Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of jhunewsletter.com - The Johns Hopkins News-Letter's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query.
1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
After a year and a half of logging onto Zoom meetings, most of us had our first in-person class last week. With students lounging on the Beach, studying at Brody and indulging in the grilled cheese at the FFC, it’s clear: we have achieved some sense of pre-Pandemic normalcy.
As the end of August drew near, I began to spot more and more cars filled with boxes and suitcases parked outside the AMRs and CharMar. After a semester and a summer of online everything — whether it be a class, movie watch party or an internship — seeing people walking around on campus was surreal. Watching the bright-eyed freshmen move their bedding, pillows and other school supplies out of their parents’ car trunks, I was reminded of how I arrived at Hopkins three years ago.
A team of six Hopkins undergraduates partnered with the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) to devise a system that improves current combat-triage techniques in an effort to save soldiers’ lives and revolutionize the way the medical community addresses mass casualty events.
You can’t go to Hopkins without hearing about impostor syndrome. As soon as I accepted my admissions offer from the University, it was like a specter waving at me from the semester to come. The phrase continuously popped up in Reddit threads and prospective student group chats. Upperclassmen warned me that I would sometimes (or often) feel inferior to my classmates, doubt my intelligence and wonder how I ever got accepted in the first place.
My mother’s dream since childhood was to have a horse. She was not around horses as a kid, other than in books, and only began riding in her 20s. In her 40s, she began volunteering at a horse rescue. She was interested in quite a few of the horses that passed through, like Troy, the thoroughbred who wasn’t fast enough to be a racehorse.
It truly was another unprecedented summer. As vaccines became more readily available and COVID-19 cases in Baltimore declined this past June, Hopkins relaxed its indoor mask mandate and weekly testing policies. Many students felt optimistic that the fall would represent as close a return to normal as possible.
National Football Conference (NFC) Favorites:
Over the course of the pandemic, The News-Letter transitioned from a weekly, print publication to a daily, online-only production. As shocking as it was for us to see the Gatehouse sit empty for nearly a year, the digital transformation of our production process matched current trends of news consumption — as of 2020, 86% of Americans reported that they accessed news from their smartphones.
During my time as a graduate student in the Engineering for Professionals (EP) program, I’ve had nine Hopkins professors. Only two have provided the disability accommodations the University promised. The kinder ones treat accommodations like a courtesy they’re free to ignore. Others fear I’m an unreasonable, politically correct bomb about to go off, as if accommodating the disabled is fairness gone too far.
In a reversal from previous fall semester masking guidelines, the University announced earlier today that it will reimpose the indoor masking mandate and reinstate social distancing requirements for indoor dining. According to the email, the policies will take effect August 5 for all affiliates, regardless of vaccination status.
Fully vaccinated and hoping to feel something, I went to Power Plant Live! last Thursday for the first time since the pandemic started. As I squeezed past peers I hadn’t been indoors with in eons, I was reminded of the Brood X cicadas that have descended upon the nation. With life seemingly returning to “normal” in the United States, we are emerging en masse like those horny, red-eyed banshees. We’ve spent what feels like 17 years underground, and we are loud, emotionally starved and half-dead shells of who we used to be.
Two years ago, a friend of mine from my hometown asked me how it felt to be halfway done with college. Did I feel old? Had the time gone by too fast? Was I happy to be (somewhat) almost done with school for good?
Editor’s Note: The original title of this piece failed to accurately reflect the author’s sentiments and has been updated accordingly.
Caleb Deschanel was a Managing Editor from 1964-65 and an Editor-in-Chief 1965-66. He is a cinematographer and film director who has been nominated for six Academy Awards.
“There were many opportunities to do the right thing, to make a difference for those families whose lives will never be the same. The pain and the horror of the whole process, of being relocated and displaced, of gentrified community — you can’t imagine the pain that goes through your mind.”
After a longer-than-expected hiatus from the Gatehouse (The News-Letter’s office), I’ve somehow found myself back here again to write my last column. It feels fitting. There is something comforting about being back in the space where I spent so much of the last four years. In fact, there were many weeks where I spent more time here than I did in my own apartment. It feels good to be back, though more than a little bittersweet.
In April 2020, sitting at computers almost 3,000 miles apart, we were elected to be Editors-in-Chief of The News-Letter. By then, we’d been doing remote production for about a month, but at the time, we believed that things would soon return to normal.
Over the course of the past year, researchers have found that residents of low-income, majority-Black neighborhoods in Baltimore and cities across the country are at a higher risk of contracting and dying from COVID-19.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) announced new recommendations for the use of masks and other precautions in regard to vaccinated people on Tuesday, April 27. The new guidelines suggest that fully vaccinated individuals can safely choose to not wear a mask or socially distance when outdoors, as long as they are not in crowded areas.
In the fall of 1969, I was in front of Shriver Hall heading for sophomore-year registration when I noticed a tall, shaggy-haired guy approaching.