At the University, and in Western culture at large, it is very common to take a very myopic viewpoint of international affairs.
Last week, Newby Parton wrote quite the controversial column. He began by discussing our revised sexual assault policy but quickly devolved into perceptions of equating feminism with misandry, which were unsubstantiated and which unfortunately furthers a very harmful and false societal trope and obfuscates the much-needed, meaningful dialogue regarding sexual assault.
I’ll be writing my next few pieces on what it’s like to be studying abroad at a university in the United Kingdom.
I have no opinions.Well, I should qualify that statement. I have an abundance of opinions, but I have very few opinions that I feel comfortable articulating outside the realm of writing.
College, we are told, is the time to try new things; finding the opportunities, resources and like-minded adventurous peers who abound around campus is only a matter of showing up to a meeting or striking up conversation with an upperclassman.
If you’d asked me two weeks ago what I expected of college, I certainly would not have said crooning “Wagon Wheel” in the company of people donning “Rage with Romney” bro tanks and American-flag Chubbies, and then pledging allegiance to an American flag hung on one wall of a cramped dorm on 9/11 (it should be noted that no one was sober in that room). I would never have foreseen my attending a pregame for the College Republicans during Freshman Week, trying to dodge fireballs in clamorous political discourse over Fireball. I should mention that I’m not actually a Republican.
The other day in the dining hall, I overheard a group of students exchanging academic horror stories much like old soldiers sharing their battle wounds.“Four all-nighters in two weeks!
Nobody is going to argue that Ivy League schools aren’t exclusive. We all feel a sense of pride being here, precisely because it’s such a challenge to get to this point.
If I could sit my freshman self down at the dawn of my Princeton career, I’d have quite a few things to say.
Taking the rush hour train across Midtown always seemed to show me the best of the city. The indescribable odors.
I am a feminist, so the first words I spoke at a recent town hall meeting on the new sexual assault procedures were in praise of the University’s speedy response to the new Title IX regulations.
Coming into Princeton, I knew I wanted to get involved with community service. At the Activities Fair, I spent most of my time under the Pace Center for Civic Engagement tent.
The week we, the freshman class, marched through FitzRandolph Gate, we were bombarded with activities that initiated the four-year-long journey that will be our Princeton careers.
’Tis the season to be rejected. The acceptance emails and rowdy pickups have maxed out now as student organizations across campus take their pick of the deliciously talented cornucopia of applicants.
You would think the author of an essay titled “Don’t Send Your Kids to the Ivy League” would get a chilly reception in a room of Princeton students.
College athletics in America faces a crisis. This past August, former NCAA basketball star Ed O’Bannon won a suit against the NCAA over the latter’s use of his likeness for commercial purposes.
As the University faces an investigation for possible violations of federal law under Title IX, it has directed some of its attention to the role of residential college advisers in new policy changes.
The University likes to say that it cares about its students’ welfare and concerns.
I found out what a precept was the day before classes were supposed to begin my freshman year. It was during a meeting with my academic adviser, finalizing courses, that the word first went into my ear.
Were you to stroll into Whig Hall last Thursday afternoon, you would have found a bevy of Princeton students debating with a former Yale professor.
