In each issue of 3D, we ask a Dartmouth senior to reflect on a question they answered roughly four years prior: "As you seek admission to Dartmouth's incoming class, what aspects of the College's academic program, community, and/or campus environment attract your interest? In short, why Dartmouth?" Here, Daniel Xu '25 revisits that prompt in his final year at the College.
Four years ago, my answer to "Why Dartmouth?" was built on instinct and hope: impressions of a snow-covered campus, the hum of students laughing together, and a feeling I couldn't quite name but trusted all the same. I wrote about warmth on the coldest winter nights—a school where people were individually excellent yet mutually committed to each other. I imagined adventure, exploration, and unyielding tradition.
What I didn't know then was that Dartmouth would become so much more than a school. It would become the bedrock for lifelong friendships and core experiences.
I arrived as a wide-eyed first-year, unsure and undecided, but eager. The tall pines and crisp air mirrored my own curiosity: expansive yet grounded, familiar yet filled with unknowns. That warmth I wrote about wasn't just imagined—it was real. It carried me through winters where the gentle snowfall became playful projectiles aimed at peers or Dartmouth Skiway trails that my skis carved. My Dartmouth springs were alive with laughter on the Green and watching the slow drift of the Connecticut River with my head resting on the shoulders of my best friends. The D-Plan brought summer days at Moosilauke Ravine Lodge and nights staring up into the Milky Way at the Second College Grant. Each year began again with the fall mountains turning into breathtaking masterpieces of red and gold.
Dartmouth gave me the freedom to explore everything and anything. I studied gender within Buddhism one term, fell in love with developing film photography the next, and worked through climate models the one after that. I studied perched on a mountain of ginkgo leaves from that one tree guarding Baker Library and paddled through swamps and oceans with the Ledyard Canoe Club, where the flowing water taught me lessons that lectures couldn't. Dartmouth let me be many things at once—curious, uncertain, adventurous, and ambitious. I learned that answers aren't always what matter most; sometimes, it's the courage to keep asking questions. I discovered problems I am passionate about and was provided the tools and skills necessary to solve them.
I went from research meetings with Professor Klaus Keller to scouting trails as director of The Fifty (a 54-mile hike from Mount Moosilauke to Hanover), then to dinner with fellow leaders of First-Year Trips, finishing my day by teaching friends how to stitch leather into a wallet. Along the way, I juggled life as a search and rescue EMT, wedding photographer, and vice president of my Greek house. I led Dartmouth Outing Club trips across the country, rocked my guitar in a student band, and won second place in the annual Winter Carnival chili competition.
But my answer to "Why Dartmouth?" today isn't about these experiences themselves. Dartmouth's greatest asset is its people—the ones who make every experience possible and who share it with you. At the end of each day, what matters most is coming home to tell my closest friends about my accomplishments and struggles and to hear about theirs. It's learning from their advice, offering mine in return, and realizing that growth happens together. Dartmouth doesn't just prepare you to learn in a classroom—it teaches you to live with curiosity, think deeply, connect meaningfully, and work toward positive change for the common good. That's the Dartmouth I'll graduate with and the Dartmouth I will leave behind.
Photograph by Don Hamerman
