The start of the fall semester has brought plenty of changes to Bennington’s dining system. Extended dining hall hours, a new smoothie bar, green takeout containers, and the promise of “AI” vending machines appear shiny, but cost-cutting measures including significant reductions to both full-time staff and student employment make it hard to appreciate.
One of the most aggressive budget cuts directly impacting the student population is the termination of the “Flex-7” meal plan, which allowed students to swipe into the dining hall seven times per week. Originally intended for Paran Creek apartment residents, the lower-cost plan was also able to accommodate dietary/religious restrictions and students who were unable to pay the roughly $4,500 per-term price tag for the unlimited plan.
When Paran Creek closes at the end of this semester, the Flex-7 plan goes with it. A communication from administration in the spring semester promised that those reliant on the Flex-7 plan due to severe dietary restrictions would be supported, and aid “may” be available for those who used the plan for financial reasons, but many students have not received support.
Instead, the College communicated that any students not on the meal plan would be allowed to pay out of pocket for each meal that they chose to attend, a policy that was in place before the Flex-7 was cancelled. Students were left with an ultimatum: pay for the price tag of the full meal plan (even if they may not fully utilize it), or independently source their own groceries.
A spotty shuttle schedule, road closures on College drive, and the isolated nature of Bennington’s campus make this a daunting task. Without access to a car, a single trip to the grocery store can take hours. On a campus where time is its own currency, many students are going without.
“I know a lot of people just wouldn’t eat or wouldn’t have food,” Lindsey Leggett, Paris-Borden House Chair and Student Council member says. “Putting everybody on the full meal plan didn’t make that go away, it just made them pay more.” Having opted in to the Flex-7 plan due to dietary restrictions, she emphasized how valuable it was to have guaranteed access to at least seven meals a week and the ability to choose what meals she spent her swipes on, almost always guaranteeing that she would be able to eat the meals she chose to attend.
While Bennington’s dining services offer quality, freshly-prepared meals each day, many students are frustrated with the lack of options. Limited variety for hot food choices and the chance that one might not be able to eat any of it at all (due to religious/dietary restrictions or cross-contamination concerns) make the face value price tags of $8 for breakfast, $12 for lunch, and $15 for dinner hardly feel worth it. Yes, once a student swipes in for a meal, they can eat as much as they want, but that doesn’t solve the problem. “‘Unlimited’ doesn’t mean people are going to get more out of it,” Leggett notes.
“The Flex plan was very hard to monitor,” Lorraine Atwood, Bennington’s Vice President for Finance and Administration said when asked what the reasoning was for the cancellation of the program. From the College’s perspective, the decision went hand-in-hand with the termination of Paran Creek’s lease in an attempt to save money. “It was a business decision to figure out what is not working on campus and what we can do differently,” she continued.
Atwood noted that Bennington’s Student Council was consulted on the decision, as well as staff members from assorted departments and the President’s Cabinet. However, Leggett maintains that while the Student Council was informed of the decision before it was made public, their concerns towards vulnerable students went unheard, and the announcement was made before they could collaborate with administrators to revise the policy.
Over the course of our conversation, Atwood repeatedly mentioned the “generous financial aid” that Bennington offers students to help them afford tuition, emphasizing that many of the budget cuts were made in the name of keeping Bennington affordable.
Students can’t eat their financial aid packages, though, and prior to this change, many with restrictions had negotiated accommodations that allowed them to have some semblance of stability surrounding food. “A lot of campuses don’t have those special programs,” Atwood said, referring to Bennington’s capacity for individualized accommodations that comes with being such a small community.
Standardizing a single, mandatory meal plan pushes Bennington’s policies closer to those of larger universities. However, those larger campuses tend to have significantly more options, granting greater flexibility within the “universal” meal plan. Williams College, for example, operates two dining halls and five on-campus restaurants/cafes for its approximately 2,000 students, all of which can be accessed by the full meal plan (which costs $4,495).
In comparison, Bennington’s singular dining hall feels incredibly restrictive, especially as students are forced to choose between slim pickings or watching hundreds of dollars go down the drain each week.
No matter what, Atwood maintains that the College isn’t going back on this decision, even as students face food scarcity and social isolation. Beyond being a place to eat, Commons serves as a community hub where students who are often sequestered in Dickinson’s labs or VAPA’s studios can connect. For those unwilling to drop upwards of ten dollars on a lunch or dinner they may be unable to eat, they are completely barred from that social environment.
Still, the College remains focused on finances, and these complex issues lack a dollar-sign equivalent. “We have to afford the services that we give to all students, so we can’t do everything for all students,” Atwood said when pressed on the impacts of removing the Flex-7 plan. “We can’t be everything to everybody, so we try to, you know, be the best we can for most students.”
The sentiment comes as a shock to students struggling with food instability. When guaranteed access to the dining hall once a day is the only thing keeping students from going hungry, accommodating “most” students isn’t enough. Those left behind are often the most vulnerable, and the College leaving them to fend for themselves is inconsiderate at best and negligent at worst.
“This isn’t Bennington students being prissy, or picky, or feeling entitled,” Leggett says, frustrated with the way that the financial side of the College seems to ignore the damage this decision is doing to its higher-needs students. The accommodations that these students used the Flex-7 plan to fulfill weren’t based on preference, they came from critical medical and/or psychiatric conditions. “These are just people with different needs, because we all have different needs, and the College can’t even accommodate that,” she emphasized.
As budget cuts hit the College hard—axing staff positions, driving up costs, and reducing services available to students—it feels as though there is an extreme dissonance between those who make the decisions and those who feel their impacts.
“It affects us first and foremost because we live here,” Leggett says. “The staff get to leave. Student life, academic services, administration: all of those people get to leave.” As commuters, they have the luxury of choice and agency to make sure that every meal in front of them is one they can eat, and one they can afford.
“We live here 24/7,” Leggett says, sitting on her bed in Paris Borden as her cat Guido sleeps on a chair nearby. “We are home.”
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