Graduating senior Dylan Fee wasn’t expecting to fall in love with journalism halfway through her time at Tufts. As a math and Latin double-major, Fee clearly demonstrated multifaceted interests, but assumed STEM was where she belonged.
Has anyone else ever dealt with the niche kind of shock that comes from watching the “Frozen Worlds” episode of “Our Planet?” One minute David Attenborough’s soothing British voice is showing you the cute penguins as they reunite with their families, and the next you’re watching walruses fall off cliffs to their deaths due to rising sea levels taking over their habitats.
After returning from Los Angeles, I feel renewed by a powerful dose of vitamin D, a few extra pounds and enough matchas to make my wallet shed a few tears. I’m happy to say we’re back! Spring is officially here! Days are getting longer and the weather is (supposedly) getting warmer! With only a handful of weeks left in the semester, one might say life is looking lusher than before.
In 1892, the Tufts Board of Trustees first enrolled the first women students “on the same terms and conditions as to men.” However, the journey to coeducation would not end there, as in 1910, women were separated, matriculating instead at Jackson College, a separate institution associated with the university. It was not until 1980 that Tufts returned to being fully coeducational.
What most readers of The Tufts Daily see is only a polished, thoroughly reviewed and fact-checked finished product: the new Daily article in your email, the printed copy in the Tsungming Tu Complex newsstand or a reel on your Instagram feed. What many fail to see is the person (and people) ensuring that everything — from the editorial department to the business sector to the production and distribution of all content — is running smoothly behind the scenes.
Dear Reader,The other night, I landed in Boston from Milan, flying head first into two midterms I had not studied for, a completely booked Google Calendar of postponed meetings and a literal blizzard.But I had just witnessed my friend, Alysa Liu, compete and win the Olympic gold medal in figure skating, and my issues here at Tufts suddenly seemed less significant.
There are times when the world just feels overwhelming. There’s this persistent desire to stay informed — to keep up with current events, to understand what’s happening beyond my own small universe. But opening the news now elicits a familiar sinking feeling. Another headline about human rights being rolled back. Another policy undoing years of climate progress. Another reminder of democracy eroding in broad daylight while a billionaire purges a newsroom in the name of ‘efficiency.’
As a California native, I made the bold — and perhaps regrettable — decision to apply to colleges somewhere with seasons. My idealistic 17-year-old self had a vision: a fall of cable-knit sweaters and orange leaves crunching beneath my feet like in “Gilmore Girls” (2000–07), and magical snow blanketing my historic college town in the winter.
It is human nature to care about how others perceive us. We curate ourselves based on those expectations, learning early on what earns love and attention and what does not. You were told you were the funny one, so now you are afraid people will judge you if you are serious. You have always assumed you were bad at math because you were never placed into the accelerated math class in third grade (might not be over that one).
I will admit it — I have always been a hopeless romantic. Despite what the data says about fewer young people having romantic relationships, or the fact that dating apps make finding a connection as simple as a tap, I will forever be waiting for that moment of bumping into the person of my dreams on the T — or for Hugh Grant to spill orange juice on my white shirt like in “Notting Hill” (1999).
