Community Night and Conversation

The Harvard Model Congress staff is lying on the beach in Dubai (no, not the air conditioned one). I say, “I could go for some Starbucks oatmeal right now.” To which one of my peers says, “You know what I’m looking forward to? HUDS oatmeal.”

The classic review of Harvard University Dining Services is conducted. Consensus: Steel-cut oatmeal is great; rolled-oats are variable; chili is the bomb.

Later, we are milling around waiting to go on a safari and, yet again, HUDS hijacks the conversation. Someone would like to present his eight-point plan on how to improve Harvard dining. There are groans, but he proceeds anyway. His plan calls for three dining halls with different offerings, rather than twelve nearly identical ones, and for getting rid of dining restrictions, or at the very least, “community nights.”

The former suggestion is unlikely; the latter is not only possible, but should be done. The restrictions, among them “community night,” divide rather than unite.

The problems are numerous. Quadlings and Matherites are arguably disadvantaged by the policy. Mealtime interactions between first-years and upperclassmen are already hampered by the myriad restrictions that are in place every other day of the week (looking at you, Adams and Quincy) and “community night” only makes it worse. Additionally, anecdotal evidence suggests that the Quad Houses, which do not have dining hall restrictions, and largely ignore “community night,” feature the strongest communities. Perhaps most importantly, within each House, students tend to sit with their blockmates and not with the larger community the policy is meant to cultivate.

Community can be built in many ways, but it won’t be built without dialogue.

Students understand the problems well; it comes up in conversation often. The fact that if community night was abolished, students could spend more time talking about art or social theory, instead of why the policy is ineffective or where they will convene Thursday nights, should be reason enough for administrators to reconsider the policy.

But even I’ll admit that reason is a bit facetious and the Quad’s supposed superior community is purely anecdotal. The College should be engaging students in dialogue, asking them for feedback on new programs. It should look to our responses to see if the new programs are indeed effective in creating the kind of community it has been criticized for lacking.

Here’s the thing: The questions aren’t being asked. Rather, the administration seems to be throwing solutions against the proverbial wall in the hopes of creating community and then forgetting to check which ones stick.

In the recent survey on House life, the College chose to ask grand questions on a one to five scale: “To what extent, if at all, has being a member of your House community provided you with the opportunity to think deeply about your own values? Assumptions you may have about others?”

It also asked some slightly more concrete questions: Rate your level of agreement with statements like “In my House, my social network includes students outside of my blocking group” and “In my House, my social network includes students from different class years than me.”

The College hopes we agree with these statements. And maybe we do. But anyone who’s taken Stat 104 can tell you that, even if we do agree, the results might have nothing to do with Thursday dinners. I met one of my upperclassmen friends in Pfoho because her linkmate, a friend of mine, invited us all to eat in Cabot (not on a Thursday, of course); I met another waiting for the shuttle.

I was hesitant to agree with these statements because they had been achieved through serendipity rather than by efforts of the House. I would have been far more amenable to answering some simple, but far more useful questions.

“How many times have you attended ‘community night’ this semester?” And then, “Would you say it enhanced house life? What changes, if any, would you make to the program?” Or perhaps, “Have you been to a social event in the Cabot Aquarium or one of the new Dunster common rooms?” and “Would you like to see fast track party registration implemented in all Houses?”

Those of us who mulled over these issues in Dubai would have suggested only a few “community nights” a semester, so that they are truly special. We would like to see efforts towards creating spaces and organizing activities that encourage spontaneous meetings and low-stakes encounters between peers within our own (arbitrarily assigned) Houses, but also the College community at large.

We are only a sample size of ten. Why not find out what the rest of the student body thinks? With constructive and directed feedback, the College could modify its approach appropriately.

It took five years, but a review of the Program in General Education exposed that it was not fulfilling its goals. It shouldn’t take nearly as long to determine that “community night” is not meeting its mission.

There may be no dumb questions; some are just more productive than others.

Leni M.G. Hirsch ’18, a Crimson editorial writer, is a History and Science concentrator living in Pforzheimer House.