The opinions presented below are solely the views of the author and do not represent the views of The News-Letter. If you are a member of the Hopkins community looking to submit a piece or a letter to the editor, please email opinions@jhunewsletter.com.
Last Thursday, I arrived in Baltimore for the first time since May. I was thrilled to move back into my apartment for the year, see a select number of people who would be accepted into my “quarantine pod” and enjoy a semester of Zoom university. It had been a long summer and an even longer five months of quarantine, so I was looking forward to a big change.
Eight days before classes even started, the University announced that a small cluster of off-campus students in Baltimore had tested positive for coronavirus (COVID-19). In the same email, administrators urged students to stay at home, as they did in their delayed decision to switch from hybrid learning to online-only.
As an international student, I have been disappointed by the Hopkins administration numerous times for how it treats its students, staff and faculty. That is why, when an online teaching format with reduced tuition was announced, I was genuinely happy. The tough decision is ultimately the safest way to resume school and reduce financial stress from the pandemic.
On August 25, I tendered my resignation from the Johns Hopkins Police Accountability Board (JHPAB). A day later, University officials sent a letter to the remaining Board members informing them that their tenure had been “paused” in keeping with University President Ronald J. Daniels’ June announcement regarding a similar “pause” to the Johns Hopkins Police Department (JHPD).
Reader and recent alum Ifeyinwa Egbunike reached out to me on August 12, wanting to know why there had been no News-Letter coverage of University President Ronald J. Daniels’ announcement on July 3 that someone had discovered a noose in University-owned property near campus.
For the sake of Baltimore’s health and students’ safety, University President Ronald J. Daniels and the University’s leadership must work more collaboratively with faculty, students, staff and the people of Baltimore.
One surprising ally in Facebook’s war against TikTok is U.S. President Donald Trump, who has a long history of oppressing Chinese tech companies like Huawei. Some may joke that Trump’s rage stems from when K-pop fans and TikTok users pranked his Tulsa rally in June. But the real reason for his hostility may be the hawkish stance this administration has long taken on China.
“Maybe what we have to be doing is communicating more effectively why we haven’t made a decision, what the factors are that are going to go into that decision,” University President Ronald J. Daniels said in an interview with The News-Letter at the end of April. “Maybe that’s a way to deal with this new normal of pretty profound uncertainty across a number of our operations.”
With a hybrid fall semester closing in, Hopkins has taken important precautions to ensure the health and safety of its staff and students such as mandatory masking on campus and the suspension of all in-person events. The University’s commitment to “equity and fairness,” however, appears hollow when we examine the plans to reopen the Recreation Center.
There is no denying that the situation across the country has changed dramatically since the end of June when Hopkins announced its initial plan for returning to campus this fall. With the exception of the Northeast, coronavirus (COVID-19) numbers have been trending in the wrong direction.
I want to begin by saying that there is nothing I want more than for Hopkins to open up this fall so that I can experience the senior year that I have been looking forward to for the last three years. Regardless of this, based on the current circumstances, if Hopkins continues with their current plan of opening for a hybrid semester, I am afraid that a major coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak on campus is inevitable.
At a press conference in mid-June, President Donald Trump expressed his confidence in scientists’ ability to find a vaccine for the coronavirus (COVID-19) by claiming that experts have also managed to create a vaccine for acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS). That would be reassuring, except that it is entirely wrong.
Today, the future looks uncertain, and the conditions of life seem untenable. This is what it means to live in times of crisis. And in times such as these, the journalist’s highest form of service is to faithfully deliver to the public whatever measure of clarity and understanding that they can. But to do that, they need the public’s trust. They need to have earned it in the past, and to have kept earning it ever since.
As president of our Student Government Association (SGA) and a member of the University-wide steering committee, I’ve been involved in fall planning for months. Equity has been a priority, and feedback is valuable. I thank the author of this article for airing their thoughts, but I would be remiss if I didn’t share my disagreement.
What do you call the phase of spending cuts that precedes thoughtful, deliberative planning? This was the question I was left with earlier this month, after a virtual town hall on budgetary decisions made by the University leadership in light of the coronavirus (COVID-19).
A choose-your-own-adventure fall experience sounds ideal in theory. Those who want to come back to Baltimore may, and those who would rather play it safe stay home. Simple. Yet the University is making an important oversight in splitting the student population into on-campus and off-campus groups. Despite Daniels’ purported “keen focus on equity and fairness,” an optional return to campus is inherently inequitable for those remaining off campus.
I have been an international student for the past eight years, but I may not be one anymore. I had believed America to be a wonderland of dreams, equality and tolerance for all.
I went to a protest earlier this month. I proudly held up a hand-painted sign as I joined the chorus of anguished cries and marched with 2000 other members of my community. I was impressed by the turnout, especially in my very white suburban Missouri town. As one of the few people of color in my community, I grew up feeling isolated and unknown, but as I heard my friends and neighbors proclaim, “Black lives matter!” I felt something new. I felt seen and heard and wanted. Knowing that communities across the nation were chanting the same thing, I was filled with hope. Maybe my people really are important to this country. Maybe black lives really do matter to white America.
Three days ago, top University officials announced that they would be halting their plans to create a private police force (JHPD) for at least two years. This was the second communication sent to the student body in response to the protests that began when George Floyd was killed by a Minneapolis police officer. It took almost an entire week after Floyd’s death for the University to release a statement.
As a child, I watched the 1992 Los Angeles protests, spurred by police brutality against Rodney King. Today, my children are watching a similar scene unfold.
