At the ends of the emails she sends students in response to tragedy, University President Teresa Sullivan typically emphasizes how we must “come together as a community.” Though this advice seems appropriate in theory, in practice it is difficult for people to cultivate an environment in which they share complex emotions without fear of judgment or imposition.
Asking someone how he or she is doing is a pretty standard part of any conversation. Whether it comes as an effort to catch up with a distant friend over coffee, or thrown casually over a shoulder to an acquaintance passing by on the Corner, it’s a question I ask dozens of times a day.
November is the time of the year people acknowledge the friends, family members and good fortune for which they are most grateful.
Fraternities and sororities from the Multicultural Greek Council (MGC) and the National Panhellenic Council (NPHC) battled it out this past Friday at the Battle Grounds Stroll Competition.
The Native American Student Union and their guests began Thanksgiving festivities early Saturday with its fifth annual Heritage Fair in honor of Native American Heritage Month.
Selected from over 250 applicants, the Marching Band is headed to New York City on Monday.
This past Wednesday, Deafness Education & Awareness for Students (DEAFS) at U.Va. brought students together for an American Sign Language (ASL) workshop at Open Grounds.
On the first day of fall break, I found myself on a stuffy, cramped MegaBus to New York City. My poor mother helped me drag my suitcase to the bus station, and after I waved goodbye out the window, an old lady who reeked of soap and apples plopped herself down next to me.
As we wind down the fall semester and temperatures begin to drop, students everywhere begin to accept the harsh reality of the changing seasons.
For many reasons, I am not comfortable with the idea that reducing the stigma behind mental health starts with equating mental illness with physical illness.
The phrase “we, the people” implies a populants of a society are inherently interconnected. Coined by our forefathers, the words link the people of a nation using one commonality: our shared humanity. I find myself keeping these words in mind as I begrudgingly approach the end of my college career.
I am sorry to have to write this article. I want so badly to instead pen my full-throated support for the grassroots movement for equality that is long overdue.
My preschool class used to pray before our daily snack of graham crackers and lemonade: “God is great.
As I glance at my phone, I see a the number 18 in a red circle above my Gmail icon. I turn my phone back off and put it in my pocket.
When I met fourth-year College student Logan Dandridge last week in Alderman Café, I put my hand out for an introductory handshake, but he was already leaning in for a hug.
On my desk shelf, wedged between an assortment of books I have not touched since syllabus week and a massive salt rock I impulsively bought at the National Aquarium, I keep a glass box crammed full of love letters.
"It definitely makes me want to go on more dates now."
Which professor is best for this class? Is this class going to destroy my GPA? The Course Forum aims to answer these questions.
“I mean, it’s not like I care,” she said to me as we walked down Rugby Road one Friday night, headed home in the chapped fall air.
Lately my thoughts have brought me back two years in time to my high school health class — or perhaps another class, the details are blurred in my memories — in which we were gathered to watch a TEDx video about stress and how it can negatively affect one’s health.
