Serving our nation from the Princeton bubble

Writing columns for this page can be an incredibly rewarding experience. Some of the words I have submitted to this publication have given rise to great debates and conversations with friends, classmates and professors. I expected that to happen when I began writing. What I did not expect was that my columns would put me in touch with many people outside of our campus community.

When I wrote about the 2002 Senate race, I got feedback from people all around the country who had found my columns through online searches. It was fun, and a little intimidating. I had no idea the 'Prince' had such reach.

A few months later, I had a lengthy conversation with a woman who detailed to me the ways in which the attributed misdeeds of a local politician had negatively affected her life. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why a complete stranger had approached me and related her personal grievances, and so about 10 minutes into our conversation, I asked her why she had contacted me with her story. She seemed rather surprised at my question, and responded that she had read my articles on political corruption and hoped that as a local journalist I might be able to expose the politician who had allegedly done her harm.

She had no idea I was just a kid in a dorm room writing columns for the school paper in the time between classes, rehearsals, and applications. To her, I was a part of a much larger community, a community that extended beyond even Nassau Street and Hoagie Haven. It was then that I realized I had joined the world without even knowing it.

One of the most common phrases I have heard on this campus is the "Princeton bubble." It is meant to call attention to the tremendous insulation from the "real world" that our ivory tower provides for us. We are often detached, and can spend our four years here without ever having to consider how people live their lives on the other side of paradise. But too often we also forget that when inside a bubble, even as we enjoy our insulation, everyone on the outside can peer in.

Every so often we are reminded of that fact. New York reporters sneak around our campus, hoping to catch a good story on the ebullience of Prospect Avenue. The record industry observes the ways in which our students share files over the network, and its representatives no longer remain silent on the issue. And complete strangers from outside the community read our publications, form opinions about us, and even ask favors of us.

When I consider what it means for Princeton to be "in the nation's service," I often assume that the years of undergraduate education are years of preparation. We are training to be servants of all types at some point in the future. And this interpretation is certainly valid. But after spending enough time in Old Nassau, I have begun to realize that President Wilson's dictum must have a more immediate effect on our lives. We are more than just servants-in-training. We have already engaged the world. Or perhaps more accurately, the world has already engaged us.

Even though we may just want to forget the world and be college students, we must remember why we call Princeton a bubble and not a cocoon. We're not hidden away in a secret resort (or country club). We are very much a part of a larger community. Events like Communiversity can help us remember, but ultimately, we must remind ourselves. And if I sound as if I am excessively characterizing the University as a city on a hill, it is only because too often we feel inclined to live as if our city were underground.

The transparency of the Princeton bubble is something with which each of us must deal in a unique and personalized way. But we should not view graduation or summer holiday as a chance to rejoin the community. In reality, we never left it, and the more fully we can grow to appreciate that fact on this campus, the better we can serve both our nation and all others.

Lowell Schiller is a Wilson School major from Warren, N.J.