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It’s clear that being an exceptional individual isn’t enough to get into Princeton. Almost everyone has had some sort of exceptional privilege, in their financial situation or a more specific admissions booster. A “real” Princeton student is a product of privilege, luck, and money, and I do think that needs to change. There are broader, systemic inequities in the admissions system, like the over-representation of certain races and income groups, and faculty and legacy preferences. When people question the legitimacy of my admission, it usually comes from a feeling of personal injustice.
Given this University’s historical legacy in public interest and its embedded tradition of service to humanity, why did 33 percent of undergraduates from the Class of 2016 go into financial or professional and technical service jobs, while less than 2 percent went into public service? What can the University do to encourage more undergraduate students to pursue a rewarding career in public service after graduating?
In the past, I’ve been all too guilty of contributing to the silencing of conservatism. These actions come at a cost.
While it is tempting to lump Asian-American women in with either all women or all Asian Americans, this approach is shortsighted. Instead, we need to consider how the stereotype of Asian femininity compounds with the “model minority” myth. The complex interplay of these stereotypes generates unreasonable expectations of extreme compliance and unquestioning service for Asian-American women. And it is these expectations that can severely restrict them from moving forward.
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.