During my time at Princeton, I’ve taken many engaging classes, but one that truly stands out is Congressional Politics (POL 324). Taught by Professors Lee and Oldham, this course was especially compelling as it simulated the workings of the Senate. The first six weeks included traditional lectures and discussions, but the second half shifted to a full-fledged role-play simulation. Each student took on the role of a senator, joined a committee, and had a detailed set of responsibilities. We conducted committee meetings during precepts and engaged with our peers and constituents through Slack, which served as our version of Twitter. This experience was unlike anything I had encountered before. Prior to this course, my understanding of Congress was quite limited, but by the end, I felt significantly more informed and engaged with the legislative process than I ever could have anticipated.

In this class, my role was to be senator of Hawaii which meant I was responsible for representing my constituents and securing policy objectives that best met their interests; I was also on the education committee and directly oversaw bills under this jurisdiction. In the six weeks I played as senator, I frequently “tweeted,” proposed several bills, and voted for numerous amendments, all while working alongside other fellow senators. I also spoke on the “floor” of the Senate (a classroom in Robertson) and truly embodied what it meant to be a part of Congress. In fact, one night, I vividly remember leaping out of bed in response to a Slack notification, scrambling to write an “amendment” before our “session” (class) the next day. To this day, that notification sound still haunts me!

I do not think any class will ever compare. Pol 324 was truly one of the most defining classes that I have taken at Princeton. Indeed, other than being able to truly immerse myself in the inner mechanisms of Congress, I was also pushed out of my comfort zone. I learned how to articulate my thoughts, work alongside others, and also venture into uncomfortable spaces. Moreover, since part of this experience required learning how to navigate complicated and sensitive situations, as actual Congress members do in the real world, I learned how to approach these moments and not shy away from making my beliefs known (even in a fictitious setting). Due to the experimental and candid nature of the class, it felt comforting to get close with my classmates and my professors. Indeed, as we all navigated this new experience, it was amazing seeing the patience we employed to one another and the common fascination we shared in witnessing how concepts discussed in class played out in the simulation.

What comes to mind when you think of your professors? Brutal arbitrator of your academic performance and professional future? Source of worry; bearer of your latest discouraging essay comments?

These are valid feelings, but consider: what type of person becomes a professor at Princeton? My freshman year taught me that professors can be so much more than administrators of a class and preachers of a syllabus. Our faculty members are extraordinary scholars in their respective fields; they are  political architects of historic federal legislation, energy physicists advancing the power sources of tomorrow, philosophical visionaries of novel terms to describe social phenomenon, and countless other versions of deeply brilliant minds bending the limits of human achievement in the 21st Century.

You may be learning seemingly tedious, introductory material from these faculty in the literal classroom, but the scope of your professors’ experience likely extends much further. Whether or not you know what discipline or path you’d like to go down, getting to know  faculty separate from the course will undoubtedly add to your base of knowledge, give you a glimpse of what meaningful and innovative scholarship is, and broaden your vision of what it means to be a Princetonian giving back to the world.

The work of one Princeton professor—Professor Jesse Jenkins of the School of Public and International Affairs and the Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering department—caught my eye on the university website back in 2020, during my sophomore year of high school, and became the reason I decided I wanted to attend Princeton. I recently took his class about the engineering, economics, and governmental regulation of the electricity grid, and what he taught me both inside and outside the course has shaped my ability to contribute to the debates at the quantitative yet ideological nexus of climate science analysis and energy politics. He also now follows me back on Twitter!

Furthermore, last fall, I was so pumped for my first political theory class that I booked a meeting with the professor prior to lectures beginning. When we grabbed coffee in spring semester, he told me he had never witnessed a freshman do this, that it stood out instantly. I came to realize, very few people will pass up an opportunity to talk about their own research and interests! Lending a showing of interest in your professor’s life work, which they (very) likely care quite a deal about, is the perfect stepping stone for a fruitful lifetime professional connection, thought-buddy while floating through the great universe of ideas, or simply a good friend whom you can learn from over a Small World drink.

It’s September 1st as I type this. 2:41 PM to be exact — 40,000 feet above the ground, smooth flying on a United flight. For me, this means my annual migration from Texas to the beautiful garden state of New Jersey has begun. It’s back to school. As a junior, I’m making this pilgrimage for the third time now, and that has me thinking about how much has changed over the years — or on the contrary, what hasn't. 

Some things never change. For example, the commute to Princeton never gets easier for me. As I grow older, I find that the more time I spend at home, the harder it becomes to leave. And I've realized those first-day of school jitters also don’t change. I still feel like a freshman at times. Walking into class I’ll always wonder, who I will meet? What will my classes be like? What memories await me on the other side? 

Some things I never want to change. The welcoming school-wide chaos that wakes you up at 9am on Lawnparties. The dogs that regularly play on Cannon Green. The soon to be married couples taking pictures on campus, or my avoidance the main entrance of FitzRandolph Gate (to skirt bad luck). Or how every time I pass that main gate, I imagine what life will look like the day I walk out of it . 

In some ways, you'll change. Princeton has a tradition where freshmen walk through the main gate of FitzRandolph Gate when arriving on campus for the first time. Students avoid that main gate until graduation, when they walk under it and out of the Princeton bubble. While many things stay the same here, other things are forced to change. Time moves us forward whether we want it to or not, and looming graduation is a kind reminder of just that. Not only are you getting older, but you will grow and change during you time here. For one, you’ll likely change your perspective on what is considered a “good grade.” Sure students still get As, but you become less phased by “bad" grades or challenges. You’ll likely lose the novelty of campus to some degree, which is normal and natural. Blair Arch is no longer a celebrity of landmarks, but just another building I pass by on my way to class. 

There's a quote that I often come back to that I think applies well to this idea of seasons of change: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man”. 

For a small liberal arts school hidden within the overgrown bushes of the garden state, I find that quite a lot happens here. You change, and so will Princeton. Sometimes, you’ll feel like a fish out of water. But remember that you are meant to return to the river. You were made for it. 

The first few weeks of the semester are a whirlwind of classes, clubs, and socializing. Most importantly, it's about creating the perfect schedule to balance all these commitments. Now that I’m entering my senior year, my schedule feels busier than ever. After spending a semester abroad in Copenhagen, it feels like I’m trying to catch up on everything I missed, including signing up for courses. Due to the time difference, I had forgotten about course registration and ended up picking a few classes for the fall without much thought. I figured I’d have time to finalize things once I was back on campus.

Seniors on the A.B. track are only required to take six courses in their final year since we’re also working on our senior theses. Some seniors choose to take four courses in the fall and two in the spring, while others split them evenly with three each semester. The decision largely depends on how much time you think your thesis will require in the spring. With good intentions, I thought I could handle four courses this semester and was set on shopping around for options.

A friend of mine, who is studying sociology, sent me the course description for ECO102: Personal Finance. The course had no prerequisites and looked like a solid financial literacy course. Neither of us had ever taken an economics course before, but she convinced me to enroll so we could both expand our limited knowledge of finance. While the professor seemed great and the course themes were interesting, I couldn’t see myself spending one of my final semesters on a class I wasn’t fully passionate about. I’ve had the privilege of taking many deeply engaging courses at Princeton and while my friend ended up loving the class, it just wasn’t for me.

I quickly searched for another course and found an Asian American Studies class, Asian American Women and Everyday Violence. I’ve always been interested in gender-based violence and during my sophomore summer, I interned at a non-profit in Colombia focused on ending both gender-based and armed violence. That’s what initially drew me to the course—understanding the various ways Asian American women experience gendered racialization.

I would have loved to stay in the course, but I soon realized I needed to balance my workload evenly, which meant only taking three classes in the fall. Even though I didn’t settle on a course right away, I’m glad I had the chance to explore my options. Some courses even allow you to preview the syllabus, giving you a better sense of the material. While this time shopping around for courses didn’t work out for me, I still have one final semester to make it work! 

As I approach my second to last year at Princeton, I find myself astonished at how quickly time passes; days blur into weeks, weeks into months, and then eventually, a whole year has gone by and I find myself looking back at where I was previously and where I am today. Two years is a lot — three is even more. Three years is the right amount of time to self-proclaim myself as an expert on all things Princeton, yet also, a decent duration that leaves me time to humbly realize there is still a lot I have (probably) yet to learn. 

For now, here are some lessons, experiences, and findings I wish a 17 year old me knew when I was applying to Princeton. 

1. Princeton has a lot of resources — a TON. For example, Lewis Library has the Makerspace, which rents out plenty of portable gadgets, devices, and tools for both personal and academic use. The Career Center has frequent drop-in hours for advising sessions alongside numerous networking opportunities. Dillon Gym has a wide breadth of unique classes that one can explore when choosing to work out. Truly — every building here has its own subsection of departmental resources that help to enrich your life at Princeton. 
2. There is plenty of free food on campus. Aside from the dining halls, eating clubs, and numerous cafes at Princeton, one can find food through the FreeFood listserv. The listserv frequently promotes uneaten (and fresh) food that can be found across campus. It redirects leftover food from clubs, halls, and departments, preventing it from going to the landfill by circulating it to anyone interested in grabbing a small bite to eat or a larger meal for the day. It is simultaneously sustainable and convenient for those who find themselves wanting a snack.
3. The Residential Colleges (ResCo) at Princeton host plenty of social activities . Aside from the weekly socials that each ResCo hosts for their members, quite often, there will be opportunities to sign up for excursions with the members of your college. Some examples include going to a baseball game or a musical in Broadway.
4. Princeton has lots of fairs — career fairs, academic fairs, ResCo fairs, etc. From professional networking opportunities to extracurricular and study abroad exploration, these fairs are rich sources of snacks, merch, and information for those on the hunt for opportunities.
5. Orange grows on you — there’s something slightly obnoxious about the color that screams pride. Whether you find yourself intentionally sporting the color on a game day or just hastily slapping on the abundance of merch you find yourself accumulating, you begin to grow a deep found appreciation for orange.

These aren’t the most innovative or extraordinary findings but they are things I assume my younger self would greatly appreciate (or at least find amusing). Perhaps as you embark on your own college journey, you’ll find yourself creating your own list of musings that one day you can look back at with profound gratitude and nostalgia. 

It’s the summer before senior year and you’re set on becoming a Princeton tiger, all ready to stride through FitzRandolph Gate next August—or honestly insert your dream school. One obstacle remains though, you’re being asked to collapse your values, achievements, personality, identity, skills, and aspirations into the tiny question boxes with character limits. No brainer, right?

Looking back to my own college application struggles in the fall of 2022, certain advice still sticks out. Below, I’ll summarize five guiding principles that helped me the most.

1. Know who you are. 

College applications ask students to articulate a sense of self that can be the most difficult aspect of applying. What’s your deepest belief? What’s something you talk about for hours on end? What do you do with your friends? If you have answers to these questions, they’ll translate into a compelling story.

2. Do your homework. 

There’s no formula for piecing together the professors, student groups, classes, research institutes, and social components that make Princeton right for you. Chat with current students, learn about the school's research focuses, read about the senior thesis. Is there a professor that recently published a paper that sparked controversy on philosophy Twitter? Make it clear you’ve made an effort. Through this you might also find clarity on which schools shouldn’t be on your list.

3. Envision the future. 

While many kids hold national titles or start nonprofits, I think applications are less about raw achievement and more about your vision for yourself. Think less about what you’ve done; rather, how are the people and resources at Princeton going to make you the best version of yourself? If you’re not sure of your direction, what are different avenues the school can facilitate you in exploring? What do you want to learn, study, accomplish, that you can’t find elsewhere? How is this shaping you into someone they'll will be proud to call an alum when you’re a decade post-graduation?

4. Understand what you bring to the community. 

This doesn’t just mean your big award or largest community service project—this is anything you’ve poured your heart into. What would you mention while meeting a stranger at Sunday brunch? What’s something you did in high school that you could bring to colleges and really add to what exists there? Make them remember you.

5. Own what you have. 

Writing essays is not the time to focus on justifying why your achievements are particularly impressive, or conversely, why your circumstances prevented you from doing more. Context is good, always share it, but substance is key. Show colleges the best of your high school journey, and be proud of it! Whether you won the International Math Olympiad, taught the SAT math section to local students, or spent your evenings taking care of siblings, your experiences are what you make of them, so talk about what you learned and how it shaped you for the better.

Good luck, future tigers!

I never viewed myself as a writer. In fact, I remember I was quite opposed to the idea growing up. At the age of 6, I gave myself a headstart by struggling to read. In elementary school, the pattern continued as English was consistently my worst subject. Grammar and spelling never quite clicked in my brain—the latter of the two still has not improved with time (thank god for spell check). Thus, in middle school, I finally waved the white flag. I remember thinking to myself, “I’m good at many things, and I acknowledge that writing will never be on that list.” I never once thought I was good at writing, or had any interest in writing for myself.

I believe part of this misconception about writing came with its elusive nature. Growing up, it frustrated me that there was never a formula to follow. Unlike the math problems I could easily solve, writing left me uneasy on how to approach it, and even worse, how do you know when a piece is done? How do you know if it's good?

I didn’t like these aspects of writing for a long time. The only writing I did throughout my life was in a journal. I’m not sure what drew me to it, but initially I journaled to process things around me and to remember my life. Either way, I’ve been doing it consistently for the past seven years.

When I got to Princeton, my conception of writing didn’t change immediately. I took the infamous freshman writing seminar and felt further convinced that writing was not for me—academic writing at least. Slowly though, my journal evolved. Here and there I would write an entry that sounded pretty enough to share out loud with my sister. Looking back, I think my journaling slowly morphed into a sort of expressive art form. I was journaling to process my emotions, but also to portray my life in a poetic way. 

Even as I grew to love journaling, I did not formalize my love for writing until I found myself here, blogging for Princeton’s Admission Office. This job has helped me formalize my journal-like rants into completed pieces that I can share. And through these blogs, I realized a new inkling for that elusive yet expressive process we call creative writing. 

All of this is to say that being fluent in an art form doesn’t come naturally for everyone. For me, I believe years of journaling evolved a weakness of mine into a strength. It has been an unexpected turn of events to say the least. I don’t know if I’ve earned myself the title of a writer, but I can admit that I now view myself as one. 

As a Politics major—and even more specifically, as a Politics major who is also a Peer Academic Adviser (PAA)—there is one question that I find myself answering quite frequently. Whether I am at the Academic Expo hosted during orientation, one of the various PAA-led academic advising fairs, or even in casual conversation with my non-Politics major friends, I am guaranteed to be asked the following question: “So what’s the difference between Politics and SPIA?”

Every year, many students generally interested in political science find themselves choosing between the Politics Department and the School of Public and International Affairs, otherwise referred to as SPIA. Although both departments have their own respective benefits and display a considerable amount of overlap, the distinctions that do exist between the two ultimately lead dozens of students to choose one over the other every year.

The most common response given to curious students is that Politics is a more “theoretical” major, whereas SPIA is more “practical.” To this day, I am often guilty of responding in the same way—at least initially. In my view, this is a vast oversimplification, but it begins to hint at the difference between the ways that each major approaches the political realm. Courses and research in the Politics Department tend to focus on the “why” questions behind politics, often inquiring into the reasoning behind state and non-state actors’ political actions. In a sense, the field of Politics seeks to explain why political life is the way that it is. For example, in a course that I took about authoritarian regimes, we sought to understand the constraints and enticements guiding the decisions taken by authoritarian leaders. Although SPIA students are also required to take some courses within the Politics Department, a bulk of the work associated with the major focuses on applying interdisciplinary knowledge to policy suggestions. Here, the focus is less on the why, and more primarily directed towards the question of what to do differently. Thus, dividing the two majors based on theory and practicality is a bit of a misnomer—policies are built on theories, and theories have practical applications. But the work that is carried out ultimately does emphasize distinct themes.

Other things to consider between the two majors are differences in requirements, flexibility, and department sizes. As briefly mentioned above, SPIA takes a largely interdisciplinary approach. This means students are required to take courses in a variety of fields—politics, economics, psychology or sociology, statistics, and more. This also means, however, that there are more structured prerequisites and core classes for SPIA majors. Politics majors are really only required to take classes within the Politics Department, and there is only one truly required research course taken junior fall. Independent work also looks differently for the two majors, with Politics having one shorter research prospectus in the fall and one longer research paper in the spring. SPIA majors take a research seminar in one semester, and join a policy task force during the other—each has an associated research paper. Both write a senior thesis. Perhaps the last main difference between the two departments is in their sizes. In the Class of 2026, almost twice as many sophomores declared SPIA as their major compared to those who declared Politics.

Politics became the obvious choice for me after taking a political theory class my freshman spring, as well as after considering how much department size mattered to me. I also realized that, despite the obvious importance and value of more directly influencing and writing policy, I had no interest in actually doing so from either an academic or career standpoint. 

Both majors are great choices for students interested in political science. It just so happens that, for me, Politics was the best choice, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Like other colleges, Princeton provides incoming students with orientation programming that prepares them for a smoother transition into life on campus. First-years move in a bit earlier than returning students, and the bulk of orientation takes place during the week leading up to the start of the fall semester. These days are filled with a wide variety of events, socials, and presentations. What many prospective applicants might not know about, however, is the fact that orientation actually encompasses another component at Princeton which begins in the middle of summer.

The first exposure that many students will have to Princeton and the support network awaiting them is through their Peer Academic Advisers (PAAs) and Residential College Advisers (RCAs). Every group of advisees, or “zees” for short, receives an introductory email from their assigned RCA in early July, shortly followed by an introductory email from their PAA and other residential college staff. These two students are responsible for leading many of the orientation events, and every RCA-PAA pair continues to support their zees throughout the school year. From the start, then, every student is provided an ample support network within their residential college, and everyone working behind the scenes is always available to dispel any confusion surrounding either orientation or the school year to come.

As a PAA for Mathey College, I am responsible for guiding a group of zees through an online advising course known as ClassPath. Starting in mid-July, incoming students can access the site. There, they will find a variety of modules and guided assignments focused on different aspects of Princeton academics. In one module, students are instructed to reflect on their path to Princeton and how that may guide their future class and major selections. In another module, students are encouraged to browse through course offerings in anticipation of their meetings with their faculty advisers, who will ultimately help them decide on their schedules for the semester. As students complete modules, I interact with them on discussion boards and provide feedback for submitted assignments. At the end of the course, I host small group discussions over Zoom in order to introduce myself to my zees, allow them a chance to get to know each other, provide important information about orientation, and answer any questions that might have come up over the course of the summer.

Overall, ClassPath is meant to help students know what to expect of Princeton academics before even setting foot on campus. I remember feeling extremely intimidated the summer before my own freshman year, but getting to talk with my PAA and even hearing other students feeling the same way helped me feel more comfortable when the time came to move in. ClassPath is one of many examples showcasing the value placed on advising and intentional community integration within the University.

As ClassPath wraps up for the incoming Class of 2028, I’m excited to meet my new group of zees during orientation and move in for one last year at Princeton.

Mentorship and advising have been some of the most meaningful aspects of my time at Princeton. Being on the receiving end of this kind of guidance has allowed me to feel more connected to the campus community at large. This support has been a conglomeration of mentors and advisers from all over the University, ranging from my residential college staff over at Mathey College to professors willing to lend a listening ear, and even upperclassmen. These individuals have helped me grow not only as a student but as a young professional and young adult as well.

The Princeton University Mentoring Program (PUMP) is one of the many mentorship opportunities available to students. It is housed within the Carl A. Fields Center on campus, which is the focal point for many affinity spaces and cultural communities on campus. PUMP seeks to provide valuable support and resources to first-year students of color in order to help them navigate Princeton with confidence. Through PUMP, participating first-years are matched with one peer mentor (either a sophomore, a junior, or a senior) and one alumni mentor. Throughout the school year, mentees form close bonds with their peer mentors and periodically meet with their alumni mentors virtually.

The process for forming these matches is typically carried out by the PUMP coordinator within the Carl A. Fields Center staff. All PUMP participants submit a form early in the school year outlining their personal and career interests. They are then matched according to compatibility. My junior year, this meant being matched with a first-year who was interested in learning more about the Politics Department, and being matched with an alumna currently attending law school—something both my mentee and I were interested in pursuing.

PUMP members participate in a variety of activities. The core of the program is the time spent one-on-one between mentees and their mentors. Each pair receives a small stipend each month to encourage them to get a small meal together on Nassau Street, or to use as they see fit (some might even use it to go kayaking near campus). Pairs are encouraged to meet a few times each month and maintain consistent communication. One of the pillars of peer mentorship relies on approachability and dependability, and that is cultivated through these frequent interactions, where mentees can ask questions about their academics or campus life more generally. As a peer mentor, you are responsible for staying up to date on knowledge surrounding potential resources that may be helpful for your mentee. Additionally, the PUMP executive board hosts a variety of monthly workshops, meetings, and social events for both mentees and mentors. Some examples include an event discussing internship opportunities, a presentation on campus resources and offices, and painting nights. Often, delicious catering from nearby restaurants is provided.

Altogether, PUMP helps students acclimate to the academic and cultural dynamics of the University in a space meant to feel like home. Many students go on to maintain their friendships with past mentors over the years—a testament to the impact that the program has for those who participate. Although I have stepped down from my position as a peer mentor this year, I leave with fond memories of the program and hope that first-year students continue taking advantage of such an amazing resource and community on campus.