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The day was blustery and the door propped open. The only thing that stood between us and the wind was a curtain of strips of heavy plastic. It was 11 a.m. and the restaurant was virtually empty, so our server brought out a large bowl of dark chicken-bone soup before we had the chance to open our menu. Small tidbits of corn and ligament gyrated gently in the murk at the bottom of the bowl.
This month, over three-quarters of sophomores chose to join one of the 11 eating clubs that line Prospect Avenue. These clubs — which have histories spanning 139 years — open a gateway to new social lives. With their opulent mansions, popularly-ingrained stereotypes, and mysterious names like Ivy Club, Tower Club, and Colonial Club, eating clubs seem to be as uniquely Princetonian as an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel.
I had my first encounter with “yellow fever” my sophomore year of high school. As I watched my friend pine after a different girl every month, I could not help but notice the common denominator — they were all Asian. While I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, it reached the uncomfortable point where his choices blurred from having a “type” to having a fetish. Yet, I decided not to intervene — a choice that I have come to greatly regret.
Since the sexual misconduct allegations against Professor Sergio Verdú by graduate student Yeohee Im, The Daily Princetonian continued to cover the case. Recently, the ‘Prince’ published a piece detailing additional allegations of sexual misconduct Verdú has had with his graduate students. In response, members of the University community have expressed support for both Verdú and for Im. Yanina Shkel, a postdoctoral scholar in the ELE department, wrote a Letter to the Editor today critiquing the ‘Prince’s coverage of this case.
Sexual misconduct, and the University's inadequate response to it, has become a much-needed topic of discussion, in part because of Yeohee Im’s bravery to discuss it. As was reported this week in the Daily Princetonian, I was one of the people who gave reports to the University surrounding this incident. Notably, the reports began even before Yeohee’s unfortunate incident.
I would like to respond to a recent article in The Daily Princetonian detailing “new allegations'' against my colleague and mentor, Professor Sergio Verdú. It is troubling how this article constructs its narrative by enveloping Verdú, as well as all the women associated with him, in a fog of rumor, suspicion, and supposition. By publishing an article with such sensationalism and general lack of concrete facts the ‘Prince’ appears to be driven by a tunnel vision desire to vilify Verdú, and not by journalistic integrity, duty to inform the public, or concern for the women involved.
"If you were to die tonight with no further communication to the outside world, what is that last thing that you want people to know?" an Ivy Club member asked me, no more than five minutes into our Bicker interview. I stared around at the glossy wood bookshelves in Ivy's library for a few seconds as I contemplated a genuine response that would not give away too many personal details to a complete stranger.
Since its inception in 2013, the Princeton Pre-read has introduced incoming first-year students to pressing current events, societal, and campus issues. The Class of 2019’s Pre-read, for example, discussed how race affects mobility. It was aptly assigned in 2015 — a year that saw the rise to national prominence of black police shootings, a subject which received significant media coverage and sparked polarized protests across the country. We see from past trends that the Pre-read speaks to the current state of our society and may even serve as a larger symbol of campus events. Hitting on topics like equality, stereotypes, populism, and honor codes in recent years, the Pre-read educates and makes students aware of issues that may present themselves at the University.
This article is part of a reoccuring column on politics and pedagogy at Princeton. For hyperlinks, please see the online article.
A mob of students spilled out of Frist Campus Center and walked down Prospect Avenue. A few peeled off of the main group one by one as they passed by the succession of elegant mansions. Sharp wind gusts blew snow flurries from the rolling gray storm clouds above. Despite the dismal weather, students chatted cheerfully while lining up in front of the eating clubs.
Last December, campus was buzzing with talk about the Honor Committee, as four referenda generated vigorous debate and large voter turnout. The level of energy and engagement in the process showed how much students care about having an effective and fair system to ensure academic integrity.
On Feb. 8, Princeton Pro-Life penned a letter in The Daily Princetonian after marching in the 45th annual March for Life in Washington, D.C. In the letter, the group promoted its anti-abortion, pro-life stance through the misleading rhetoric of “love.” Although I genuinely appreciate PPL’s attempt to support its pro-life perspective with empathy (rather than with misogyny or reactionary conservatism), the PPL letter’s rhetoric of love dangerously oversimplifies the complexity of the abortion debate.
A massive hint tucked away in an instructor’s reply to a follow-up on a Piazza post. Eight hours wasted on a problem set because you couldn’t make it to office hours where they told attendees a big clue. Review sessions where the teaching assistant walks through a problem virtually identical to one on the midterm, but you were at sports practice or a job interview or sick at McCosh Health Center. Coding assignments where having beefed-up hardware would have provided a significant advantage. Even in supposedly “objective” STEM fields, grading can be a befuddling, frustrating, and often inequitable process. Add to this the common complaints of humanities students about the subjectivity of grading in their fields — how one preceptor grades more harshly than another, or how some professors use an indecipherably cryptic rubric to assess papers, or even how writing style can shroud a strong argument — and we see that the difference between supposedly good and bad grades at Princeton is often arbitrary.
At one point in time, I wanted to be scientist. I was eight and I really, truly knew what I wanted from life. But to my recollection, that was the last time I was truly sure about anything.
“Conscious of his emptiness, a man tries to make a faith for himself in the political realm. In vain.”
Responsible gun safety legislation — or the lack thereof — is something that dominates my daily thoughts, and those closest to me know not to bring up the topic unless they’re willing to hear me discuss it for the next hour. I repeat the facts and figures on gun violence to classmates, in hopes of planting the seeds of future activism and voting behavior. I forward them articles and hope that, together, we can change the conversation on gun legislation.
In the heat of the current political climate, the upcoming 2018 election cycle is drawing candidates from an unlikely source: natural scientists. According to an article by the Huffington Post, over 60 researchers and technologists will be running for federal office, and more than 200 candidates with technical backgrounds are vying for state-level positions. This comes at a time when many in the scientific community are rolling up their sleeves and channeling their expertise to defend evidence-based policy in an array of efforts to support environmental and social movements.
Professor Lawrence Rosen’s course ANT 342: Anthropology of Law is the reason I majored in anthropology. He commanded the attention of 200 students as if the class were a five-person seminar. Twenty years later, I still remember the examples he used in class and how excited I felt to have found an intellectual home at the University.
The notorious Yale psychology course, PSYC 157: Psychology and the Good Life, has swelled to sizes previously unheard of at the college, beating its own record from earlier in the year with 1,147 attendees at most recent count. PSYC 157, not yet blessed with the kind of snappy name Princeton students would undoubtedly have given it (think “Stars for Stoners,“ or, my personal favorite, “Bridges”). But the Yale course promises “psychological insights into how to live a better life and build a better world,“ as well as “scientifically-validated strategies for becoming happier.” These are lofty claims that raise obvious questions: what kind of psychological insight makes life better? How is science claiming to cure happiness? Although valid, these are questions that neatly sidestep the underlying quandary that this course, like most other manifestations of positive psychology, truly raises. What does “better” mean? What makes one really “happier?” These are questions humanity has grappled with for the better part of its existence, and while I staunchly believe that the answers shall someday be unearthed, I am skeptical that the site of this discovery will be in a lecture hall with nearly 1,200 people.