate danger when suicidal comments are so common.  

It hurts me when people say they want to kill themselves, even as a “joke”. I have flashbacks to the pain I was in during the darkest period of my life. It makes me feel alone here, or like people wouldn’t care if I hadn’t made it here. The words and questions swirl around in my head, and I get scared of going back to that dark place. It certainly does not create a space where I can learn and grow, which is what I hoped for at Olin. 

I’ve tried bringing up this pattern of students saying they want to kill themselves to StAR, but have not gotten much of a response. Many of the staff seemed more concerned about the comments being inappropriate than about student wellbeing. Some suggested I should call people out directly, which I think misses the point entirely. An unhealthy culture around mental health and suicide can’t be changed by simply avoiding certain kinds of jokes.

I wish I had specific mental health resources I would recommend at Olin, but they are really lacking currently. I’ve had a difficult time getting connected to adequate care, despite reaching out to multiple people. In my experience, most of these resources have been superficial or just crisis response with little in-between. I’ve heard promises of improvement but haven’t seen much yet. I’m hopeful new staff will build these programs effectively. 

I want to send the message that everyone here matters. You are an important, unique person that deserves care, support, and to live a full, happy, healthy life. Your wellbeing is more important than any schoolwork; it’s more important than homework assignments, deadlines, grades, credit hours, project teams, or internship applications. Take the time to enjoy yourself. No matter how big or small (or compared to what others are facing), what you’re struggling with is enough to get support. If you need help, you need it. You are enough. Life is worth living. As long as you’re alive, it can get better.  

So please, 

Admin, provide better resources.  

Students, get the support you need—you do need it.  

Everyone, let’s be better as a community. 

Love, 

Concerned Student 

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline provides 24/7, connection to free, confidential support to people anywhere in the US. 

Call or text 988 

Or chat at 988lifeline.org 

R2s are available for additional support. 

How to Help E:Bios: Cross-Registration with MassBay Community College

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It is common knowledge that Olin’s biology and chemistry offerings alone are not sufficient for most students interested in designing a useful, marketable Biomedical Engineering (E:Bio) degree. For this reason, many students who wish to become E:Bios also try to take Wellesley biology and chemistry classes; these classes are extremely valuable because they offer training which Olin simply does not provide. Brandeis is also an option, but is much farther away and harder to get to, as there is no shuttle.

These E:Bio students face a major challenge: Wellesley science classes fill up very quickly, and the professors are often unable to offer additional slots for cross-registering students. Due to this scarcity, many E:Bio students take Olin technical classes, snap up a Wellesley science when they can, and call it a degree. It works, but barely – it’s always a scramble to find science courses which are relevant. These E:Bio students just don’t have access to the biology or chemistry courses they need. 

For this problem, I propose a solution: Cross-registration with MassBay Community College (MassBay). I have taken multiple classes there, and believe that it could help with this fundamental problem of E:Bios having trouble taking biology or chemistry. 

MassBay has the full traditional chemistry sequence for health professions (General Chemistry 1 & 2, Organic Chemistry 1 & 2, and Biochemistry), and also offers biology classes (Biology 1 & 2, Anatomy and Physiology, various Biotechnology offerings, etc.). An Olin student interested in E:Bio could take introductory science classes at MassBay and then go to advanced 200 or 300-level Wellesley science courses later; these more advanced courses at Wellesley tend to have more open spots. 

Massbay is not a nationally renowned institution like Wellesley, but it still provides an effective education. The class sizes are small (10-30 students), and the professors are there to teach, not do research or anything else. I have taken Chemistry 1 and 2, along with Organic Chemistry 1, at Massbay and have felt that I have gained a level of training which transfers well over to my Wellesley Organic Chemistry 2 class. 

As an institution which caters to both traditional students and working professionals, MassBay offers classes in a range of times which open up opportunities for many students. They have night classes, summer classes, and others, meaning that Olin students who often struggle with fitting Wellesley courses into their schedules may have more flexibility with MassBay ones. 

While there are clear benefits that cross-registration with MassBay could have for Olin E:Bio students, such a partnership could also have benefits for students beyond E:Bios. (Two of Massbay’s offerings which I noted as personally interesting were their EMT course and their car mechanic training progression: if you understand how to fix something, you will have better knowledge of how to design it in the future.) This cross-registration would also have distinct benefits for Massbay students. 

First off, Olin’s unique application-based classes (SoftDes, Collaborative Design, Mech Proto, Comp Arch, Fun Robo, etc.) could offer an opportunity to these students to take courses beyond the scope of their MassBay curriculum.

Additionally, the unusual contexts of both institutions could be expanded to enable Massbay students to transfer to Olin without starting again in freshman year. Transfer students are required to start again in freshman year because Olin’s educational system is too distinct from traditional institutions for someone to just jump in midway. However, a MassBay student who has taken a good number of Olin classes might be able to transfer into second or third year right out of the gate. Olin typically loses a student or two in freshman year (99% retention rate still means one person leaves!), so this transfer student could take their place. 

Here are my thoughts around how a cross-registration agreement with MassBay could be reasonably arranged: 

Olin students would be allowed to take MassBay courses after the completion of their first year at Olin. Similarly, MassBay pre-engineering and pre-biology/chemistry/biotechnology students would be allowed to take Olin classes in their second year of enrollment as an upper-level elective. This way, both MassBay and Olin students would be incentivized to explore the offerings of their own institutions before branching out. 

Oliner credit distribution for courses taken at MassBay would be decided exactly the same as it is for other cross-registered courses. Olin classes taken by MassBay students would count for engineering or science elective credit. 

Olin students would have to arrange their own transportation to MassBay, and vice versa. This would be considerably simpler than with Brandeis—MassBay already supports its students in getting to the institution through Ubers and a shuttle, and it is also a reasonable-ish (20-30 minute) bike ride away. 

Olin would follow a compensation agreement for coursework similar to that which it has with the other members of the BBOW group.

I believe that an arrangement following these guidelines could absolutely be actionable and would enable students from both institutions to reap benefits. 

This article is something I’ve been mulling over for a few weeks, and I’d love to hear your opinions on it. If you have any thoughts about this idea, please feel free to find me around campus (I’m Sammy Socol; you can look me up in the student directory) or email me at ssocol@olin.edu.

*Two of Massbay’s offerings which I noted as personally interesting were their EMT course and their car mechanic training progression: if you understand how to fix something, you will have better knowledge of how to design it in the future. 

The Black Experience At Olin: One Year Review

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Last February I made the difficult choice to share my pain and struggle with the Olin community through a Frankly Speaking article. While many people have seen the pain I’ve gone through for my writing, I am proud of my choice and proud that I continue to write and call attention to disgraceful behavior at my school.

After my first article, I was connected with other black Oliners who finally felt seen after all their time here. I have received emails from alumni thanking me for highlighting the racist shit they went through that no one would talk about. But there have been downsides—it is almost impossible for me to find people to team with me (‘cause who wants to work with the radical black girl?) Clubs at Olin now feel they can use me as their token black activist to “fix” their racism for them. 

Yet I still write, and I will continue writing this column until I graduate or Olin truly improves. Why do I do this despite the intense harm it does to my mental health and student career? 

Because I care about Olin.

This same thing happened in high school, but I never said anything because I saw that place as a stepping stone to greater things. I never said anything at past camps or jobs because those were temporary, and I didn’t like them that much anyway.

I love Olin. I love the professors who enjoy teaching and put so much care and effort into ensuring their students truly learn. I love the students who are endless bundles of intelligence, ingenuity, and creativity that give me hope for the future. I love the staff, from the shop assistants who never get mad at me for repeatedly needing help turning on machines, to the dining hall staff who smile at every student they see. I love the beautiful library where I always feel a sense of belonging due in large part to our kind and hardworking librarians. I love the project teams and the clubs and more. 

Because I love Olin, I will not allow it to be tarnished with prejudice and hate; for racist behaviors to fall through the cracks until they become truly engraved in the beliefs of this community. Olin was founded on the idea of “engineering for everyone,” and while we struggle to properly practice our promise, we can make sure that engineers with dark skin are included as respected and protected members of that “everyone.” So Oliners, you can avoid, hate me, call me hysterical, or choose to not believe me, but I am going to keep sharing stories, keep highlighting facts, and work to make Olin a better environment for all black people here, because I care. 

So, I Transferred to UMass

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In fall 2021, I entered Olin College of Engineering as a member of the class of 2025. I studied there for six semesters, and was miserable for all of them. However, this article is not a rant about why Olin was a poor fit for me and why I left; that would be irrelevant and unhealthy for me to recount. No, it’s about my experiences transferring out of it. Many people I talked to while attending (both inside and outside of Olin) believed it wouldn’t be worth leaving because Olin’s unconventional curriculum wouldn’t transfer well, and college credits don’t come without a large financial and time investment. My response: look up “sunk cost fallacy”.

There are plenty of valid academic and non-academic reasons to transfer colleges. This is also not about that; you know you best. If you want to transfer, you are valid :)

I originally wrote this article back in May, working minimum wage during a gap year. I now attend UMass Amherst, survived midterms, am out of the closet (at UMass, family pending), have a great group of friends, and am probably happier than I have ever been since I can remember.

That’s what this article is for, to let people know it is possible. If this article was published during my first or second year at Olin, I would have started the transfer application process immediately.

Transfer Credit

You will lose some time, but nowhere near as much as I originally thought.

I mainly applied to engineering programs in Massachusetts, and can only share the experience about the schools that accepted me. You receive a credit evaluation after acceptance; most schools send an evaluation in a timely fashion, other schools are Northeastern University…

Some things to keep in mind about transfer credits:

  • Some schools have a minimum credit requirement to accept a course: “Insufficient credit earned, must be 3 credits or more”. This is a problem since many Olin courses show up as two two-credit courses on your transcript.
  • Some schools accept the majority of your courses, but don’t map them to specific major requirements. You will have to put in time with your advisor, and some schools make it easier than others; unfortunately, meeting with an advisor is often behind your deposit. At larger schools, credits may have to be evaluated by different departments, which becomes a pain.
  • Download all of your syllabi from Canvas; they will ask for them. If you take a gap year like I did, your olin.edu email will be disabled, and anything behind Microsoft Single Sign On will lock you out. Then you end up awkwardly emailing all your professors and learning that external emails find their way to their junk boxes… shout out to Brad, Carrie, and Steve for responding and making me aware of this issue. You can also ask students you took classes with for the syllabus, which was extremely helpful.

Don’t forget about college credits from high school: Community College, AP exams, programs like PLTW, etc.

One reason I transferred was to have a wider selection of general education and humanities courses. You want to cherish your general education courses, not waste them on two semesters of college writing. If you don’t have AP, look up CLEP College Composition; this can free up time for more interesting general education, or for electives that might interest you.

UMass Specifically

A major reason I chose UMass was due to how accommodating they have been in supporting transfer students. The Electrical and Computer Engineering department has been especially supportive in this regard, and has been willing to hear me out on all my Olin courses for credit mappings. They have several programs and housing options specific to transfer students, and have ultimately made the experience pleasant. Not every department is like this—more on that later.

My advisor here initially gave me an estimate of 1.5 years, the same amount of time I had left at Olin. I opted for 2 years at UMass since I prefer to keep the credit load lighter and touch grass.

You will need to advocate for yourself, even in a supportive department. I am not good at that. I did end up taking an engineering math course that covers similar content to QEA3 and ESA. Perhaps I could have talked my way into getting credit for that.

You will end up with some goofy-looking schedules transferring from Olin. Next semester, I have Junior Design Project, a statistics course meant for sophomores, a graduate-level operating system course, an undetermined general education course, and possibly freshman physics. I still have no idea if I have credit for Physics 1&2 or not (they have the syllabi for QEA1-3, ModSim, and ISIM). The Physics department has not been easy to work with on this, unlike the college of engineering.

I don’t want to talk too much about money in this article. TLDR: most private institutions will cost more than Olin (assuming the 50% scholarship is still a thing). However, I am now an in-state student at a public university, so it is a lot more affordable in the end (even considering the extra time I am taking).

I would have preferred an urban campus, but I love everything else about UMass so far. You have to make compromises in life.

So you want to transfer

Okay so you’re considering transferring. Here’s some advice that you can’t just google.

  • Many schools (particularly private institutions) look for 1-2 years of college, and will openly say they will reject transfer students with 3+ years unless they are truly exceptional. Also, if you’re unhappy, don’t wait 3 years like I did; stop sinking more time into something that isn’t working for you.
  • I already said it, but download important records that are behind Microsoft Single Sign On. Your email will be disabled if you take a gap year.
  • Olin has a letter explaining what some of their courses cover and how it maps to a more conventional curriculum. You can add it as an additional document upload in your transfer applications. This is also helpful for credit evaluations. (I still haven’t heard back from Physics yet though…)
  • Visit campuses. I applied to college during peak `rona, and online “tours” really did not influence my top choices. It actually helps to have a sense of the neighborhood (or lack thereof), and how alive the campus feels. Admittedly, this may be irrelevant to the current generation of students who actually got to take tours.

Editors note: If you would like to get in touch with the author of this piece, please contact the Frankly Speaking team.

Crossword: December 2025

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Answers

speaking
nord
bodaborg
break
september
mud
cheese
musical
shopper
soup
unicycles
skeleton
matlav
parcelbees

frankly ________
best nap location
gone questing
johnny’s
21st night of
shop cave dweller
______ tasting cocurricular
the guy who didn’t like ________
it’s a bird! it’s a plane! no it’s just my ______
____ season
you can find about 27 of these in the ball room
stanley the ________
matcha acronym beverage
buzz buzz

The Hunger Artist: Olin Edition

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I recently read a story by Franz Kafka called “The Hunger Artist.” The titular character—the hunger artist himself—goes from town to town, locks himself in a cage, and stops eating. People come from miles away to see the man in all his bony glory. After a few weeks of starvation, to much fanfare and massive crowds, the hunger artist emerges from his cage and breaks his fast. Every time, he protests: he could do more! However, his publicist has determined that general interest declines after several weeks of the artist starving himself. When interest drops, he must eat.

As time goes on, hunger artists fall out of fashion; the only place that will take the artist is the zoo. The hunger artist, initially insulted, quickly sees the appeal of his new position—he is no longer being forced to eat every few weeks, so he can begin his greatest-ever fast. 

 In the final words of the story, the artist is discovered, weak and emaciated, by a zoo worker. The man asks the artist why he continues to fast, and the hunger artist responds: “Because I have to fast, I can’t help it… I couldn’t find the food I liked. If I had found it, believe me, I would have made no fuss and stuffed myself like you or anyone else.”* 

And then he dies. The zoo replaces him with a big cat.

Franz Kafka died of tuberculosis at the age of 40. In his will, he instructed his friend to burn all but six of his works—the Hunger Artist was one of the six to be preserved. Why did Kafka elevate the Hunger Artist to be among the six? What about the story made him recognize its compelling power?

I read the story while eating lunch at work over the summer. It was July, an especially busy stretch where I’d spend twelve or thirteen hours at work, then go home, shower, prepare food, sleep, and repeat the next day. I did that for the full month, with an occasional break day sprinkled in to avoid a nervous breakdown. 

Why did I do it? The overtime was nice, but I didn’t need the money. I told myself I wanted the experience, but any dimwit could see how that much time at work wasn’t going to lead to any actual learning. In reality, I kept working for the same reason the hunger artist kept fasting—I didn’t know how to do anything different. 

Kafka’s hunger artist fasts because he doesn’t know how to stop.

Like many Oliners, I like to push myself. I dive into whatever I’m focusing on at the moment—the joy of figuring out a challenging problem or developing a new skill feels addictive.

This trait is powerful, and it can also become a problem. While enjoying the last few days of sunshine on the O a few weeks ago, I ended up chatting with a friend about Olin’s work culture. While reflecting, she remarked: “I can’t slow down. I want to, but I just can’t… if I did, then I would have to think, and I really don’t like doing that.” Many Oliners share this sentiment, whether they realize it or not. Like the hunger artist, we push ourselves over the brink from pleasurable challenge into self-defeating masochism, not because we want to, but because it is the only thing we know how to do.

This past summer wasn’t my first time making this mistake. In my junior year of high school, I took every advanced placement and honors class I could fit into my schedule while also studying for the SAT, leading my robotics team, helping run the Model UN club, and working at my part-time job. Why? Because I could—I figured I’d challenge myself. 

That year, I steadily sank into depression. I went through the motions, got the grades, and outwardly didn’t present as though anything were wrong. But I wasn’t feeling any joy anymore—my classes weren’t interesting to me, and the only thing that made me feel happy was working out for the hour or two I’d do it each day. When I finally went to my school counselor for help, she seemed surprised, fumbling around with a bunch of words that summed up to: “Your grades are great and your teachers love you… why are you here?” In my stupor, I felt a faint flicker of amusement.  I was there because I didn’t feel emotions anymore, and I thought that was probably a bad thing. 

I had starved myself for so long that I forgot how to eat. 

I have loved my time at Olin, and yet I still find myself falling into the same trap that I have so many times before: I am doing too much. When I examine the tasks that take up my time—classes, my job, research, the stuff I do for fun—I find each to be relevant and justified; to reach my goals, each component is essential. I have no plans to stop anything anytime soon, and yet at the same time I know that I am doing too much to live a balanced, happy, and sustainable life. 

I am fully aware that I’m overdoing it, and I’m still doing it anyway. 

It might seem like I am writing this article to make a change. That I’m going to fix my work habits, seek more balance in my life, and tell you all to do the same. But I’m not going to. I don’t think that reading this article will inspire any of you to make changes, either—Olin attracts a very specific kind of person who likes to keep adding things to their plate, just as I do. 

Instead, I’ll end with this. Yom Kippur happened a few weeks ago, and like many Jews, I fasted and went to services. It was a beautiful opportunity to reflect, focus my thoughts, and consider the year ahead, surrounded by a community of people doing the same. At the end of the holiday, I broke my fast with some orange juice, feeling the liquid soothe my throat with each swallow. 

There can be joy in fasting, but only if it ends. 

*From the Muir Translation. Can be found online by looking up “Franz Kafka The Hunger Artist Muir Translation” or with link: https://englishiva1011.pbworks.com/f/HUNGERAR.PDF

The Black Experience at Olin: Stop Saying the N-Word

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Hi everyone! Olin’s Resident Angry Black Lady is back again! Let’s talk about the N-word. (First years, pay close attention). While the N-word is a highly discussed issue of public speech with a rich history of hateful degradation and civic reclamation, even today, many people don’t know how to feel about the N-word—and most importantly, who can say it and who can’t. Well, luckily, it’s very simple:

  1. If you’re black, you can say it.
  2. If you’re not black, you CANNOT say it. 

(A lot of my explanation here will refer to the wisdom of Ta-Nehisi Coates, so feel free to research his own work for a more thorough response.)

If you were ever bullied in elementary school for being a “nerd” and now proudly own that title, you can slightly understand the impact of redefining a negative word as a positive trait. When you reclaim that word, it weakens the power of the people who use it make you feel small. The same logic can be applied to the N-word.

The N-word was created to degrade and dehumanize black people in America, at a time in American history where black people weren’t even considered people—just property. It was created with the intent to hurt others, to remind black communities that they were less than white communities. They were referred to as niggers to avoid being referred to as people, to uphold the societal label that having dark skin made no longer human. That makes it an ugly, hurtful word, and today it is used by white supremacists to enforce their deluded belief that lighter pigmentation equals better worth. So when future engineers at Olin use that word, they assert that they are worth more than me and everyone else at this school who looks like me.

During the civil rights movement, black communities took that word back. We realized if we call each other niggers, then we aren’t seeing each other as property, but as survivors of past discrimination and abuse who made it through with strength to keep fighting. We use the N-word to describe each other at our best, highlighting a core of black history in America. We are resilient, we are strong, and we know our own worth despite others trying to define it for us. When we use that word, it is meant to make us laugh and smile about how far we have come. 

What’s ridiculous is that this is common knowledge, but people get stuck thinking about edge cases and work around ignoring the big picture. At Olin, biracial students are often asked if they can say the N-word if they are only “part black”. Just because someone is mixed doesn’t mean you can throw the N-word around with them either. And whether they can or cannot is none of your business! Biracial people have their own ties and identity to black culture that is complex and personal, they don’t need to explain this identity to anyone else just because a few people want to feel cool and use a racial slur. So stop asking—you know who you are! In conclusion, STOP USING THE N-WORD IF YOU’RE NOT BLACK! There is no gray area here: you don’t have a reason to use that word except to be a racist asshole. And if you want to be a racist asshole, then fuck you.

Editors Note: If you would like to contact the author of this piece, please let Frankly Speaking staff know and we will put you in touch.

Spoon Assassins as Game Design

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Spoon Assassins is a highlight of Olin culture, and it does so by accomplishing these main experience goals for the members of Olin college: 

  1. Meet people you would not otherwise interact with. 
  2. Experience locations on and off campus with a new perspective and appreciation. 
  3. Get a damn good story out of it. 

The game serves three player archetypes. Personas, if you will:

  1. Vib’n Viney: “I’ll stick this out as long as I can”
  2. Tryhard Terry: “I’ll pursue any opportunity to make a kill”
  3. Onlooker Amy: “Not my game, but it’s funny to watch” (encompassing staff and faculty in addition to students)

Different structures are in place to cater to different player archetypes. Safety zones for class or speaking with staff and faculty appeal to Amy. Easy safeties allow Viney to feel like they get to participate in Olin culture, and the escalation of difficult safeties allows Terry to put all his energy into something enjoyable. The game also involves Amy by enabling her to collaborate with or betray active players.

Games tell stories, and these story arcs are measured by how many resources a player is given at the beginning, and then changing that resource in a specific direction. Games like checkers start a player off with the most pieces they will have at any point in the game, and slowly whittle away until the players are fighting for scraps. Scrabble starts players off with no letters on the field, and the rate of scoring points escalates as more and bigger words can be assembled. 

The arc of Spoon Assassins is oriented around two resources:

  1. Safety: A game begins with “easy” safety, and slowly that safety is less accessible.
  2. Knowledge: As you play, you gain a greater understanding of how to find/assassinate your target.

There are two axes to evaluate how a Spoon Assassins safety can be made “easy” or “hard”:

  1. Accessibility: How easy it is to quickly move from unsafe to safe.
  2. Maintainability: How easy it is to continue being safe once made safe.

I took the liberty of making an arbitrary 2×2 in order to exemplify this concept.

As time progresses, the “easiness” of the safeties should decrease accordingly. This can fluctuate of course, as creating the swings in difficulty make the game feel more intense, but the general trend should remain moving from green to red with deliberate deviation. As the game continues, however, access to information should increase. To advance the game, the most important information a player can have is how to kill their target. Evaluating how safeties provide this information can be measured across a linear scale: 

Safeties that are difficult to access or maintain are only one half of what it takes to accelerate the game. Players that know their target and are able to track them are much more lethal assassins. 

All these rules can be followed and still generate a boring game. This is where the true role of the game masters lies! It is their creative flare that fuels good stories the Olin community can share. That’s the reason why safeties are ridiculous, and it’s why they facilitate kills as opposed to letting players hide in their room all day. 

Ultimately, those unforgettable moments come down to how the player engages with the game. It’s not like the game masters can guarantee a dramatic tale, but Spoon Assassins is a great experience to be a part of because all the structures in place make this play experience like no other. I commend the game masters for their facilitation and their endless rules-clarification, and I commend you for the ways you contributed to the game, even if you weren’t playing. 

What I’m trying to say is that Spoon Assassins is a big DesNat play experience where the bio-inspiration is an Oliner that’s cooler than you.

My Adventures in Baking: Why Y’all Should Clean Up the Kitchen

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I’m sure you know me as the person who keeps sending out Carpes about various things I’ve made. The west hall kitchen is my home away from home. But it isn’t just mine, it’s everyone’s in West Hall. And as such, the tragedy of the commons has befallen us.

What is the tragedy of the commons? The idea, proposed in a pamphlet in 1968, is that when people are given unfettered access to a space, they will eventually destroy it by using too much of the resources. On the other hand, the idea was used as a basis to argue that too many people will have kids and overpopulation will destroy us. Which isn’t true. 

But how can I say this hasn’t happened? When I made my first dish in West Hall, there were ants crawling over the not-so-freshly washed dishes and a spoon encrusted with… something (also ants) that I had to soak for half an hour. I went to clean up the East Hall kitchen for the scavenger hunt, and there was a bowl with a bit of dried rice and a desiccated chicken bone just sitting there. So why don’t people clean up this stuff?

I don’t agree with the idea that tragedy of the commons even applies to West Hall. The problem is that no one thinks of the kitchen as the commons. I think of the kitchen as my space, and I’m sure the cooking club does too, but what if you only go in there once in a while? Make some pasta or use the only kettle you can? You might not have the same attachment to the space. What ownership do you have over those piles of various cooking implements stacked to the ceiling? None. So you have no reason to clean up. 

But stuff piles up in the sink, and I see stuff put away with food still crusted on it. At home, I was that kind of person. It needs to look clean enough that my parents accept that I did the dishes, then I can go back to my room. But here, I’ve started to feel pride in my work. I’m not cooking for my family, I’m cooking for people that won’t lie and say my mini apple pies are great (Y’all actually will, you’re too nice. I know there wasn’t enough sugar in those pies.) I need to make sure the tools are clean enough for the next person who will stumble in with a recipe and a dream.

And now I come to the end. What’s the answer? How can we fix this? The answer is in the tragedy of the commons. At least part of the name. Commons. This is all our space. As my mother said to me when I was refusing to clean something sitting in the sink, “It may not be yours, but can you please just do it?” If you come in for a snack and a chat, wash a glass while you’re there. And if you don’t know how, well, the commons will help you out. Shoot me an email, I know how to do dishes. And I might even have cupcakes.

Follow-up: Why Olin Is Racist

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Hi again, here is another article from Olin’s resident angry black lady (a title I’ve heard around campus used to describe me). For freshmen I would suggest reading my previous two Frankly Speaking articles, “Olin Is Racist” and “Follow Up On Olin Is Racist”, before this one to best understand my points and perspective. For those of you who don’t want to go read old articles, I’ll give a quick summary here:

I’m a black female student at Olin and last year I sent an article to Frankly Speaking describing all the ways I have been mistreated, discriminated against, and insulted at Olin for my race. highlighting an instance where another Oliner told me to my face that, “people like you don’t belong here,” insinuating it was about my race. It is an undeniable fact that Olin is racist and needs to be improved, but recently I was asked about my article and I started thinking about why Olin is racist. It’s a good question, and while there is no one decisive answer, I have a few reasons that contribute to racism on campus. 

  1. There are not enough black students: The other day a friend and I were wandering through the Campus Center and ended up in the 3rd floor hallway across from PGP. Shiny class portraits of past and current Olin classes hang on the wall with pride. Jokingly, we decided to look through each class picture and count up the number of black students we see. The game started out fun, like an Olin version of Where’s Waldo, but quickly got depressing when we realized how few black people there have been. Our final count was 52 students. In almost 20 years of graduating classes, only 52 black people have graduated from Olin. You might be thinking: “Olin is a small school, these numbers make sense,” but I did some research: Olin has had approximately 2000 students, so in the entire history of Olin, only 2.6% of students have been black. This is low even compared to other engineering schools. The percentage of black students in the history of MIT is 5%, and at CalTech, 7%. Around 14% of the American population is black, so a diverse school should have approximately 14% black students. Never in Olin’s history has there been a time where the percentage of black students in the student population was 14%. The percentage of black students currently at Olin is 4.5%, that is already an accomplishment for us. Many non-black Oliners will never meaningfully interact with a black Oliner, so how can they fix their internal racism without working with black engineers long-term?
  1. There are not enough black faculty: There are currently 2 black professors and 3 black associate professors at Olin. Out of 39 full time professors, only 12.8% are black. Even still, only in the past 5 years has the number of black professors at Olin dramatically increased, as originally this school was founded with no black professors involved. Non-black Oliners have less chances to interact with black engineers. Without exposure or a guiding hand, Oliners will never learn to let go of biases or hateful stereotypes. Furthermore, prospective black students don’t get to see themselves reflected or represented in the faculty, making this school unappealing to them, and contributing to reason 1. 
  1. Olin is designed to exclude black students: Olin college recruiters go to high schools that are majority white and Asian, and have historically avoided advertising at schools with majority black and brown students. Olin made a decision to not promote at those kinds of schools knowing that many prospective black engineers looking for a great college will not know about us and never apply. On top of this fact, to be admitted into Olin, prospective students are required to have taken calculus. Many schools in low-income neighborhoods that primarily serve black students don’t offer Calculus because of underfunding. When a black person goes to a mostly white high school like I did, it’s a battle for us to get into advanced math and science classes. In my senior year of high school I wanted to take AP Calculus, and requested it, but was placed in Statistics because my vice principal thought I wouldn’t be able to handle “the academic rigor of AP Calculus,” despite the fact I had a straight-A report card. I had to petition my school to put me into AP Calculus, and I ended up thriving in the class (I even got a perfect score on the AP exam, no joke). However, other black students at my school weren’t as lucky. They were also automatically placed in the lowest level classes, but most of them failed in their petition and never got to take advanced classes that could have helped their college applications. It is not a secret in the educational world that black students are systemically excluded from taking this class.  Last year, Olin ran a beta program that partnered with a math camp to sponsor incoming first-years to learn calculus before attending—but this option was not advertised anywhere online, and to access it, students had to personally reach out to admissions after acceptance and organize the lessons themselves. The fact that Olin was designed with a calculus requirement that directly disadvantages students of color demonstrates an internal attempt to keep black students from attending Olin.
  1. Black people at Olin are not respected: Every black student at Olin has been called by the wrong name repeatedly, even by the same people after correction. How would you feel if people don’t work hard enough to remember who you are? How would you feel if your own professors grouped you into a character in their head with all of the other students who share your pigmentation rather than taking the time to get to know you and differentiate you from other students who look like you? This is blatant disrespect and humiliation that black Oliners are forced to live with. People ignoring this issue spreads the internal belief that we are all the same and negligibly different from one another. But it’s more than just names. It’s hard to verbalise microaggressions and small acts of disrespect, but I have a story that I think conveys these effects. At the start of this semester my friend, another black Oliner, and I went on a grocery run together. When we were driving back to campus and turning into Lot B, a white woman stood in front of the car and asked “Are you guys lost? This is Olin College.” We told her we weren’t lost and her reply was “Well, this is student parking.” Once we corrected her and explained we were both students, she walked away with a confused look on her face. For those who can’t understand the racism in this situation, my friend and I were assumed to not be Olin students, which is an odd assumption to make about 2 college-aged students on Olin’s campus. And what’s worse was that we were at first assumed to not even have a reason to be at Olin. This woman’s first thought was that 2 black students shouldn’t be here and tried to shoo us away. We should not be harassed like this on our own campus. 

These are the simple reasons I can name without going into the larger history of deep rooted prejudice in education and eternal biases Americans are raised on. The main point is that Olin is a toxic environment towards black people, and in 25 years of operation has failed to make proper actions to address these issues. Olin needs to change, and until it does, expect more articles from Olin’s Resident Angry Black Lady.