Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Chronicle's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query. You can also try a Basic search
13 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
As a freshman, full of youthful fire and idealism, I joined the Humanitarian Challenges Focus program, traditionally an activist boot camp. Aside from the seminars, dinners and service-learning placements, we were also exposed to many of the student groups on campus that engage in humanitarian work, aid and activism.
On Wednesday, Nov. 3, 2004, there were a lot of distracted and unhappy people on this campus. The night before, we had found out that President George W. Bush would be returned to the White House for four more years. That night, I had dinner with my Focus cluster, Humanitarian Challenges at Home and Abroad.
Whatever the Romans might have thought, your alma mater is not your mother. Although private universities in particular have broad range to act "in loco parentis," they are not your parents. And I, for one, would like to say that this is a great thing.
The single most important reason that I came to Duke was to be able to study both mathematics and literature. In most of the world, I wouldn't be allowed to.
Before attending Duke, I spent 12 years in French government-run schools, whose unofficial goal is to turn a child into the kind of bureaucrat that has made French government what it is.
I am a very deep sleeper. Two years ago, I slept through the Death Cab for Cutie concert in Cameron despite the fact that, awake, I found the noise levels painful. Last year, I slept through a fire alarm. In high school, my mother knew my alarm had gone off when the wall between our rooms would start shaking. I would still sleep through it.
On Monday night, I had chicken for dinner.
I was recently given a powerful reminder of the importance of honor in the form of a foam cow. Gazing upon its white body with black spots, on which the words "got honor?" had been branded, I was struck by what now seems an obvious truth. The foam cow showed me what a lifetime of my parents' upbringing couldn't: cheating is bad.
Hidden between the platitudes we have come to expect from commentators on campus culture (sex and alcohol, oh my!), there was a brief moment of genius in the Campus Culture Initiative report. Though it made no attempt to substantiate what is, I believe, a radically new distinction to this debate, the report did suggest that the "actual norm" might not in fact be the "purported norm."
I am a math and literature double major, with a minor in Chinese. I don't think my education lacks breadth. But this isn't the story told by curricular codes. They have become the bane of my existence.
What's wrong with campus culture? I don't find social outlets-dry, wet or damp-limited or hard to find on campus. If I want to go to a big "party" where dozens of strangers get drunk on cheap beer, I can go to any one of the free, open section parties. If I want a similar situation with better drinks and a mechanical bull, there's always Shooters. If I want a smaller, more low-key party, I can visit friends' apartments. If I don't want to party at all, I live surrounded by people I'm happy to sit around and talk to. I have options.
Caricatures are remarkable things. It now seems as obvious that the bright, well-spoken young men from good families were set up by that lying black stripper, as it once did that a poor single mother reduced to escort work to pay her college bills was kidnapped, sexually assaulted and raped by those drunk, rich, white hooligans.
This weekend marked the end of a major chapter in the social disaster that is the Duke lacrosse scandal. Durham District Attorney Mike Nifong, whose woes will be news to no one reading this column, finally recused himself. Whichever way you look at it, this is a good thing. Nifong had long since become a liability to the case he has tried to prosecute; worse, his conduct in so doing has personally invested him in securing a conviction, rather than administering justice. We may never know what happened that night. At least now we will find out whether the prosecution has enough evidence for anyone to think the facts can be established beyond a reasonable doubt.
