Stuff Dartmouth People Like #2: Don Pease

Don Pease is an amalgam of so many things Dartmouth people like: high median grades, feeling like you’re learning something when you’re actually not, alcohol, distribs that you bitch about but are actually really easy to get, and facetime. I will elaborate on each of these points.

Who doesn’t love a nice high median grade? The median for Pease classes is an A-. That means that if you’re smarter or do more work than the average kid in that class, you’re getting at least an A-. Look around you. You’re definitely smarter or do more work than the average kid in that class. That guy in front of you? He’s been playing Bloons Tower Defense 4 every single day. And your roommate never even shows up. You’re at least opening up a word document to take notes, even if you don’t sometimes. That sets you ahead of the curve. Hello, med school.

Don Pease makes you feel like you’re learning the deepest shit in the whole wide world when he talks. The gesticulation! The long, sweeping sentences! The pauses after key words! This is the stuff of genius. You’re an Econ major, though, so you don’t get all of it. But you know that it’s some really great stuff.

And then you look over at the screen of the kid next to you. This is the kid who turns on the Voice Recorder for class just in case his word-by-word notes can’t keep up with Don’s pace. He’s writing this stuff down like it’s Gospel. Realizing that you haven’t been paying attention for ten minutes as you read about some guy who tried to run through seventeen panes of glass on Barstool, you start to read his notes. And that’s when you realize that Don Pease doesn’t speak in sentences. Or make coherent thoughts. Or talk about anything at all. But the way that he says “Chingachgook”… Man, oh man, is that guy smart.

And we can’t forget to mention the papers. Everybody understands that exams are naturally about regurgitation. Teacher tells you some material, you prove that you know it. But papers are supposed to be the time for self-exploration. You’re going to figure out what you’re going to write. And then you’re going to write it. At least that’s the classical model. In the Pease model, he tells you what to write, practically outlines the damn thing for you, then you fill in the blanks and put your name at the top. Really giving the English Department a good name.

If Econ classes are sponsored by Bernie Madoff, then Pease classes are sponsored by Dewar’s. I’m always reassured, though, because if I happen to get a small cut while I’m sitting in class, I can just go up to Pease and have him breathe on my wound and it’ll be sterilized. I might start sticking Q-Tips soaked in vodka up my butt during class so I can be on his level.

People act like the Lit distrib is difficult to get. Really? Anything that you can get fulfilled on a Barcelona LSA can’t be hard. Exhibit A: it isn’t hard to start a blog about how much you drink on your off-term. Nor is it hard to get a Lit distrib. Or any distrib, for that matter. QDS? Socy 10. Lab? Astro. CI? WGST/NAS number anything. Gimme a break.

Hands-down the best part about a Pease class, though, is the facetime. And what high quality facetime it is. The people in that class are exactly the type of people you want to be in that class: the frat-stars, the ditzy girls, and the boys/girls who use their Bones Gate status to cement themselves as alternative, when they’re really the same as everybody else. If you get called on in Pease’s class on Monday, you’ll have somebody come up to you at tails on Friday to talk about it. Somebody attractive. You’re the center of the fuckin’ social universe when you speak in that class. So say something smart. Or at least just regurgitate what Pease said.

Don Pease, you are what Dartmouth people like. And for that, we salute you. Comin’ in hot at number two, this one’s all for you.