The end of the semester is a stressful time, and we all need to remember to relax every now and then. Flyby is here to help! This is the sixth installment in our Seven Days of Reading Period series, inspired by "The Twelve Days of Christmas." Stay tuned for more!
In March 2004, Harvard’s Calendar Reform Committee released a report recommending that the Faculty of Arts and Sciences move exams to before winter break. Gone would be the days of returning to campus for final exams barely a day after the ball dropped for the new year. Instead, FAS would allow for 62 days of classes each semester, five to eight days of reading period, and eight days for exams. It was suggested the longer winter break this schedule opened up could potentially house its own mini-term.
It’s day 29 of being home for winter break, and I am starting to get a taste of what it’s going to take to become a real woman living in the real world. I have high hopes of eventually being employed someday. If it happens, it will be magical.
The place does not have the glamorous, intricate interior one might expect from a European café. Rather, it features a scuffed linoleum floor, photographs of meal combos hung along the walls, and metal-topped bars that stretch the length of the narrow eatery.
Even families have hierarchies—I mean look at the Kardashians. My family hierarchy has always been clearly defined. My mom was the boss with the wallet, my brother just bossed me around, and I was the bottom of the bucket: the chump of the family. Then we got a dog.
When you die, one of the first things the hospital gives your loved ones is a plastic bag with your belongings.
From Vietnam to New York City, the Navajo Nation to the mall, FM scattered across the globe this J-Term.
In the mountains behind the football stadium in Berkeley, Calif. lies a narrow dirt path that the students call Fire Trails.
During my first semester of college I constantly talked about New York. I told everyone who would listen about my favorite Indian restaurant, about the Astroturf field behind my high school where we ate lunch (even on 20-degree days), about the East Village community garden where I wiled away hot summer afternoons.