As summer fast approaches, students’ thoughts turn from prelims and papers to the three months of freedom ahead. For some, these months will be filled with more hard work — pre-professional internships, grueling summer courses, long hours at a job — while for others they represent an oasis of laziness and tranquility.

To the Editor:

Re: “A Long Way Come, A Long Way to Go: Race Remains an Issue at Cornell 40 Years Later,” News, April 16.

In her thought-provoking article on diversity issues at Cornell, the author quotes me as saying that a focus on “numbers” (of minority faculty — or minority staff and students, for that matter) is not enough, and that in fact it can be misleading. I went on to add a practical proposal that the author was probably not able to include in her story.

People put a lot of weight on last words.

So I’m going to do it too, running the incredible risk of doing something that’s been done before — something that a columnist must never under any sane circumstances do — because I’m in an altered state of mind. Altered, mind you, because of words. I watched the sunrise through the blinds and I have yet to go to sleep and it is all words’ fault.

Under sane circumstances, I myself am fascinated by the idea — what are the last, and I mean the Last, words I want to spend my ultimate breath on? The ones that will just hang there, in the air, until someone opens a window or maybe writes them down and they live on, for a little longer at least?

This is a critical time in the life of our University to recognize how far we have come in creating a diverse and inclusive community, but also a time when we must face squarely the long distance we still have to travel. In the wake of our commemoration of the 40th anniversary of The Straight Takeover, I feel compelled to elaborate on my commitment to diversity by sharing some thoughts about what we aim to achieve and how we will know if we are successful. I also want to alert you to some upcoming opportunities to engage the administration and other Cornellians on this set of issues.

When making an important life-altering decision, I like to pretend that all of my options were trapped on a desert island, engaged in a Battle Royale of theoretical proportions. It’s a methodology that has been passed down in the Scarselletta clan for generations; it’s how my sister decided to go blonde, and how my mother chose which children to keep.

A department has merged. A visual facility has been cut. A library is closing.

Across the pond, universities throughout the United Kingdom have either closed departments or are considering closing them due to a lack of funding.

As Malcolm X strolled onto Cornell campus 47 springs ago, you could just imagine the resolve in his eyes. He was here to debate James Farmer, head of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), on the topic “Separation vs. Integration.” The question was simple. Should blacks in America continue to push for equality in society or should they remove themselves from it completely? Farmer argued to keep up the fight, Malcolm argued against. For anyone sitting at the debate it must have been not only intense but eye opening. They were witnessing two major figures in our country debate an issue both salient and close to their hearts. The arguments were strong and not held back. It was an intellectual slugfest of the highest order. It was here.

Last Friday was quite possibly one of the ugliest days of the year. Amidst the down pour, the wind and the negligible sun, I had the great fortune of showing around a family friend who had flown 2,000 miles across the country to come see Cornell in its springtime beauty. But who are we kidding … spring in Ithaca? After the warm, sunny, flip-flop weather I had just experienced the day before, I found myself in a relentless struggle to convince this prospective student that it’s not always like this. “If you were only here yesterday,” I told him, “you would fall in love with this place, I promise ... trust me ... please?” The more and more I talked in circles, the more I realized I wasn’t really trying to convince him. I was trying to convince myself. But why?

On March 2, 2009 at a forum to discuss the Asian and Asian American Center (A3C), President Skorton, in response to a question about the future of program houses and safe spaces suggested that “program houses have to show enough interest to justify those expenses.” Skorton’s statement that students “should vote with their feet” is a popular argument used to hold students solely accountable for the future of their resources in a manner that absolves the University of its responsibility to preserve those resources. An issue as complex as program houses cannot be addressed with a dismissive attitude.

Would-be writers are a dime a dozen: every other English major, it seems, wants to be the next Faulkner. Those with talent may find themselves in an MFA program, and the lucky few will have a story published here and there in a small journal. But success like that enjoyed by Tea Bajraktarevic grad, who recently sold the rights to her first novel The Tiger’s Daughter to Dial Press (to be published next year), is rare indeed. Tea, who writes under the name Tea Obreht and whose first publication will be a story in The Atlantic Monthly’s summer fiction issue, sat down with The Sun to discuss death in the Balkans, the merits of MFAs and being stoked about success.

The Sun: When did you start writing?