At any given university, there are bound to be a few majors and pre-professional tracks that attract more students than others.
As fortunate students at the University, we are thrown into a “melting pot” of cultures. Our classmates may have grown up halfway around the world and for some, English is not their first language.
He made us laugh and made multicolored sweaters cool. He donated to universities and loaned his art collection to the Smithsonian.
Each day, engineering students make the long trek from their residential colleges to the Engineering Quadrangle for class.
As I read “On arming the bubble,” published in The Daily Princetonian on Oct. 19 by senior columnist Sarah Sakha, my heart rate quickened.
Recently students have initiated an important reexamination of the legacy of President Woodrow Wilson, Class of 1879, as a white supremacist and questioned his place in the names of several of the University’s organizations, including Wilson College.
The Pass/D/Fail option is available for students between the beginning of the seventh and the end of the ninth week of classes. Commonly referred to as P/D/F, this option is designed to encourage students to explore disciplines that they have little prior knowledge of without fear of negatively impacting their GPA.
During the first couple weeks on campus, as the somewhat stereotypical freshman, I asked myself many questions: I wasn’t the only one who managed to get locked out of my dorm three times within the span of a week, right?
I’m interested in perverse incentives, those peculiar “M.
We owe nothing to people who are deeply flawed. With this statement in mind, we, the Black Justice League, chose to start a discussion on campus that administrators and students alike have skirted around, a discussion about the presence of legacies on our campus and the glorification of prominent and problematic individuals.
I came to Princeton with the preconception that it is a safe, insular campus — no officers roaming around with guns, and no need for such either.
My friends are well accustomed to my feminist rants by now. But last week when I asked if anyone else had seen the “Colonial Mansion” party signs with the playboy bunny logo, none of us could believe that it was actually happening.
Arriving to Princeton just one month ago, I never thought I would be wearing a pair of light pink, three-inch wedges.
Though midterms are looming, last week Princeton students endured the first real storm of the season, the tail end of Hurricane Joaquin.
I met a lot of cool people while rushing St. A’s. And not just cool in the stylish sense; I met genuinely thoughtful and engaging and unconventional people.