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I was born and raised in Colorado, a state best known (until it legalized marijuana) for its natural beauty and outdoors culture. But the high elevation which is the epitome of my home state’s beauty is its limitation: the Rocky Mountains’ fall hues are limited to conifer green and aspen gold, missing the rich and warm reds and oranges of their lower, eastern cousins. Arriving at Princeton, I had heard of and seen pictures of New England’s changing foliage, but my only voyages east of the Mississippi had been in spring and summer, so my freshman fall here was my first real exposure to this new palette. The trees on Goheen Walk seemed to join a chromatic chorus with the orange of my wardrobe and the orange chairs and pillars in Icahn as if to say, “Here is the new color scheme of your new life.”
A Sept. 29articlein The Daily Princetonianon “We Speak: Attitudes on Sexual Misconduct at Princeton University” survey results began by stating, “1 in 3 undergraduate women have experienced inappropriate sexual behavior at U.” The University’s own story on these results led with: “a sizeable majority [of students] knows where to go on campus for help following an incident of nonconsensual sexual contact.” The community’s response to the survey results has been disappointingly muted, perhaps because no one was surprised by the appalling facts the data exposed. Even the email from U. President Christopher Eisgruber ’83 described the findings as “heartbreaking” and “disturbingly and unacceptably high,” but he never suggested the numbers were shocking.
Let me state this outright so that there is no confusion. No, I don’t think Mexicans are rapists. No, I don’t support misogyny. No, I don’t think a large concrete wall along the U.S.-Mexico border is a sound appropriation of federal funds. And yes, I believe Obama is a legal U.S. citizen. Yet, for some reason, I find it hard to hate Donald Trump. In fact, I find his success fascinating, and a recent piece in The New York Times gave me a newfound appreciation for the man behind the persona.
The Honor Committee is an enigma to many students. As a freshman during orientation, you walk into Dillon Gymnasium, sign your name under the Honor Code and think nothing of it until the night before your first paper is due. Then, you try to remember the right wording for this complex but highly specific phrase that affirms that you have not cheated or plagiarized on the assignment.
At any given university, there are bound to be a few majors and pre-professional tracks that attract more students than others. It only took the first few days of my freshman fall to determine which of those were Princeton’s. If someone in the liberal arts school wasn’t pre-med, they were probably in the Wilson School (admittedly, I started out in the latter before landing on politics). A disproportionate number of engineers were typically either in the operations research and financial engineering or computer science departments.
As fortunate students at the University, we are thrown into a “melting pot” of cultures. Our classmates may have grown up halfway around the world and for some, English is not their first language. There are students who grew up in racially homogenous neighborhoods and students who come from areas that may not even have immediate access to grocery stores. There is a wide range of students here at the University and that’s the point, isn’t it — to provide everyone here with a wide range of experiences that can make each of us better future leaders?
He made us laugh and made multicolored sweaters cool. He donated to universities and loaned his art collection to the Smithsonian. Bill Cosby is a legend to us for many reasons.
Each day, engineering students make the long trek from their residential colleges to the Engineering Quadrangle for class. Students often have classes from morning to afternoon, sometimes with no more than 30 minutes between each class. Given that the closest dining hall — the Center for Jewish Life — is at least 10 minutes away, many students with meal plans are left with insufficient time before their next class to eat lunch. As a result, many students elect to spend their own money at the E-Quad Café. The Board believes that the University should support students who cannot easily access dining halls during lunchtimes and recommends that the E-Quad Café accept late meal swipes during normal lunch hours.
As I read “On arming the bubble,” published in The Daily Princetonian on Oct. 19 by senior columnist Sarah Sakha, my heart rate quickened. Although well intentioned, her reservations about arming Department of Public Safety officers in case of an active shooter on campus are deeply misguided. In light of several recent tragedies, it seems like everyone has an opinion about school shootings based on their biases towards guns, mental health, police militarization, etc.
Recently students have initiated an important reexamination of the legacy of President Woodrow Wilson, Class of 1879, as a white supremacist and questioned his place in the names of several of the University’s organizations, including Wilson College. The discussion of public figures and their flaws led me to think specifically about the other famous namesakes for residential colleges — Meg Whitman ’77 and John D. Rockefeller III ’29. Who are these individuals honored by the University, and what does this mean for our views on how to contribute to society?
The Pass/D/Fail option is available for students between the beginning of the seventh and the end of the ninth week of classes. Commonly referred to as P/D/F, this option is designed to encourage students to explore disciplines that they have little prior knowledge of without fear of negatively impacting their GPA. Currently, students may P/D/F up to four courses throughout their time at the University.
During the first couple weeks on campus, as the somewhat stereotypical freshman, I asked myself many questions: I wasn’t the only one who managed to get locked out of my dorm three times within the span of a week, right? For how long is it considered socially acceptable for freshmen to utilize good ol’ Google Maps to get around campus? Would I ever learn self-restraint when it comes to the limitless dining hall desserts? Why are there two Fisher Halls on campus? And, most importantly, why does the University not offer breakfast on weekends?
I’m interested in perverse incentives, those peculiar “M. Night Shyamalan plot twists” of policy-making in which motivational rewards actually cause unintended adverse effects. Take for example, the punishment system of Bangkok police for minor infractions like coming to work late or littering. They first tried to force minor rule breakers to wear tartan armbands. However, it only promoted pride instead of shame. Before the government realized what was going on, officers began actively collecting these armbands as souvenirs. In response, the punishment was updated to be a bit more emasculating — Hello Kitty armbands — blindingly pink and sufficiently humiliating. Fun fact.
We owe nothing to people who are deeply flawed.
I came to Princeton with the preconception that it is a safe, insular campus — no officers roaming around with guns, and no need for such either. And for the past year, I have always felt safe on a gun-free campus. So when I first heard the news of Department of Public Safety officers soon having access to firearms, I was, to say the least, unsettled.
My friends are well accustomed to my feminist rants by now. But last week when I asked if anyone else had seen the “Colonial Mansion” party signs with the playboy bunny logo, none of us could believe that it was actually happening. (At least not at Colonial.) But sure enough, over the next few days more and more posters popped up around campus.
Arriving to Princeton just one month ago, I never thought I would be wearing a pair of light pink, three-inch wedges. In high school, I would wear a t-shirt, jeans and Vans every day. I had dresses and sandals and dangly earrings, but they never left my closet. It would have felt weird to wear them at school where people were used to seeing me in such plain clothing. I had given up on trying to look cute by my junior year, mostly because I knew everyone at my school and didn’t care what they thought about me, but also because I didn’t have the confidence.
Though midterms are looming, last week Princeton students endured the first real storm of the season, the tail end of Hurricane Joaquin. With everyone confined to their bedroom for the two days of downpours, Yik-yak was saturated with one-liners about “Netflix and chill” and other complaints or celebrations of getting “wet.”
I met a lot of cool people while rushing St. A’s. And not just cool in the stylish sense; I met genuinely thoughtful and engaging and unconventional people. Which is exactly why it’s a shame that St. A’s is what it is.