Instead of sitting at home while their student-husbands study, wives of married students at the University have formed their own organization for social activities, and are terming themselves "Cavalier Ladies." Thirteen charter members have banded together and set as their immediate objectives bridge parties, dances, a class in gymnastics, and other varieties of group entertainment.
Friday discussion at 8 a.m. By the time you graduate, you'll probably have at least one of these, thanks to your professor deliberately trying to hurt the normally, GPA-saving "participation grade." The discussions are inconvenient, rarely productive and embody the worst aspect of college.
"Why don't we just put Christmas lights up around the Lawn and have a party?" Sound like a good idea?
By Cliff Roberts Cavalier Daily Associate Editor For those students who have ever been stuck in Clemons at four in the morning cramming for that next final exam, the thought of having even just one more day to study probably sounds more than appealing.
My friends and I studying abroad in Lyon, France this semester are always joking about our "European Transformation." We'd like to think we'll come back to the University with great French accents, the latest Chanel products and a flawless air-kiss greeting.
Time is the only difference since my schedule ends at different times each day of the week. But everyday the ritual is the same: come home from class and fall on my bed.
With its sloping landscape, classical architecture and rich history, the Lawn is one of the University's most recognizable symbols, admired by students and the general public alike.
Crisp October mornings in Charlottesville are the best time of the year to watch the Rotunda burn.
Timing really is everything. We live from situation to situation, minute to minute -- that makes timing one of the most important factors in our experiences.
Back in September, when it was still warm and everyone asked, "How was your summer?" at least 200 times a day, I was also asked, "Where are you living this year?" When I answered, "the Mosaic House," most people just looked at me, dumbfounded.
By Michelle Jamrisko Cavalier Daily Associate Editor Abstinence programs will receive $170 million from the government next year, according to an article in yesterday's Washington Post.
I love plenty of things and people, but one of my greatest loves -- bordering on obses-sion, actually -- is "Sex and the City." I love the clothes, the women, New York City and the endless line of Mr. Big, Aidan, Smith, etc.
Decked out in my all-navy makeshift rescue squad uniform for the evening, I set out for McIntire Road, home of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Rescue Squad.
Out of an industrial, no-nonsense file cabinet, Anthropology Prof. David Sapir gently pulled a stack of small composition books bursting with character.
I am a pretty clumsy, awkward person. From walking down the street to eating spaghetti, I usually succeed at looking like an absolute fool, whatever the activity.
The exams, intramural sports, papers and parties can get to you. A typical part-time job makes life even more daunting.
Today's issue of College Topics is the first one published since our declaration of war. It is only fitting at this time that we outline our editorial policy. We pledge to every member of the University of Virginia community that we will do everything in our power to aid in the war effort.
Working over Thanksgiving Break is a joke. We all pretend we're going to do it, but then you end up watching every movie on cable.
While some may exhaustedly recite stories of heckling grandmothers and belligerent uncles with whom they were reunited over Thanksgiving dinner, third-year College student Michael Love has a different story. "Everyone gets along in my family -
When my mom's dad died, he left two things for my father.Alcohol and power tools. In the last years of his life, my grandfather would often take holiday dinners into his bedroom and eat in front of the television. Mom said he was "depressed." To me, watching TV on holidays instead of sitting at the dinner table in tight brown corduroys and an immeasurably itchy red sweater sounded like heaven. "Mommy, I want to be depressed with Poppy." "No you don't.
