It had already been a particularly grating night when I trudged my way to the Wa. I had already set off the fire alarm (twice) burning popcorn in Witherspoon, and the U-Store employees had shut the doors on me as I wildly gesticulated toward my phone, which read 3:59 a.m.
He said that he’d been the best Latin reciter in his Ghanaian village before he took to the streets in Maryland. “I used to be a high school English teacher!” he said, pounding his chest proudly.
One of the most terrifying things I’ve had to cope with growing up was being alone. As an only child growing up with a working parent, I always kept to myself at home, picking up various hobbies to keep myself busy until my mother came home.
I had just gotten back from the Street, clothes crusted in heaven-knows-what, when my mother calls me from Korea at 4 a.m.
If there’s one thing studying in Beijing this summer has taught me, if not the fact that toilet paper is a luxury and that walking with your caged bird is apparently a thing, it’s that Asian Tiger nations have a distinctly unique way of reconciling traditional with modern, the East with the West.
If there’s anything Princeton has more of than free food, tiger puns and black bear warnings, it’s the opportunity for students to study abroad and immerse ourselves in a different culture.
Congratulations, Class of 2017! You’ve made the best decision of your life: joining the Orange Bubble.
If there’s one thing I’m asked more frequently than where I’m from, it’s whether or not I’m going to stay in the United States after I graduate.
When New York Times columnist David Brooks accused Princetonians of being “organization kids,” he claimed that our easy acceptance of authority and eagerness to please had fostered a passive environment in which the greater community protested more on behalf of campus issues than the students themselves.
