As a student, Muskan Verma ’21 of Shimla, India, always paid attention to the ivy stones around campus, particularly the newer ones she saw while passing Pettengill Hall.

Ivy stones have been placed on campus buildings since 1879 as a rite of graduation; old or new, they feature familiar elements. Like ivy, for one, seen on most of them. Other campus features pop up occasionally, like Hathorn and its bell tower (in closeup in 2020, 1973 and 1963 and from a distance in 2019), and lantern and lamp motifs (1980, 2005, and 2014). The Class of 1999 went a little meta, sketching bricks on their design along with the ivy.

“What if ours could look different?” Verma asked herself.

The best way to make that happen, she reasoned, was to do it herself. Regardless of the outcome of the competition, even the prospect of having something she’d made etched in stone was a good motivator. “I didn’t really expect my submission to be selected,” she says. “I just wanted to give it a try.”

Yet the rhetoric and theater major’s design was indeed selected, by a vote of the senior class. (Voters did not know who the designers were.) It now adorns Pettengill itself, installed by �ֲ���ý mason Ron Tardif on May 25, just to the right of the front door entrance.

It features a few very specific motifs. There’s the Bobcat (not unusual, the Bobcat can also be found on 2011’s and 1929’s stone) but just below the cat’s noble face is a sign of the times circa 2020–21: a pandemic face covering.

“At first I thought about not including anything related to COVID-19 in the design,” Verma says. “But it felt incomplete to me. It would be a disservice to everyone who was adversely affected by this pandemic in different ways to completely skip over a tough but important part of our �ֲ���ý experience.”

The mask, Verma felt, was the “most universal symbol for the pandemic” but it was also a reminder of one good thing: “the efforts the �ֲ���ý community put in to keep each other safe.” 

She softened it by adding a few ivy leaves growing around it, a very deliberate choice to represent how the campus community grew from the experience.  “I wanted to make it look dynamic, hopeful and a step towards better,” she says.

Verma also made the bold move of including a raised fist, the century-old, iconic symbol of resistance and activism made freshly ascendent in the Black Lives Matter movement. For a class that witnessed the country explode in powerful protest after the June 2020 murder of George Floyd by police officers in Minneapolis, it made great sense to Verma that the symbol be present.

”Our class has been around to experience and more importantly, stand up and highlight that by protesting the oppression of marginalized people,” she says. Included in that was taking a stand close to home, to interrogate the story of �ֲ���ý’ founding and to issue a wake-up call to �ֲ���ý “to do more in the struggle for equity, inclusion and antiracism.”

“To me, [the fist] symbolizes the non-violent strength of the masses. People power,” she says, mentioning causes like feminism, socialism, labor rights, and the Black Power movement. “But that’s just a personal take. I understand different people and generations associate it with different types of resistance.”

It was already resonating even before the mortar was dry. “Power to the people,” said Tardif approvingly as he put the finishing touches on the 2021 ivy stone.

This is one of the very few ivy stones to make direct reference to contemporary events. The Class of 1970 seems to feature the Earth — though it could be the sun — on its stone, perhaps in homage to Earth Day, first held in April 1970.

The 1946 stone includes what looks like a ship’s wheel, a nice nod to the presence of the Navy at �ֲ���ý during their years. And the 2015 stone is illustrated with palindromic binary code — 11111011111 — that signifies the numerals 2015 to reflect the digital age. 

Ultimately though, for Verma, “this was just as much a symbol of the power of the student body that makes up this college and holds the power to make change.”

Verma’s hope is that people who see the stone will think of the resilience of the Class of 2021. It should stand as a symbol, “that our work isn’t yet done and that resistance will be even more important when we are out there, not together anymore, but still a community.” Ideally, the message is personal for her classmates. “I hope the design represents at least in some ways, every single person from my class and that they are able to think of our time here when they come across it.”

Mara Tieken 

School closures can hit rural communities hard — The Conversation 

Writing for The Conversation, Associate Professor of Education Mara Tieken argued that the closure of rural schools can devastate students, families, and communities.

Schools often close for reasons of poor academic performance, budget constraints, or declining enrollments. When they do, students’ relationships with peers and teachers are disrupted, absences go up, and involvement in extracurricular activities goes down, often because students have to commute longer distances. 

“In many rural communities, schools are the largest employer,” Tieken wrote. “They provide political power, and they tie people together. Once the schools are gone, the community loses all of these benefits.” 

Read the story: 

• “,” The Conversation, Jan. 9, 2020

�ֲ���ý Museum of Art 

Snow School: �ֲ���ý College makes life drawing practical, if not easy — Sun Journal 

Amy Paradysz of the Lewiston Sun Journal covered a Wednesday-night fixture sponsored by the �ֲ���ý Museum of Art: live figure drawing. 

Artists come to campus, often traveling long distances, to draw models — some are �ֲ���ý students, others community members — holding poses of various types and lengths. 

The exercise is valuable practice for a tricky but rewarding aspect of art. “It’s good for me to be reminded how challenging it is to observe and capture what I’m seeing,” said Mike Hickey of Yarmouth. “It’s good to be humbled.”

Read the story: 

• “,” Sun Journal, Dec. 29, 2019

Carissa Aoki

Racist housing practices from the 1930s linked to hotter neighborhoods today — NPR 

Neighborhoods that were subject to historical redlining — a racist housing practice that segregated cities and concentrated poor, minority, and immigrant residents — are hotter than non-redlined neighborhoods, Meg Anderson of NPR reported. 

Part of the reason for heat disparities of five degrees or more involves tree cover, according to a study coauthored by �ֲ���ý Lecturer in Environmental Studies Carissa Aoki. 

“In 37 cities around the country, formerly redlined neighborhoods have about half as many trees on average today as the highest-rated predominantly white neighborhoods on those maps,” Anderson wrote. 

Read the story: 

• “,” NPR, Jan. 14, 2020

Dorothy Foster Kern ’42

For these ‘three Dots,’ 100 years of friendship, fellowship, and fun — NPR

National and local news outlets have noticed a curious and happy occurrence: Three women named Dorothy, including Dorothy Foster Kern ’42 — all friends and all living in Auburn — celebrated their 100th birthdays in 2019.

Kern, Dorothy Buchanan, and Dorothy Murray all became centenarians in 2019, with Kern celebrating her 100th in September with a special luncheon at �ֲ���ý. 

A graduate of Auburn’s Edward Little High School, Kern was inspired to attend �ֲ���ý in part by a relative who taught at the college.

“I’m just a kid,” Kern told Maine Public’s Susan Sharon, in a piece about the “three Dots” that NPR later picked up. “I don’t feel any different than I did at 16.” 

Down East magazine also featured Kern in collaboration with Maine Public. 

“My life is quiet and happy, and I’m doing what I like to do, but I miss people — everyone who is not still here,” said Kern, who has outlived two of her five children. “In that sense, it’s lonely. I miss the children that were, but I’m happy to have the ones I’ve got. I’m lucky.” 

Read the stories: 

• “,” NPR, Dec. 22, 2019
• “,” Down East, December 2019 

Muskan Verma ’21

South-Asian Americans protest India’s citizenship bill — NBC News 

Reporting on South-Asian Americans’ protests against a bill in India that excludes Muslim immigrants from a path to citizenship, NBC News’ Mythili Sampathkumar talked to Muskan Verma ’21 of Shimla, India, a coordinator of the South Asian Students Against Fascism movement. 

Many South-Asian Americans, Sampathkumar wrote, see parallels between what is happening in India and religious and racial discrimination in the United States. Some are organizing protests in major American cities on Jan. 26, India’s Republic Day holiday. 

Verma told Sampathkumar that her group wants to send “a very strong message not just to the [Indian] government, but to the people protesting that they are not alone and that protests are not happening in a void.”

Read the story: 

• “,” NBC News, Jan. 19, 2020

In the September heat, a line of �ֲ���ý students stood outside Commons, talking about this and that. As they waited to board a yellow school bus, they waved to their friends and passed around sign-making materials.

Members of the Environmental Coalition, the �ֲ���ý student group that works to raise awareness of climate and sustainability issues, walked around calling the names of those registered to take the bus to Portland, wondering how everyone would fit.

Students gather outside of Commons before boarding the bus for Portland. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

The �ֲ���ý students heading to Portland were among the millions of people worldwide who went on strike on Sept. 20 to demand climate action ahead of the Sept. 23 United Nations Climate Action Summit in New York City.

“I don’t understand how people can actively oppose this,” said Matt Suslovic ’21, sitting at the back of the �ֲ���ý bus. Around him, students crammed three to a seat recounted protests they’d attended and brainstormed slogans to put on their signs.

“I’m striking because at the end of the day I don’t feel confident about anything in my future,” Suslovic said. “I don’t feel confident that I or anyone in my generation will make it to retirement.”

A crowd of 2,000 gathered outside of Portland City Hall for the Youth Climate Strike. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

“I do believe that strikes work, especially if you get a critical mass to send signals and make institutions respond,” said Sonja Pieck, associate professor of environmental studies. “I’m in solidarity with people who are younger than I am and will have to sit this out in a different way.”

For some of the �ֲ���ý professors in attendance, joining the event reflected their identity as an academic.

“I talk a lot about the importance of getting engaged and organizing,” said Francis Eanes, visiting assistant professor of environmental studies. “It’s not good enough to just talk about issues and solutions — we have to really get involved. I personally would feel like it’s the antithesis of what I’m teaching if I’m not willing to make space for that in my life.”

Alexis Hudes ’20 of Owings Mills, Md., holds a sign as she stands with Francis Eanes, visiting assistant professor of environmental studies, at right. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

As the bus rolled up to Portland’s City Hall, activists already crowded around the building began to cheer. The �ֲ���ýies who had driven their own cars and vans cut through the crowd to meet up with their friends, who took in the crowd with wide eyes.

The crowd numbered some 2,000, joining others worldwide: 1.4 million people in Germany, 250,000 in New York City, and a handful of researchers in Antarctica.

Organized by several Maine-based environmental organizations, the event had a strong �ֲ���ý vibe thanks to the Environmental Coalition’s connections with statewide groups. Of the dozen or so speakers, two were �ֲ���ý students: Muskan Verma ’21 of Shimla, India, who is the Lewiston hub contact for the Sunrise Movement, and Environmental Coalition president Dianna Georges ’22 of Clifton, N.H.

“I’m not from this country,” Verma said from the steps of City Hall, “but that shouldn’t matter. This is affecting us all. And whether we like it or not, we have to take action.”

Muskan Verma ’21 of Shimla, India, addresses the crowd gathered in front of Portland City Hall. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

, Georges told the audience that “climate change is the greatest crisis facing humanity, period. Period. …It will affect the lives of people from every part of the world, from every economic class and from every ethnic group.”

Though the speakers’ discourse was aimed primarily at their peers, they reprimanded older generations for their failure to act. They spoke about how climate change is already challenging communities around the world and won’t relent unless citizens, governments, and corporations come together to bring about change.

The Portland protest was “a lot more justice-oriented than the past climate actions that I’ve been to,” Maggie O’Shea ’20.

“People are talking more about equity and inclusion in this, and their signs aren’t just like ‘We love grass and trees.’ It’s about clean air and clean water for all, and that’s super exciting.”

Associate Professor of Environmental Studies Sonja Pieck congratulates students after the strike. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

When the speeches ended and the crowd dispersed, some of the �ֲ���ý folks made their way to Lincoln Park to enjoy some pizza in the shade and debrief each other on the event. Students also caught up with some of their �ֲ���ý professors who had attended the event.

Notwithstanding the somewhat disappointing outcome of the UN’s Climate Action Summit a few days later, Pieck remarked on the positive vibe of the Portland strike. “A lot of the climate discourse is very negative, and so it’s cool that we can rally and be really positive and optimistic about change. You could feel the youth.”

“We were part of the largest climate mobilization in U.S. and global history,” added Georges. “To me, that represents how much people are caring and noticing this issue. But we can’t rest now: There is so much left to do.”

�ֲ���ý students, faculty, and staff pose for a group photograph after the action at Portland City Hall. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)