Between the raging and revelry, Reunions can also give former University students an opportunity to revisit their academics.
Last week, former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice decided against speaking at Rutgers University’s commencement ceremony.
We often speak about the importance of thinking outside the Orange Bubble — what about popping it? Our four years at Princeton produce many memories: lunches with friends, late nights in Firestone Library, learning and growing from different extracurricular activities and sports.
Writing this letter took a lot of courage, especially after seeing all of the ad hominem attacks and ridicule directed at Tal Fortgang ‘17 in response to his article in the Princeton Tory.
Recently, Princeton has been the subject of bad press. Our most noted alumni include a First Lady who refuses to come to campus, a controversial senator who may have led a government shutdown and Susan Patton (whom I have no words to describe). To the media and general public, Princeton University is diseased — and not just by bacterial meningitis.
I wanted to remain in denial a little while longer, even though I knew this moment had been coming for quite some time.
Dear Tal Fortgang and the Princeton University Community: Welcome to the fun house world of American mainstream media’s obsession with caricatured versions of campus identity politics.
I sat to write this column, my final in this paper, and drew blank after blank. There is simultaneously so much to say about my time at the University and no good way of saying it.
“Rapists are here! Stop protecting them!” There were a lot of words written on The Surface, an interactive art project for class VIS 439: Art as Interaction where students could write anything on four panels over the past few weeks, but few phrases lasted very long before the next person came along and painted over them.
It’s surprisingly easy nottobe a jerk. All it takes is a shred of self-consciousness and a degree of shame and humility.
Editor’s note: The author of this column was granted anonymity due to the intensely personal nature of the events described. Preface: The brave columnist who wrote on April 30 inspired me to be courageous.
Around the time when sophomores were supposed to begin declaring their majors, I was talking to a female student at dinner about a friend of mine who was seriously considering Classics as his department of choice.
“You look terrible! How much sleep did you get last night?” This is a weird question to entertain for two reasons.
“So what exactly did you do on your year off?” I always pause before answering this question.
In an April 14 article from The Atlantic, Katty Kay and Claire Shipman explored the well documented “confidencegap” between men and women.
Editor’s note: The author of this column was granted anonymity due to the intensely personal nature of the events described. I never intended to write an op-ed or share my story of sexual assault.
At dinner parties, family gatherings, and impromptu meetings with old teachers, there are always the standard questions.
The end of the academic year is a beautiful and terrible time. I woke up the other day, dreading the load of work and studying I have to accomplish by May 22.
My oldest brother, Jon, is 41 years old and has Down Syndrome. I’ve never shied away from explaining his condition to strangers.
Every Monday and Wednesday evenings, a handful of other freshmen and I meet for an hour and a half for our writing seminar.
