While the physical size of our campus cannot be changed, we need to address loneliness at Cornell by engaging in discourse that can contribute to dismantling the competitive nature of our campus, which seems to steep into our social lives negatively. Cornell’s administration should also pay more attention to creating better and more expansive mental health efforts for students.
Two weeks after Election Day, many students are still feeling the harsh aftermath of Donald Trump’s victory. Some on campus are left emotionally bruised, concerned about what the next four years in America will look like. A common sentiment around campus is “feeling lost,” Mikayla Thomas ‘28 comments.
At the end of the day, the value of our education at Cornell is contingent upon our ability to take full advantage of it. When the conditions of our country, our town and our campus become too overwhelming, too dangerous to focus, we need to be able to step back and focus on recentering our community. Kotlikoff this semester has deluged our inboxes with more email statements vowing to punish students than promising to help build us up, and that just about sums up the legacy he’s making for himself.
Following a string of campus tragedies, the Student Assembly passed a resolution implementing guidelines for campus-wide community restorative days in response to student deaths and sexual assault crime alerts.
Students grappling with a series of recent tragedies on and around campus felt disappointed by the administration’s “impersonal” and “perfunctory” response.
For years, Cornell students have expressed their frustrations with the University’s mental healthcare services, including struggling to book appointments with counselors at Cornell Health and feeling like the counseling team was gravely understaffed. A recent donation made by Cornell parents John and Melissa Ceriale will significantly expand access to mental health care on campus.
Editor’s Note: This piece mentions disordered eating behaviors. Trying to eat healthily and consistently at college is a daunting task for anyone. It becomes a monumental task when faced with health issues that warrant food restrictions and limitations and few resources to go around. Over the past year, I’ve learned that a lot of –– what I previously considered to be –– physical symptoms of anxiety and stress, were mostly pre-existing gastrointestinal (GI, a fancy way to say “stomach”) issues. My relationship with food has waxed and waned to an occasionally toxic degree; I’m pretty sure that I am not the only one.
Upon viewing the rather uncensored Saltburn, as Rosamund Pike proclaimed her “complete and utter horror of ugliness,” I couldn’t help but reflect on my own musings of perfectionism. Though rooted in external aesthetics, Pike’s aversion served as a gateway into a broader, more insidious struggle — one that transcends the surface and subsists across various aspects of our lives. Beyond the glitz of Hollywood, this pervasive dilemma infiltrates the minutiae of daily routines, casts a shadow over academic pursuits and propels us into the relentless pursuit of a self-constructed ideal of success. As I grapple with my journey as a recovering perfectionist, Pike’s revelation resonates deeply. It speaks to the relentless pursuit of unattainable standards — chasing straight A’s, maintaining a buzzing social life, fitting into size two jeans and securing an impressive work position for my age.