In 2023, $3.8 billion, or nearly half of the University's operating revenue, was allocated by federal agencies. Since January of this year, funding cuts - in particular, the dissolution of USAID and the elimination of general STEM funding - have had a major impact on research opportunities at Hopkins. The operating capacity of programs ranging from the JHU Research Saves Lives Project to Jhpiego have been severely hurt by these changes, leading to questions about the vitality of research on campus. Hopkins, as the first research university in the U.S. - in which two thirds of the undergraduate population engage in research - has proven particularly susceptible to damage by reductions of funding typically allocated through federal grants. In a statement issued in March, President Ronald J. Daniels addressed these funding cuts.

"We have little choice but to reduce some of our work in response to the slowing and stopping of grants and to adjust to an evolving legal landscape," he said.

Harvard University, facing a similar fate, has been one of the most outspoken critics of recent federal demands. This has led Harvard to pursue two lawsuits against the Trump administration: one protesting funding cuts, and the other challenging the legality of deporting international graduate students. Their noncompliance has led to repeated threats by the executive branch regarding the university's tax-exempt status and the further revocation of grant money.

These points of concern, which are shared by Hopkins following major losses in research funding and the deportation of 37 graduate students, have been a source of upheaval on campuses throughout the country. The other universities who recently signed the amicus brief, including the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Yale University, are similarly concerned by the implications of recent executive action on their own operations.

In an email to The News-Letter, Emilia Gonzalez, a rising senior at Hopkins, gave her opinion on the University's responsibility to express support for other private universities who have been adversely affected by the reallocation of funding.

"Hopkins being a part of this lawsuit is a good demonstration of support to its community of researchers," she wrote. "I do think that, given the recent cutbacks, the University should be looking for avenues through which they can increase funding without federal assistance in order to prevent a repeat of this scenario."

The signing of the friend-of-the-court brief by Hopkins and the other 23 universities is a major step in the direction of greater opposition among private and public universities alike to recent federal reform. A University spokesperson gave comments on the developing situation in an email to The News-Letter.

"We believe in the value of university research, and we have seen firsthand how the longstanding research partnership between American universities and the federal government has delivered results for our country. University research has been behind nearly every significant medical breakthrough in recent history, saving lives and creating hope for Americans and propelling the United States to global medical and scientific leadership," they wrote.

Justin Rosman, a rising junior at Hopkins, expressed his desire for further University action in an email to The News-Letter.

"I'm very glad to see Hopkins join others in taking a stand against the administration. We cannot think to let them infringe even an inch on us," he wrote.

In a Truth Social post on June 20, President Trump suggested that a settlement in at least one of the Harvard lawsuits might be on the horizon.

"We have been working closely with Harvard, and it is very possible that a Deal will be announced over the next week or so," he wrote.

The existence of this settlement has not been addressed by any other actors, and concerns about the future of government oversight in private universities continues to raise questions across the academic community.

In an interview with The News-Letter, sophomore Chris Evans expressed his concerns about the outcome of the brief.

"Amicus briefs are important, but are not always particularly impactful. I appreciate Hopkins taking a stand, but this isn't the sweeping action we need to prevent federal involvement."

Hopkins has not explicitly engaged in any further action that would suggest a divorce from federal interests since the signing of the brief.

On May 16, a month before the results were announced, Johns Hopkins PRO-UAW's account had emphasized the importance of winning this election on X.

"By winning a seat at the bargaining table with JHU, we can negotiate to ensure ALL postdocs across ALL campuses have access to the funding and resources we need," they wrote.

The majority of postdocs voted in favor of union representation by a vote of 560 to 17. Thus, Hopkins's population of approximately 1,600 postdocs will henceforth be represented by PRO-UAW in collective bargaining with the university.

Johns Hopkins Postdoctoral Researchers Organized - United Auto Workers (PRO-UAW) is the name of a specific group of postdoctoral researchers at Hopkins who have organized to form a union that advocates for science research funding, fair visa and immigration policies and better working conditions.

When asked to share a few words regarding their success in the election, Johns Hopkins PRO-UAW expressed their enthusiasm for the future of post-docs and shared the next steps for their future at Hopkins in an email to The News-Letter.

"This is a historic step towards better working conditions for Hopkins postdocs. 97% of the voting postdocs at Hopkins voted yes for Hopkins PRO-UAW! [...] We aim to start a full democratic process that involves all postdocs in the bargaining process," they wrote. "There are as many concerns as postdocs at Hopkins: insufficient salary for the work done, insufficient health benefits, lack of retirement contributions by the employer, etc. This is why the democratic process we will follow before bargaining is so important, to guarantee that we, in our union, represent the interests of all postdocs at Hopkins."

Representatives from PRO-UAW also emphasized their commitment to transparency and engagement throughout the bargaining process. They outlined how their goals for communication with all postdocs remain central to their strategy, ensuring that the union's priorities reflect the needs of researchers across different disciplines.

"Given the current situation with academic funding, we expect some things will require some time to negotiate," they wrote. "However, we believe that Hopkins recognizing our demands, which will be put together by working with postdocs across all of our campuses, will not only improve the working conditions of postdocs but will also turn Hopkins into a more competitive institution in the postdoc job market."

While Johns Hopkins PRO-UAW celebrated their victory and began preparing for the bargaining process, the election's outcome also resonated with the individual postdocs across the university. For many, the vote was a turning point in the research experience, offering an opportunity for equitable treatment.

Postdoc Catherine LaCourse expressed her excitement for the new developments. In an email to The News-Letter, LaCourse explains her role in the union and the future that she sees for the postdocs' next steps.

"It was very inspiring to hear the vote counters read out all of the 'yes' votes, and we were all incredibly excited to hear the 97% yes result," she wrote. "I have heard from colleagues that there is a need for better support for parents, better support for international workers, retirement benefits, higher [salaries], more stable employment, etc. I hope that we can get a contract that addresses all of the concerns postdocs express in the bargaining survey, townhalls, one-on-ones, etc."

Students outside of the postdoctoral community also paid attention to the election's outcome and what it would mean for the future of the University's labor rights. Although they were not directly impacted by the results, many undergraduate and graduate students also supported and recognized the vote's significance.

Post-bachelor's student Aram del Junco shared his thoughts on the importance of the vote and his perspective as someone not eligible to participate in the union. He emphasized that the effort could help to raise awareness about challenges in research environments, such as a lack of consistent pay. In an interview with The News-Letter, del Junco explains his experience with friends who were unable to take part in certain opportunities due to insufficient pay.

"Personally, I hope that [the bargaining process] includes some sort of guaranteed pay, because I have a lot of people close to me [who couldn't get] involved in their projects that would have helped a lot of communities because they wouldn't have been paid," del Junco said. "Being able to be part of a collective effort helps individuals get the rights they want in their workplace, and without that, it is just a harder fight."

Additionally, fifth-year doctoral candidate Kory Gaines at Hopkins also expressed his enthusiasm over the election results, emphasizing the importance of solidarity between graduate students in an interview with The News-Letter.

"[The University] could not run without [the doctoral students and the postdocs], and the staff are even more on the front lines, and they have less protection than we do. So [I am] very happy to hear that [Johns Hopkins PRO-UAW] won," he explained. "Honestly, I'd hope that the postdocs become more of a community [...] I think unionization will help them not only feel community amongst postdocs but also have power."

Though he was not directly involved in the organizing efforts, Gaines noted that the formation of a postdoc union has inspired conversations among graduate students about their own working conditions and how collective advocacy might pave way for systemic improvements. He pointed out that while PhD students have made gains in recent years, many staff members remain under-protected, and postdocs have existed in a gray area between students and faculty.

In an email to The News-Letter, a Hopkins representative outlines the University's next steps following the JHU PRO-UAW election.

"Johns Hopkins University believes the choice of whether or not to join a union is a personal decision that is entirely up to each eligible voter," they wrote. "Now that the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) has certified the results of the election, the university is committed to working with the union to negotiate a fair first collective bargaining agreement (CBA) over the coming months."

Quentin Vennie is a wellness entrepreneur, speaker and author whose journey into the beverage industry emerged from a deeply personal mission. After years of overcoming addiction, anxiety and trauma, Vennie dedicated his life to helping others access wellness in an authentic and inclusive way. His foray into the ready-to-drink (RTD) tea industry began on Father's Day - coinciding with Juneteenth - in 2022, when he and his wife, Erin Vennie, launched their first line of canned teas. By December of that year, Vennie found himself on stage at a BevNET event in Los Angeles alongside Gwyneth Paltrow, a major milestone in the beverage world. A few months later, their teas were in over 400 stores across the country. The Equitea pop-up launched in Remington in February 2025, marking their return to Baltimore and the beginning of a new chapter for the brand.

In our conversation, Vennie and I discussed Equitea's role not just within the Hopkins community but also within the evolving ecosystem of Baltimore.

The News-Letter: What inspired your pop-up in Baltimore, specifically in Remington?

Quentin Vennie: When you come to my house, I don't offer you a glass of water. I don't offer you a glass of wine. I don't offer you a cold beer. I offer you a cup of tea. For me, offering a cup of tea is an extension of my own hospitality. Making you a cup of tea is an extension of my love for humanity, my gratitude and appreciation that we can share in this experience.

When we were in LA, we saw matcha shops all throughout California. I traveled to New York - matcha shops all through New York City. When we left California and came back to Baltimore, I realized that over the period we were gone, nobody had opened up a matcha spot or did anything with matcha as a primary focus. We knew there was an opportunity for us to open up the brick and mortar, create that extended hospitality and human experience.

I'm from Baltimore, and growing up, Remington wasn't a space or place or neighborhood that people traveled to. It wasn't popular. With the recent introduction of R. House, Miller's Court and the Service Center - with teachers, nonprofits and students near Hopkins - there became a unique opportunity. [Our position makes us] accessible to individuals who are already knowledgeable and educated on why matcha.

Remington fit the bill, but we wanted to launch as a pop-up because we had no idea if Baltimore City was ready for something like this. When you think about the culture of Baltimore, you have a bunch of breweries and a bunch of coffee shops. I didn't know if it would be successful. Remington has shown up and shown out - and we're here for the long haul.

N-L: I also think Remington is an interesting neighborhood. What I've noticed is that Hopkins students really enjoy Hampden and Charles Village. But living in Remington next semester, I'm excited to see more attention in this area because Hopkins students don't really explore as much as I think they should.

QV: That's the interesting thing about Baltimore. It's very neighborhood-centric. If you live in Charles Village, you tend not to explore beyond Charles Village. If you're in Hampden, you tend not to explore beyond Hampden. When we look at a lot of the innovation in what has been created over the last 10 or 15 years in Remington, we're drawing people from all neighborhoods - Old Goucher, Reservoir Hill, Bolton Hill, Patterson Park. So many people are starting to commune here. Hopefully, Remington is going to help lay the foundation for stepping out of that neighborhood comfort zone and exploring more, like you're talking about.

N-L: I also noticed that you haven't had any previous restaurants or cafés. What was the experience like starting the Equitea pop-up from scratch?

QV: Terrifying. I never worked in hospitality and that wasn't the field that I thought I was going to be in, but I was always drawn to culinary arts and interior design. Growing up in West Baltimore, I didn't necessarily see myself represented in those industries - they were quiet, silent interests of mine.

But I also wanted to fill a need - something that I saw as a growing trend. I say "trend" loosely, because I don't think it's a trend. [Matcha] is just the beginning of something spectacular. To me, it's a great way for people to start making better decisions without sacrificing or compromising. People often say, "I come here once a week because this is my sweet treat." But what an incredible treat! It's not like I'm going to get a chicken box. It's like I'm going to treat myself with something that's still good for me.

N-L: Especially as a college student, I feel like there aren't many cheap and healthy options around campus. So being able to take care of yourself even when you're indulging feels like a privilege, but it's one everyone should have access to.

QV: Yeah, it's an unfortunate reality. So for us, being able to provide accessible wellness is a gift we don't take for granted. Wellness has been gatekept for a long time, especially in America. But we also believe that we don't have to sacrifice quality to make it accessible - and that's the middle ground. I've had people come in and ask, "Why isn't your matcha expensive like other brands?" If we charge more, we become part of the problem and not the solution - and we want to be part of the solution.

Not coming from a hospitality background, I came into this with zero expectations. I just knew I wanted to make the best quality product that I knew how to make, at a rate that was affordable and accessible, that people would appreciate. That was my only hope and expectation. Everything we've done up to this point has exceeded that.

N-L: Given the matcha shortage in Japan and tariffs impacting international trade, have you faced issues with matcha supply for Equitea?

QV: Yeah, fortunately, we haven't been impacted by the tariffs on the matcha side. I'm not sure how the tariffs are impacting Japan. I know we source some of our tea ingredients from Mexico, Canada and China. The majority of what we serve is matcha, and we haven't experienced an issue with that so far.

N-L: Did you move to LA to explore living there, or was it a business decision?

QV: It was a combination of things. My oldest son was 17 when he passed away from accidental consumption of fentanyl, on April 12, 2023.

N-L: I'm so sorry about that.

QV: Thank you, I appreciate that. A lot of the opportunities that were coming our way for the canned tea business were happening in California. Ninety percent of our investors were in California. Most of the stores we were in were in California. Most of the stores that were expressing interest in carrying us were in California. There was nothing else really holding me back here, and my grieving process was really throwing myself into work. So the cards just aligned. But had things gone the way we anticipated in LA, I probably wouldn't have moved back.

When we were there, we had the ability to grow the business. California has everything - they have the manufacturing, infrastructure, capital. But do I stay in LA, build my business that benefits that state and city, or do I come home? Where my roots are, where my community is, where my people are - and contribute to the city? I chose Baltimore.

I believe we're starting to see growth in this neighborhood from a food and beverage perspective. You have Clavel. You have Blacksauce [Kitchen]. You have all these businesses at R. House. You have all these incredible culinary food and beverage experiences being built and created here. I wanted to come back home and contribute my small part in helping to continue to build that.

N-L: It's kind of like a homecoming - like you go to LA, and you figure out that where you should be is back home.

QV: That's exactly what it was. This pop-up was my homecoming - my way of saying, "Baltimore, I'm back!" This is my contribution to the city.

N-L: What role does your wife, Erin Vennie, play in your business?

QV: I often say my wife is the backbone of the company, honestly. I'm the face, the voice, the creative - but she keeps the lights on. She makes sure that products are ordered, that we have inventory, that the operations are functioning and moving. She is very much foundational to our ability to do what we do on a day-to-day basis. There's no way I'd be able to run this business in any capacity without her. She's quiet, and she's usually in the back, but she's the executioner.

N-L: You two seem to have perfectly complementary skills - a very natural partnership.

QV: We met in the work environment, so we naturally had a respect for each other's strengths. She doesn't step into my arena, and I try not to step into hers. I'm a firm believer in letting people do what they're good at.

N-L: With your wife as your business partner, how do you balance the business and work sides of your life?

QV: That's a good question because I think we're still trying to figure that piece out. A lot of times when we leave work and go home, we still have work. We are very intentional about when we shut those conversations off and when we get back to family life. But I think being in the early stages of building a brand and growing a business, we may be open from eight to three, but we work 20 hours a day. And so, I think that in a lot of ways, there's this fallacy of work life balance, because if that were the case there would be no such thing as sacrifice. There'd be no such thing as compromise. Everything would be 50/50. That balance changes constantly.

One of the things I learned in yoga, when you're doing balancing poses like, tree pose for instance, they always say "A tree that doesn't sway in the wind breaks". You must find balance in movement.

N-L: I love that philosophy. I think Hopkins students are pretty accustomed to working hard. We always have this fantasy of achieving work-life balance, but like a lot of people in Baltimore, a lot of them are all really ambitious. If you want work life balance, it's going to end up leaning towards work, to fill those ambitions, and that's also like balance.

N-L: The much anticipated question: what's it like working with Gwyneth Paltrow? She seems cool, but she can be controversial at times.

QV: She is one of the most creative and innovative, humble, down-to-earth individuals I've ever had the pleasure of being in the company of. I often say she's a real one. This woman sent me videos of her singing happy birthday to me on my birthday, even opening her home to me and my family. I have so much love and respect and admiration for her. Not the celebrity side of her, but the human side of her. I think the celebrity that everybody attaches to her gets blown out of proportion. They forget that she's a real person making real sacrifices for real people, creating a lot of opportunities for a lot of people to feed their families. Working with her has been a true gift. I hope to bring it to Baltimore sometime.

N-L: To end things off, what is your favorite menu item?

QV: The Earl Grey Matcha, hands down, is my favorite. I love earl grey; I love London fogs. I remember one day, I woke up in the morning. I was like, I really want a matcha and I really want a London fog and I was like, why compromise? I'm going to put it together. It was good, but it could have been better, so I kept working and working and working.

N-L: I'm behind your number one pick. I think what you guys are doing here is great, and I really respect it. I will be coming back a ton!

QV: Thank you, I really appreciate it.

House Republicans believe that millions of federal funds have been allocated to research partnerships linked to the Chinese government, risking the United States' national interests. As such, in addition to visa revocations, the administration will heighten restrictions on obtaining student visas for Chinese students.

"[The government] will also revise visa criteria to enhance scrutiny of all future visa applications from the People's Republic of China and Hong Kong," Rubio stated in the announcement.

China had the second-largest share (around 277,000) of the 1.1 million international student population during the 2023-24 academic term. In 2024, about 20% of student visas were granted to Chinese students. Ranked 7th in schools with the largest percentages of international students in the student body, Hopkins relies on this community for financial and research contributions.

In Fall 2023, 15% of the undergraduate student body consisted of international students. The percentage of international graduate students has increased overall from 21% in 2013 to 29% in 2023. The University does not publish statistics on the number of students per country.

According to the University, Chinese international students have not experienced any visa terminations so far. Three Chinese international students affirmed receiving no notice about any visa revocations, nor any guidelines from the University.

"We aren't aware of any visa terminations under the recent policy affecting Chinese students," a University spokesperson stated.

However, Chinese international students are experiencing heightened anxieties towards their career prospects, especially those planning to remain in the US after graduating.

In an email to The News-Letter, a student majoring in Computer Science and Neuroscience, going by the pseudonym Aiden, discussed uncertainties regarding their post-graduate opportunities. Aiden also mentioned their perspective on the lasting impact of this administrative policy - the hindrance of international contributions to American research.

"I used to have a rather clear academic plan layout after graduation, but recent policies regarding [STEM] international students and the potential societal repercussions prompted me to reconsider such possibilities to stay in the US to continue academic studies," Aiden wrote. "The unstable policies would immensely depreciate students' trust in the [government, which will] reduce potential for university graduates to positively impact the country, particularly [with regards to STEM] industry and research."

Aiden also felt that the University should expand on its offered resources during this time of uncertainty - specifically by providing tangible resources for career plans.

"[The University should provide] more briefings and support for international students who are determined to pursue either academic/industrial opportunities in the US, including resources, policy interpretations and advising," Aiden wrote.

Other Chinese international students echoed this sentiment, including students at the Peabody Institute who reported unaffected plans in response to the government's announcement.

In an email to The News-Letter, a student studying Computer Music at the Peabody Institute, going by the pseudonym of Kenny, expressed that the University should communicate via email more frequently, especially by directly addressing the Chinese international student population to ease worries.

"Legally, I don't think there's much the University can do, but maybe an email addressing [the visa revocations] would be nice since there are so many Chinese and international students," Kenny wrote. "I think the US will remain a great country only if it continues to provide a welcoming environment for scholars and talents from around the world."

On June 2, President Ronald J. Daniels, Provost Ray Jayawardhana and Executive Vice President for Finance and Administration sent out an email addressing the broader visa revocations, emphasizing their support for the international student community.

"The recent moves by the federal government to revoke or withhold visas from eligible international students and scholars run counter to more than a century of collaboration at Hopkins with students and scholars who hail from around the world," the email stated. "Our international community has always been critical to our research mission, and we are deeply concerned about the toll of this uncertainty on our students and on our university as a whole."

In an email to The News-Letter, the University administration emphasized that international students should continue to follow the OIS website and regularly check for updates.

"The university is providing a wide range of support services through our Office of International Services (OIS), student well-being, and academic advising, including workshops and one-on-one advising sessions to address individual questions and needs. We encourage any member of our international community with questions about their own immigration or visa status to contact OIS at ois.jhu.edu," a University spokesperson wrote.

On the OIS website, the department states that it recommends international students to avoid traveling outside of the country due to volatile policy.

"JHU is working diligently to review the recent executive actions to understand the impact to OIS clientele. When considering travel, keep in mind that changes can occur at any time. If you cannot afford an interruption in your studies, research, employment or teaching due to an indefinite period abroad, you should carefully consider the need to travel outside the U.S," the website states.

Broadly in the US, House Republicans have also pressed Duke University to cut ties with Wuhan University in its partnership to create the Duke Kunshan University, stating that the partnership allowed Chinese students to access federally funded research at Duke. Since this announcement, Eastern Michigan University has announced that it is ending engineering partnerships with two Chinese universities.

This announcement falls within the administration's broader effort to limit academic ties between the U.S. and China, particularly targeting international students. Rubio has since halted the scheduling of new visa interviews for international students to monitor their activity on social media.

The Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, Kristi Noem, has also accused Harvard of coordinating with the Chinese Communist Party due to research collaborations with Chinese scholars. This same accusation follows the Trump administration's decision to halt Harvard from enrolling any international students, a decision currently put on hold by a federal judge due to a pending lawsuit.

Despite their plans being unaffected, some students still voiced concern about the broader educational impact of these policies. One student, a Music Engineering major at the Peabody Institute, who goes by the pseudonym Robert, shared his concerns and voiced a desire for university-administration cooperation in an email to The News-Letter.

"I hope that, through cooperation between universities and government, education will no longer be subject to excessive restrictions and constraints," Robert wrote.

The spill was first reported around 11 a.m. before the Baltimore City Fire Department responded to a 911 call regarding the diesel fuel spill at approximately 12:58 p.m. in the Harbor East area. By 2 p.m., the U.S. Coast Guard, along with city and state environmental officials, had mobilized to assess and contain the situation. Initially, Hopkins reported the amount of fuel spilled as 2,000 gallons, but revised the estimate to 5,000 gallons on June 6.

According to Kim Hoppe, Vice President of Public Relations for Johns Hopkins Medicine, the oil spill occurred during a routine fuel delivery when two tanks were accidentally overfilled by a third-party vendor. In response to the spill, the University immediately notified the Maryland Department of Environment (MDE) while promising to work with authorities to adequately regulate the situation.

Liz Vandendriessche, Director of Strategic Communications at Johns Hopkins Medicine, provided the following message to The News-Letter.

"A thorough review of the diesel fuel overflow incident is ongoing, so we do not yet have full information about precisely what happened and all of the contributing factors," she wrote. "We are continuing to work closely with federal, state, and local government authorities to protect the health and safety of our community, and we remain committed to handling the cost of the cleanup of this incident."

On June 4, the official MDE account addressed the color of the oil spill at Fells Point on X. According to the account, the distinctly red color came from a dye in the oil.

"Our Emergency Response Team is currently in Fells Point responding to an approx. 100 gallon oil spill of unknown origin," the MDE account wrote. "The red color is coming from dye in the oil. The @USCG and a private contractor are also assisting with the cleanup."

In an email to The News-Letter, rising sophomore Rushil Khadilkar shared his perspective on the oil spill as a student researcher at the Johns Hopkins Medical Institution. While he acknowledged the University's prompt commitment to funding the cleanup, Khadilkar noted that he personally learned about the incident through external sources, rather than through the University's internal communication. He emphasized that increased transparency and timely updates would help students stay informed and engaged during urgent situations similar to the spill.

"I think that Hopkins did a good job of delivering a relatively quick announcement that it will fund the clean-up of the spill in the harbor," Khadilkar wrote. "However, as a Hopkins student, I believe that I was not directly informed of the incident and had to look at external sources to discover that the diesel spill was tied to Hopkins. It should be a priority for Hopkins to be entirely transparent with its own community when situations like this occur."

As of June 8, roads between Lancaster and Point streets - which were initially closed - have reopened for usual operations. Similarly, Harbor Connector operations (including Harbor Connector Route 1 from Maritime Park to Locust Point) have also resumed as of June 9.

Jack Gao, another undergraduate student working at the Johns Hopkins Medical Institution, also reflected on the broader implications of the spill in an email to The News-Letter. While not personally impacted by the incident, Gao expressed concern over its environmental effects and Baltimore's perception of Hopkins as a respected institution.

"As a student at Hopkins, I know that the Hopkins bubble is something that exists," he explained. "Clubs and organizations here [try] hard [to connect with and uplift] the Baltimore community. That's why it's very unfortunate that the oil spill is linked to a Hopkins facility."

Gao had visited Fells Point on the evening of June 7, noting that much of the cleanup appeared to be completed by that point.

"I went to [Fells Point] to check it out last Friday. I think it was mostly cleaned up by then and since it [was] at night, I [couldn't] really see if the red color [was] still there," he wrote. "I [was] super glad to see a lot of fish right next to the oil spill so maybe they were able to clean it up before it did more damage to the ecosystem."

Looking ahead, Gao encouraged Hopkins to use this moment as an opportunity to deepen its commitment to environmental accountability while strengthening its ties with the local community.

"Having things like this happen certainly puts a damper on [Hopkins'] relationship [with the community] and undermines [their] trust." Gao wrote. "However, any environmental change is going to be [long-term], whether it be restoring the harbor's natural habitats or developing renewable energies. Hopkins should work more closely with neighboring communities and address the concerns they have moving forward."

Students outside of Baltimore also voiced strong opinions about the oil spill. For example, in an interview with The News-Letter, George Mason University student Madhav Maniraj expressed his disappointment learning about the environmental damage while participating in an internship at Hopkins as a visiting student.

"Hopkins, probably, tried to handle it the best they could. Besides lying at first; I think [...] they did not know how much oil was spilled," explained Maniraj. "Otherwise, outside of that, Hopkins is taking responsibility. I think they said they'll pay for it, which is the best they can do."

The News-Letter: To begin with, could you introduce yourself and give us an overview of Visit Baltimore?

Al Hutchinson: First, my role - I'm the President and CEO at Visit Baltimore. By definition, we are the official destination marketing organization for Baltimore. What that essentially means is we have a sales team, a marketing team, and a finance and operations team. Our main goal is to drive visitors, conventions, special events and sporting events to Baltimore. We want people to come visit us, experience Baltimore, stay at our hotels, dine at our restaurants, buy tickets to an Orioles or Ravens game and visit the National Aquarium.

So we're about creating a quality-of-life culture for people to come to a city to enjoy all its assets, and, when they leave, to have such a great experience that they go back and tell their family and friends that Baltimore is a must-see destination.

At the end of the day, we also have an economic development perspective too. We want people to leave tax revenue here in the community - hotel tax revenue and other dollars that the city can use to do infrastructure development and improve quality of life for our citizens here in Baltimore.

We're excited about the work we do, and we think it has a very big value in the city.

N-L: How do you and Visit Baltimore stay connected to everything happening in the city?

AH: Essentially, we are a storytelling organization. Our job, if we're doing it right, is to use a number of different platforms to tell all the good-news stories about Baltimore.

We're very active on social media. We have a robust website, and we also do digital and print advertising both here in the local market and within a 200-300 mile radius around Baltimore. We're out on the national trade show circuit as well. We have a sales team of about 12 people who travel to international and national trade shows around the country, where we set up trade show booths and tell the Baltimore story - about our arts and culture, culinary scene, history, neighborhoods and small business owners.

We're constantly telling the great story of Baltimore across those different platforms, because everybody gets their news in different ways.

N-L: When you're telling these stories, do you ever run into pushback or people who have preconceived ideas about Baltimore?

AH: That's a great question. Yes, sometimes there are preconceived notions about Baltimore. Some of it's real, some of it's fiction. The number one pushback area we hear is about public safety - "Will I be safe if I visit Baltimore?"

We don't shy away from it. We know we are an urban hub, and just like other major cities domestically or internationally, we want to make sure the traveler understands what it takes when they travel to a city like Baltimore. We want to arm our visitors and conventioneers with information about where to go, where to meet and convene, and more. We also share data points: for example, homicides are down over 20% year over year in the central business district where most visitors gather.

We want people to feel comfortable -we face the concerns head-on while making sure visitors have a safe and positive experience.

N-L: If you had to tell someone about Baltimore quickly, what's the story you tell?

AH: Well, it depends on what they're into!

Broadly speaking, we share the real uniqueness of Baltimore from a neighborhood perspective. Baltimore's got over 200 neighborhoods, each with its own flavor.

If they're into food, we tell them we're way more than blue crabs, even though we do them better than anybody else. We've got great food scenes in Fells Point, Harbor East, Hampden, Federal Hill, Locust Point - all over. If they want history, we talk about Fort McHenry and all the contributions African Americans have made to the city's history. And if it's medical stuff they're interested in, we're a medical hub - Hopkins leads the way, but we have a lot of great institutions.

So we have so many great stories to share with visitors. There's so much to tell, but it really depends on what an individual is really interested in - we customize the story based on this.

N-L: How do you balance celebrating established businesses and history while also highlighting new businesses and trends?

AH: A lot of it is partnering with community stakeholders - the creatives, the social influencers, the small business owners -and ask them to help us tell those stories better and connect our great history with what folks are looking for.

We take some of our small business owners on the road with us to trade shows - people who run coffee shops, tea shops, clothing stores. They tell their own stories, and it resonates with visitors way better than if it just comes from us.

Visitors today want authenticity. They don't want something cookie-cutter. They want to feel what the city's really about - and hearing from people who live here, who started their businesses here, really helps us tell that story.

N-L: You've worked in other cities before Baltimore. How did you learn so much about Baltimore so quickly?

AH: First, I wouldn't say I'm an expert - I'm still learning every day. But I've been in this industry for 30-plus years across six cities. What's helped me is my curiosity.

When I moved to Baltimore nine years ago, I got out into the neighborhoods early, embraced the city's uniqueness and built relationships with the people here. Because I embraced Baltimore early, the city embraced me. I feel the love of the community, and I take it seriously when inviting others to experience Charm City.

N-L: What are some of your personal favorite things about Baltimore?

AH: There's a lot to like about Baltimore.

I enjoy visiting our unique neighborhoods and their culinary scenes - whether it's Hamden, Fells Point, Harbor East or Union Collective. I love the small, locally-owned retail shops that you can only find here. Baltimore gives you a big-city vibe with small-city charm. And as a sports fan, I love the energy - whether it's Ravens football season, the Orioles or events like the CIAA basketball tournament we helped bring to Baltimore.

There's always a lot of good energy in the city.

N-L: What are some of the biggest highlights during your time at Visit Baltimore?

AH: Three things really stand out.

First, the rebranding we did in 2019. We brought in community voices and input about where we could be going with this rebrand, and when we rolled it out, people saw themselves in it. It resonated both with our local community and across the country. That was one of the best things we've done from a big-picture standpoint.

Second, bringing the CIAA basketball tournament here. That event brings energy and business during February, which is usually a slow month for Baltimore. Hotels, restaurants, small businesses - everybody wins.

Third, we started the Warm Welcome program toward the end of the pandemic, when we were concerned about making sure all people felt welcomed in Baltimore. This was a platform to show the world that if you came to Baltimore, regardless of your race, faith, or gender, you would be welcome in our city. We partnered with businesses, did DEI training, accessibility training, LGBTQ+ training - just making sure everyone feels welcome here.

N-L: National Travel and Tourism Week is coming up - any plans?

AH: This year, we hope to launch the "Tourism Academy" platform during National Travel and Tourism Week.

The Tourism Academy is focused on training frontline hospitality workers on customer service best practices, giving them tools to greet visitors warmly and make them feel welcome. There's a "Charm City Certified" course as part of it - workers can complete it at their own pace to learn about Baltimore and hospitality fundamentals.

Long-term, we hope to build out more curriculum for mid-level managers and senior leaders in the industry. We're really excited about it - stay tuned!

Commencement is the largest-scale annual event hosted at Hopkins. According to a University spokesperson, the event's logistics require a year-round effort from the administration, organizers and students.

"There's a Commencement Office that works year-round to pull off the largest event that Hopkins hosts every year [... and] a committee of students that helps the Commencement Office get the word out about honorary degree nominations, when and how to register, and other details about the big day," the spokesperson explained.

The graduating class at the ceremony, located on Homewood Field, consisted of nearly 1,450 undergraduates. The event began with President Ronald J. Daniels, who, in his address to the graduates, emphasized the importance of overcoming failure in future pursuits and urging oneself to "begin again." Following Daniels' address, commencement speaker Sal Khan, an American educator and founder of Khan Academy, asked students to "reflect deeply on what gives [them] meaning and invest in it," attributing life's purpose to finding meaning rather than material wealth.

Responses from a survey conducted by The News-Letter showed that overall enjoyment of the graduation ceremony this year was relatively positive. On a scale from "Terrible (1)" to "Excellent (10)," the most popular rating was 6.

Furthermore, the majority of students who completed the survey enjoyed the Commencement speaker's speech, with 73% of students rating it between the range of "7" and "10" on a scale of "Generic (1)" to "Inspiring (10)."

While the selection of Khan as commencement speaker was generally received positively by students, some were unsatisfied or indifferent to his speech and aspects of the ceremony itself. For example, in an email to The News-Letter, alum Andrew Thampoe discussed his opinion on Khan's speech, outlining the stand-out points of the address.

"I thought commencement was totally fine-nothing was particularly memorable about any of the speeches if I'm being perfectly honest," Thampoe wrote. "[Sal Khan] definitely [rambled] too much about evolution, but I think his discussion on using AI as a tool rather than being scared of it/avoiding it was important for the crowd of parents and faculty who may be afraid of using these tools."

Thampoe also discussed the impact of the poor weather on his experience at Commencement. He stated that while it was mildly disappointing that there was rain during an important event, he believes that the University made the correct decision in proceeding with the ceremony as planned.

"The weather wasn't really a problem outside of the slight discomfort, but, frankly, I can't imagine sunny and hot being any better - I enjoyed it for the most part because I was with my friends," he wrote. "I think that it was definitely the right call to proceed as normal [... because] a significant amount of people would have had to reschedule flights and accommodations."

Additionally, Senior Toast - an undergraduate champagne and dessert reception organized the night before Commencement - was canceled due to anticipated rain and heavy winds. Many students questioned the organizers' decision to cancel Senior Toast and continue with the scheduled date for Commencement despite weather reports predicting rain.

Survey results demonstrated a clear split in opinions on this matter. When questioned about whether or not the administration made the right call to cancel Senior Toast, responses were mixed. While participants indicated a general divide, 30% of students rated it a "1" on a scale from "Definitely Not (1)" to "Absolutely (10)."

In the survey's comments, one student expressed their dismay at the cancellation of the event, highlighting its inconvenience for many families.

"I think canceling the senior toast was a very poor call. Many families had come early specifically to go to the toast and celebrate their seniors. Many seniors themselves were incredibly excited," they wrote. "[Hopkins] could've done [the toast] in the gym, Shriver, or in glass pavilion and made it a longer event so you could come and go so it wasn't too many people in a room at once. There were truly so many more options."

Nonetheless, the University spokesperson emphasized that cancelling Senior Toast was an appropriate decision, citing torrential winds and weather conditions that warranted cancellation.

"The Senior Toast is a weather-dependent event, as it takes place entirely outdoors. Unfortunately, with data from a weather consultant, Senior Toast was cancelled because of weather conditions [...] These conditions were not suitable for an outdoor dessert event," they said.

Despite over a quarter of survey responses disapproving of Senior Toast's cancellation, however, the majority were either indifferent or supportive of the administration's decision (56.6% of students answered in the "5-10" range of the survey). In an email to The News-Letter, graduate Alex Shen shared his lack of enthusiasm for the events leading up to the Commencement ceremony.

"I felt like it was a pretty normal commencement this year. I was honestly glad that it wasn't going to be super hot and wasn't getting canceled," Shen wrote. "There were so many grad events that I was too tired to go to Senior Toast if they had it anyway, so I didn't really care."

Shen also commented on his experience with the weather, as well as the University's decision against rescheduling. While he appreciated that the event wasn't canceled outright, he noted that the start of the ceremony was marked by uncomfortable weather.

The News-Letter's survey results reveal that, when asked to rate their experience graduating in the rain, a majority of the students voted in the 1-5 range on a scale from "Never Again (1)" to "Core Memory (10)."

Shen also noted how the moment of walking the stage felt anticlimactic, the gesture of receiving a Hopkins-branded keychain underscoring the disconnect between student expectations and the University's attempts at commemoration.

"It was pretty wet and gross for the first 20 minutes when we were waiting for everything to start, but then the rain stopped, so we didn't really care. Some of my friends in the audience didn't realize how cold it would be to sit in the rain for 3 hours, so they didn't bring jackets and told me it was miserable by the end of the ceremony," Shen explained. "Walking the stage was cool, but it was pretty underwhelming. [...] We all got handed a Hopkins keychain after we walked and [...] I'd rather have gotten nothing than a random ass keychain for 4 years of school."

While some students like Shen approached Commencement with a degree of emotional distance, others found the day to be deeply personal yet disappointing. For graduates dealing with grief or loss, the organization of the Commencement ceremony signaled some insensitivity from the University.

Bailey Liu, a graduate from Peabody and Homewood, shared his experience in his survey response to The News-Letter, describing not just the University's lack of preparedness for the weather but also his dismay at the administration's setback in honoring a deceased student.

"I had a friend who was supposed to walk at this commencement but passed away last year. I knew the commencement was going to be a trigger moment for me - the horrible weather certainly made it worse," Liu wrote. "More importantly, they removed the flower laid on the seat that was supposed to represent the deceased students and took everything away right after the University Chaplain spoke."

Liu went on to describe his efforts to restore the gesture of remembrance. After the flower and designated seat honoring the deceased student were cleared away, Liu explained that he repeatedly asked event staff to bring them back.

"I had to ask like 3 different commencement workers to restore the flower and the seat, so I could pay a tribute to my deceased friend," Liu wrote. "I don't think this university understands how hard this day is for those of us who have a friend who was supposed to walk but passed, and they did the absolute bare minimum to respect the deceased students at commencement."

While University administration provided more information on how deceased students were recognized during the ceremony, they did not know why the flowers were moved.

"University Chaplain, Kathryn Schnurr, during the invocation recognized Zoe M. Underwood, a member of the Class of 2025, whose life ended tragically too soon," the spokesperson wrote. "There were flowers on a chair to recognize Zoe, but there is no information at this time about why they were removed or by whom."

Other attendees at the event shared similar sentiments that the University's administration did not provide adequate accommodations for students and participants. Concerns ranged from logistical oversights to a failure to adapt the ceremony to unpredictable weather conditions.

Alum Derek Witzig and his family were particularly disappointed by the weather. Witzig recalls being initially confused as to when the ceremony was set to proceed as scheduled, given talks of a possible move to Friday, May 23 in an interview with The News-Letter.

"I had been tracking the weather for a week or so before, and I knew that it was going to rain on Thursday, but likely not on Friday. I kept telling everyone I knew that there was a rain date for Friday, and that it could be Thursday or Friday. But then they just went ahead with it," Witzig explained.

Witzig also criticized the University's decision to exclusively utilize ponchos, which covered graduation regalia, rather than rescheduling to the designated rain day.

"The main thing for me was that I had prepared nice clothes and everything. I had my cap, all my regalia, and trying to fit a poncho over that was a little bit unwieldy and difficult to manage," Witzig said. "And no umbrellas [were] allowed. It's [either] a poncho or no poncho, and you get soaked [if you go with the latter]. [...] It was really uncomfortable and kind of a burden to have it in the rain."

Witzig went on to emphasize that families and friends were also affected by the weather, alongside students.

"My mom, my brother came a little bit later because of [the rain]," he said. "People with families who'd come from really far away, [...] have traveled a really long time to see their student go through this important milestone, just to basically be soaked and participate in the rain."

Witzig also disapproved of the University's lack of communication regarding their decision to host the ceremony in the rain. He explained that while some students and their families made travel plans for Thursday, his family and others scheduled their plans around the potential reschedule to Friday. Witzig suggested that an explanation from the University as to why the event was not moved would have improved his overall experience.

As a whole, graduates revealed mixed opinions on many aspects of the ceremony, as shown in their responses to a question about the University's preparedness. While a few rated it at the extreme, many respondents clustered around the middle-to-positive end - most thought the event was generally well-prepared.

Witzig feels that the Class of 2025's college journey, especially at Johns Hopkins, has been especially memorable.

"This four year journey was incredible. [...] During our entire four years, [the global events we witnessed were] perfect examples for us to learn about the world. I feel like some of those events are challenging for people to deal with. We live in an incredibly interesting and fast paced time, and I feel like our four years were just things I haven't really seen before in my entire short life."

Overall, the ceremony appears to have been a bittersweet event - Witzig described this in his interview with The News-Letter.

"Maybe this last rain was really just one of our last trials that will prepare us for anything to come," Witzig explained. "There were a lot of great things that I'll remember from the day, but it would have been even better had it not been in the rain."

Editors' Note: This article has been edited to reflect Witzig's quote more accurately and completely.

The News-Letter: Many students recommended La Cuchara when I first started college, and it's been one of my favorite spots over the past three years!

Let's start from the beginning. We know your journey began at Fish Tales in Ocean City and took you through a number of restaurants in Baltimore, before you co-founded La Cuchara with your family. How have those past experiences shaped your approach to mixology and hospitality?

JL: Working in different types of establishments taught me a lot. Each place had its own style, its own group of guests, and that really helped me learn how to build relationships and make sure every guest has a great time. Fish Tales was very different from Black Olive, for example - more of a beach party vibe - and there I learned important management skills that have been incredibly helpful as my career developed.

N-L: La Cuchara has been a champion of amazing Basque cuisine in Baltimore. Why did you all decide to focus on Basque cuisine? And what's the story behind the name "La Cuchara"?

JL: For the name, "La Cuchara" means "the spoon" in Spanish, but it also reflects the idea of gathering around a pot of stew and sharing a meal made with whatever you have on hand. A lot of cultures have something similar. When we traveled around Europe, the whole family fell in love with the asador restaurants, the pintxo bars, and, really, the entire Basque region and its people. They're so warm, talented and loving. And the Basque region also has one of the highest concentrations of innovative cooking anywhere in the world over the past few decades.

N-L: Running a restaurant with family must be a very unique experience. How do you, your brother Ben and your sister-in-law Amy divide responsibilities at La Cuchara?

JL: We're lucky - we really trust each other and work toward the same goal. Each of us brings different skills to the table. Amy is amazing with the business side and finance, Ben is obviously an incredible chef, and I focus on front-of-house and hospitality. We complement each other really well. It's a great partnership; we each bring different strengths to the table, and, together, it works beautifully.

N-L: That sounds like such a healthy and complementary partnership! Speaking of the space itself, La Cuchara is located in a historic building at Meadow Mill. What drew you to that location, and how has the building's character influenced the restaurant's atmosphere?

JL: We loved the historic nature of the building; you can feel the history the moment you walk in. Even before it was the London Fog factory, it had an industrial life going all the way back to the 1800s. We wanted to put roots down somewhere with deep Baltimore ties but that also has a unique feel compared to other places in the city - plus, it has great parking!

N-L: That sounds wonderful; I love the vibe that mixes modern and retro! Moving into the day-to-day, what's your favorite part of running La Cuchara, and what's the most challenging?

JL: One of my favorite parts is working on the cocktail and beverage program. I love starting my day by looking at the cocktail and wine lists; that's where I really get to put a personal touch and create something for our guests. Another thing I love is seeing our regular guests - being able to chat with them, host them - and also meeting new guests. It's definitely a highlight of my day.

As for challenges, running a small business always means you have to pivot constantly. Between COVID-19 and general market changes, there's always something new to adapt to. I don't dislike it, but it's definitely a challenge. You always have to identify problems quickly and adjust how you operate to meet those new challenges.

For example, during COVID-19, we created a marketplace to sell goods directly to the community; that helped us keep the lights on. More recently, we've had to adjust how we source products due to supply chain issues, making sure we can continue to offer high-quality dishes and drinks at fair prices. It's always a balancing act.

N-L: La Cuchara is known for changing its menu daily, focusing on fresh seasonal ingredients. How do you apply that philosophy to the beverage program?

JL: Being able to reprint the menu each day gives me the freedom to be really creative with the cocktails, too. If I have a special ingredient for one night only, that's great - I can make a one-night-only cocktail. Every day is a new seasonal list because I can tweak, swap or completely recreate cocktails whenever I want. It's incredible to have that level of flexibility.

We also have a "G&T de Jour" - a gin and tonic of the day - where my bartenders use whatever fresh produce or ingredients we get from the kitchen that day. It keeps things exciting, both for us and for the guests.

We work with a lot of wonderful local producers, too -for example, Karma Farm. Being able to visit the farms, see how everything is grown and bring it right to the restaurant makes it extra special. There's a real connection between the farm and the table, and guests can taste that.

N-L: I love the transparency and connection that brings. Also, as the creative force behind the beverage program, where do you usually find inspiration for your cocktails?

JL: I'm really inspired by cocktails from the 1920s and '30s. Some of them translate directly to today, and others I like to put a modern twist on. I love taking a classic and either presenting it just as it was 100 years ago or reimagining it with a fresh spin.

One of my favorites is the Ramos Gin Fizz - it's a green-based cocktail that takes about five to ten minutes to prepare properly, but it's so rewarding. I love the history behind classic cocktails and the journey of bartending over the past century; it's something beautiful to remember and carry forward.

Even today, many of the spirits we use are the same ones they used 100 years ago. Whether I'm treating them traditionally or giving them a new twist, it's always fun to showcase that connection.

N-L: I definitely need to try one next time! How do you research these recipes?

JL: Honestly, you don't find everything on the Internet. I collect old cocktail books - some from the 1940s - and study them. The more knowledge you have about history and technique, the more you're able to create. It's a lot of trial and error too; sometimes, I'll work on a cocktail six or seven times until I get it right.

N-L: Could you share a story behind one of your favorite cocktails you've created?

JL: Sure! One is called Miss May. I created it for my wife; she loved the flavor of bourbon but found it a little too strong. So, I blended bourbon aged in port barrels with a 23-year aged rum, mole bitters, orange peel and cardamaro, a liqueur made from cardoon plants. It turned into a smoother, slightly sweeter drink that kept the spirit of bourbon.

Another one I love is Sangre del Corazón, which means "Blood of the Heart" in Spanish. We had fresh beets coming in, and I didn't want them to go bad. I turned them into a sweet beet espuma - like a foam - and topped a black pepper-infused gin and tonic with it. It's a seasonal item, and we'll actually be bringing it back this May!

N-L: I'll definitely keep an eye out for it! Now, for guests who are newer to pairing food and drinks, what advice would you give?

JL: My advice is to not limit yourself to one type of drink, and trust your server! You might start with a cocktail and some almonds or olives, move to a rosé with your first course and maybe try a nice sherry with your charcuterie. There's a whole world of options out there, and part of the fun is exploring them throughout the meal.

N-L: That's great advice. Do you have a system for learning guests' preferences when recommending cocktails?

JL: I always ask them what they've enjoyed in the past. Are they looking for something sweeter, more vegetal, more savory? Then I design something based on their answers. You don't just make someone a margarita because they say they like tequila; you want to create something new and memorable, something that shows you listened and crafted something special for them. That's what hospitality is all about.

N-L: That's amazing! Finally, I heard the exciting news that your family recently purchased the old Five and Dime building in Hampden. What's your vision for that space?

JL: We're really excited! We'll continue to run La Cuchara, of course, but we're hoping to launch a brand-new concept in the Five and Dime space soon. Hampden is such a great community; there are so many great restaurants already, and we're excited to be part of that neighborhood with a new project. The building itself has so much historic value, and we can't wait to breathe some new life into it.

When they took on SB2K17, Spieth and Thomas were 23. Fowler was 28- but his youthful charisma and clothing choices blessed him with an adolescent energy that the likes of Rory McIlroy - whom Rickie is several months older than - could simply no longer match.

This was the year that Justin Thomas would win 5 times, prevailing at East Lake and hoisting the Wanamaker Trophy. It was the season that Spieth took home the Claret Jug at Royal Birkdale. Fowler had just won in his signature orange at the then-significant Honda Classic. These young men were certainly the future of the sport - the next inspirations. In the same way Tiger Woods inspired a generation of players who were not only "golfers" but athletes in the physical sense, the next cohort would come closer to inspiring from the emotional side: The youthful energy you see from rookie season football and basketball talents. They would not be simply carefully put together young men, but kids, still young enough to have that PR-mistake-riddled fun.

And just as that future was beginning to take shape, evolving from a nascent dream to an enduring model, one by one, the three players began to fade.

Rickie came first. While it's true he never showed the raw potential of Thomas or Spieth, never winning one of the big four, or reaching the pinnacle of the Official World Golf Rankings, he was the chairman of the tier immediately below. He won The Players - the "5th Major" - in 2015, reaching a career high of 4th in the OWGR, and drew massive crowds eager to see his signature swing, flow and fervor. They called him the best player to never win a major championship, and you could count on him for a win or two a year.

2017 marked the beginning of the end of all that. Although after the PGA National, it was a winless '17-'18 season until he next lifted a trophy at the 2019 WM Phoenix Open, and his consistent results - especially the dependable in-contention status at majors - were on their way out. The boisterous win at The Greatest Show on Grass wasn't a resurgence; instead, it mercifully held Fowler in the vestibule for one last fleeting gander at the interior before he silently exited the realm of relevance.

A standalone 2023 victory at the Rocket Mortgage Classic couldn't lift a drowning Rickie from a sea of missed cuts and disappointing finishes. He finished in the top 15 on Tour just once since. Now 36 and the World Number 128, imagining a true revival of his career becomes more difficult to imagine with each passing tournament. In many ways, his days of influence are gone.

As for Spieth, at his height, he was the most transcendent among his Spring Break contemporaries. His most notable campaign was in 2015: the youngest Masters Champion since Tiger Woods' 1997 coronation; the youngest US Open Champion since Bobby Jones in 1923; the Fedex Cup Champion. The comparisons to Woods began, and many speculated he and McIlroy would rule the tour side by side for the coming decade.

After 2017's multiple win, Open-Champion season, Spieth's form inexplicably dropped off - rather drastically. In one year, he went from World Number 2 to 17. The next year, he dropped to 44th. Then 82nd. It took him 1,351 days to win again. He won again a little more than a year later - in April, at the RBC Heritage in Harbor Town. Between the two wins, Spieth played far better than during his 1351-day drought - he even finished 2nd at golf's oldest major. His new-found consistency, combined with the 2022 win at the Heritage, convinced many the recession of his game was coming to a close. They were wrong.

Spieth hasn't won since he slipped on the Plaid Jacket at the Harbor Town Golf Links - a drought just over 200 days (as of the current date) shorter than his longest. He's the World Number 51 today, and just like Rickie, his slump can't be reasonably expected to end anytime soon. Although he remains competent enough to qualify for the major championships and the FedEx Cup Playoffs (unlike Fowler), he's a shade of the player he once was.

Perhaps the most interesting post-2017 career trajectory of the three has been Justin Thomas'. Unlike Fowler and Spieth, whose winning ways in the biggest events have long since evaporated, "JT" currently holds two massive trophies from this decade. A 2021 Players Championship to go with his scintillating playoff finish against Will Zalatoris for the 2022 PGA Championship proved Thomas would be a force in the 2020s.

And yet, just as it did for Rickie and Jordan, a slump came for Justin. Here, though, it wasn't his form being irrevocably lost, or his finishes disappearing from pertinence for several seasons. Instead, for two and a half years, Thomas' game fell off a cliff and then experienced a slow burn back. If you imagine these slumps as journeys down, through and out of a canyon, JT's has been far narrower than the other two's.

In similar fashion to Spieth's 2017 Open Championship win marking a loss of form, Thomas seemed to experience an extended hangover from his second major victory. From the latter parts of 2022 to the meat of the 2023 season, his game was truly off. Shockingly for a player of his caliber, he missed the 2023 FedEx Cup Playoffs (albeit coming excruciatingly, tantalizingly close). Beyond that year-and-change stretch, however, it's been a steady climb back upward in form and consistency. He finally seemed to find some of his swing in the fall of 2023, with three straight top-5 finishes, and 2024 was a year marked by his reliable play - after the final tally at East Lake Golf Club, he tied for 14th in the season-long points race.

Still, though, as he flipped the calendar to 2025, Thomas hadn't won since Southern Hills' PGA Championship in 2022 - a drought slowly approaching the dreaded 1,000-day mark. To reach the first-class heights to which he was accustomed - to swing himself up and out of his drought's canyon - he desperately needed a title.

At the Valspar Championship, in the 12th week of the 2025 season, the elusive prize was within reach: With just four holes to play, Thomas held a three-shot lead over Viktor Hovland. The pressure to finally clamber out of the gorge, however, proved to be too much - JT bogeyed two of the last three, allowing Hovland to step over him and end a drought of his own. It was a blow to Thomas' journey, but to his credit, his post-round presser was optimistic: he insisted on his pride to have the chance to win again.

Maybe it's karma, then, that when he had that opportunity once more just three weeks later at Harbor Town, he didn't crumble but instead rose. The first walkoff putt of his career fell, and the slump was over. April 20, 2025 - 1064 days after his last victory - marked JT's triumph, when he emerged from the canyon and reclaimed his spot among the sport's best.

Notably, Justin Thomas is no longer that kid from SB2K17 - none of the Spring-Breakers are. They're husbands, fathers, veterans on Tour and, most importantly, polished. The tears in JT's eyes after Sunday in Harbor Town were not those of a man excited for a bright future as much as they were of one whose scar tissue has finally healed.

One wonders, though, whether Thomas will be able to stay out of the gully of slumps. The parallels to Spieth's 2022 season are there: Improved play culminating in a win at the RBC Heritage. Spieth fell back into the canyon after his victory - he was unable to escape the hangover.

Granted, the RBC Heritage's "Signature" status renders it a higher-profile stop on the Tour's schedule today than in 2022. And JT's form has of late been truly elite in a way that Spieth's wasn't: that near miss at the Valspar pushed him back into the OWGR's top 10. Admittedly, it feels different for Justin than it did for Jordan: a narrower canyon and steady drive out separate him.

Interestingly, no more than one of the three Spring-Breakers (sorry, Smylie Kaufman) has been a top-tier tour pro since 2017. Rickie has been a non-factor, but as soon as Jordan won at Harbor Town and JT prevailed at Southern Hills just two months later, Spieth relapsed into his slump (and Thomas crafted one of his own soon after). If there really are golf gods, they did not appear to enjoy SB2K17. For now, their loyalties stay with the establishment.

The title of "fan favorite" does not come lightly in golf: It takes a level of either relatability or success that few have the ability to cultivate. Joel Dahmen is beloved for his everyman candor and Scottie Scheffler is appreciated for his superhuman ball-striking. What made Fowler, Spieth and Thomas singular - and what those videos confirmed - was their capacity for both relatability and success. Individually, they were able to rise to a level of marketability most any other golfer couldn't approach, but collectively - as a unit - they had the power to change the culture of the Tour.

The Spring Break videos were the single greatest indicator of a new generation in our sport. They represented an injection of enthusiasm golf so desperately lacked (and still lacks), making the tumble of their stars all the more disheartening. Every professional goes through valleys, but the struggles of these three have all been more intense than the norm in some way: Rickie disappeared from relevance, Spieth transformed into a mid-level tour player for years at a time and Justin Thomas' game became utterly unrecognizable for a year.

Through each of their journeys - within the canyons of their own convoluted swing thoughts, doubts and missed cuts - one thought undoubtedly remains for a player in a slump: who they used to be. It's unforgiving, and no one's really sure why they begin or end. Relapses abound, and a victory is often a false alarm of a career's revival. For Rickie Fowler, Jordan Spieth and Justin Thomas, the slumps have been relentlessly punishing for not only the players but the sport as a whole. However unrealistic the prospect, one hopes all three will soon be back and here to stay, because we need them.

And so, I did the thing. I signed up for a few clubs I'd probably never attend, joined email lists I still can't unsubscribe from and closed my laptop with a sigh. Out of curiosity, I opened it again - this time, to conduct a quick search for one club that I hadn't seen: the radio club. All I found was an outdated website, a graveyard littered with the faces of executive members long graduated and radio shows long cancelled. Regardless, I emailed, not expecting a response.

Nearly six weeks later, I got a response inviting me to join the first WJHU meeting of the year, that Monday at 8 p.m. in the radio room. And so, at 7:45 p.m., I set out to find the radio room.

Down a long, empty hallway, a sign reading WJHU beckoned like an oasis. Music poured from a half-open door, its frame studded with generations of stickers. Inside, about ten people sat on worn-out couches, surrounded by stacks of CDs and walls draped with posters from shows long past. I slid into the last empty spot next to a tall, redheaded girl in a sweater named Willa, who I would soon learn was the only other freshman there. Though we didn't know it then, we'd become co-presidents of WJHU in just a few short years.

We started with the classic WJHU icebreaker: What are you listening to? As we went around the circle, we were serenaded by our selections through the large speaker in the corner. We learned that the co-presidents, who shared a couch that was later dubbed the "Presidential Futon," had decided to revive the club after years of its extinction - which is why it had been nearly impossible to join. We talked about starting podcasts and getting a radio station going, about our hopes and dreams for where WJHU could take us.

After that, I never had a free Monday night. Each week, I slid into that same empty seat and shared what I was listening to - and they did the same. We had game nights consisting not of games but of trading niche music, arguing who had the most underground taste. We spent days on the Beach with a large speaker, we shared playlists, we marked our heights on the wall of the radio room with a Sharpie, and, slowly, strangers became friends. One Monday, upon entering the radio room, I realized I had found the place I belonged.

My freshman year culminated in WJHU's first annual Spring Show, a day-long concert featuring student artists on the Beach. It was characterized, then as now, by humid late-April sunshine, hours of loafing on the beach and good, or perhaps mediocre, music.

It is astounding to me how much WJHU has grown since that day. At the beginning of this year, Willa and I shared the Presidential Futon and watched new members spill into the radio room and pile onto the floor. I couldn't help but think of my very first time in that room when only nine or ten people sat in a small circle.

As always, my senior year finished with my favorite day of the year: Spring Show. Willa and I took turns introducing the selected bands, gazing out at a growing audience. But halfway through, the sunshine gave way to a torrential downpour. The crowd fled for cover while Willa and I attempted to cover the speakers and other equipment with tarps, but it was too late.

As we cleaned up the stage, we discussed if there was anything that could be done to save the event. Two of the artists - both WJHU freshmen - hadn't got to perform their set, so we called and asked if they'd do a private set for the club. A few hours later, I wiggled my way into an overflowing practice room to watch two of our own: Lil Teach and Sclera. As the tiny concert ended in enthusiastic applause, I looked around and, suddenly, I was there again, in the radio room for the first time, sharing music.

It felt like our first meeting of the year, when the radio room flooded with strangers that would soon become staple figures in my weekly routine. It felt like the morning of Spring Show, setting up the stage and blowing up giant beach balls together. It felt like that first day I traversed hallways to find the radio room, on the precipice of something inexplicably special.

As the younger members of WJHU hugged each other in celebration, I realized that I did more than just find a place to belong: I made a place for others to belong.

Molly Green is a senior from Orange County, Calif., and she is graduating with a degree in Writing Seminars.

Academic Highlight: PILOT Program

It is quite challenging to pick a singular highlight from my undergraduate academic experience. I have been quite lucky in terms of engaging professors and interesting courses, so I do not think I would do my program of study justice by highlighting just one. In lieu of that, I have chosen my favorite academic experience: the PILOT program. After participating in PILOT sessions for my freshman year introductory courses, I decided I wanted to apply for the program that had made such a positive impact on my acclimation to college life.

That choice has been one of the best I have made in the past four years. PILOT has been a transformative experience and an integral part of my student life during my time as a leader. The nerves and excitement at kicking off every semester with a new group are something I will really miss in my post-graduate life. Additionally, PILOT has given me the opportunity to connect with students from a variety of academic and personal backgrounds whom I might not have met outside of this context. Thank you to the Office of Academic Support for bringing the program to fruition and to my former students for having made my life more interesting each week.

Best On-Campus Event(s): The Hopkins Art Scene

I can honestly say that I have never been disappointed by a student group performance here at JHU. My first foray into the Hopkins Art Scene was at the behest of my roommate, who joined the Sirens A Cappella group during our freshman fall. It was an incredible production - I recommend their concerts even for people who do not have a friend in the group - and every time I go, I end up with four new songs added to my playlist.

My other roommate, an avid reader who rations Agatha Christie novels, then introduced me to the world of student theatre by taking me to the Barnstormers' production of Witness for the Prosecution. I had no idea what to expect, but I was definitely not prepared for how much I enjoyed it. The shows are amusing, well-rehearsed and of undeniable quality, so much so that attending productions at the Arellano Theater has become a semesterly tradition.

Lastly, a discussion of our campus art scene would not be complete without mentioning the JHU Entertainers club, which is half of the reason why I attend events like Lighting of the Quads (the other half being my very convincing friends, of course). Last year's performance to Pitbull's Fireball is something I do not think I'll ever forget, and it is definitely worth trying to catch one of their performances.

All that to say, the Hopkins art scene has been a strong source of community building for me, and I am very thankful for the talented students who dedicate their time to keeping it so active.

Hidden 'Jewel': Bouldering Cave

Not only is this place relatively unknown to a sizable portion of the student population, but it is also actually hidden in the basement of the Ralph O'Connor Recreation Center. The 'climbing' fever spread around my friend group fast during our junior year and became one of my favorite ways to decompress, see people and learn something new.

Every time I conquered a new climb or the routes changed and we got to explore a variety of tracks, it felt like a small victory. Exploring what the campus has to offer has really made my college experience all the more well-rounded; it has also made it very difficult to say goodbye.

MVPs: My friends

This is the part where I get to be a little bit sappy, but nothing that I described above would have been the same without the caring, consistent presence of my friends. They are truly the driving force behind all the wonderful memories I have during my four years of college. Good times, bad times, academically stressed times - all of these fade into positive memories if you have the kind of friends I had (and hopefully will continue to have) at Hopkins. College is a community, and I am deeply thankful to have found my place in it alongside you guys.

Signing off,

J.M.Q

I was not afraid because I'd done this before. Not college, but being away from home. I went to sleep-away camp when I was in middle school, spending seven weeks every summer apart from my family. I had done a gap year after high school, moved to Banff, Alberta, for eight months to teach skiing at the local mountain during the day and wash dishes at a restaurant in town at night. I had lived without my parents. I had faced homesickness and won. I was independent, and I liked being that way.

So, it took me by surprise when, after my parents hugged me goodbye and left me to start my freshman year, I started to cry. I was alone in my AMR II dorm room - bed dressed up in the sheets I had picked out a few weeks ago, posters and pictures from home spread across the wall - crying. And, to be clear, I am not a crier. I felt a strange emptiness in my chest, like my heart was swiping at open air. I missed my parents so much it hurt. I felt so lost, so confused and so alone.

Of course, what I was experiencing was a classic spell of homesickness. And, like most homesickness, it passed. I met friends, started classes and, eventually, saw my AMR II dorm room as something like home. I adored my roommate, I adored my teachers, I adored farmers markets and Brody nights and Bird in Hand. I started texting my mom only a few times a week and calling her even less than that. I wasn't afraid. I was back to being independent, so I thought I didn't need her anymore.

Now, being "independent" and having a strong relationship with your family doesn't have to be mutually exclusive. I love my family dearly. I love spending time with them, going home for winter and summer breaks, eating dinners, watching Top Chef on television. But, in my mind, I thought independence meant living in faraway, exciting places, in the absence of any attachments stagnating my freedom. I thought it required carving my own path, alone.

Four years later, I am a senior at Hopkins, preparing to graduate. I'm looking for what comes next. At first, I thought I should move somewhere I've never been - somewhere like Chicago, or maybe Los Angeles, or maybe Seattle. Somewhere new, fresh and foreign. Somewhere far away from home. Because that's what independence is, right?

Then, when I was back in Massachusetts for winter break, I had a funny realization. I was sitting with my mom on the couch, re-watching an episode of Wheel of Time, when I felt calmness settle in my stomach, a fullness so unlike what I had felt in my AMR II dorm room that first day of freshman year. At that moment, I had no desire to ever leave Massachusetts again.

And why would I? My home and my family are familiar; they demand none of the growing pains, the frantic searching, the willing disorientation that comes with moving to new places. Don't get me wrong, I have no aspirations to be a "living in her parents' basement" trope, and I want to keep growing and pushing myself, but I do think I need to recontextualize what I mean by "independence."

I feel like we too often tell ourselves that we are a failure if we return to where we came from, if we cherish the old over seeking the new. College graduates are supposed to "fly the nest," "discover themselves" and "find their own place in the world." And, in pursuit of this, we (or, at least, I) think this means we ought to leave behind everything that has brought us comfort and joy in search of some chimeric utopia of self-fashioning and new beginnings. I love Massachusetts; I love my family. Why should I run away from that?

Isabel Leonetti is from Newton, Mass. and is graduating with a degree in Public Health and Spanish. She is a former Copy Editor for The News-Letter.

In high school, I had plenty of friends - and plenty of friendship drama. I told myself I'd walk into college alone and leave alone. I also swore off men.

But college? Oh, college had other plans.

My freshman year was isolating: I went to class, did assignments, took notes and returned to my single dorm. No study sessions, no library visits, no real connections - not with peers or professors. I didn't even realize I was falling behind in my classes.

Then, things started to shift. I met my current boyfriend freshman year. Sophomore year, I moved into a suite with a friend I made that first year and finally found a sense of community. I leaned into my love for writing and co-founded Hopkins' first poetry performance group. I joined the Black Student Union and started showing up for myself in ways I hadn't before.

Academically, it wasn't easy. It was jarring to go from graduating fourth in my high school class to struggling to earn A's in college. I didn't understand what was going wrong - so I turned to YouTube, learned how to study and, slowly but surely, my grades improved. My confidence returned, little by little.

Now, as a senior? Developmental Biology is my 13th reason. No senior should be taking that course in the spring semester. At this point, I don't even care what grade I get - I just want out. But still, I've come a long way. Some parts of the community I found didn't work out like I hoped, but I don't regret a thing.

I've met people I'll carry with me for the rest of my life. The boy I met freshman year? We're still together, and I love him deeply. And those study habits I built? They helped me trend upward enough to impress graduate schools. That's where I'm headed next.

I thought I'd ace everything, get a med-school-worthy GPA and avoid all relationship drama. I thought I'd be a lone wolf.

But college? College was nothing like I expected - like at all.

Ty'shera Mintz is from Philadelphia, Pa. and is graduating with a degree in Biology.

My connection with photography began with my love for the outdoors. Whether hiking, biking, backpacking, kayaking or just traveling, I was fascinated by the stillness of landscape photography. My camera quickly joined each adventure, allowing me to fully appreciate details, open spaces, individuals and moments that might not have been originally explored.

What I have learned is that photographs hold their value over time. It is not always about the visual aesthetic, but about capturing emotion or connection with others. These photos have the potential to become keepsakes for years to come. Looking back, it might bring you a smile, a laugh or even a tear. It is special how we as a generation can have so many tangible memories that remind us of who we were, who we were with and the emotion connected to that exact moment. As Ferris Bueller famously said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

This is an amplified process during our college experience. Over four years, we have gone through a transformative time of personal growth, faced academic successes and challenges, and shared meaningful moments with friends and family. Think about late-night study sessions, cheering at a sports event, attending an event on campus, exploring part of the city or simply just the joy of celebrating your undergraduate milestones with your friends along the way; it is in these moments that the quiet yet powerful effect of a photograph can truly shine.

A recent picture that popped up on my phone was from freshman move-in day. It was an instant flashback through time to the nervous excitement from the chaotic energy of that day. This photo perfectly encapsulated the beginning of this incredible chapter that is now coming to a close.

We live in a time when many of us take pictures and rarely return to see them again. With so many opportunities to smile for the camera and document our lives, I encourage you to scroll through your camera roll to relive some moments from your undergraduate journey that you might have forgotten. Maybe even put some of your favorites in an album that, in a few months, when the change of pace sets in after graduation, you'll have something to turn to. And why not? We are all writing our own individual stories and living unique experiences worth sharing with others.

As we get closer to commencement and beyond, I look forward to taking more photos for the sake of taking photos. During future Alumni Weekends and conversations with our future families, we will be able to tell stories with visual memories to complement and add to them. It has been an honor to document, share, experience and celebrate our journey together as the Class of 2025. For that, I am thankful.

Steven Simpson is from East Stroudsburg, Pa. and is graduating with a degree in Film and Media Studies and minors in Leadership Studies, Marketing and Communications, Entrepreneurship and Management, Business, and Accounting and Financial Management. He is the former Photo Editor and Webmaster for The News-Letter.

I recently had someone ask me an even more existential question: has my experience analyzing and critiquing art affected my ability to enjoy it? I thought for a while, but could only reach one conclusion: I have no other way of engaging with art, save questioning it. Has this made it less enjoyable? For some pieces, of course, that inevitably tracks. But, overall, I have a far more fulfilling relationship with art than ever before.

I'm not interested in telling people to publish every opinion they have. Full transparency: I've never done that. At least, I've tried not to. I don't think negativity and cynicism get anybody anywhere, and I certainly don't subscribe to the type of criticism that berates performers with unnecessary insults and epithets. Former American talk show host Conan O'Brien has been quite open about his struggles with harsh critics during the first year of his first show, Late Night with Conan O'Brien. One particular early review by television critic Tom Shales insulted his nervous tics and his rabbit-like, "beady little eyes." O'Brien claims to have been so torn up by the review that he curled up under his office desk in shame. If my reviews ever created this level of embarrassment, then I would feel I had failed to elevate the art forms I love, did a disservice to the art and the artist.

But I also never thought my critical articles could enact any specific change, either. I think some reacted under the false assumption that I consciously wrote my articles hoping that the artist(s) would listen, that they would alter their style to match my desires. In truth, I never wrote with the artists in mind at all. My intended audience was hazy, probably just a person interested in the artistic mediums I discussed.

So no, criticism is not about creating immediate change. Change like that would be harmful, attempting to push artists out of a career, or companies into bankruptcy. The purpose of criticism is much more abstract than that. When you critique someone's work to your friends or family, do you want to ruin their life? Of course not, because these are opinions, not diatribes. But then, why is it important to share them at all? Why not keep your opinions to yourself?

In many ways, the importance of criticism can only be defined by its opposite; imagine a world where negative opinions of art were always discussed in private, where social convention necessitated a fabricated positivity about everything artistic. Imagine how stifling and toxic a community would feel if all performances were lauded and praised in public, but criticized and ridiculed in private? How would you feel as the audience? How would you feel as the artist? In a world of false positivity, there are no good options; you'd either feel silenced, false and inauthentic, or uneasy, suspicious and alone.

Art as an absolute good is a false concept. People understand this implicitly - art is subjective, right? But there has been a recent trend in artistic circles where art's implicit subjectivity has been used to silence people. The phrase "let people enjoy things," for example, is immensely ironic. It simultaneously encourages opinions and discourages people from expressing them. Let people enjoy things, yes, but also let people express themselves when they don't enjoy the same things as you.

I get most spirited in my discussions of art when I feel that I have a firm opinion about it. Many react to this with silent confusion, even bewilderment. But, sometimes, I wish I could tell them that I'm not defending my opinion for the sake of winning. I'm defending it in the hopes that someone will show me another perspective that I could never have thought of on my own. I'm defending it because it helps me understand my own relationship with art in a deeper way. And, yes, I'm defending it because I consider myself an aspiring artist, and I want to know as much about art as possible.

My time at The News-Letter has emboldened me to not only be a better critic of others but also be a better critic of myself. It has improved my own creative endeavors more than any other organization I've ever been a part of, and that includes my Writing Seminars courses and extracurricular workshops (though these were also priceless experiences). Receiving the untethered freedom to research art history, to thoughtfully discuss the arts at Hopkins and my own biased preferences with the most unique and brilliant staff imaginable has been the experience of a lifetime. It's why I'm so passionately inquiring that you find the same space to be critical.

So, the next time you're not feeling a movie that your friends enjoy or an album that they listen to constantly, don't be afraid to critique it. Of course, you never want to ruin the mood, but, if you can take ownership of your opinion, then perhaps your friends will reconsider their own. If they don't, that's okay. But both you and your friends will have a better understanding of art and of each other.

Timothy McShea is from Ellicott City, Md., and is graduating with a degree in English and Writing Seminars. He is a former Arts and Entertainment Editor and Sports Editor for The News-Letter.

I'm writing to you from my favorite couch in the living room of my four-person apartment that I share with my friends (some of the best friends I've ever had). It's been a harder day than most, and I've stumbled more times than I'd like to admit, but I've looked after myself and managed to get some work done - and that's a win in the university handbook.

I won't say four years flew by because, at times, they certainly felt long. Nights when we'd only wrap up laying out the paper at 4 a.m., and mornings when I'd wake up at 4 a.m. to study for what was always an economics exam - I've pushed myself harder and more consistently than ever before. But, in between all of that has been real happiness. Contentment. Pride and gratitude.

Often, midway through a bring-your-own-dinner night with friends, you'll feel like the luckiest girl alive. After receiving a good grade on a test that you worked really hard for, you'll recognize the effort you put in rather than attributing it solely to fluke. Though you'll sometimes feel like you're moving through the motions, stuck, you've gotten better at turning your face up to the sun and breaking out of routine.

You've always been better than me at embracing change. But I'm happy to say that I've improved. For example, I'm now quite close to being able to say that I'm an outdoors person - at least, I've hiked the Maryland Heights Trail in Harpers Ferry, W.Va., which is one more hike than we'd previously (voluntarily) completed. It's a small example of change, but an important one, to me.

I'm also more willing to try new things: climbing, running, public speaking. It's the last one that I'm especially proud of, my time at the paper having offered gentle yet firm encouragement. The Editor-in-Chief role is absolutely something you never thought you'd do - thought you could do - and yet, it's become something that has guided so much of how you now carry yourself: with purpose, quiet self-assurance and perspective. It taught you that leadership could be service, not just authority, and that listening can sometimes be more important than speaking.

We've also found new friends, who transform the mundanity of the everyday into magic, with conversation, laughter and connection. All of a sudden, three meals a day became three opportunities to share stories, poke fun and theorize over hypothetical situations - "What would you do if...?" Whether we slow it down to watch television or speed it up to see the world, it means everything.

It's been four years of all of this. I want you to know that you're really proud of yourself. Like I said, you've grown more confident. More sure of who you are. More in tune with how you're feeling and less afraid to express it. You're still working on some things, but that's okay. There's time.

That being said, we didn't do these four years alone. It wouldn't have been possible. Thank you to our friends, our girlies, who picked us up when we needed it, and who gratefully accepted the same back. Thank you to some incredible teaching and advisory faculty, without whose support we not only wouldn't have learnt anything but also wouldn't have felt seen. Thank you to The News-Letter and all its people, old and new. Thank you, mostly, to my parents. For giving me everything. You cheered me on through it all.

Wrapping up our senior year - wrapping up our entire undergraduate experience, in fact - has been really hard. There are lots of expectations and hopes and dreams. But I think I could stand to learn from you and remember how not to be afraid of failure. I am here today because you decided to get on a plane and move halfway across the world. That young, bright-eyed girl has done a lot since then, and sometimes I forget that, for however much I've grown, I am still her and she is still me.

So, while I figure it out here, you work on surviving the next four years. Or, rather, thriving - because I know you will. You'll love it. I know I did.

Love always,

Yana

Yana Mulani is from Dubai, U.A.E. and is graduating with a degree in Economics, English and International Studies. She is a previous Editor-in-Chief, Magazine Editor and News and Features Editor for The News-Letter.

ChatGPT says:

1. Gratitude: The writer thanks colleagues or the company for the opportunity and experiences.
2. Positive memories: There's usually a mention of enjoyable projects or great teamwork.
3. A vague mention of the future: The person might allude to a new role or challenge.
4. Contact details: Many letters end with an offer to stay in touch.
5. Warm wishes: Often includes a generic send-off to the team.

I really wanted to make this article not sound cliché. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to avoid the five criteria listed up there, it started to meet all of them. So everyone, buckle up and get ready to be bored. Here is my clichéd farewell letter.

First and foremost, my college experience would not have been the same without the people. I appreciate my wonderful friends who made my days less depressing - I really would have experienced some form of major crisis without you guys. This may be a less popular opinion, but I was fortunate enough to have so many amazing professors, too. I will never forget that one professor who held my hands and told me to never lose sleep for her course. I couldn't tell her then that it wasn't her course that made me sleep-deprived (I actually skipped her class readings often), but her warmth made my day.

Talking about sleep deficiency, I will never forget laying out The News-Letter papers for print past midnight. Wait, this may actually belong to negative memories which don't belong here... But, to be fair, there were many more good memories than bad in our beloved Gatehouse. My Monday evenings were always reserved for The News-Letter - since I was a staff writer, then News and Features Editor and, finally, Managing Editor. Not to mention that I met incredible people there, too. #chiefs-managing-24 was the best team I could ask for, and I loved working with our fantastic editors. Gatehouse, you will truly be missed. Slack notifications, maybe not as much.

Another place where my core college memories took place is my lab. I really cannot say enough to express how grateful I am for the opportunities I had. Before joining this lab, I had never imagined myself going into research; now, I cannot see myself going anywhere other than research. Though the JHMI rides to the hospital were horrible, it was always worth it. I am very sad to leave and very, very jealous of whoever will be joining the team.

Now, time for "a vague mention of the future." I am a naturally future-oriented person, so I spent most of my time at Hopkins trying to figure out what I will do next: next day, next week, then next semester. The ironic thing is that, despite all that effort, it took me so long to figure out my next steps after graduation (ugh, the feeling of unemployment!). I am nervous but excited to venture into what lies next.

Fourth is contact details - do I want to share this with 1,500 seniors? Let's connect on LinkedIn.

Most importantly, the generic send-off. I was so lost in my job search that I didn't realize that moving on to something new means that I have to leave behind what I have right now. The thought hit me at a really random moment: when I was flying to Copenhagen for my spring break trip and started sobbing in the aircraft. Like, actual sobbing. Fortunately, it was an overnight flight, so everyone was sleeping. Imagine how bad this could have been if I chose to fly at 3 p.m.

Anyway, my point is that all lasts are accompanied by firsts. Goodbyes must be said when the time comes, even if we are not prepared, and it can be heartbreaking. But always remember to turn around and notice all the exciting things that lie ahead - whether that be the first day of work, first move to a new state or first reunion with our stitched-back-together hearts. Until then, whenever I am reminded of my time here, I will look back at this letter and remember how I felt writing the clichéd farewell.

I wish everyone the best of luck in all the great things you will accomplish. Goodbye, Hopkins.

Warmly,

Aimee

Aimee Cho is from Seoul, South Korea and is graduating with a degree in Psychology. She is a former Managing Editor and News & Features Editor for The News-Letter.

The hours spent laughing together came naturally, almost like it was muscle memory, almost as if we were supposed to find each other that night.

There are some people who come into your life so quietly you don't realize they've become part of you until it's too late to imagine things without them. Even if it's only been two or three years, they feel permanent. Like they arrived just as you were starting to come undone and stayed long enough to witness you stitching yourself back together.

Baltimore gave me that kind of friendship.

I came here expecting college to be full of firsts, the kind you plan for. But I wasn't prepared for how much of it would live in the in-between. The long kitchen conversations, the rides to nowhere, the dinners where we never sat down at the same time but still called it "eating together."

I wasn't prepared for how much of college would be shaped by the people who stayed up with me when I couldn't sleep. The people who knew what song to play when I was spiraling, and those who knew whenever I needed company.

2637 wasn't just an address: It was the place my best friends and I created life.

It was the place I came back to when everything else felt like too much. It was the couch where we cried, the hallway where we danced, the kitchen where something was always either baking or boiling. It was where we figured out how to be.

Somehow, in trying to become adults, we became something softer first: a little family.

It's strange how quickly routines take root. After two years, I'm now used to the alarm system that chimes a bit too loudly as the door opens, and I know how to avoid stumbling over the massive pile of shoes by the stairs. I look forward to the texts that just say "anyone home?" and don't need a response. Even our silences had texture to them. We learned the rhythm of each other's days, and, in between it all, we learned how to care for each other in ways that felt quiet and holy.

It was never about grand gestures. It was the ordinary stuff. Molly dropping a flower on your bed without a word or Asmi sitting on the floor folding laundry while telling the same story for the third time or Janya stealing nail polish without asking or Kavya boiling an extra cup of water every morning.

We weren't always easy on each other. There were days we got it wrong. We said too little or too much, and we shut down or disappeared for a while. But, somehow, we always found our way back because underneath it all was a love so steady it didn't need explaining.

Living with my best friends taught me how to hold people through their mess and to let myself be held in mine. We knew who needed soup, who needed space, who needed to be told, "You don't have to be okay yet." We celebrated each other's wins like they were our own and sat in the losses like they were shared.

I used to think growing up would be about doing big things. Now, I think it's about learning how to sit at a table with the people you love, ask "How was your day?" and mean it. It's about lighting a candle and waiting for someone to come home. It's about choosing each other on the boring days, too.

These friendships changed me. They taught me how to love people without conditions. They made me less afraid of needing others. They made me feel safe in my softness and seen even when I didn't say a word. And when I look back on this time, I won't remember the classes or the campus tours or even the big milestones. I'll remember the way it felt to come home to a room full of people who were glad I walked through the door.

So, to my Baltimore people: Thank you. For the car rides to get ice cream, the quiet check-ins after disappearing for a few days, the long debriefs, the way you loved me when I didn't know how to love myself. For being the best part of all of this.

So, to Asmi, Janya, Kavya and Molly: I don't know what comes next. Our lease is ending, and our time here is, too. But I do know this: We lived something real together, in that little row home at 2637, where the floor creaked in all the right places and the people inside made me feel like the luckiest version of myself.

I couldn't have asked for anything more. I love you, 2637, and I'll miss you forever.

Aashi Mendpara is a senior from Orlando, Fla. graduating with degrees in Neuroscience and Medicine, Science and the Humanities.

Remember that first day you walked across campus, backpack heavy on your shoulders, heart even heavier with doubt? The morning sun cast long shadows of the century-old buildings across manicured lawns that seemed too perfect for someone like you to walk upon. Those grand pillars and stone walkways weren't built with the children of immigrants in mind, or at least that's what you believed. You carried more than just your laptop and iPad that day - you carried the weight of your mother's sacrifices. You carried the bewildered pride of relatives who couldn't quite comprehend what it meant to attend such an institution, who nodded politely when you tried to explain your studies, but whose eyes revealed they were in awe that you were there at all. How strange to think that you would one day stand beneath these same archways with a degree in hand. The very thought would have made you laugh then, caught somewhere between hope and disbelief.

Remember those nights in the library, either in M-level or in the Brody reading room, when the fluorescent lights buzzed above like persistent thoughts, when tears blurred the words on the screen? When you called home and carefully constructed stories of confidence while sitting on cold bathroom tiles on B level, your voice echoing against the walls? You doubted every paper, every exam, every right you had to occupy your seat in those lecture halls. Yet somehow, your hand kept writing, your mind kept learning, your feet kept walking forward. Friends came like seasons. Some were summer, bright and intense but fleeting; others autumn, whose falling away taught you about letting go. A few became winter, enduring and clear in their loyalty. You learned that belonging isn't always about where you're from, but who walks beside you when the path grows difficult.

If I could whisper to you across these years, I'd tell you to look up more often. The days stretched endlessly then with problem sets that consumed weekends, papers that devoured nights, but the years? The years were there and gone in a heartbeat. I'd tell you to sit longer on Keyser Quad watching light filter through leaves, to laugh louder with friends over midnight meals, to breathe deeper when the spring flowers begin to bloom. Because one day, you'll blink, and suddenly you'll be writing the final page, turning in the last assignment, hugging the last goodbye, and moving away from the little life you've built the past four years. And in that blink, four years will have passed like a dream you're struggling to remember even as you wake.

But here's the truth: you did it. Against doubt, against statistics, against the whispers that people like you don't belong in places like this, you did it. Your graduation isn't just your achievement, though. It's the culmination of your mother's American dream. Your diploma bears one name, but it belongs to generations. Those behind you who never had the chance, and those ahead who will walk through doors you helped to open.

With love and pride for all you've become,

Dalila Cabrieles Rodriguez

Graduate of The Johns Hopkins University