Crimson opinion writer
Robert Miranda '20 is an Editorial Chair of the 146th Guard. He studies English and lives in Pforzheimer House.
Crimson opinion writer Robert Miranda can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow them on Twitter @robservations_.
The implications of thinking about writing in this way are enormous. Yes, writing can delight, it can instruct, it can entertain, it can reveal — and often do all of those at the same time. But it can also call to action.
While sometimes the topic in question appears to lend itself to a simple judgement, too often students are quick to rush to opine without knowing all the facts.
I understand many new policies are well-intentioned, especially with regards to the student experience. But we all know where good intentions lead, and I wouldn’t say many new policies meant to improve student life have been all that successful.
When I was three my father came home from work one day with an enormous canvas, twice as big as me, featuring the photo. This canvas hung in our living room on a wall facing the front door, so any visitors to our home would be unexpectedly greeted by our smiles.
I was brought back to October 13, 2006 (of course, a Friday), when I’d attended a Barnes & Noble on the other side of town to attend a midnight launch party for “The End,” the final installment in the series.
“Let’s grab a meal sometime” is the largest missed opportunity in a campus full of students who love nothing more than opportunity.
What I loved about San Simeon then and now was its simplicity.
I write this as an English concentrator who would have declared Government had I not shopped a certain English course last fall—one I hadn’t initially considered.
I won’t mince words: Harvard’s General Education system lacks general education.
Housing Day is one of celebration, not despair. It’s a day in which the entire Harvard community comes together and celebrates a unique tradition found nowhere else.
For those of us who struggle with belonging at Harvard, we need to be honest and comfortable with reconciling our many sides—we just need to be comfortable in the middle.
With the sudden drop in temperature came an equally precipitous golden cascade of leaves, silently floating off the dying trees, coming to rest on the worn reds of the brick sidewalks.
Loneliness is universal. It does not discriminate. And it unfortunately is a keystone of the sought-after Harvard experience that isn’t publicized in glossy brochures.
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