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(02/04/16 4:48pm)
At a holiday party over winter break, I asked a high school friend, who had entered Yale as a freshman in the fall, about her college experiences. Between boozy tales and suite-mate anecdotes, she mentioned that she had joined a publication and dropped it within two weeks. Explaining why, she claimed that the publication’s expectations for new members proved too much for her to handle and, in her mind, produced little pay-off. She informed me that Yale’s student organizations rarely require selective applications or auditions— just an obscene level of commitment for their new members. First, I doubt this to be ubiquitously true of Yale’s student organizations. I imagine the worlds of elite a capella, the Yale Daily News and secret societies would scoff at such a trusting assumption. The conversation did make me wonder, though: is Princeton’s extracurricular culture of requiring applications for any and nearly every club membership the best method for funneling students into causes to which they will truly be committed?
(12/10/15 7:45pm)
With course selection fast approaching, I am reminded that, as a sophomore, I am left with the inadequate time frame of one more semester to come to terms with the limitations of my skill set, the scope of my academic passions and the professional realities a certain degree might produce for me. As a lover of the humanities who has been sidetracked by some ill-defined yet insuppressible attraction toward the pragmatic, employable and fiercely pertinent intellect of STEM concentrators, I have hoped that some level of reflection would bring me closer to discovering the exact origins of this feeling of vocational uncertainty that I have and whether it is at all remediable.
(11/08/15 11:45am)
“My professor doesn’t respect my athletic commitments at all,” a student-athlete ranted to me during a study session sometime last week, referring to a specific incident in which her professor had responded with frustration when she informed him of an athletic conflict three days before a quiz. I remained sympathetic, but when another friend later revisited the conversation with me, she dismissed it entirely: “I mean, it’s not really fair for athletes to get special treatment anyways.”
(10/05/15 10:04am)
Upon reading a recent article by guest columnist Luis Ramos ’13, in which he recalls his journey from cultural negation to cultural promotion and ultimately urges Princeton students to use their educational equipment to “help dismantle racism and prejudice,” I came away feeling both mildly inspired and mostly skeptical. Ramos asserts that “everyone can embrace the diversity that makes Princeton and this country so special,” but I’m not so sure if everyone can. I do not feel the need to mention what seems to me a palpable apathy toward discussions of race by the people who might benefit from them the most. Rather, I would like to focus on a particular social phenomenon that disables arguably the most agent leaders of discussions on race and ethnicity — that is, minorities with personal stakes in such matters — by necessitating their own cultural- and self-negation so that they might blend in and secure their candidacy for upward social mobility.
(03/31/15 10:24am)
Last week, out of the hundreds of surveys for senior theses and university-sponsored initiatives that flooded my inbox (already filled with 1,915 unread messages and counting), I chose to complete the Pace Center Survey.
(02/25/15 7:52pm)
Apparently, some 24-hour bug has been going around for the past few weeks. I unfortunately know this firsthand, not because I have the stomach flu (yet), but because I recently had to stomach the effects of someone else’s flu.