Sheehan D. Scarborough '07 aims to make the Office of BLGTQ Student Life more intersectional, “expanding the notion of what a BGLTQ student looks like, what they believe, how they operate in the world.”
Mendola carries around a case of eight harmonicas in different keys everywhere he goes, and eats his meals off of serving trays.
Mark P. Gross '17 can't decide if he likes Coke or Pepsi better.
Three weeks before the presidential election, the basement of Boylston Hall is filled with John Oliver’s voice, blaring, “Make Donald Drumpf Again.”
I boast no girlfriend or resume, but I do have a Panda.
SaNoah S. LaRocque ’19 is a traveler. Before arriving at Harvard last fall, she had attended 13 different schools and lived in towns, cities, and Native-American reservations across the United States.
That rush, that indescribable feeling—or rather, near-indescribable, since it’s the topic of this piece—only springs forth when I’m shopping for one thing: clothes.
We at “Ben and Andrew” are eternally grateful for the enormous outpouring of support we’ve received since we started writing our hit column, “Ben and Andrew,” last spring. Unfortunately, due to creative differences, “Ben and Andrew” has decided to dissolve. Luckily, we’re releasing a brand new column, “Andrew ‘n’ Ben”, that we think you’re going to love. We encourage you to follow along, and as always, to revisit your favorite “Ben and Andrews” from the archives.
My bedroom doubles as a shrine to Sam Smith. Guests enter, see the Sam Smith records hanging on the right-hand wall, and think, “Okay, cool.” Then they turn, see a massive framed poster of Sam Smith on the left-hand wall over my bed, and think, “This dude’s got issues.”
Now teaching at his alma mater just 15 years later—though “it feels longer every year,” he quips—Terry sees his role as a responsibility to push students outside of their comfort zones.
If there’s one thing synagogue taught me, it’s to love Jesus, go to Mass, and not drink absinthe to ascend to the next level of artistic vision.
I learned grammar, engaged with civics, and memorized SAT vocabulary at the kitchen table.
The “restaurant” had white cups and sweaty bodies everywhere. People eating bad food like they didn’t care. Everything I hated in a single scene. But in that moment, I also felt weakness.
While I may not have won the Powerball, I did end up winning the lottery.
FM suggests that the FDO try hosting Food Fight Fortnight, an opportunity for students to get real hands-on experience in their concentrations with like-minded freshmen. We imagine it would play out something like this...