The other day I walked into work with 66 bananas. Why? Because the night before, the team of people I work with at Guria had rescued 66 people from slavery in a brick kiln, and we were hosting them at our office.

I have had a lot of incredible experiences this year in India, but working at Guria—a non-profit that fights human trafficking and commercial sexual exploitation—is hard to top. It has been everything: the hardest part of my experience, the most rewarding, the most frustrating, and the place where I feel most at home.

Guria is less of an organization and more of a family. Ajeet Ji, the founder and director, describes Guria’s approach to fighting human trafficking like raising a child. You don’t look at a child and try to leverage something. You also don’t throw money and projects at a child and yell at it to grow up well so it will impress the donors. You support it from all sides, you listen carefully, you adjust, and you care—a lot. And Guria has never lost the spirit of independent thinking.

This term “thinking independently” is thrown around a lot, but I don’t think I even fully understood what it meant to think independently until meeting Ajeet Ji. It means that you think, you question, you speak out, and you do not waver from what your heart says is right—even if you are completely on your own. Thinking independently also has a lot to do with dreaming: allowing yourself to dream, and never subconsciously limiting yourself to what is usually considered possible.

This is why Guria has such a long list of activities, including : rescue operations, rural village empowerment and non-formal education centers. They don’t care about the number of activities other NGOs are doing, and they have never considered doing something more “reasonable.” Each and every activity on that list has evolved directly from Guria’s 26 years spent integrating into the communities they served, listening attentively, and evolving solutions. The amount of things that Guria does is ridiculous, but when you are working at a place where fighting human trafficking is not just a job but a way of life, anything is possible. 

The buzzer sounded, and I jumped in the air as my teammates rushed the court. We had just defeated Green Bay for the first NCAA tournament win in the history of our program. A sea of orange clad supporters cheered from behind our bench, among them none other than President of the United States Barack Obama. With 31 wins and 0 losses – we were the only undefeated team in the nation.

To be called “coach” is an opportunity and an even bigger responsibility. The basketball court is my classroom, our student-athletes the front line. They are the ones playing with Princeton across their chest. They represent themselves, our program, our coaching staff and the entire University community. They do this on the court and off of it, on campus and abroad. I understand my role in their development.

My driving philosophy is one of authentic leadership. As a collegiate coach, you get to choose your team. I recruit the right people, competitors and winners to be sure, but also people who have the intangible qualities to be great. My student-athletes arrive at Princeton having already been the best, but this is a much bigger pond. And I ask that they trust the process. I remind them how special these four years are. I challenge them daily.

I get a lot of credit for “inspiring my players.” For me, it’s about caring about the process. Caring first about who we add to the Tiger family and then being deeply committed to each individual’s growth curve. This curve includes the challenges, triumphs, struggles and highlights. This is done in private; it is also done in public. It’s always done from the heart.

Princeton’s been the perfect fit for me, and I hope I’ve been the right fit for this great University. Here, I am charged with recruiting the best of the best. At Princeton, the student-athlete model is embedded into the very core of the University. Our elite athletes are some of the nation’s best students, and they are encouraged to be true members of the campus community. They pursue excellence in every arena, and they are willing to sacrifice and work relentlessly to achieve their varied dreams. In addition, we expect that our women lead with kindness, empathy, compassion and passion.

It’s been said that competing in sports reveals character and that you can tell a lot about people by how they play the game. I agree with both of these sentiments. My job is to create the synergy, to provide the leadership to help them grow into better versions of themselves, on and off the court. The path isn’t always straight, and it comes with a whole range of emotions, but it’s always been worth it.

I have hired a great staff. They are the ideal role models and teachers, and they are entirely invested in the Ivy League model. We work well together, working hard to sustain and grow a winning tradition, while ensuring that the most important life’s lessons are learned along the way.

This particular Tiger team made history and an indelible mark on the many who have followed this season closely. They played with toughness, fearlessness and relentlessness. They came together to become a true team. They achieved the unimaginable. And they did things the right way. They practiced hard, and they played with class. This Tiger team represented Princeton in the way this University and its brand deserve. I will remember this team, as I do them all, forever.

This season’s chapter is over. Soon we’ll be back at work…starting the next chapter.

The forest I wander — our library — is more docile than Poliphili’s, but no less enchanting.

The weekend of Feb. 27 to March 1 has remained one of the most formative experiences of my sixth semester. With a group of 18 students and two administrators, I traveled to Brown University for the first annual 1vyG Conference.

More than 250 first-generation students attended the conference to engage in conversations about their experiences at elite universities. Not only did I learn from profound lectures on topics like college admissions and socioeconomic status, I also had the opportunity to meet dozens of students eager to share their unique stories.

I have found that conferences usually prioritize networking beyond everything else. However, to get the most out of 1vyG you were encouraged to listen and empathize. Through listening, I empathized with students on a deeper level rather than debasing them to mere “connections.”

I realized that although we attend different universities, we face similar struggles. A lack of mentorship and feelings of isolation permeated the stories, but so did courage and determination. The students’ eyes lit up when they admitted an intimate yet crucial detail; they felt not only compassion, but also empathy from their listeners.

With each iteration of my story, I uncovered details that I never considered significant until I thought deeply about their repercussions. It was important to mention that I grew up without books in the house. It was important to mention that attending an unaccredited elementary school contributed to the holes in my education. It was important to mention that the pangs of poverty affected my academic experience.

As a writer, I was surprised at how little I knew about my own story.

It would be foolish to say that my main takeaway was learning more about myself. I had the privilege of hearing dozens of stories from first-generation students who hailed from all over the world. My favorite books cannot compare to the raw, unedited life stories that these students carry with them. The conference allowed us to weave our narratives together and inspired us to improve the first-generation student experience at our respective universities.

Initiatives like The Princeton Hidden Minority Council allow students to engage with the first-generation and low-income community on the Princeton campus. The umbrella organization raises awareness on academic and financial resources, facilitates mentorship opportunities with professors and alumni, and spurs dialogue on the first-generation and low-income student experience.

On the bus ride back, I ruminated on how I could contribute to improving the experience of first-generation students at Princeton. I tore my eyes away from "American Gods" and looked out at the growing twilight. It struck me that I had not started writing my daily 1,000-word passage. And that is when it hit me. I am a storyteller, and therefore I will tell stories.

Have you ever stopped to wonder, in a moment of utter woe and misery, if perhaps all the sorrows in your life are caused not by fate, but by a flaky, oily, potato-based food often served with sour cream and applesauce?

One of the most surprising pockets of linguistic diversity I have encountered is actually in the heart of suburban New Jersey: Princeton University.

It’s a bit strange, being a Canadian at Princeton. While American culture is in many ways congruent with that of its northern neighbor, the two countries nevertheless diverge from one another in subtle, though important ways.

I ended last post about classes with a little illustration of studious note-taking. 

Just in case you are wondering, 

I not only go to class, I pay attention and take good notes! In this post, let me give you some thoughts on my experiences with notes. 

I definitely can't speak to all classes and disciplines, but hopefully this will give you one perspective. Since notes really depend on class size:

• For smaller seminars and precepts, I usually get a feel for what is appropriate, depending on the professor and the type of information the seminar revolves around. 
• If it's a discussion-heavy class or precept, taking extensive notes may not even be necessary! It might just be better to be fully engaged in the discussion.
• For larger lecture classes, it's usually pretty clear that I shouldn't be engaged in conversation. Actually, I should probably be listening and trying to retain what the professor is saying, and taking notes helps this!

There are a couple of mediums for note-taking, the first being good old

Actually, I usually prefer pencils, mostly because mistakes and I are old friends.

If I can record enough information by hand, I'll cut out the distraction of a laptop and go with pencil and paper. Especially in courses where I don't need every detail, handwritten notes often help me choose to record only the most crucial or interesting bits of information. I find my English classes usually fall in this pen and paper category.

Of course, cutting out distractions does not mean there are no doodles. I went through a few of my notebooks and discovered 

I am particularly fond of drawing the backs of people's heads. 

Also this guy showed up a couple times. I'm not entirely sure from where, but I think I like him. 

If I'm in a class that goes quickly, or one that I know it is helpful to have more extensive notes, I bust out my

​In most of my larger lecture classes so far, the professors have been just fine with students using computers. The amazing Professor Nicole Shelton, who taught my PSY 252: "Social Psychology" course, once described her view in front of the McCosh 50 lecture hall as looking over a sea of glowing, white apples.

I've sat next to more than a few Facebookers and online-shoppers, and was introduced to Buzzfeed by creeping on a neighbor in my fall freshman seminar. My friend Alissa even reported once seeing a girl in front of her reading entries on this "Speaking Of Princeton" blog. I'm not going to lie; it is easy to get distracted with a laptop. Professors who allow them do request you use them solely for taking notes though, so it's respectful to everyone to use them for focused note-taking.

Actually, in many cases you shouldn't need to frantically write down everything. Many instructors will put their lecture slides up on Blackboard, the course management system Princeton uses as an online hub for things like class material and precept posting 

If you miss something, or want to revisit an image from lecture, you can find the presentation after class! Not all courses have this option, though. As Professor Bendixen, my professor for "Science Fiction", said paradoxically on the first day of class, "I don't use audio/visual aids; I don't believe in technology." It is an excellent course. 

By the way, taking notes by laptop became infinitely more satisfying when I discovered the note-taking option in Word. It (kind of) makes you feel like you are taking notes on paper, not a screen! And then it outdoes real life by letting you change your workspace with the click of a button:

For example, 

SO! Those are the main methods of taking notes: using paper or using your laptop.

However, I thought I should mention I have seen some people simply using their minds.

I've seen them here and there; under the voice of a lecturer, as the hall rustles with the clattering of keys and the scratching of pencils, they sit calmly. They are unrestrained by papers or power cords. They are pure. Are they that confident in their mental powers? Do they just not care? They just... listen. 

I am definitely not one of those people, so props to them! Really, it comes down to the nature of the class and how you learn and listen best. Personally, I love writing and recording things, plus it also just anchors my focus to have something visual in front of me. Also, I think it's worth mentioning this TIME article.

SO, 

I can say these were good for my information retention.

As this bearded guy is probably thinking,

YAY! 

Currently on view in the Princeton University Art Museum are representations of the night by artists from the 15th to 18th century, Durer to Goya, in etching and engravings.