This past weekend, I attended a concert in the Crystal Ballroom of Somerville with a friend. Much to my chagrin, he elected to leave before the opener even stepped foot on stage, citing other commitments. It was then that I knew I had a topic for my column.
When I considered studying abroad in Paris, I pictured cafes, a trip to Dior, sightseeing and, somewhere lower down the list, my French university experience. As I prepared to depart, Tufts Global Education provided insight into immersing oneself into a new culture, seizing new opportunities and managing finances with too many spending opportunities and limited cash. Yet, what I wasn’t as well prepared for was a return to university life at Tufts and a rigorous academic schedule. Both proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated.
The focus of our education system often places tangible results above all else. What letter grade can a student get? What is the average GPA? What is the graduation rate? These are the tangible factors that are discussed when implementing school policies. However, in placing so much trust in these seemingly irrefutable numbers, we are forgetting that schooling is a community effort. The environment in which students are taught will influence students as much as the grades they get on their algebra exams. The environment of our schools has increasingly drifted towards a sense of complacency and a lack of responsibility.
I’ve lost count of how many times I have been “STEM-splained” by an engineer with a condescending undertone of how hard their degree is — a degree they chose entirely of their own free will. Each time, I am forced to entertain calculated complaints about their workload, fully aware that it’s a thinly veiled attempt to prove they have a more challenging degree than me.
Before getting into my argument, I must point out that I am far from a supporter of the Sudanese Armed Forces. Despite this, recent atrocities committed by the Rapid Support Forces after the defection of one of their commanders have reinforced my opinion that it would be best for the country ...
College, as we think we know it before attending, is nothing more than the thirst-driven mirage leading us through the exhausting traverse of high school. It guides us through our teens to what is made out to be “the best four years of our lives.” Once we arrive, our own experiences inevitably fail to live up to the impossibly high standards that we have been conditioned to set.
Dying, nearly dying or jail — these were my only outcomes, I was told, if I were to have a sip of alcohol or experiment with any other drug. In high school health class, I remember playing an online simulation in which I was a high schooler attending a house party. Every time I decided to drink, the simulation would either flash forward to my avatar rotting in jail or lying in the hospital on death’s door. Everyone in my class was told this. All our unique identities, backgrounds and futures — all reduced to the consequence of one “idiotic” decision.
The connection between the war in Ukraine and climate change might not be evident at first glance. Discussions of environmental damage brought upon by Russian warfare rarely appear on the front pages of major newspapers. Yet, recent scientific studies highlight that the war not only deteriorates ecosystems in Ukraine, but also accelerates global warming by emitting heat trapping greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere.
On Tuesday, Massachusetts voters considered a slate of ballot questions. Ballot Question 2 stood out in the midst of the four other questions as the only ballot initiative asking about education. Question 2, which passed with 59% of the vote, simply asked about the “Elimination of MCAS as a high school graduation requirement.” While this might seem great from the perspective of a graduating high school student, it is part of an alarming trend toward the elimination of educational standards.
When I was eight years old, I accompanied my grandpa (Papa) to the polls for the 2012 general election. This was the first time I ever “voted.” I remember watching him get his ballot, and going with him into the voting booth. He had a list with him of the candidates he wanted to vote for. However, once he got to the local elections, he started asking me which name looked better. Whichever name I said, he voted for.
Regardless of who wins today’s presidential election, the Democratic Party needs to do some serious soul-searching on their handling of this election cycle. Kamala Harris is the current vice president, a former senator from California and a former prosecutor. Her Republican opponent, former President Donald Trump, is a race-baiting, idiotic and egotistical man who continuously spews conspiracy theories out of his mouth. Yet, the race is somehow tied, with Republicans predicted to sweep both chambers of Congress. How could this possibly be happening?
America has a problem with passivity. It’s not the kind of passivity that prevents us from responding to threats — many attacks on our country are met with a disproportionate, violent response. American passivity has to do with an unwillingness to address (or even acknowledge) injustice, especially the type of injustice that benefits those in charge.
Mere weeks before the 2024 election, several major newspapers, including The Washington Post and the Los Angeles Times, have announced that they will not be endorsing a presidential candidate this cycle. This flies in the face of tradition for both of these widely read publications and was met with consternation and resignations from their own organizations.
On Sept. 16, after 10 months of public accusations, larger-than-life hip-hop rapper and executive Sean “Diddy” Combs was arrested at a New York City hotel. The next day, his indictment was unsealed. The 14-page document charges Combs with racketeering, sex trafficking and transporting individuals for use in prostitution. Although his trial is not set to occur until May 5, 2025, the sheer number of men and women who have come forward against Combs makes his conviction seem very likely.
Over the past few years, whenever someone outside the Tufts bubble asks me what I am majoring in, I usually glibly respond “economics.” This is only a half, or maybe a quarter, of the truth. I am not an economics major, but I have taken enough courses in the discipline to know that my interests lie elsewhere. Responding in this way allows me to avoid the raised eyebrows and back-and-forth discussion that occurs when I say that I am a philosophy and international relations double major. These experiences have made me reflect upon the value of a college education.
One out of every seven schools in Ukraine has been destroyed by Russians since the start of the full-scale invasion in 2022, leaving over 5 million Ukrainian children deprived of a traditional education. Statistics for higher educational institutions are even more depressing with one out of five universities and colleges in the country having suffered physical blows to their infrastructure as a result of the bombings. Despite these attacks, the Ukrainian educational system continues to develop, with schools adding opportunities to their institutions.
Last week I wrote about the Rohingya, an ethnic group in Myanmar who have undergone intense persecution from both the military and local Buddhist nationalist groups, concluding my article with what could be done to help lessen the burden on these civilians. To fully understand the situation, though, we need to consider the premodern history of Muslim groups in Myanmar, acknowledging that British colonialism is the primary cause of the tensions that are present today.
This year has seen images of slaughter in Gaza amass, and, yet, the public’s interest thereof has seemingly only waned. And not for a lack of published material. It seems that in spite of the deaths of over 41,000 Palestinian people; in spite of the mounting Lebanese civilian casualties; in spite of the numerous crimes against humanity that the Israeli state has committed, photographic documentation has done little to inculpate the American government and citizens at large. Depictions of senseless slaughter, to which our eyes should otherwise gravitate toward and of which should warrant political action, have been cast to the social wayside as byproducts of a region that, in American eyes, only knows death and strife.
In recent years, a global movement towards vegan diets has risen to prominence, driven by the idea that going vegan can help save the planet. Researchers have identified that vegans produce an environmental footprint that is at least one-third lower than those who eat meat. They are also responsible for 93% less methane, a greenhouse gas responsible for 25% of global warming.
Upward mobility has long been held up as a defining factor of generational success, especially in the U.S., where the notion of rising above one’s parents in socioeconomic status is central to the “American Dream.” Traditionally, this concept meant climbing the social stratum — gaining wealth, status or both, often through education or hard work. In practice, upward mobility is sometimes reduced to a simple metric: whether the next generation earns a higher income than the previous one.
