3,066. That’s the number of students—85 percent of those who voted in the latest UC election—who agreed with the UC referendum asserting that Harvard should reexamine its sexual assault practices and policies.
Lyndsey B. Fry ’14 and Michelle L. Picard ’15 have been playing hockey for most of their lives—and this November, they’ll be playing together for the U.S. National Women’s team at the Four Nations Cup in Finland.
Harvard was missing something. Surrounded by peers at the annual Latino Ivy League Conference in Ithaca last November, Daniel J. Artiga ’15 came to this realization: As students active in the Latino community described the resources provided on their respective campuses, he had little to add.
I punched my sister in the face. I was about six years old, old enough to know better, but in my defense she was old enough to have learned to block. I promise the tooth that ended up falling out of her mouth was a baby tooth. I remember blood. I don’t think I’ve punched anyone since.
You can find Rich’s archives at Schlesinger library, in the same Yard where she attended class. Her many papers and diaries, ink-smudged, doodled-on, and worn, reveal a personal evolution as radical as that of her poetics.
A few months into the school year, I got a phone call from my aunt.
“Matthew’s standing at the door,” she said. “He has his shoes and coat on. Listen to what he’s saying.” I heard the static as she moved the phone from her face to his.
Remember the moment you got into Harvard? Of course you do. And, as jaded as you may be—or pretend to be—, it's always fun to relive the magic with the College's newest crop of admitted students. Flyby caught up with a couple of them to talk about exorbitant Facebook friending, awkward questions, and weeping puppies.