DISPATCH | What they never tell you about Alaska
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
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Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
From the corner of the long room, sitting behind the outgoing department chair who stood to offer a few end-of-year remarks, I could see before me so many of the people who have fundamentally shaped who I am. It’s funny how it works that way, isn’t it? You go into a classroom the first week, worried about weekly reading loads or problem sets, dreading midterms and projects and finals. But at the end of the semester, you leave the classroom, emerging back into the world beyond, and suddenly realize that those assignments may have been the least consequential element of it all. Of value is the new or deepening relationship with the person at the front of the hall or leading the discussion that has most profoundly altered your self, your world.
Across my time as a Princeton undergraduate, I’ve sung along to “Old Nassau” more times than I care to count. By now, I’ve learned to drop an octave for the song’s latter half lest I run out of room at the top of my vocal range for the final notes. But there’s another life in which I and so many other Princetonians before me would’ve learned to sing the same words of our alma mater to another tune: Before the music was written, there was first an attempt to simply use the tune of “Auld Lang Syne” — that New Year’s classic which so beautifully yet hauntingly bids farewell to the old with some hope for the new. And while Commencement may be a celebratory occasion to mark the turning of a new chapter, these final moments before it, I’ve found them to be so weighed down by the haunts of farewells.
I’ve been thinking a lot about French toast lately. From the late-night Dean’s Date breakfast to talks of a final Forbes brunch — a Princeton milestone I have yet to accomplish — breakfast food has been a recent topic of discussion. Despite the frequent debates about the best dining hall brunch, I don’t typically associate breakfast food with Princeton. Instead, I think about my family.
In an effort to avoid the scramble of last-minute packing, I recently packed up my winter clothes. I discovered I own five Forbes branded jackets — a visible reminder that for the past four years, being a resident graduate student (RGS) at Forbes has been a large part of my identity.
This is the second part of reflections from NROTC cadets. Read the first part here.
This piece is narrated by Abigail McRea ‘23, with contributions by Wyatt Rogers ‘26, Megan Ogawa ‘23, William Suringa ‘26, and Lea Casano-Boris ‘25.
One year ago, on Ivy Day 2022, I went to my parents’ bedroom so my mom could record me reacting to my Princeton admissions decision.
“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and a happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her,” reads the opening line of one of Jane Austen’s most profound works “Emma,“ published in 1815. After reading this sentence for the first time, I immediately became intrigued by the comings and goings of the novel’s titular character, Emma. Who wouldn't be intrigued by an individual full of intelligence and beauty?
March 24, 2023, will go down as one of those days that somehow encapsulates everything I love about being a Princeton Tiger. It began with a thesis presentation, continued with a smiling singer, crescendoed on the basketball court, and dwindled with a quiet conversation heading home.
I’ve spent most of my life in a wheelchair. Using a wheelchair comes with plenty of perks: I could give myself approximately seven minutes to get from my former dorm in Bloomberg to my favorite journalism class in Joseph Henry House, and I never have to worry about the weight of my bags after a shopping spree (my handlebars are very helpful).
Whether it’s jokingly debating the best dining hall or going to one of the restaurants lining Nassau Street, nothing beats eating and socializing with companions after a long day of classes. At Princeton, food truly brings people together. But when you have severe food allergies, this culture can sometimes mean feeling disconnected from your friends.