By offering scholarships to incoming University students, the Jefferson Scholars Foundation aims to attract students who have exhibited Thomas Jefferson’s ideals of leadership, citizenship and scholarship — oftentimes bringing students to Grounds who would not be here otherwise.
It’s hard to imagine what life would be like without an iPhone. I picture my friends wearing bonnets, churning butter and playing with dolls at a creepily old age.
Every Saturday morning for all of autumn of 1999, with peepers in my eyes and a white cotton turtleneck under my jersey, I arrived at the elementary school gymnasium to run the wrong way down the carpeted court and touch the kiddie-sized basketball once all season. With a gusto that could be called respectable but not impressive, I supported my team with my shiny white Keds and my impeccable, parentally-enforced attendance record.
While most students at the University use summer recess as a time to decompress, earn money or gain career experience, third-year College student Megan Bentzin and second-year College student Isaac Mackey are looking forward to turning in their last bluebook come May so they can embark on a cross-country biking adventure from Texas to Alaska.
During Spring Break, some students headed south, some east and some west. I went back home to New York. Once there, I traveled south. Then I continued to travel south, as I sunk deeper and deeper into my couch.
I went down to New Orleans this past week to embark on a right of passage every college student must eventually face: job interviews.
It’s impossible to tread the bridge on McCormick during peak class-crossing hour without catching a whiff of the pungent athleticism running through the veins of the University.
In the past two weeks, I spent more than 20 hours in the confines of a car. This was especially unpleasant considering I am one of the people physically incapable of sleeping in moving vehicles. It’s probably because the stagnancy causes all of my already excessive energy to gradually collect in my body, so I’m left to experience every moment of the trip in a state of amplified consciousness.
Working out can bring about a sense of dread, obligation and exhaustion — but student instructors at the Aquatic and Fitness Center aim to make exercise fun for their peers.
Every year, nearly four months after the ball drops in New York City, another New Year celebration occurs. To help to ring in the Iranian New Year, referred to as “Nowruz” in Persian, the University’s Persian Cultural Society holds Iran Day to commemorate the spring equinox holiday — which fell this year on March 20, at 12:57 p.m. The festivities are complete with Iranian dances, poetry and music.
1. The know-it-all Did you know 34.5 percent of 14 seeded teams which score more than 4 points in the first 2 minutes and 46 seconds of the second half win 54 percent of their games if they’re wearing the color orange and the third quarter starts no later than 5:12 pm?
A double date done right
I found out Santa did not exist the first Christmas I can remember; the Easter bunny always freaked me out; I was pissed when I turned 11 and no letter arrived from Hogwarts; and finally, when my first baby molar came out, I didn’t tell my parents — I waited skeptically to see what the cold side of my pillow would surprise me with in the morning.
Any student who attends class knows the corner between the Amphitheater and the Lawn is a favorite spot for students aggressively promoting various clubs and events to camp.
I love you, Wahoos — and every single falsity below makes me love you all the more.
Sitting by a table at an indoor courtyard in New Orleans, an older woman with wispy gray hair and a slight hunch approached me. “There’s a dead body under that tree, you know,” she said, gesturing to the pot next to me. I did not know.
Sometimes we say meaningless things. Take, for example, the “sorry circle.” Someone accidentally gets in your way and says, “Sorry!” to make up for it — but it really wasn’t a big deal to begin with.
This past week, I was given a truly extraordinary gift. With the help of 54 friends, a humble leader and some of the most joyful children I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, I rediscovered simplicity.
I have a slightly embarrassing confession to make. A couple of weeks ago, I went to my first real, full-length a cappella concert.
In a moment in between midterm-induced nail biting and Clemson-dwelling, my friends and I retreated to Newcomb for a quick lunch.
