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The Washington Post recently published an article entitled “The problem with ‘OK, boomer,’” in which author Holly Scott argues that historically, using generational divides to gain solidarity for change distracts in important ways from the real issues at hand. Scott points out how the youth activism of the ’60s ran into largely insurmountable obstacles, as the media focused more on generational tensions emphasized by the activism than the real divides against which the activists wished to fight. The real divides in the ’60s, Scott claims, were about power — “who had it and who did not.”
For the last few weeks, I’ve been watching my friends in tech and finance find out what they’ll be doing next year. From jobs at Amazon and Google to the Boston Consulting Group and McKinsey, they’re preparing themselves to be scattered across the country. Meanwhile, I sit and wait for my fellowship results to crawl into my inbox, anywhere between March and May. The wait is horrible, and I feel like a failure in the interim.
Claire Wayner, a fellow columnist, recently argued that we should bring back some of the features from Tigerbook in its original form. In brief, she argued that the benefits of having access to Tigerbook significantly outweighed concerns about the platform, and that the University ought to consider reinstating Tigerbook in its original form — and even add a few new features.
Fire safety inspections are an inconvenient but critical reality on college campuses. Just one person committing a serious violation — for example, removing the proper signage on “means of egress” — could put the lives of all of a building’s occupants in danger.
I write to solicit nominations for the Pyne Prize, the highest general distinction the University confers upon an undergraduate, which will be awarded on Alumni Day, Saturday, Feb. 22, 2020.
To the Princeton administration, faculty, and student body:
Recently, The Daily Princetonian interviewed Cami Anderson, the CEO of ThirdWay, an organization supposedly dedicated to a progressive redesign of discipline in schools, such that the most marginalized might be less disadvantaged by a system that emphasizes punishment over instruction. Insofar as it is true, this is a commendable project. But as those jaded enough to recognize the ominous character of a CEO in such close proximity to anything education-related might expect, the organization is perhaps less benevolent than its primary spokesperson would have us believe.
This semester I have been writing a series of articles calling attention to gender inequality among Princeton’s faculty and the various factors that cause that disparity — while those contributing circumstances are noteworthy, the lack of action within the University should be scrutinized. Princeton, as a self-proclaimed “first-class” institution, should lead educational institutions in gender equality, not lag behind. Yet Princeton is not unique — the culture of academia perpetuates the dismissal of female work.
About a month ago, the popular Facebook group Tiger Confessions shut down. Its moderator, who went by the alias Ty Ger, did not offer any public announcement; most of the group’s 5,000+ members just woke up to see a blank page when they tried to scroll through the group, as many did on a daily basis. A lot of students expressed sadness at the group’s closure, almost a year after its creation.
Many of us here may not make the time to journal. As hardworking students who “got into Princeton,” the idea of leaving time and effort to write down a journal entry every night might sound absurd. When there is a paper due at 8 a.m. the next morning, being told to reflect upon your deepest fears is just not going to have much appeal. But after the past few months of keeping a journal, I’ve learned that those 20 minutes of writing can teach you more about yourself than any assignment ever could.
From classes, to dorms, to dining halls, there is almost always a solid crowd of people just nearby. We have all experienced the rush of freshman year as we try to find and build our friend groups. Once we get settled into our Princeton experience, however, we rarely venture beyond the comfort of our selected friend group.
I used it to find rides home for the holidays, do statistical analyses on the top 10 states and cities of origin for my graduating class, and identify mutual connections through roommates I might know or shared residential colleges. On Sept. 6, 2019, that all changed when Tigerbook, my beloved research and social bonding tool for campus, removed all hometown, dorm, and roommate data from student profiles. For a time, photos disappeared as well. At first, I thought I could adjust, but two months later, I find myself using Tigerbook dramatically less frequently, and I believe that the removal of this data, while protecting students’ privacy to some extent, has overall resulted in a net loss to the Princeton campus.
I write this column barely an hour before I am scheduled to meet with my African American studies preceptor about revising my midterm paper for a new grade. I wrote the paper amidst the chaos of midterms week, in between studying for two exams and drafting another paper. Even if I had had a reasonable amount of time to complete the assignment, the reality is, it would not reflect my best work. But in a typical Princeton course, it would be my final version of the essay.
We approach 2020 and women across the world still have to beg for access to basic menstrual health and hygiene products. As men continue to define what constitutes the human body and its needs, the fact that menstruation is a basic human function that half the world’s population experiences every month is completely drowned out during conversations about the body.
In the gloriously queer “Take Me to Church,” Hozier intones, “The only Heaven I’ll be sent to / Is when I’m alone with you / I was born sick, but I love it.” In terms of lyrical expressions of erotic liberation, it’s hard to beat.
The 12 of us are wedged in small chairs, arranged in a casual semi-circle, facing the lecturing professor. Finally, he turns to us, asking a question. A few hands rise up into the air, and then one of us speaks. The hands go back up. Someone replies. The hands go up again. Someone else chirps in.
The Nov. 21, 2001, issue of the Princeton Alumni Weekly lauded Donald Rumsfeld ’54 as a “wrestler, pilot, and organizer extraordinaire … lead[ing] the U.S. defense department into perhaps its toughest fight ever.” After his courageous actions on Sept. 11, 2001, which included helping to carry a stretcher from the Pentagon’s smoldering ruins, Rumsfeld basked in the country’s esteem. Right on cue, his alma mater celebrated its virtuous son: Secretary of Defense to a nation under attack.
On Tuesday, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments for and against the Trump administration’s attempted rescission of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). The program, enacted by President Barack Obama in 2012, forestalls deportation for more than 600,000 Dreamers — undocumented immigrants brought to the United States as children.
Perhaps no life change has been romanticized as much as leaving home and entering college. Such a major life alteration had been impressed on me by family, friends, and especially school. Last May, even after all of my high school classmates and I had decided where we would attend college, our college counselors invited us all back for a Transition Night — an introduction to the dramatic differences between high school and college life.
In the 1970s, after the University reexamined its relationship with ROTC, it decided to get rid of credit for ROTC courses. Since then, Princeton has been one of the very few schools that do not offer credit to ROTC students. This accreditation problem has been revisited over the years, and nothing has changed. I write this column today asking for change to be made, not as a representative of ROTC, but as one of the many students in the ROTC program who have had to deal with this unfair policy.