A is for Aspiring Educators at Penn
If you reach into the depths of your brain, back to the fuzzy memories of your 10–year–old self, do you remember your favorite elementary school teacher?
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If you reach into the depths of your brain, back to the fuzzy memories of your 10–year–old self, do you remember your favorite elementary school teacher?
“Because things have changed, and we’re tired of it. More importantly, we’re tired of being lied to.”
Elif Batuman writes in The Idiot that “everyone thought they were Dumbo." Even school bullies will cheer along with the pink–eared baby elephant as they watch the Disney classic. Nobody has the self–awareness to realize they’ve been the bad guys all along. But when I sat down this June in a chilly conference room at the ornate William Penn Hotel in downtown Pittsburgh, reporter’s notebook in hand, I realized that some people are content to play the villain.
Music floats through the air: hyperpop remixes of Charli XCX, bubbly EDM, Beyoncé, Lizzo, pumping club beats. Around thirty people have just started an extremely energetic Cupid Shuffle, and even more are dancing around them. Pride flags, most of them in trans colors, swing through the air. Every so often, a chant ripples through the crowd: “Philly is a trans city! Philly is a Black city!” This is not your average rave.
What motivates graduate students to become graduate students? Unquenchable curiosity, a love of their field, or a desire to push the boundaries of human knowledge? Any grad student would probably point to their passion for learning. But in the same breath, that grad student would also tell you that passion doesn’t pay rent. When it boils down to it, graduate students are workers for the university they attend: they’re people who have bills to pay, need healthcare coverage, and vacation time. And at Penn, in order to wield their collective power as graduate workers and have control over the terms of their employment, Graduate Employees Together at the University of Pennsylvania (GET–UP) are seeking to form a union.
At Street, we wear our influences and our college student misadventures on our sleeves. That’s why I’ll tell you straight up that the genesis for this article wasn’t fully original. It’s our version of The Cut’s “The New Rules,” which presents 140 etiquette guidelines for modern life post–COVID–19. The difference is our list was written with one specific group in mind: Penn’s graduating senior class. You might ask what business do a bunch of college students have giving other college students advice about the “real world?” To which I’d say you’re absolutely right, and…
Being a humanities major at Penn is harder than you’d expect. Even campus coffee shops—a haven for our kind—are buzzing with coffee chats for prestigious finance jobs and consulting clubs on any given afternoon.
Content warning: The following text describes addiction and graphic content and can be disturbing and/or triggering for some readers. Please find resources listed at the bottom of the article.
It’s 6 a.m., still dark and cold outside in the early March gloom, when Temple University third–year Ph.D. student Daniel Carsello leaves his apartment to pick up the UHaul loaded with supplies.
If you’re used to Penn’s infamous pre–professional culture, walking into the studio of WQHS—the University’s only student–run radio station—might feel like a culture shock. Graffiti scrawled across the bright blue walls declares that “love is the answer” and “love is fury,” while overflowing racks and bookcase shelves full of CDs and vinyl records provide ample inspiration for any music lover.
Towering high–heels, flashy dresses, and colorful wigs: the iconic symbols of drag performance, a powerful form of art. What was once a countercultural rebellion, drag has since become a well–known phenomenon, generating both fanaticism and contention.
After snoozing your alarm three times, you roll out of bed in a rush, throw on a pair of pants you picked up from the floor, and weave your way through the throng of students on Locust heading to their 10:15 classes. Students like Christina Kim (E ‘22), however, don’t have this luxury—she regularly had to wake up at 5:45 a.m. to get to campus on time.
At 7 p.m. on a 30–degree winter night, the bundled up masses of high school and college students could only be going to one place. No, not a frat, a BYO, or a date night, but a house show. Similar to '90s Riot grrrl movement in Olympia or the early 2000s alternative scene in NYC, the house show scene is characteristic of what it means to listen to music in Philly. The scene is underground, and the people who inhabit it are much like me and you, except cooler. They smoke Marlboros, have mullets, and wear tight muscle shirts with wide–legged pants.
What makes life worth living? What factors contribute to happiness? What are the best paths to success? Positive psychology, the study of well–being, seeks to answer these questions and more. The field was popularized in the late 1990s by former President of the American Psychological Association and Penn’s very own Martin Seligman.
For a generation that would rather get run over by a SEPTA bus than be forced to go dark on social media, it's no surprise that having any kind of online presence can naturally progress into a content creation hobby. Now, being an influencer is not only a hobby, but an occupation. Though creators seem to take all shapes and forms, student–influencers have thrived in their own corner of the internet for some time. In particular, student–influencers at Penn (Pennfluencers, if you will) have taken over our for–you pages, but what are the implications of curating a robust online presence?
Students enter college expecting “the best four years of their lives.” Many are on their own for the first time: decorating their dorm rooms with posters, registering for classes they're passionate about, and choosing which frat to party at on Friday night.
Content warning for mention of rape, sexual assault, and suicidality.
There’s something about the Netter Center that makes people want to stay, keeping its former volunteers tied to Penn. Year after year, graduated students mark their work with Netter as the start of their careers, trailing years of undergraduate involvement. There’s no better example to look to than Netter’s founder, Ira Harkavy (C ‘70), who attended Penn as an undergraduate and founded the center in 1992.
Iris Brown, a founder of the gardens at Norris Square Neighborhood Project, sits at a picnic table against the backdrop of a bright–colored pergola inscribed with the word “hope” in three languages as she shares the story of how the Kensington–area urban garden came to be.
In Amedeo Modigliani’s case, it was destiny. Painting was the only path for the winsome, sickly boy whose mother once wrote, “He behaves like a spoiled child, but he does not lack intelligence. We shall have to wait and see what is inside this chrysalis. Perhaps an artist?”
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