The D-Spot

Author: Dina Magaril

Twice a week I work at the library circulation desk because writing this column, surprisingly, doesn't quite bring home the bacon. At least once during each shift a student will hand something over to the lost and found. These objects include such coveted items as iPods, iPhones, cell phones, watches, ray-ban sunglasses, jackets and even electric teapots. In short, the library is stocked with people's expensive personal belongings.

I've often entertained myself by rummaging through this cornucopia of unclaimed property. At times, I wondered how it was even possible to lose a pair of shoes and never claim them, or forget a jacket on a snowy day. Don't people need these things before going outside, and more importantly, don't they want them back? The majority of valuable items are claimed within one week (believe me, I check - if an item remains unclaimed for over three months, it's fair game). Electronics have a shelf-life of anywhere between two minutes and two days, while clothes may lie around for months before someone decides to check out the lost and found and discover that hey, that sweater grandma knitted them was right there all along.

I'm the kind of person who has trouble leaving my jacket on the back of a chair at a café when I need to pop into the restroom, so leaving my laptop unattended during a two-hour dinner break is completely out of the question.

And although Middlebury students were victim to some unfortunate thefts last year, it seems that the student body has returned to living in a magical place where lost things are never stolen and always returned.

I find it shocking how often students simply assume that their misplaced belongings are waiting for them at the front desk of the library. "I think I left my phone somewhere," a student will tell me nonchalantly, and their immediate assumption is that some altruistic soul has returned it.

Growing up in New York, I've often left things in cabs or on the subway and I've never dared to think that I would get these items back. (To be fair, I haven't ventured into the depths of the lost and found located in The Port Authority Bus Terminal - even I'm not that crazy.

Don't get me wrong, I love how safe I feel at this, but is this sense of safety justified? Should we leave laptops and blackberries lying around as if our mothers are nearby to pick up after us? And should we walk alone at night after drinking heavily at the bar or a late night out?

While Middlebury's small size definitely contributes to a reinforced sense of community, there are things more serious than a lost umbrella that we should keep in mind.

Last year, a student died on this campus, shocking the community with unanswered questions that momentarily woke us up from this false sense of security. Furthermore, during my four years here, I have heard of numerous sexual assaults occuring at parties and in dorm rooms. And while I'd like to think that all my fellow peers have my best interests in mind, it simply isn't true. Over 2,400 students attend Middlebury College, and I don't know all of them. And we need to keep in mind that once we leave Middlebury, the dangers we encounter will increase tenfold. I don't want to scare anyone or seem paranoid - I just wish that more people seemed aware that there are consequences to leaving your guard down.

I promise I won't steal your iPod if you leave it at the library, but I can't be there to drag you to your dorm room when you're so drunk you can't see straight. That part is up to you.