1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
With students stuck in quarantine and living in limbo during this coronavirus pandemic, many of us have been wondering: How will remote education work moving forward? As President Christina Paxson of Brown University argued in the New York Times, college campuses across the U.S. should reopen in the fall — but what that will look like remains up in the air.
When people ask us why we want to go into journalism, our response is almost reflexive. “Our passion,” we say, “is amplifying voices that often go unheard.” As protests across the country condemn police brutality and centuries of racial injustice, we’re thinking about how to best amplify black voices as Editors-in-Chief of The News-Letter.
Ahmaud Arbery. Sean Reed. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd. Tony McDade. Yassin Mohammed. These are the names that have recently been added to the Black community’s ever-growing directory of murdered souls. These are the names that have been etched into our minds. The names that we will shout every time we have to fight for justice. Their lives, their stories and their deaths have become integral parts of each and every one of our experiences. From strangers to something much stronger than family.
The first time I visited Homewood Campus also happened to be the first night of the Garland Sit-In. Through all of the tours, class visits, events and students I spoke with during Spring Open House and Overnight Program (SOHOP), what I remember most is University President Ronald J. Daniels standing on stage, briefly addressing the protest that was taking place just across the quad. He was extremely dismissive of the protests, and it seemed to me that he did not care at all about what the students had to say. After one year at Hopkins, I have come to realize that this brief moment in Shriver Hall is emblematic of University leadership’s disregard for student voices.
I am both honored and heartbroken to have the opportunity to put my thoughts on paper and share them with you. I want to use this platform to tell my story and the story of my city.
On Friday, May 22, Vice Provosts Nancy Kass and Stephen Gange abruptly ended ongoing meetings with Teachers and Researchers United (TRU), the Homewood Graduate Representative Organization, the School of Medicine Graduate Student Association and the Hopkins School of Public Health Student Assembly. These meetings had served as a forum to collectively determine how the Hopkins administration would support its graduate students during the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic.
When Hopkins shut down due to the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, I knew that the second half of my semester was going to be strange. I knew that it would be hard. I imagined trying to take finals surrounded by my very loud Syrian family. I imagined finding social distancing lonely and the overabundance of family time grating. I imagined finally using my EMT training to help COVID-19 patients in my county, but I never imagined that I would become one.
I entered a convenience store in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on a warm summer day in 2016. The shop was less than two miles from City Hall, and less than 10 from my home. I was dressed plainly: a tan hat, a plain white t-shirt, black leggings and a dark green book-bag. Upon entering, I gave the cashier a cursory nod.
As I prepared to tread the path of Public Editor, I searched for signposts which would show me the way. I connected with other public editors, considering their ideas in the context of The News-Letter. I read journal articles about the ethics of the reader representative role and studies about how journalism’s audience shifted in the digital age. I pored over our past issues to understand the history underpinning the paper’s coverage of Hopkins students.
Five years ago, Baltimore residents took to the streets to protest the death of Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old black man from Sandtown-Winchester. Gray died on April 19 from a severe spinal cord injury sustained while in police custody, yet no officer was convicted.
U.S. President Donald Trump announced a pause in funding to the World Health Organization (WHO) on April 14. As part of his daily press briefing, Trump emphasized the country’s “duty to insist on full accountability” and publicly asked for a review into the agency’s “mismanaging” of the pandemic. The United States is the largest single contributor to the WHO, and the withdrawal of Trump’s support will be a significant hit to its budget. It is not yet clear whether the White House can actually withhold funding, especially the portion approved by Congress, and if so, how much can be held back. Nevertheless, even talk of doing so in the middle of a global health and economic crisis may have dire consequences.
“Oh, I forgot to add a tip!” I said, just after paying my bill for a drink with some friends on a cold January night in Baltimore.
It’s hard to believe that I’m writing this article.
Universities around the country are struggling with the economic effects of the coronavirus pandemic. Yet, some college presidents and deans will continue to earn million dollar salaries even as they lay off struggling employees, and Hopkins is no exception.
Editors gathered on the Wednesday before spring break to put together a final print issue before The News-Letter shifted temporarily to online publication. Hopkins had announced the suspension of in-person activities through mid-April the night before due to the novel coronavirus (COVID-19), but editors were uncertain when they would be able to return to the Gatehouse, the home of the newspaper’s production.
Twenty-five years ago, Hopkins students buried a time capsule outside of the Milton S. Eisenhower Library to be opened on Earth Day 2020. In 1995, a student involved with the project hoped that those opening the vessel would reflect on how much progress had been made since 1970 and be inspired for the next 25 years of environmental action.
When President Trump gives his daily press briefings with the Coronavirus (COVID-19) Taskforce, my family is usually in the kitchen making dinner. Each day, we begrudgingly turn on my mom’s iPad, wait with dread for Trump to come to the podium and wonder if today will bring a reasonable message from Dr. Fauci, the President lambasting a reporter or another round of full-blown campaigning and propaganda.
With the increasing severity of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, people are absorbed in a constant state of fear, anxiety and stress. This crisis is novel, intense and deadly, and little is known about the virus or treatment methods. Aided by the internet and a primal fear of the unknown, rumors spread even faster than the virus can.
I am by no means the most liberal person that I know. However, despite going to a very politically conservative high school and growing up in a pretty conservative community, I was raised in a liberal family with liberal siblings. I am proud to say that I am a registered Democrat.
This election season, the College Democrats at Hopkins made a conscious decision to not endorse any of the presidential candidates prior to having a nominee. With such a divisive primary season — and an even more divided board — we hoped to afford students the opportunity to come to their own political decisions.