I have often wondered why I attack Princeton's administration so often. One night last week, I tried to answer this question and was surprised to discover that I could not.
Republicans aren't misinformed on PalinRegarding "One step forward, two steps back" (Friday, Oct.
For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about what Princeton was like 33 years ago, when I first started working here.
Freshman year, a Princeton student may enter school knowing that a thing called "grade deflation" exists, but he's still determined to do well in classes.
For past generations of Princetonians, the notion of a global village was a familiar platitude; for ours, it will be a concrete reality.
A day late but not a penny short, columnists Adam Bradlow '11 and Michael Collins '11 discuss proposed legislation that would force Princeton to spend 5 percent of its endowment, seniors who didn't get a second year in Whitman's spacious digs, and whether there is any interest in the presidential election on campus after all.
As the current financial crisis leaves seniors scrambling to secure jobs or places in graduate programs, students from all classes are no doubt looking anxiously at what options await them after college.
I have a confession. In the five weeks that I've been a full-time Princeton student and member of Butler College, I've eaten only three full meals in Wu dining hall.
Last semester, I argued that I found it difficult to find men comfortably in the role of the feminist.
As I write this, it's just after 5 a.m. I'm flipping between Bloomberg and CNBC on the television after stumbling onto news of a freefall in the Asian markets earlier this morning.
Word from the other side of the Atlantic is that classes at Princeton started weeks ago.
I'm sure that to you readers out there - at breakfast, on the toilet or in prison - the life of a newspaper columnist must seem glamorous.
How many Princeton students does it take to screw in a light bulb?Two. One to mix the martinis, and one to call the electrician.
When it comes to social interaction, the University seems to believe you are where you eat; upperclass housing options are limited by where you eat your meals.
When I left for college, I said tearful good-byes to all my friends. We promised to stay in touch and excitedly listed all the things we would do when we next saw each other.
