The University has placed emphasis on the sustainability of its on-campus fleet, focusing on TigerTransit. In doing this, the University has missed potential improvements that could be more effective.
I have a modest proposal: Don’t take a party break in New York City or head home to catch up on sleep. Fall break is the perfect time to volunteer to knock on doors for the reelection of President Barack Obama. Princeton in the nation’s service needs you now if we are to confront honestly and intelligently the problems affecting this country.
The first two weeks of classes at Princeton are known as the add/drop period, during which students are free to add or remove classes from their schedule. At Princeton’s peer schools, however, the first few weeks of classes are designated shopping period and offer students a greater degree of freedom in trying out classes. For example, professors hold the shared expectation that students are shopping their classes during this period and refrain from delving deeply into the material and assigning work, and students do not even sign up for classes until the end of this period.
Apocalypse, as a vernacular term, originated from the Greek term "apocalypsis," which literally means “uncovering,” in the sense of revealing something. Until Hollywood filled our heads with images of tidal waves and meteors, the term was popularized through its Biblical use. This use carried a connotation that was subtler: The apocalypse referred to the uncovering of meaning or understanding hidden from mankind in a time or atmosphere dominated by falsehood and misconception.
Ultimately, someone must hold our political candidates responsible for speaking meaningfully about the issues in these debates and throughout the election. Everyone in the country benefits from less misrepresentation and greater debate on the fundamental differences between the candidates on each issue. If the candidates themselves, their parties and the moderators of these debates will not hold speech to a higher standard, it falls to the American people — and particularly, informed and passionate citizens like college students — to demand more, by using our voices and our votes.
In a recent column, fellow columnist Cameron Langford called for political discourse on campus, citing Princeton’s unique status as the “conservative Ivy” as conducive to more meaningful political discussion than one might find at other peer institutions where conservative thought may be paid little to no attention. While I agree with the sentiment — that political discussion is a good thing and should be encouraged — I find that there is a disconcerting limitation that accompanies the sort of dialogue that Langford recommends.
There are already many dedicated and effective tutors working through the residential colleges and through McGraw, but there definitely seems to be space for more students to apply. In Forbes, my residential college, the director of studies sent out multiple emails asking for peer tutors. Most tutors at the McGraw Center spend three hours twice a week in Frist. With more tutors, the programs could reach more students. A larger tutoring staff could also enable McGraw and the residential colleges to reduce the required time commitment, which could attract qualified students who would not have otherwise applied. If these programs recognized diverse pathways to mastery, they could attract more tutors who are just as passionate, committed and knowledgeable.
The tired admonition of youth voter participation is simply no longer valid, a feat our generation doesn’t get enough credit for. If there’s a trend out there that we really need to counter, it’s this belief that we aren’t active. I think the general electorate stands to gain a lot by better acknowledging the growing importance of youth voters.
The iPhone 5 has arrived. It is barely different from last year’s iPhone 4S, yet it still commanded the same level of fanaticism from Apple fans, who camped out in front of stores for hours just to get their hands on one.
But in the midst of Shirley’s call to Occupy, there was a spirit of something more active. Service is not the doings of a deep Firestone-dweller but of one who can “take this University by storm, make it uniquely your own, and leave it better than you found it.” Her words mark a push from diligent service to vigorous activism. This notion touches on a sore point for Princeton: our community is reputed to be antithetical to change and apathetic to activism.
So why do we just assume that a line is the best way to go? What makes us slowly and silently resign ourselves to an inefficient fate? I am neither a psychologist nor a sociologist, so I can’t provide an empirically sound account for this phenomenon. But I can offer the musings accumulated by a person who has spent many aggregated hours standing in lines and being unhappy about it.
I hate to dedicate an entire column to a topic as mundane as the laundry room but hold onto your eye rolls and scathing comments for just a second and hear me out. I’m just asking that we shape up — myself included. I don’t expect everyone to be folding the underwear of the mystery person who used the dryer previously, or even to use the whiteboards because we all know there’s never a freaking marker anywhere to be found, but there are some practices of common courtesy that should be routine.
As women writers who have been vocal in pointing out the disparity between the ways men?s and women?s books are treated, we were disheartened to read Professor Jeffrey Eugenides? comments during an interview with Salon, in which he accused Jodi Picoult (?87) of ?bellyaching.? His implication: a successful author should have nothing to complain about.However, as we have been suggesting for years, there is a serious and persistent problem in the way books are covered?and being best-sellers does not blind us to the problems, or give us the right to sit in ladylike silence while sexism and double standards persist.Here?s the issue: the women Eugenides teaches will graduate into a world where their work is less likely to be acquired by publishers, where their books are less likely to be reviewed, and where they are less likely to write for important publications.As Professor Eugenides knows, the literary canon is fluid.
On Saturday, a suicide bomber killed himself and one bystander in Yemen. On Friday, 19 people died in a plane crash in Nepal. Two weeks ago, at least 10 people were blown up in the Pakistani cities of Quetta and Karachi. Six Turkish soldiers and one civilian died in a bomb blast last week. On Sept. 22, a 29-year-old Irish woman disappeared after walking home from a night out in Melbourne, Australia. Five days later, a woman’s body was found in a shallow grave at the side of a dirt road, 31 miles north of the city. At the time of writing, over 3000 coalition troops have died since fighting began in Afghanistan in 2001. The list goes on. We hear about it, but the numbers are too big, the incidents too numerous. The world spins, the bad stuff persists and only sometimes do we really think about it.
It is the year 2000 in Indianapolis, Ind., and my friend Ian and I are standing on the playground in the shadow of the monkey bars, yelling at the enemy camp set up behind the tetherball pole.