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From classes, to dorms, to dining halls, there is almost always a solid crowd of people just nearby. We have all experienced the rush of freshman year as we try to find and build our friend groups. Once we get settled into our Princeton experience, however, we rarely venture beyond the comfort of our selected friend group.
I used it to find rides home for the holidays, do statistical analyses on the top 10 states and cities of origin for my graduating class, and identify mutual connections through roommates I might know or shared residential colleges. On Sept. 6, 2019, that all changed when Tigerbook, my beloved research and social bonding tool for campus, removed all hometown, dorm, and roommate data from student profiles. For a time, photos disappeared as well. At first, I thought I could adjust, but two months later, I find myself using Tigerbook dramatically less frequently, and I believe that the removal of this data, while protecting students’ privacy to some extent, has overall resulted in a net loss to the Princeton campus.
I write this column barely an hour before I am scheduled to meet with my African American studies preceptor about revising my midterm paper for a new grade. I wrote the paper amidst the chaos of midterms week, in between studying for two exams and drafting another paper. Even if I had had a reasonable amount of time to complete the assignment, the reality is, it would not reflect my best work. But in a typical Princeton course, it would be my final version of the essay.
We approach 2020 and women across the world still have to beg for access to basic menstrual health and hygiene products. As men continue to define what constitutes the human body and its needs, the fact that menstruation is a basic human function that half the world’s population experiences every month is completely drowned out during conversations about the body.
In the gloriously queer “Take Me to Church,” Hozier intones, “The only Heaven I’ll be sent to / Is when I’m alone with you / I was born sick, but I love it.” In terms of lyrical expressions of erotic liberation, it’s hard to beat.
The 12 of us are wedged in small chairs, arranged in a casual semi-circle, facing the lecturing professor. Finally, he turns to us, asking a question. A few hands rise up into the air, and then one of us speaks. The hands go back up. Someone replies. The hands go up again. Someone else chirps in.
The Nov. 21, 2001, issue of the Princeton Alumni Weekly lauded Donald Rumsfeld ’54 as a “wrestler, pilot, and organizer extraordinaire … lead[ing] the U.S. defense department into perhaps its toughest fight ever.” After his courageous actions on Sept. 11, 2001, which included helping to carry a stretcher from the Pentagon’s smoldering ruins, Rumsfeld basked in the country’s esteem. Right on cue, his alma mater celebrated its virtuous son: Secretary of Defense to a nation under attack.
Perhaps no life change has been romanticized as much as leaving home and entering college. Such a major life alteration had been impressed on me by family, friends, and especially school. Last May, even after all of my high school classmates and I had decided where we would attend college, our college counselors invited us all back for a Transition Night — an introduction to the dramatic differences between high school and college life.
On Tuesday, Oct. 29, the NCAA’s top governing board unanimously voted that it would “permit students participating in athletics the opportunity to benefit from the use of their name, image and likeness in a manner consistent with the collegiate model.” The rationale taken was that college sports must provide additional flexibility and “continue to support college sports as a part of higher education.”
In the 1970s, after the University reexamined its relationship with ROTC, it decided to get rid of credit for ROTC courses. Since then, Princeton has been one of the very few schools that do not offer credit to ROTC students. This accreditation problem has been revisited over the years, and nothing has changed. I write this column today asking for change to be made, not as a representative of ROTC, but as one of the many students in the ROTC program who have had to deal with this unfair policy.
“… They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
As the University begins to increase its undergraduate student population in the upcoming years, it will naturally have to hire more faculty if it wishes to keep the same student-to-faculty ratio. When hiring new professors, the University should acknowledge the clear benefits that seminar-style courses have over lecture-based ones, and accordingly, hire more professors than would be needed to merely maintain the student-to-faculty ratio.
This afternoon, College Republicans will host a conversation between New York Times columnist Bret Stephens and author Yoram Hazony ’86 regarding the future of conservatism, nationalism, and the Republican Party. It is disappointing that a conversation this interesting is being conducted by two men who share disturbing records of racist remarks.
I recently came across a column written by Professor Victor Fleischer from the University of San Diego arguing that universities ought to be required to spend at least eight percent of their endowments each year. Fleischer believes that such a step would result in universities spending more on financial aid and academic programs and less on fund managers. These goals, in his view, are desirable.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve created a program that has allowed students to nominate and then elect speakers to become candidates for the University to host on our behalf.
Over the course of our Princeton careers, people come and go: friends, lovers, partners, and, for some, even family members. We make regular choices about whom to keep in our lives and whom to distance ourselves from — some people we keep because they bring us joy; others we keep because they fill a specific need, be it psychological, academic, or physical. Relationships — whatever they may be — are all based on choices.
A riddle for the reader: pizza boxes can be put in me but only if there is no residual grease. I also gobble up your plastic bottles, but only if you’ve taken the time to clean and rinse them and, in Princeton specifically, remove their caps. I love anything aluminum, though, and when you’re done reading this in print, you can toss your paper in me, too (but if there’s food stuck to me from reading me in a dining hall, toss me in the trash instead). What am I, and why am I so picky?
Ever since the 2016 election, Facebook and its CEO, Mark Zuckerberg, have come under fire for numerous reasons, ranging from privacy violations and their refusal to ban political ads to their inability to manage fake news on the platform. Each of these issues carries very important consequences and has rightly garnered public attention, both in everyday conversations and the political realm.
Unbeknownst to me last Friday, as I went to take the train back from New York, I almost crossed paths with nearly 1,000 people protesting against recent instances of police brutality related to fare evasion on Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) subway lines across the city. Framed by conservative news outlets as “anti-cop,” individuals within the protests led with chants of “No NYPD on the MTA” and “How do you spell racist? N-Y-P-D” as they marched near the Barclays Center arena and jumped turnstiles en-mass.
This year, I had only one New Year’s resolution: to receive a rejection letter from a literary agent. This wasn’t because I didn’t want to succeed. It was because rejection isn’t the opposite of success, but a necessary step on the road to accomplishment.