You could say that some Carls had something of a “nuclear cow” this past weekend at 4th Musser, stemming from what may seem to be an innocuous tradition here: theft of a stuffed cow. And not just any cow. It was the Nolympics prize cow.
We have become so fixated on the omissions from the “Western cannon,” so self-conscious of literature’s racially homogenous undertones, that we are resistant to incorporating non-white voices in less singularly multi-cultural ways, and we shy away from more in-depth studies of form, at more expansive looks into modernism and post-modernism.
Fueling my feminist fire. This means many different things to many different women.
There is a tension here that goes unspoken. As a whole, Carleton students do an abysmal job of mingling with each other, and this is symptomatic of an incredibly uncomfortable environment fueled by a lack of dialogue – differences between people, racial and otherwise, are, as a de facto rule, not allowed to be seriously discussed in a way that doesn’t imply that we’re all identical.
As students of Carleton, we understand the value of diversity. We are liberal; we are interested; we are respectful—we are politically correct. We feel uncomfortable with the homogeneity of our liberal arts bubble and thus further emphasize the value of multiculturalism. And multiculturalism is incredibly valuable. But we must understand that our understanding of multiculturalism is an incredibly privileged one.
Curricular Homicide: Why the Deconstruction of the Common Core Leaves Me Feeling Adrift and What You Can Do About It
What I think is tragic about the decay of the shared cultural inheritance is the loss of the shared part. With no common core, we’re each tucked away in different majors and subfields of majors, developing autonomous vocabularies for and understandings of what meaningful questions are.
I’ll start this piece by admitting something that’s probably clear to anyone who regularly reads the print edition of the Carletonian: every couple of weeks, I have a lot of trouble with layout.
Today at lunch, I was talking to my professors about the end of the term, and they were talking about the lack of competition among students at Carleton.
Poskanzer, who has for nearly three years adhered to the long-standing presidential tradition of maintaining residence in Nutting House, has failed to successfully draw into his twenty-room home for the 2013-2014 academic year after neglecting to show up to room draw earlier this week.
It’s hard to say with certainty when journalism was born. Arguably, it began when politics began, to become a watchdog over those in power. Thucydides was the first to record history, so as to keep “record of the events of mankind.”
Here at Carleton we live less than 30 miles away from Prairie Island, one of 52 nuclear power plants in the U.S. In fact, 40% of the U.S. population lives within 50 miles of a nuclear power plant, putting them at risk in the event of a nuclear disaster.
I’ll admit it: I’m a disgruntled jobseeker. I came to Carleton four years ago with a few suitcases and big dreams for the future. Like many of those around me, I didn’t know what I was going to study, but the course catalog was my oyster, and I was ready to go shucking.