The independent news organization of Duke University
In recent days, the Duke Kunshan University Campus has been unusually quiet. You still see the odd person walking about, but they tend to silently hide their face behind a school-distributed N-95 mask.
Claudia Koonz knows that talking to her can sometimes be difficult. “Don't talk to a Nazi historian if you want to cheer up,” she cautions with a laugh.
On Duke’s nearly-deserted Central Campus, one of the last buildings standing holds a vital resource.
Underneath the hazmat suits displayed apocalyptically all over the media are my aunties and uncles. Behind the suffering looming over Wuhan, China are generations of my family’s spirited stories.
As one of Duke’s few Iowans, I’m here to defend our first-in-the-nation caucuses.
Bench burning at Duke used to be defined by violence, chaos and impromptu fires. Today, bonfires are managed by A-Team.
Understanding that our setup within China can cause confusion or controversy, we would like to set the record straight.
In 1992, bench-fueled bonfires got out of hand and dozens of students were injured following the Blue Devils’ national championship. The hijinks prompted a reactionary motion to strictly enforce a campus bonfire ban.
After a series of tacit and overt clashes between students and administrators, what was once officially prohibited by the University has now become a carefully supervised ritual. This is the tale of how an illicit celebration became an institutionalized tradition.
Duke’s history is rife with student protests that echo one another, spanning from civil rights sit-ins to anti-ICE flyers.
The Chronicle wants to hear about your thoughts and concerns with wealth on campus.
Four courses prepared with the precision of an esteemed chef for $15, a rotating menu with profits going to the Food Bank of Central and Eastern North Carolina, merely six seats per dinner and all of it in an apartment at 300 Swift—meet The Black Tile.
Speaking with someone in your native tongue asserts a familiarity between speakers that few other cultural commonalities can so readily and directly establish.
Cosmos Lyles is not only the founder of Duke staple Cosmic Cantina. He was a triple major at Duke, and he loves to play guitar and invent useful gadgets. As his friend says, "He’s such an original thinker. He always figures out his own way of doing things.”
A cup of hot chocolate can be a great means of relaxation. Take in the flavor and you can often feel at ease, relaxed with the comfort of cacao’s liquid embrace and imparted with a sense of warmth within your soul. There are many places to get it on campus, but do you know which one is best?
Even working through all the inevitable challenges that come with such a multicultural experience, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.
Richard Riddell has won a Tony Award and serves in one of the University’s most powerful administrative positions. But if you survey Duke’s student body or a gathering of theater aficionados, few would be able to recognize him.
It became the hottest topic of The Chronicle opinion pages, the epicenter of a verbal firestorm between incensed Duke students.
Upon approaching, I could make out the sound of drums, a guitar, a voice. Despite the bitter cold, three people stood outside, one taking long drags from a cigarette and blowing out smoke that was carried away by the wind. Beside them, the window emitted a lime green light reminiscent of a Disney villain’s color of choice. “The Coffeehouse wants to be an alternative to mainstream social culture,” says Booking Manager Will Atkinson. “It’s not Shooters.”
There is an ambitious agenda for crafting a campus culture that strikes to blend Duke’s traditions into the local context of China, establish new traditions, and to create a unique university identity.
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