I grew up in one of the bigger cities in central Pakistan. There’s a lot of pollution. The city is open til 8 p.m.. I went to a private high school.
We grew up indoors but you could walk anywhere. It’s a fairly diverse city of people from all over Nepal, but it’s not international. If you find anyone of foreign origin they are probably a tourist.
India doesn’t really have the concept of the liberal arts college. Students are divided into hard science or humanities or social science. You choose your stream in high school and are stuck with it the rest of your life.
Hong Kong is a really big city. Well, it’s a small city with a lot of people. After I realized that I wanted to become an English major and I wanted to study literature in more depth, I realized that the environment in Hong Kong is not very encouraging.
It may be banal to bring about a reflection from the ancient days of high school, yet even our time then had some realizations.
Both the accomplishments and the approach of science are revered as gospel in Western society. If something can be legitimately justified in the name of science, it is respected. As a result, science formulates our view of the world, and the scientific methodology is a gold standard.
It’s probably the case that students studying the sciences have a much better taste for the humanities than visa versa. Certainly it’s easier to imagine a physicist penning a fine lyric in her free time then picturing, say, Griffin Johnson dissecting a frog in his kitchen out of curiosity.
In the last Carletonian of fall term, Anna Schmiel ’17 wrote an op-ed titled “Where’s the Tofu?: Reflections on Food Privilege.” As the person with whom she had a conversation, I would like to reaffirm my message and address some of the problematic statements she made in the article.
They call St. Petersburg the “city built on bones.” Beneath the city’s melancholy streets lie the bodies of tens of thousands of laborers who perished in this great battle of man against nature: building an imperial capital from scratch on a foggy swamp teeming with disease.
At present rate, the Carleton Student Association’s asinine spending policies and nonsensical red tape would make even a Californian blush. Faithful readers of these pages will know that the student association – our student association – is running an enormous surplus.
I cried 3 times over winter break. No, I did not attend 3 funerals; I worked at a large retail chain store. I am unable to say the name of the specific store for legal reasons (really, it was in my contract), but I can assure you that I will be vehemently hinting at it throughout this article.