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My blood ran cold as I watched the man smash his fist into his victim’s face. The other man crumpled to the floor, but the assailant continued to strike. I was terrified. This was neither a scene from an action movie nor a training simulation. It was real-life violence, unfolding before my eyes.
In the Class of 2018 and 2019 combined, there are currently a total of 682 juniors and seniors concentrating in engineering. Of the 682, only 240 of those concentrators are women — only 35 percent. Why did this initial 44 percent of female students drop down to 35 percent?
Instead of subtle design surprises greeting the pedestrian who rounds a corner, here everything was presented at once.
Even as a sophomore and senior in high school, I had a job outside of school. But today, I am no longer seeking work at Chipotle; instead, I am applying to internships with “analytical chemist” or “hospital shadow” in the position title. In a single year, my priorities and responsibilities as a college student have forced me to grow faster than I did in four years of high school.
Some days I love being sucked into this Princeton dimension. Staying up late in Firestone, surrounded by many other students who are in the same boat. Walking back to my room at midnight without feeling the need to look over my shoulder. And yet, some other days, I realize I haven’t called my mom in a week. I have no idea what is happening in the news. I am not keeping track of all the money I am spending so casually with my prox.
I fundamentally disagree that the hospital is in any position to decide whether a little boy who is fighting for his life should be allowed to continue his fight, or whether he must accept death as inevitable.
I’ve only recently come to realize that there really isn’t anything wrong with me just because I don’t enjoy going out. It’s just not who I am. And after two years, I’m okay with that — you should be, too.
Instead of only explaining how great the myriad groups here are, playing into our cliquish reputation, we should assure the prefrosh that it’s alright to take time to adjust to college life before plunging into extracurricular activities and groups.
An opinion column published by The Daily Princetonian on April 23, 2018 drew my attention. As the Director of Medical Services, I agree wholeheartedly with two of the primary points, that “the failure to disseminate knowledge about how such services work only heightens fear and apprehension in the student body,” and that there is always room for improving access to services. Therefore, I felt it important to respond by clearly communicating information about our approach to ensuring ready access to health care and a few of the specific services we offer.
In the fall of 2018, Princeton’s history department will offer sixty-four courses. Of those courses, none are cross-listed with the Program in Latin American Studies.
Imagine a crowded living space with bad plumbing, old hallways, and exposed pipes, where toilets overflow and make an unsanitary disaster, where human feces are found in the shower, urine found in trash cans, shower curtains removed as pranks, and then people of color and people of unprivileged socioeconomic backgrounds have to clean it all up.
You don’t have to imagine it to believe it. This place exists here at Princeton University, the number one school in the country.
Life is short. Why not spend it doing something that fulfills you?
There is a university that exists where everyone says hi to each other. They greet one another with a warm embrace, arms outstretched and welcoming. Most of the time, the hugs aren’t hollow. Everyone eats together. They live together. Community is more than a euphemism. Apartness is elided.
Where does this university exist? Not here, certainly. It is clear that our University is not this university.
But it could be.
At least for this PPE concert, considering context has inevitably opened up the question of purpose: Why was I so resistant to adapting my piece? I hesitated because I had not anticipated these changes, and because they went against much of what I had learned as a soloist. But this is the Pianists Ensemble, and I do not walk onto the stage as a soloist.
Although the clinic is open 24 hours a day, emergency contraception is only available during business hours, when a doctor or nurse trained in sexual healthcare is available. To obtain emergency contraception, one has to endure a conversation with a nurse or doctor about safe sex. When one is so vulnerable regarding their sexual activity, having to speak with a relative stranger at length about it only makes an already uncomfortable situation worse.
The current dining plan controversy asks the question: who is responsible for controlling social life on campus? These policies exemplify the administration taking control in this arena.