LEARNING CARLETON'S LANGUAGE

A look at how Language Associates experience Carleton, and at what their perspective reveals about student life.

The difference, Alberto told me, between meeting people at Carleton and meeting them back in Madrid is the morning after. During his year on campus, a pattern emerged. At a party in Evans, for instance, he might make a handful of new friends, all enthusiastic to share with him their love for Pedro Almodóvar and jamón serrano. Perhaps he might even agree to a particularly good-looking student’s invitation to watch Y Tu Mamá También the next evening, despite her confusion about either the film’s nationality or his own.

But the next morning, as he passes by that same student in the Carleton student center, he must discretely lower his raised hand as she averts her gaze, fixating instead on the soda machine with an intensity that even the most ardent Sprite fan would question. Her unexpected coldness leads Alberto to wonder if he had imagined last evening—if she had really pulled him into the hall to drunkenly recite an entire “Juanes” album.

Slowly, it dawns upon him that a wall has formed between the night before and the morning after, where the openness she had shown him only hours before is now a thing of fiction. Their nocturnal friendship has not survived the morning hangover. Such a typical act of Carleton cruelty, he claims, could not happen back in Spain.

So Alberto went home. That is to say, he finished his one-year term as a Language Associate(“LA”) for Carleton’s Spanish department and returned to Madrid, begrudgingly resigned to find a career. Even though he left Carleton over a year ago, a few important questions remain: How “typical” of a story is this? Is Alberto’s account of this allegedly recurring experience simply another example of alcohol’s power as a social lubricant, or does it say something deeper about the social mentality of Carleton students? Does the attempt to separate nightlife from the following morning reflect a need amongst Carls to compartmentalize their lives? What, in short, can the outside perspective of Carleton’s many LAs tell us about how students of this tight-knit community live?

The key to understanding the relationship between LAs and students is to first grasp the precarious nature of the LA’s role at Carleton. Every year, the various language departments at Carleton recruit young men and women, who are usually recent university graduates from major cities around the world, to spend a year on campus assisting language professors and students in a variety of areas. Their responsibilities range from tutoring and assistant teaching to planning cultural events relating to their countries of origin.

Although they are technically part of the college’s staff, LAs are roughly the same age as students and live on campus amongst them. Linda Burdell, Chair of the Spanish Department, is in charge of recruiting and supervising the Spanish language associates. “The LA is a staff member who is required by immigration procedures to be an enrolled student, so the LA takes one course on campus per term to satisfy the requirement of their visa to enter the United States.” Such an explanation, however, does not seem to settle the confusion that many LAs experience shortly after arriving to Carleton.

“We are allowed to attend one class per term, but we are not students,” says Ulysse, the current French LA. “At the same time, we are almost the same age, and people invite us to various social gatherings—from dorm parties to the events at the Cave.” Ulysse, like most of the other LAs, frequently feels conflicted about the boundaries he must respect as both a staff member and as a young adult. “You’re not a student, and you’re not a professor, so you feel like you’re not very much of anything at all.” Another LA, who wished to remain anonymous and will be referred to as "Sofia," agrees. “There’s definitely this question of ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ The professors don’t treat you like colleagues, and the students don’t really treat you like one of them either.”

The majority of LAs at Carleton hail from metropolitan universities across the globe: from institutions like the Sorbonne in Paris, the Universidad Complutense in Madrid and the University of Moscow. These dispersed university campuses could not be more different from Carleton’s rural, community-driven environment. Since they frequently lack a cohesive gathering space, students attend classes but rarely live in dorms or campus housing. Thus, when LAs arrive at Carleton, there is usually an awkward adjustment period, where attending dorm-room parties or floor events can seem strange and even unnecessary.

When Ulysse left the Sorbonne to be an LA at Carleton, he was taken aback by the sense of community here. “The Sorbonne is a big university, and we don’t have any real campus or community. No one really lives in dorms. Here you have your “Carleton t-shirts” and a real sense of belonging. This would be impossible in Paris. There is no pride like there is here.” The sense of campus identity that so impressed Ulysse during his first months at Carleton is a common point of admiration among LAs. At the same time, however, the close-knit nature of Carleton can be difficult to penetrate at the same time.

“I feel a bit special,” admits Annika, the German LA. “Not like a staff member; I’m not above anybody, but I do feel special. I want to tell these students in my class, these scared freshmen, that I’m not your teacher; I’m here to help you. I also want them to see me as a friend, as someone they can socialize with.”

The precarious role of LAs at Carleton becomes even more difficult to navigate when it comes to sex. According to multiple LAs, only a few days after arriving on campus, they must all attend extensive presentations on the school’s sexual harassment policy. According to nearly every LA interviewed, the administration emphasizes that, as staff members in positions of authority, they are to have no romantic relationships with students. Juande, last year’s Spanish LA, recounts one particular workshop:

“After just a few days of arriving, school officials brought us all into cozy room where a very formally-dressed woman stood in front of us and explained the problems that could arise out of a relationship with a student. She regretted that such restrictions had to be in place, but said we had to respect them anyway. We sat there with very serious expressions as she took us through many different instances that could constitute sexual harassment, some of which sound very close to what I had thought of as consensual sex. Over time, our expressions shifted from understanding to apprehension. She invited us to date other LAs, which in my case was a bit difficult, since all the other LAs were women, and I’m gay.”

Sofia believes that this stance is not only unnecessary, but inherently illogical. “We do not have authority. We are not instructors, and we do not give out grades. No one would say we are in a position of power, but under this false pretext, we are forbidden from having romantic relationships. I’m not saying that I want to go out and have sex with every student on campus, I’m just pointing out an instance of hypocrisy within the system.”

Professor Burdell, however, denies any explicit restriction on dating at Carleton. "Carleton has policies in place that address sexual harassment and sexually inappropriate conduct on campus, and the LA is trained in and subject to these polices, as are all students, staff and faculty members on campus. If you look at those policies carefully, you'll see that there are no specific restrictions on dating, but rather clear guidelines as to what constitutes harassment and inappropriate behavior on campus.” Perhaps it is the culture shock of Carleton’s progressive environment or the language barrier, but Professor Burdell’s denial of any formal restriction on dating does not coincide with the general understanding of many LAs.

Regardless of the official stance of each language department, many LAs in the past have dated students without experiencing any repercussions from the administration. Even still, because they believe that they cannot be completely open with their relationships—that they must keep them at least superficially secret—many LAs resent feeling unnecessarily at fault.

The relationship between LAs and Carleton students is therefore clouded from the very first day with this sense of uncertainty: both in the role the LAs play in the Carleton community and also in the ambiguity of socializing permitted. “You arrive on campus with a fear of getting to know people," Alberto says, " which, combined with Carleton’s famously awkward spirit, makes it difficult to live in the same dorm as students.”

As LAs have struggled to understand the limits of their place on campus, their observations and admissions reveal the unique manner in which Carleton students attempt to construct rigid boundaries in their own lives. Returning to this article’s opening anecdote, Alberto was not alone in noticing how starkly many students here attempt to separate their night lives from their school lives. “I come from a culture where people are pretty much the same Monday morning as they are Saturday nights,” says Sofia. “At Carleton, this is not the case. On the one hand, I think that it’s an advantage to know how to separate the different aspects of one’s life, but on the other hand, it leads to a pretty big chasm between one’s public and private lives.”

Sofia’s observation touches on an important difference in the typical undergraduate experiences of LAs versus those of Carleton students: it is very difficult to hide here. Unlike many urban universities where one can escape from a student world and embrace the anonymity of a city—Carleton’s small student body and rural location makes it nearly impossible to be just a number. Many students, in turn, feel that they must constantly be aware of how they are perceived by the rest of the Carleton community, regardless of whether they are taking final exams or shots of cheap vodka. For many, the solution is to compartmentalize their lives—to create boundaries between how they act during the day and how they act out during the night.

Rose Chahla, a senior whose insights reflect the perspective of her class year, sees a direct correlation between the communal nature of this community and a need to compartmentalize her life. “I think that the intensity people bring to Carleton and the fact that everybody knows everybody, really creates a need for dividing your life, for separating it in order to keep from drowning in it. You have to put up boundaries where there aren’t any, because there really isn’t any escape, like a big city, from all of this.”

Even though Minneapolis and St. Paul are only an hour drive from Carleton, for most students the campus encompasses nearly every aspect of life. On a weekend night, for example, if a student wants to attend a party at a dorm on the other side of campus, she will inevitably pass by a handful of academic buildings that she associates with exams, all-nighters and shameless pleas for paper extensions.

Arpita Bhattacharyya, another senior, elaborates. “The motto ‘work hard, play hard’ takes on a new meaning at Carleton. People here bring the same level of intensity to their school life and their social life. When you party right next where you work, you have to divide these worlds in order to keep from going insane.”

Perhaps then, the metaphorical wall outside of which Alberto consistently found himself during those mornings after was not due to any fault of his own, but rather this need amongst Carleton students to compartmentalize. When asked what surprised them most about Carls, nearly every LA pointed to the intense work ethic at Carleton. “I learned a lot during my time at Carleton about what kind of endurance the human mind is capable of," says Alberto. "The sense of responsibility students place on themselves seems to me a bit extreme, especially when people disregard their personal limits. I think this personal pressure is an American trait, but at Carleton it’s amplified.”

This, perhaps, explains the last phenomenon that nearly every LA noted when interviewed: the Sayles dance. Traditionally, every other Friday or so, the common area of Sayles Hill, Carleton's student center, transforms into a dance floor as a crowd of drunk and sweaty classmates pulsate with a week's worth of pent-up aggression and sexual angst. When asked how he would describe this social staple of the Carleton night-life, Alberto does not shy away. “Almost no physical contact during the week leads to intensely erotic dancing—from 'Don’t come near me' to being half-naked on the dance floor. It’s all obvious. It’s not a bad thing, but it seems transparent. Almost mechanical.”

It seems, in short, that Carleton students find it very difficult to downshift from such a high gear of intensity. It is not enough to excel in one field at Carleton. Instead, students push themselves to be the best in a variety of areas, both in the academic world and in life outside of the classroom. It is logical that the drive that pushes a student to stay up all night writing a history paper will remain strong when he or she becomes determined to have fun. Logical, but is it healthy?

Of course, there are many Carleton students who forgo tearing off their shirts when Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” blasts during a Sayles dance, and many who would deny outright that they comparmentalize their lives at all. However, the consistent observations of LAs, indicate a common trend in the student body of constructing rigid boundaries in order to cope with Carleton’s intensely immersive climate. Frequently, LAs find themselves outside of these metaphorical walls, looking in with a dual sense of frustration and awe. Carleton's intense nature can be as alienating as it is impressive.

In short, it is difficult to determine whether this compartmentalization of student life at Carleton is ultimately an attribute or a failing. The presence of LAs on campus reminds us that there is a world outside of Carleton, with responsibilities that trump even the most extensive comps project. Nevertheless, while immersed in this world, why not try to make the most of fifty-thousand dollars a year? Perhaps these boundaries enable students to achieve what would otherwise be improbable, if not impossible. But how far is too far? Must the combination of a strong community and an intense desire to succeed inevitably lead to these deliberately constructed divisions? At what point does passion eclipse perspective? How important is a friendly wave the morning after?