It’s easy to sit back and let Princeton life wash over you. But if you want to see that crazy city, it's only a few train rides away. Come on board!

Just before Thanksgiving, Princeton Disabilities Awareness, popularly known as PDA, hosted its first fall conference/carnival. This event involved two simultaneous programs: a conference including keynote speakers such as Rachel Adams, famed author of Raising Henry; and a carnival for children with disabilities, pairing students with children and setting up activities run by student groups.

The event is entirely volunteer-based and built by students from the ground up. For it to succeed, each party’s participation is crucial. If not for the student organizers, the impressive panel of speakers, which draws parents to come to Princeton for the day, would not come together.  If not for the parents and their interest in coming to Princeton for the day, including some who travel considerably to make it to the event, the Princeton student body would not have the opportunity to interact with these children, an unforgettable experience for many. 

I have had the distinct pleasure of watching students who had filled out “no prior experience” on the application really open up and give all of their energy to a child they were introduced to that morning.  It is a beautiful thing to watch.  And of course, if not for the student volunteers, the children would not have the fun of having a “buddy” they can treat as a big brother or sister. Given the smiles on the kids faces and their reluctance to go home at the end of the day, it is clear that they too have fallen under the spell that is this fantastic and inspiring day.

When I was a freshman at the first PDA carnival, I was so impressed by all who devoted time and energy to making this event possible. Now, as a junior, I feel lucky to have been able to be on the board this year, coordinating volunteers among other things and working with other passionate students to create the event of the semester. 

I can’t wait for the spring carnival!

Like all freshman, I was assigned to a Residential College Adviser (RCA) when I came into Princeton. Each RCA is responsible for a group of around 15-20 advisees (“zees”), and the primary role of the RCA is—as the RCA Handbook says—to "foster a welcoming, safe, and stimulating environment for all residents of the college” and to help ease the transition into college life.

My RCA was fantastic—thoughtful, funny, and full of advice. I was so grateful for all that she did for us. She held weekly study breaks (which are a great excuse to take a break from work to get together with friends and hallmates and eat a bunch of food), doled out tons of snacks, and stayed up late listening to our complaints and making us feel better about our worries. I couldn’t believe how generous she was. I knew she was a full-time student and involved in a million activities and writing a thesis and applying for jobs, and yet she took time out of her days and weeks to be there for us. I felt like I was so lucky to have such a wonderful role model to look out for me. 

What I’ve realized since becoming an RCA is that this feeling goes both ways. I am so grateful for everything I do as an RCA. Yes, it can be time-consuming, especially at the beginning of the year, but it’s work that I enjoy.

Last year, I worked with some amazing sophomores, and this year I have a group of wonderful freshmen. My zees are among some of the most incredible people that I have met at Princeton—thoughtful and talented, generous and respectful. Each of my zees has such an incredible story; each one has such big goals. And to see Princeton through a freshman’s eyes again! It's rejuvenating. Listening to their stories and answering their questions reminds me of all that I felt when I first came to campus. It reminds me of just how engaging and vibrant our campus can be, and of just how frustrating and scary it can be, too. 

For some, the RCA and zee group structure is something that helps the zees immensely, and they become very involved in this community. For some, the RCA and zee group factor very little into the zees' Princeton experience, and they find their place outside the zee group.

As RCAs, we're happy either way—the idea behind the zee group is just to provide built-in support for freshmen if they want it. For most, the RCA role and zee group is something that is important for the first few weeks, when zees want someone to field their questions, and when they need friendly faces to help them navigate somewhere new, and the RCA and zee group becomes less important over time. For me, the RCA role is something that has spanned across my years at Princeton, and I am so grateful for that experience and for all those I have met through the role. 

I don’t remember how I joined the rugby team. I probably met an upperclass woman who told me to come to practice, or I put my name on a signup sheet, or something. I don’t remember.

I wish I did, though, so I could point to that memory and say that it was the best decision I've made at Princeton.

Joining the rugby team changed my life. I am a stronger person, both physically and mentally. I have learned so much from the game and from my teammates, who are among the most diverse, inspiring people I have met on campus. I have learned to love my body through a sport that values all body types. I have made lifelong friends on and off the field. I live with them, I eat with them, I study with them and I play rugby with them.

It’s been a long journey, both physically and metaphorically, since my first days as a freshman, and I’ve been so fortunate to have my teammates with me. We’ve traveled everywhere, including:

All up and down the East Coast

New York, New Haven, Cambridge, Hanover, Philly, Pittsburgh, Charlottesville, you name it. If we can get there on a bus, we'll be there. Our bus rides have been infamous. While some are more tame—people will do their reading, some will sleep, maybe we'll watch a movie—all sorts of shenanigans have happened on the bus rides, including, but not limited to: impromptu dance parties and deep conversations about the meaning of life.

California

For the past two years, PUWRFC (Princeton University Women's Rugby Football Club) has traveled to California over spring break. Last year, we went to San Francisco, and the year before, San Diego. Now, for those of you who are from California, you might not be so impressed. But after a long chilly winter in New Jersey spent poring over books, the chance to bask in the sun is welcome.

In California, we've played against university teams, club teams, and premier teams. We've visited Chula Vista, where the national rugby team trains (along with many other Olympic teams). We've played rugby and eaten our way through the state. 

England

My freshman year, our team went to London and Cambridge, England, for spring break. We played against two teams, the Cambridge Women's Rugby team and the Thurrock RFC, one of the top teams in England.

In between, we were everywhere from the rivers of Cambridge to the typical London tourist sights.

Princeton

Now, this probably goes without saying. But the old adage holds true: There's no place like home. Although we've had adventures around the world, every day with the rugby team at Princeton still feels like an adventure. It's crazy to think about all that has happened here. When I arrived, I had no idea what a rugby ball even looked like. A couple weeks ago, a bunch of senior ruggers got together over bubble tea, and we began to reminisce about everything that has happened since. That time a squirrel got into our room sophomore year. Our horrible haircuts over the years. The all-nighters we've pulled to write papers (bad idea). The all-nighters we pulled, just because we loved hanging out with each other (great idea). Even though the mood was nostalgic and bittersweet, I couldn't help but feel happy. After graduating, we may be in different corners of the world, but we'll always have Princeton to come back to. These are women that I'm going to remember when I think about my college experience. When I come back for reunions, these are the women I'm going to be looking for first. It's been a long journey, but it's certainly not over. 

 

Tentatively, I step into the classroom. Momentarily blinded by the stark fluorescent lighting, I blink to see staring back at me the nine faces of the students I will be teaching for the next semester. They are about my age, they are interested in philosophy, and they are inmates in a New Jersey state prison.

Never had I imagined that I would see the inside of an American jail—much less interact so closely with those on the inside. But here at Princeton, through a program supported by Pace Center for Civic Engagement, I have found myself doing exactly that.

Over the coming months, these 15 prisoners will become my interlocutors in candid and often surprising discussions about ethics, epistemology and the nuances of contemporary thought. Together, we learn to separate premises from conclusions, to reject fallacious reasoning, and to read, write and think like a philosopher. There are no papers or homework, and our readings are done together. Here, answers are far less important than the questions.

Our conversation topics are broad, but more often than not they will come to bear on deeply intractable issues—problems to which I frequently have no better solutions than my students.  

In these moments, a surprising thing happens. Against the backdrop of history’s most difficult challenges, there is no longer teacher and student, Princetonian and prisoner. Grappling together with these obscure questions, what remains is a group of equals, in a sphere where reason, thoughtfulness and critical thinking are all that matters. In prison, a context where opportunities for egalitarian dialogue can sometimes be sparse, our work provides unique avenues for self-expression, personal growth, and the development of broadly transferable skills in reading, writing and oral communication. The prisoners leave intellectually enriched, better prepared for re-entry, and perhaps most important, endowed with a genuine passion for learning and a healthy sense of critical skepticism. 

Numerous things have surprised me over the course of the past few months, but nothing has been more striking than the transformations we have witnessed in students. Many who were initially reticent to engage in discussion have become some of the most active participants—challenging their classmates, pushing back on unsatisfying conclusions and perpetually asking the hard questions.

The benefits of this experience, however, have not only accrued to the prisoners. Indeed, I have come away with a profoundly transformed view of the criminal justice system—aware of its failings, cognizant of its challenges and deeply moved to continue working with those behind bars.

For me, this experience has been deeply emblematic of Princeton’s informal motto: in the nation’s service and in the service of all nations. Service opportunities at the University abound, and whatever your passion, you will inevitably find either an existing program to join or broad support for starting something new. While it’s often difficult to find time for service amidst life here, it is infinitely worth doing. You may well be changing someone’s life in the process, and perhaps your very own in turn.

I started ballroom my very first semester at Princeton, mainly because I once took an Argentine tango lesson before coming to Princeton, and was surprised at how fun it was.

I remember my first gut impulse to do something like this came this summer, when I got the same email I had been receiving for the past two years about the Princeton half, which I usually ignored. But this time it was different.

Intramural sports at Princeton are characterized by a general feeling of fun, adventure and good spirit.

I went out to brunch with two of my freshman-year roommates a few days ago. It had been a long time since I had seen one of them—she had studied abroad during the fall, and I had studied abroad during the spring, so I hadn’t seen her for almost two years. We talked about our time abroad, our summers and our families. We reflected on stories from freshman year and told funny stories about this fall.

At one point, I was telling them about how the recent renovations in Firestone Library had almost caused a disaster for me. As they knew well from freshman year, I have always had a terrible sense of navigation and have gotten lost many times in the five stories of Princeton’s main library. Combine this with renovations and consider the fact that when I’m studying, I tend to ignore any distraction (including the need to use the bathroom!)... and you have certain disaster. I was telling them—theatrically—about how I had recently been ignoring the need to use the bathroom until I finished a long essay that I was working on, and then ran to where the bathroom had been only to find that it no longer existed, and spent the next five minutes in quiet desperation trying to find the new location.

My old roommate laughed and said, “You know, that could be a good title for a book about your time at Princeton: ‘Running through Firestone.’”

We laughed, and talked about how many times we’ve felt this way at Princeton—how many times we’ve felt that we’re rushing last-minute to submit an assignment, how we’re trying to balance too many things at once, how we’re racing from place to place with no time to think. We talked about how, paradoxically, the Princeton overload forces you to simplify, and that for us, this was the first time in our lives that we couldn’t do everything anymore. We couldn’t be involved in three sports and be editors of two magazines and leaders of five student organizations and straight A students like we could in high school. For the first time in our lives, we had pushed ourselves beyond our limitations—a painful experience, but one that allows you to recognize what is most important to you, to prioritize and to focus on the things that matter.

Before coming to Princeton, I had often heard, “Be ready for the fact that you won’t be the smartest kid anymore.” I was ready for that; that didn’t bother me. What bothered me was not that I wasn’t able to do more than my classmates; what bothered me was that I could no longer do everything that I wanted to do. I was overwhelmed by that feeling. This is an experience that I believe every college student will go through at some point or another, more or less acutely. It is a painful experience; like any loss, there are the stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. At first, it’s hard not to feel like a failure.

But it’s also liberating.

When you come to the other side, you find that your world is focused. Everything that you do has meaning to you, and you come to cherish it. I reflected on this change as I talked with my former roommates at that brunch. I could see it in them; there was a sense of calmness about them, a sense of meaning and purpose. We were all doing fewer things, but we were focused on what mattered to us.

I thought back to the hardest moments of freshman year—the moments when we felt as if the world were ending because of our terrible midterms grades, the times when we cried because we couldn’t make a team, the days we asked each other whether we could do this—and compared these moments to the conversation we were having about our futures now. One had accepted an offer at Goldman Sachs; the other was still in the process of interviewing for an engineering job at Universal Studios (which she later got!). There was a sense of assurance, a sense of belief in ourselves and in what we could do. 

Princeton will show you that you cannot do everything, but it will also show you how strong you are and will help you understand what matters most to you. 

Oh Disney, what tales you spun! Where I live, animals do not rest in my lap or gather round affectionately. The Princeton deer are flighty, raccoons gluttonous, cats indifferent, squirrels deranged, and not even singing to them can help. If I were Snow White, I would choose somewhere far, far away to make my woodland home.