A farewell to Mary Pat

Talk of the Quad: 50 years later: a reunion of innovation

As a student in the early 1960’s, I sometimes saw old Bowdoin alumni doddering around campus, fossils who couldn’t possibly know about my Bowdoin. I had the quaint notion that Bowdoin started when I entered in September 1960 and closed down upon my graduation in June 1964. Well, 50 years later I’m one of those old fossils. While preparing for my 50th reunion in June, I’ve had ample opportunity to compare the Bowdoin of yesterday with the Bowdoin of today.
Here are some words penned by a long-dead Bowdoin graduate:
“Ah me, the 50 years since last we metSeem to me 50 folios bound and setBy Time, the great transcriber, on his shelves,Wherein are written the histories of ourselves.What tragedies and comedies, are there;What joy and grief, what rapture and despair!” (From “Morituri Salutamus,” Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Class of 1825 in Bowdoin Colllege, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.)

Talk of the Quad: Major medal

During the 2008 Beijing Olympics, rumors circulated that China was faking the ages of its women’s gymnastics team, perhaps allowing girls as young as 14 or 15 to compete. At the time, I was astounded: People my age were in the Olympics, winning medals in front of a worldwide audience?
The Sochi Olympics ended on Sunday, and they were the first I’ve been able to watch in college. Things were different this time around. “Look at this guy,” a friend said a couple weeks ago as we watched snowboarders trying to qualify for the final. “He’s my age, my height, my weight. We’re the same person.”
What he said was funny, but it didn’t feel that strange or surprising. At this point, most Olympians are somewhere around our age.
“What have I done with my life?” he asked jokingly.
But those of us without world-class athletic skills are going on with our lives. Like the majority of my peers in the Class of 2016, I have a fresh new major. Two of them, actually.
Of course, nothing’s set in stone. “History” and “Government & Legal Studies” are just getting comfortable in that “My Academic Profile” tab on Polaris. I could major in one and minor in another. I could drop both and major in something else entirely. I could drop out of school altogether. But for now, I’ve got a plan. I’ve got an idea of what I want to do. If nothing else, I have a path of least resistance, and I have a solid answer when a relative or a prospective employer or a complete stranger asks what I’m studying.
In “The Political Mind,” cognitive linguist George Lakoff argues that, since we were born, our brains have been internalizing what he calls “cultural narratives.” Essentially, he says that common archetypal narratives (the Horatio Alger success story, the redemption story, etc.) are hammered into our brains as we are exposed to them again and again. We fall back on these narratives as we try to understand the stories of the people around us, even if their stories don’t fit neatly into any of them.
“The Political Mind” focuses on our perceptions of public issues and public figures—like politicians or, maybe, Olympians. NBC figured out decades ago that they could exploit cultural narratives. The network treats every American star, it seems, to a feature or a post-competition interview designed to peg him or her as a character we recognize.
Sometimes it’s inspiring, and other times the network overplays its hand and we recognize that we’re being tricked.
An interviewer asks a skier still in full uniform about his deceased brother and brings him to tears. “Got it,” it seems like we’re supposed to think subconsciously. “This is Bode ‘Overcoming Adversity’ Miller!”
Last week, after I watched this interview, I started thumbing through Lakoff’s book again. This time something else struck me. He writes: “We live our narratives. The lived story is at the center of modern personality theory.”
Right now, there’s a display in a Smith Union hallway of students whose activities at the McKeen Center are literally presented as linear narratives, with cards detailing their activities connected by pieces of yarn. These experiences probably only play a small part in the way they see the overarching cultural narratives of their lives, but the display is an interesting form for telling their stories. Unlike a resume or a biographical paragraph, they acknowledge that there’s a lot of life happening in between those activities.
I’m just starting to get to the point where I can begin to see which cultural narratives my life might fit into, and that gets to the heart of why choosing a major has been a bittersweet thing. Sure, it might be a big milestone in a college student’s life, but it’s also a tough pill to swallow, and a lot of that has to do with its power to influence how we see our own narrative.
In other words, it feels like there’s a lot more to lose than there is to gain. “This is a new breed of the sophomore slump,” Kate Witteman ’15 wrote in the Orient around this time last year. “This slump is the emotional consequence of us narrowing our paths.”
So now I’m thinking about my own narrative like it’s on that wall in Smith Union, too: one big milestone, sure, but with a hell of a lot in between. When we don’t have anything else to go on, our brains resort to cultural narratives to create rough schematics of the people around us. The choice between a major in Mathematics and a major in English can feel like the difference between “young career-oriented professional” and “aimless millennial.” But we know ourselves better than that. There’s still a lot of yarn left between choosing a major and whatever comes next.

Talk of the Quad

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

Natalie Clark

Orient Staff

February 13, 2014

There are officially 31 varsity teams on campus, but the largest and most influential one operates off the field. The players make “warm and fuzzy” boards instead of scoring goals and decorate hallways in place of racing; we spend free time practicing toleration and active listening.

“I write to announce that Associate Dean of Student Affairs and Director of Residential Life Mary Pat McMahon will be leaving Bowdoin to become the next Dean of Student Affairs at Tufts University. Although it’s hard to say farewell to such an incredible colleague and friend, I invite you to join me in sending her off with well wishes as she embarks on this challenging and impressive next chapter in her career,” Dean of Student Affairs Tim Foster wrote in an email to the student body on Wednesday.

The Residential Life (ResLife) staff at Bowdoin sets the tone of our campus community, and this spring we will say goodbye to our head coach.

I met Mary Pat McMahon my first year on campus. I felt like a very bland student—a deer in the headlights of the “I got into Bowdoin, now what?” realization. I wasn’t in clubs and didn’t stand out in any particular way. I spent my time making friends and hanging out with my new boyfriend—how college.

Somehow, I was chosen to live in MacMillan House my sophomore year and somehow, my housemates elected me President.

I sheepishly marched up the front steps of Moulton Union for my first meeting with ResLife, thinking they would change their mind once I showed up.

During my meeting with Chris Rossi, Mary Pat poked her head in the office—I remember that her excited tone, fast speech and determined gaze made me feel momentarily excited, official and important.

The ResLife office is in the people business—the staff’s personal goal is to shape your Bowdoin experience. Think about your first year roommate, your proctor, the people you met in your College House and the R.A. you had as a sophomore—these people influence your time on campus and have provided you with support at all times.

In other words, ResLife has got your back. And Mary Pat has ours.

I’ve been involved in many aspects of campus over my Bowdoin career, but by far the most fulfilling has been as a proctor with ResLife. I am an odd recruit: a former College House Prez (insert fist pump) going into her senior year. I went into my interview last spring thinking I had already lost the job. Bowdoin students, as the best and brightest, most creative and thoughtful, have a tendency to make me feel defeated.

Mary Pat asked me a series of questions about my time abroad, my decision to join staff as a senior and my priorities for the year. I never felt like I was convincing Mary Pat of my ability to be a proctor—she was calm and inquisitive, and genuinely interested in my thoughts. She even wanted to know how I would handle Senior Nights at Joshua’s, and if I would miss living with my friends—social things that had been important to me for three years. She knew I was afraid to leave parts of senior year and she made me question why I was fearful of ditching.

I am in no way the most important or vocal member of ResLife—or the most qualified—but it would be a mistake to let (as Tim Foster wrote in his email to the student body) “our incredible colleague and friend” leave on such short notice without honest words of gratitude for her demeanor and commitment to this institution and its students.

Mary Pat McMahon makes decisions from her gut. She knows you within seconds, is candid with her thoughts and morally consistent. She will make time in her schedule, listen to your problems and quickly put them in perspective. She connects, thanks and forgives people; she sees the potential in every student no matter their history and empowers them.

But it would also be a mistake to glaze over the fact that I’m upset.

I’m sad about the hundreds of students who she’s influenced outside the official ResLife sphere who are also rocked by the news. I’m emotional because she has had a thankless, invisible role in the student body I love. But I’m excited for the Tufts students she’ll be able to influence in similar, powerful ways.
I am not alone in saying that Mary Pat and the ResLife office saved me from the doldrums of insecurity and plainness and gave me the confidence to make my time at Bowdoin what it has been.

Mary Pat is headed into a new chapter in her career, and I have a feeling the staff will be gathered in Moulton Union next year invigorated by her lasting policies and leadership—but also bragging about how many home runs she hit in her latest Jumbo game.

-Natalie Clark, Class of 2014.

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