To continue the conversation among the graduate student community, the section is looking for regular contributing columnists.
I’m the friend whose phone is always dead and I can tell you it’s liberating.
Gun violence takes lives. But it also takes some life away from the living. I’ve heard it said that our generation won’t stand for this kind of violence to continue once we are in power. Surely, our generation will do something. Please, my dear classmates and leaders of the future, let that be true.
The University — specifically, the University’s student body — needs to undergo a cultural reformation. That is, we need to be more conscious of how we contextualize and frame mental illness, as this will affect how students with mental illness are socially ranked.
After the initial excitement and compulsive netID distribution at the club fair, club involvement is often not all that it’s advertised to be. Despite our over-involvement in high school, at Princeton our student organizations suffer from a lack of commitment.
PAJ (and by extension, its leadership) suffers from a practical limit of effectiveness, an affliction of aimlessness, and a passivity of purpose.
In a series of articles, I hope to draw attention to a few buildings on our campus that do not fall easily into one of the two architectural extremes. Possessing neither the timelessness of Collegiate Neogothic nor the novelty of contemporary architecture, they occupy a perhaps awkward, or in the eyes of many students even undesired, position on campus.
In December 2014, one of my high school classmates, Paige Stalker, was killed in a hail of gunfire on the east side of Detroit. Police reports suggest that this was a case of mistaken identity in a dispute between drug gangs. But the circumstances of the shooting are irrelevant to the outcome of the case. About 30 shots were fired in the course of the altercation. Three other teenagers riding in the car with Paige were injured. Paige was 16 years old.
Gun control policy must be comprehensive — strict regulation, mandatory buybacks, prominent oversight — for gun violence to ever begin to approach an acceptable level: none. And by this metric, common sense gun reform is not enough.
Harvard, Yale, Penn, Brown, and Cornell—the other schools in the Ivy League which possess their own campus police—have already made the choice to give their sworn officers handguns and effectively defend their campuses.
Inevitably, feelings get hurt, friendships are broken, and the issue doesn't get any closer to being resolved. We should stop making and responding to political posts on social media because most people dislike or don’t care about them.
Please join me in imploring the university and the town to make the walk signal automatic before, rather than right after, the inevitable tragedy.
I can only imagine how many meaningful relationships I’ve missed out on because of my fixation on shoes, instead of the story behind them.
Reading novels is an important investment in itself, and those who neglect to read fiction are at a loss. Fiction paints unexplored worlds that we cannot find in our textbooks.
The goal of these requirements should be to spur us into taking classes in new fields so that we may discover the breadth of our passions; instead, it is as if we take classes for the purpose of fulfilling these requirements.
It is critical that an emphasis be placed on using all past school shootings in policy decisions, not just the most recent ones.
Higher specialization and better care, both of which we should expect in central New Jersey as a result of Princeton Health’s acquisition by Penn Medicine, will improve patient outcomes, aid in medical student training, and increase financial compensation for UPHS. Good deal? I think so.
In moments of grief, this truth becomes particularly palpable. I still remember one such instance from my junior year of high school. As I was leaving school late one Friday afternoon, shuffling across the empty parking lot, I received an unexpected call from my mom. She spoke quietly, as if trying to soften the blow of what was to come: A student I had gone to middle school with had just taken their own life, dying from a self-inflicted gunshot.
I get stopped every single time when I go through security. And when I wear my hoodie with the large orange letters on it, I feel a bit of self-satisfaction that there’s a great chance that Princeton will save me from discrimination.
