In a recent column, fellow columnist Cameron Langford called for political discourse on campus, citing Princeton’s unique status as the “conservative Ivy” as conducive to more meaningful political discussion than one might find at other peer institutions where conservative thought may be paid little to no attention. While I agree with the sentiment — that political discussion is a good thing and should be encouraged — I find that there is a disconcerting limitation that accompanies the sort of dialogue that Langford recommends.
There are already many dedicated and effective tutors working through the residential colleges and through McGraw, but there definitely seems to be space for more students to apply. In Forbes, my residential college, the director of studies sent out multiple emails asking for peer tutors. Most tutors at the McGraw Center spend three hours twice a week in Frist. With more tutors, the programs could reach more students. A larger tutoring staff could also enable McGraw and the residential colleges to reduce the required time commitment, which could attract qualified students who would not have otherwise applied. If these programs recognized diverse pathways to mastery, they could attract more tutors who are just as passionate, committed and knowledgeable.
The tired admonition of youth voter participation is simply no longer valid, a feat our generation doesn’t get enough credit for. If there’s a trend out there that we really need to counter, it’s this belief that we aren’t active. I think the general electorate stands to gain a lot by better acknowledging the growing importance of youth voters.
The iPhone 5 has arrived. It is barely different from last year’s iPhone 4S, yet it still commanded the same level of fanaticism from Apple fans, who camped out in front of stores for hours just to get their hands on one.
But in the midst of Shirley’s call to Occupy, there was a spirit of something more active. Service is not the doings of a deep Firestone-dweller but of one who can “take this University by storm, make it uniquely your own, and leave it better than you found it.” Her words mark a push from diligent service to vigorous activism. This notion touches on a sore point for Princeton: our community is reputed to be antithetical to change and apathetic to activism.
So why do we just assume that a line is the best way to go? What makes us slowly and silently resign ourselves to an inefficient fate? I am neither a psychologist nor a sociologist, so I can’t provide an empirically sound account for this phenomenon. But I can offer the musings accumulated by a person who has spent many aggregated hours standing in lines and being unhappy about it.
I hate to dedicate an entire column to a topic as mundane as the laundry room but hold onto your eye rolls and scathing comments for just a second and hear me out. I’m just asking that we shape up — myself included. I don’t expect everyone to be folding the underwear of the mystery person who used the dryer previously, or even to use the whiteboards because we all know there’s never a freaking marker anywhere to be found, but there are some practices of common courtesy that should be routine.
As women writers who have been vocal in pointing out the disparity between the ways men?s and women?s books are treated, we were disheartened to read Professor Jeffrey Eugenides? comments during an interview with Salon, in which he accused Jodi Picoult (?87) of ?bellyaching.? His implication: a successful author should have nothing to complain about.However, as we have been suggesting for years, there is a serious and persistent problem in the way books are covered?and being best-sellers does not blind us to the problems, or give us the right to sit in ladylike silence while sexism and double standards persist.Here?s the issue: the women Eugenides teaches will graduate into a world where their work is less likely to be acquired by publishers, where their books are less likely to be reviewed, and where they are less likely to write for important publications.As Professor Eugenides knows, the literary canon is fluid.
On Saturday, a suicide bomber killed himself and one bystander in Yemen. On Friday, 19 people died in a plane crash in Nepal. Two weeks ago, at least 10 people were blown up in the Pakistani cities of Quetta and Karachi. Six Turkish soldiers and one civilian died in a bomb blast last week. On Sept. 22, a 29-year-old Irish woman disappeared after walking home from a night out in Melbourne, Australia. Five days later, a woman’s body was found in a shallow grave at the side of a dirt road, 31 miles north of the city. At the time of writing, over 3000 coalition troops have died since fighting began in Afghanistan in 2001. The list goes on. We hear about it, but the numbers are too big, the incidents too numerous. The world spins, the bad stuff persists and only sometimes do we really think about it.
It is the year 2000 in Indianapolis, Ind., and my friend Ian and I are standing on the playground in the shadow of the monkey bars, yelling at the enemy camp set up behind the tetherball pole.
Given the importance of the leadership of the new Princeton and the ease with which students can vote, we will begin opening our Opinion page to the debate about the mayoral race.
Aug. 10, 2010 was a momentous day — probably one of the most significant days of my youth. It was the last day I ever put a relaxer in my hair.
Cool air has arrived even in Princeton, so it must be true: My 37th summer between years of teaching is over. No part of academic life matters more, and none provokes more derogatory comments.
Our studies at Princeton often seek to address human struggle, be it through technology, medicine, policy or the arts. To do so, we must often stray from the ivory tower and go out into the world. The opportunity to study abroad is vital to the academic and professional success of many students. Unfortunately, the current study abroad program does not always allow for students to engage with the cultures and issues that they study.