The Stentorian Newspaper

Author: Teresa Fang

  • Final Exam Study Guide for the Post-NCSSM Math and Everything Else Test, for June 2025

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    Dear seniors,

    If you are reading this, please give the grandseniors our sincerest thanks, for they have blessed us with the knowledge to hopefully ace the post-NCSSM math exam (which also has a bit of every other subject imaginable, somehow). When I brought up my memories of the entrance math exam as a sophomore to some of our UNC brothers and sisters last weekend, I believed that was the end of traumatic overstudying and that we’d spend the next two years having fun and dancing on the beautiful Bryan lawn every day. I didn’t foresee that there would be a surprise exam to test whether our knowledge retention is longer than a goldfish’s.

    God knows how many more surprise exams we will have to endure, but the grandseniors have mercifully provided us with some questions from their own exams. They were pulled straight from their own mighty memories, so I trust these questions completely and will NOT in fact be memorizing the answers, at all. BTW, I heard this exam will happen in early June via proctored Zoom.

    1. Compare the growth of the Fibonacci sequence to the number of emails you received titled “Free food in Blobby (walk don’t run)” in a single semester. What mathematical model best describes the rate of inbox saturation? Be sure to show all 492 steps.

    2. Prove, using indirect contradiction and at least one Hall Scream in the ETC gym, that the probability of getting into a good college increases with the number of problem sets you “collaborated” on but didn’t actually understand.

    3. If a student walks from Hill to the ETC in under 4 minutes carrying an iced lavender matcha from Joe’s and a TI-84, what is the minimum amount of shame they must feel for not taking the tunnels? Express your answer in terms of π, Euler’s identity, and residual sleep debt.

    4. Let xxx represent your GPA, and yyy your number of hours slept this week. Show that as x→4.0x \to 4.0x→4.0, y→y \toy→ [REDACTED]. Use a Lagrange multiplier if you’re feeling fancy, or just cry.

    5. Calculate the volume of a metaphorical void created by dropping your calculator down the Bryan stairs from 4th Bryan 17 minutes before the AP Calculus BC exam. Assume it echoes with your last three coherent thoughts.

    6. A student takes 8 courses in one semester, joins 4 clubs, runs for 2 positions, and attends 6 optional speaker lectures. Prove that this student exists only theoretically and was last seen orbiting the library at Mach speed. Bonus: Derive a matrix transformation that maps “ambition” to “burnout.”

    7. Using combinatorics, determine how many possible outfit combinations can be made from the same two NCSSM hoodies, one pair of sweatpants, and seven unmatched socks. Include all valid permutations for Thursday, 8:30 a.m. (C block).

    8. Using integral calculus, calculate the total amount of caffeine consumed by a student over the course of finals week. Be sure to account for exponential increase on the night before the Multi final and the delta spike caused by the ground Watts Coca-Cola machine breakdown.

    9. You have 6 unsolved past problems, 3 panicked Messenger chats, 2 unread Canvas announcements, and 1 chemistry packet due. Create a Markov chain to represent your decision-making process. Explain why every state leads to “eat pizza in the PEC.”

    10. Derive a function that describes the rate at which motivation decays when the Bryan courtyard hammocks are reinstalled. Bonus: Include external variables such as bird-watching, existential dread, and the Big Spoon concert.

    11. Define a topology on the set of all NCSSM students such that all paths lead to the Bryan lobby. Justify whether this space is connected, compact, or simply chaotic good.

    12. Finally, prove the following identity:

    (NCSSM Senior)^2 = (Fear of adulthood) + (Last-minute Common App edits) + (Fifth pod of Keurig)

    Use the Fundamental Theorem of Crying in the Shower.

  • Watts Tunnel Sealed Forever; Seniors Mourn, Juniors Whisper of Ghosts

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    As the Class of 2025 prepares to graduate on May 23, they leave behind not just textbooks and PFM cookies but the spectral remnants of Watts Tunnel, now sealed behind sterile plaster walls like a tomb.

    Once the artery of campus chaos, covered in neon ducks and strange student prophecies (“Don’t trust the ceiling tile”), the tunnel was abruptly entombed earlier this year. No warning. No ceremony. Just a wall, like the end of a horror movie where the haunted house wins.

    “I heard it crying at night,” said one senior. “Or maybe it was just the HVAC. But it felt personal.”

    Now, the tunnel lives only in legend. Seniors speak of it with the reverence of war veterans. Juniors stare blankly, like villagers in a ghost town who don’t believe the mine was ever real.

    “My roommate once got lost in there for three days,” whispered a senior. “She came out different. Quieter. She only eats from vending machines now.”

    Other stories persist: The Phantom of the Tunnel, who rollerblades silently at 3 a.m. The ducks that move when no one’s looking. The forbidden mural that predicted this very blockade, right next to the drawing of a suspiciously wide-mouthed ogre in a lab coat.

    Juniors scoff. “What tunnel?”

    But we know.

    As we walk the graduation stage, we honor not just our class—but a sacred passage beneath our feet. The Watts Tunnel is gone. But its spirit lingers.

    And sometimes… it honks.

  • Confessions from a Reluctant Editor-in-Chief

    Confessions from a Reluctant Editor-in-Chief

    (Teresa Fang/Stentorian)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    Flexed toes were the requirement for being on the demo team of my old taekwondo dojo, and I get why—kicks look sharper and stronger that way. I appreciate our masters for teaching all of us how. We either look good together or die looking bad. I always joke about the time I cried in class for not wanting to do the weird group exercises across the mats. It’s embarrassing to be the wheelbarrow of the human wheelbarrow, digging my palms into the smelly mats and apologizing for not moving my arms fast enough. 

    I know that group activities can be embarrassing for all of us in the group. I know that our group can be a big one. In the worst-case scenario, I know we could hide the ones with floppy toes in the back of our formation and still perform in competitions with a sufficiently high score. See, like most high school students, I’m aware of all the little tricks that can make my life a little easier.

    Yet, I’m ignorantly unaware that I just made someone else’s life a little harder. I didn’t yet understand the hard work it takes to turn embarrassment into accomplishment—that group work could be transformative if we respected each other’s strengths and tried. I was so focused on avoiding shame, so sure someone else would do the work, that I neglected to care. I left my team with a half-baked product and a sorry-I-felt-like-playing-video-games excuse. My comfort was bought with someone else’s burnout. 

    These two years haven’t been easy. All 600 or so of us gave up more than we could list to come here. For me, it was my love for journalism—leaving behind Chapel Hill’s established networks and local independence to Uber back and forth from school, stressing about “super-important” meetings and the clubs I had to lead.

    We all gave something up to be here. So why do we sometimes act like we’ve given up for nothing? Why should we treat our new commitments as resume fodder instead of meaningful work? What about the people we leave hanging when we disappear? What is it about this school that makes us betray each other?

    Why is it that when you give up something to come here, you then give up the opportunities that this school gives you?

    The manner by which NCSSM students express their commitment to things overlooks their reliability: getting a leadership position (or a college acceptance, recently) versus putting in the work after you get that commitment are vastly different in scope and impact. I’m not proud of it, but I caught myself judging students in the same manner as those on the political right: as superficial snowflakes.

    Committing to the fullest is simply a part of my life—I, too, wanted to bake bread every day at home during the quarantine months, but I witnessed my community grieve the murders of Asian women at Atlanta spas and the elderly getting slashed and knocked over across the country. For me, it was my responsibility as a human being to give speeches at vigils, protests, and report the best I could for my people, even though the most complicated word I knew back then was “polarization.” My boss never told me what to cover; it had always been me behind the wheel. Being a human being was how I became a journalist.

    When we agree on something with others, it’s all the more important that we bear this commitment in mind. Many people do not have the privileges afforded to the average NCSSM student. 

    We are privileged to experience a safe school environment in such diversity. This is good. But the larger student experience does not stop. It begins.

    (Teresa Fang/Stentorian)

    There is so much diversity, and different types of it, at NCSSM. There is so much going on that we do not have time to process anything, and that places us in a hard spot because NCSSM students want to try everything. 

    The school makes it a law for teachers to make assignments due strictly at 10 p.m., in the name of allowing us to sleep. But how could we possibly? Students chose to give up their previous at-home lives to come to this place and garner an education where they want to spend time producing something high-quality. But there are expectations with such high bars that some people can reach them while others can’t, creating an achievement gap of shaming and spite between students and teachers. 

    Like in any nation, there are both responsible and strange people. We are no strangers to people “disappearing,” being unresponsive or uncooperative in the middle of important projects, which then becomes a “teaching lesson” for us young people to overcome and adapt. But this is incredibly difficult to overcome in a pressure cooker environment. We cannot be curious to explore our niches without worrying about falling behind in other stuff.

    These are the conditions that have shaped my writing. They have shaped me to choose what to write, even when I don’t know if anyone will read it; to recognize privilege; to have the courage to say this system isn’t working the way it should. On my J-Term trip to Arizona, I stood over the Grand Canyon and breathed. For the first time in months, I wasn’t overbooked. I was just burnt out—and suddenly, that felt okay. I had chosen these commitments. My hands were full and dirty, but the work wasn’t just functional. It was joyful. The Canyon’s layers reminded me of my own: research, newspaper, humanities journal, hours in the studio. The strife had deepened my appreciation for what it means to create something honest.

    The conditions of strife have created my appreciation for a sincere humanity. I see it in and am thankful to my teachers who gave me unconditional support, small chats, deep discussions, and great restaurant recommendations. My peers who live on my polar opposite but make time and effort to connect. If not for them, I would have actually become devoid of all happiness and hope, and become one of those people who complain about the impossible when they’ve never seen the other side of the earth. I would never have had the courage to write this, nor the skillset to write with an open mind.

    I’m glad we’re snowflakes. I wish everyone had the chance to be one. Because if that were true, maybe we would all learn to live a little. It matters that we persist through these troubles so that eventually all our crash-outs today will just be like minor inconveniences in the future. We keep making life harder for everyone so then more people can know the privilege of real dialogue.

    And my final confession: yes, I was a reluctant editor-in-chief. But I am always proud to sign Teresa Fang on my works—not because it’s perfect, but because it’s honest.

    Here ends my case study on my NCSSM experience. Q.E.D.

  • What the Flip was ‘A Minecraft Movie’

    What the Flip was ‘A Minecraft Movie’

    (Teresa Fang/Stentorian)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    Or should I say, what a flip it was. The Mojang logo flipping into their familiar font literally made me want to do a flip right there and then at my AMC Southpoint 17 seat in theatre 9. This has to be the first film where watching it behind a row of fidgeting eight-year-olds was an enjoyable, if not surreal, experience. 

    Everyone knows what Minecraft is. My first interactions with people who were not my classmates were through Minecraft, and my first memories of Minecraft were made with others teaching me how to build bad roller coasters. I remember that high-contrast old cobblestone texture and the Herobrine totems, and watching, if not DanTDM’s mod showcase videos, Stampylonghead’s Lovely World videos. Minecraft is meant to be learned from someone else. It is a video game, but it has always been a profoundly social experience.

    Seeing Jack Black cosplay as Steve was truly priceless; it got a few haha’s out of me from the first teasers–which I initially thought were completely satirical and AI-generated–but by the time my Instagram reels were full of “Chicken jockey”s and villager “hrrngh”s, I knew it was the official Minecraft movie. There was so much going on, I only remember the names of four characters: Garrett (Jason Momoa), Henry (Sebastian Hansen), Steve (Jack Black), and Jennifer Coolidge. The other two human characters, Natalie (Emma Myers) and Dawn (Danielle Brooks), simply did not appear in half the movie. Calling it “A” Minecraft Movie is already a suspicious act of the producers, like they knew it wouldn’t be accepted as canon by the 16-year-old fandom. 

    So, when I saw “A Minecraft Movie” with a couple of friends last month, if anything, it was weird. As a theatre experience, I give it a 10/10. Being a young person today is truly exhilarating and rewarding (I regard this movie as a fitting reward for my incredibly difficult second semester of senior year), and this movie is proof that social media can be a positive influence, or at least a social phenomenon. We like this movie so much, it scores 86% on the Popcornmeter, but critics hate it at a 47% on the Tomatometer. This movie is so bad that it’s good. I promised not to throw popcorn, but I had a fun time anyway—probably because everybody there subconsciously knew it was so bad, yet couldn’t stop repeating and erupting in joy at particular phrases from the trailers that we hear so much on social media.

    But as a film, I give it a 2/10. The first 20 minutes are basically the whole movie; the protagonists are introduced in a random order, every trope and cheap emotional trick is there, every meme is there, every character is summarized in terms of their favorite things, and Jack Black’s constant narration is pretty much the entire old Minecraft tutorial. The exposition is so long that the protagonists are basically thrown into the Minecraft world from the real world and expected to agree that all the mechanics are dumb and to just roll with it. If that wasn’t the easiest way to introduce a possibly clueless audience to Minecraft, then this was just disrespectful to the game. 

    To address the elephant in the room, the most basic decision to make this movie live-action was a strange one, albeit ambitious and executed rather poorly. The cinematography was poor and predictable with green screen scenes that often broke immersion, styrofoamy or clothy looking textures, villagers from uncanny valley, and more… which reminds me that Jennifer Coolidge’s character was named Vice Principle Marlene, because she had a funny but cleverly-written side plot romance with a villager she hit with her Jeep Grand Cherokee.

    I will also list absurd “creative” additions in “A Minecraft Movie.” Henry’s main weapon is a tater tot gun, and tater tots do not exist in a game built of cubes. Jack Black has only one ender pearl but has two incredibly rare elytra. There is no blue portal, no MCU tesseract-looking thing, and definitely not flying shoes (or flying shoes on an iron golem). Half the mobs of the evil piglin army are from other Minecraft games (which are not the OG sandbox one). The creepers are dysfunctional, and the creeper farm having a minecart running through it is plain nonsensical. 

    The plot—a classic MacGuffin chase for a magical item—was predictable from the start, but would have worked better if the characters had any depth to their personalities and motives. What’s sadder is that Minecraft itself already has an exceptional lore (I read the entire prose after defeating the ender dragon in my personal survival world, and it is so inspiring) built out of the developers’ and audience’s own creative interactions. 

    For a movie about the game that told its players “the universe said I love you,” it severely undershoots the love of its fanbase and the extent of their nostalgia. For that, “A Minecraft Movie” failed to impress.

  • Mediocrity is failure. And you are not mediocre.

    Mediocrity is failure. And you are not mediocre.

    (Teresa Fang/Stentorian)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    “I’ve set myself to become the King of the Pirates, and if I die trying, then at least I tried” is one of the many great lines from “One Piece” (1999-present) I think about often. Monkey D. Luffy, a silly but optimistic boy with the ability to stretch his body like rubber, accurately captures a rather fantastical but current perspective on attaining excellence in life—if I do not excel, then why would I pursue? I would rather be unknowing than know failure.

    A few weeks ago, I received my college decisions. Now, I’ve never been the social butterfly winner of everything great and holy, but I consider myself fairly well-rounded as an applicant. Yet, when I started opening the letters, I realized that the feeling of satisfaction was very rare. In other words, the results were unexpectedly expected.

    I was mediocre.

    What does it mean to be mediocre? Merriam-Webster defines mediocre as “of moderate or low quality, value, ability, or performance: ordinary, so-so.” It already sucks to be called “so-so,” but even further I’d argue that the modern use of mediocrity is much simpler (and more brutal). Mediocrity is the failure to excel.

    There’s nothing wrong with being mediocre. The only problem was that my computer screen did not match my ego and pride. I felt humiliated. Let down by none other than myself. By living this day alone, I knew that other people would also be doing this, and they would ask me in return. It is embarrassing to be reluctant to reply.

    I went on spring break with my head hanging low. Upset at myself, not for being mediocre, but for feeling embarrassed to be mediocre. Is my self-esteem this fragile? That I can’t even tolerate the possibility that I may not excel at everything I do? So pathetic.

    I am pathetic, but so are most people. It’s our nature to excel because it feels good. Being handed a blue ribbon warrants us a little more pep in our step. The pleasure and glee are multiplied when we post and promote these ribbons to the rest of the world through likes, comments, and shares.

    There’s nothing wrong with being mediocre. The only problem is that we feel there is nothing worthy of celebrating in mediocrity. There’s nothing impressive about learning your way around using public transportation. Seeing zero assignments to do on Canvas. Jack Black saying “chicken jockey.” If it’s not worth celebrating, then it’s not special.

    In the same way judges rule people guilty or innocent, we deliver our own verdicts as mediocre or exceptional. In a time where anyone can easily leave a mark on the world through social media posts and 10-second shorts, being mediocre is almost like a crime (in the least flattering, least interesting way). We perceive being mediocre as an either-or option.

    The minute our binary perspectives designated ourselves as mediocre, we find ourselves stuck between judgment and self-consciousness. What value do I have if I can’t get out of here? If I’m anything but exceptional?

    Why would we be so stringent with our happiness? Leisure is frowned upon, and failure calls for punishment. We may not all be content if we had a “the great” attached to the end of our names, but there is just a big difference between being recognized and being “great-less.” It is appealing to be recognized, but there is also so much freedom abandoned in settling for mediocrity. Do we always have to excel to have value? Have we regressed enough to times when not attending an Ivy for undergrad is embarrassing rather than endearing?

    There’s nothing wrong with being mediocre. The only problem is that we believe mediocrity to be a problem. What if we expanded our narrow, binary perspective across a scale, into a spectrum? What if I valued the result not by my performance in comparison to others, but by its influence on my outlook on life? Indeed, the “oh, Yale!” and “where’s that college again?” still exist on this scale—but not necessarily at the endpoints. The value of my life is not evaluated by the decisions, but by the process. Was it a meaningful process? Did it give me joy and sometimes misery? Yes, and even if I could have done some things differently, my accomplishments are valuable experiences.

    Hence, let’s redefine mediocrity as not a failure to excel, but just one experience of many on a spectrum of a set standard. Mediocrity is not a shameful measure of performance, but a measure of meaningfulness. That way, even a poor performance, which you can consider a mediocre experience, can be a learning opportunity. These learning opportunities drive us to discover the world and society, inviting new discoveries about the world and, perhaps, ourselves. 

    What if our drive to be not mediocre is just a purpose to excel? What if we didn’t have a purpose? What if I applied to college for fun? What if all I went through in the November and December grind was to enjoy the feeling of that grind being over? What if I could laugh, be carefree, and celebrate the one single instance of confetti filling my screen? There is so much joy, happiness, satisfaction, and freedom in these experiences. 

    There is so much untouched potential in mediocrity, to be free of judgment and simply live for the experience. Rather than saying the generic “don’t be afraid of failure,” how about we recognize it as “risk failure” instead? Embrace our mediocrity, and celebrate just being able to be here.

    At the end of the day, I realize that I’d rather know failure than be unknowing.

  • thanks Ben Bridgers

    thanks Ben Bridgers

    (Teresa Fang/Stentorian)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    I went to Ben Bridger’s exhibit in ETC lobby on April 25, and after checking out his works, I talked extensively with the artist about his process of making art from sketches to varnish, and a little about things I had heard before, read about, but never did, like mixing paint or stretching canvases. I had observed from his charcoal drawings that they were more abstract, and even when they weren’t inherently in the shape of any discernable object, they looked like familiar objects. On the other hand, his paintings felt like whimsical little furry creatures shrouded in darkness. It was cool to see the composition of things that the human brain thought up of and finding out that they somehow worked when executed like this.

    The darkness of the black paint impressed me, and the varnish on the entire painting was so reflective that it served as a sort of mirror as I waved my hands in front of it. It revealed the smoothness of the layers of paint, and it was like the painting was created on just one layer. The fur on the creatures was one with the black background itself; the white fur trailed into the abyss like the creature had simultaneously materialized and crawled out of it. I wondered if this effect was created using a fine fan brush, one so flexible if I ran a finger over the bristles, the bristles would bend a full 90 degrees.

    So, I asked Ben Bridgers about it. He replied it was not pure black, and shared a recipe for the black: crimson alzarin, ultramarine blue, a bit of something something yellow, a bit of some other two colors… he had multiple recipes for different toned blacks. I respect that mightily. I told him I preferred prussian blue and crimson red hue myself, and we compared recipes briefly. Color theory became more real as I imagined a palette knife digging into turds of color and producing a black splat on a piece of palette paper. And I had never met someone who mixed their own paints before, and as much as I would like to try mixing white lead powder, for starters it’d be hard to find some legal sellers, and if I did acquire some, my heart does not lie so much in the processes before paint hits the canvas. 

    But for Bridgers, that proccess was evidently very important. He made his own canvases his way, from start to finish, at around five or six per 0.5-1.5 years  at a time in his studio. My initial thought was how big his studio had to be, but he alluded to so many trips outside his studio that I had to readjust my thoughts. Perhaps his studio was the whole world; he had traveled abroad to Italy during his time at the University of Georgia and sketched people, parks, animals, and trees on small pieces of paper to bring back to his studio and inspire his works. I, too, find a particular cuteness in making art on tiny things, which makes trips outside like this precious condensations of creativity. But still, I am not one with the patience to stretch canvases, cover it with rabbit skin glue, wait three months, then do some extra stuff before being able to paint on it.

    I am impressionable though, and I will scratch “handmixed paint” off my bucket list sometime soon. One thing that will not come to me soon, however, is an eye for abstractness. Bridgers calmly said the eye to come up with new ideas for abstract work takes time and practice, and even he brings four-ish of his works with him to people-watching trips, just to remember his style and have a starting point for the final work. I look at this man, bald, maybe in his 40’s, and I think of his classical art training and years of teaching art to college students. I think of my tendency to not sit still, especially in foundational, technical art courses with private instructors. I think back to my paintings, each one of them based off a photo or multiple photos clipped together, and I cringe at my inability to be original.

    Maybe that is just pessimism and strict standards. It is normal, if not encouraged, to be inspired by other works in life–natural and artificial. And it is normal for an 18-year-old to have less art experience as a middle-aged experienced artist–maybe this summer I will sit myself down and finally practice skeletal anatomy, which was a promise to myself made years before. As I prepared to leave this exhibit, stealing the last of the tangerines from the snacks table of course, I hear Bridgers talking about him working on multiple paintings at once. And so, to my 26 paintings blocked out in thin burnt umber but rotting in the corner of my studio space, I’m inspired once again to throw upon each a stroke of color—or prussian blue black—before I leave them alone again.

  • Class of 2025 Commit to 47 Colleges

    Class of 2025 Commit to 47 Colleges

    (NCSSM)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    As the academic year comes to a close, 322 seniors of NCSSM-Durham’s Class of 2025 have reported their college destinations. The seniors are set to attend a wide array of institutions, from Ivy League universities and top research institutions to liberal arts colleges and public universities across the country.

    According to Program Assistant Pam Oxendine, NCSSM Counseling Services worked with seniors from May 1-5 to complete their final transcript requests. After May 1, seniors self-reported their decisions to the department, which has released data on the colleges the class of 2025 committed to for The Stentorian. As of May 14, 2024, college commitment data was available for 322 out of the total 342 graduating seniors (94 percent reporting), including early decision, early action, and regular decision commitments.

    Unsurprisingly, the most popular destination is the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where 169 NCSSM-Durham students—more than half of those reporting, or roughly 52 percent of the senior body—will enroll this fall. NC State University follows with 68 students, continuing a long-standing pipeline between NCSSM and the state’s flagship STEM university.

    Beyond North Carolina, students are spreading out across the nation. Four students will attend Yale University, another four will enroll at Columbia University, and four more are heading to Stanford University. Duke University, located just minutes from campus and a popular research partner for many NCSSM students, will welcome 13 undergraduates this fall.

    The class also boasts acceptances to all eight Ivy League institutions, with students enrolling at Harvard, Columbia, Cornell, Dartmouth, Princeton, UPenn, and Yale. Other notable destinations include the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (2 students), the University of Pennsylvania (5), Carnegie Mellon University (3), Georgia Tech (5), and the University of Chicago (2).

    Smaller liberal arts colleges are well represented too. Students will attend Barnard, Davidson, Haverford, Swarthmore, Spelman, and Williams. One student is heading to the United States Air Force Academy, and another to McGill University in Canada.

    Two students have chosen to take a gap year before continuing their academic journeys.

    Altogether, the Class of 2025 reported plans to attend 47 different colleges and universities, showcasing the diversity of interests and ambitions that define the NCSSM experience.

    Here is a full breakdown of college destinations for the class of 2025:

    College# Attending
    Appalachian State University1
    Barnard College1
    Carnegie Mellon University3
    Case Western Reserve University1
    Coastal Carolina University1
    Columbia University in the City of New York4
    Cornell University4
    Dartmouth College1
    Davidson College1
    Duke University13
    East Carolina University1
    GAP YEAR2
    Georgetown University1
    Georgia Institute of Technology-Main Campus5
    Harvard University1
    Harvey Mudd College1
    Haverford College1
    High Point University1
    Howard University1
    Johns Hopkins University1
    Massachusetts Institute of Technology2
    McGill University1
    New York University2
    North Carolina A & T State University1
    North Carolina State University68
    Northwestern University1
    Princeton University1
    Rice University1
    Spelman College1
    Stanford University4
    Swarthmore College1
    United States Air Force Academy1
    University of California-Berkeley1
    University of California-Los Angeles1
    University of Chicago2
    University of Michigan-Ann Arbor1
    University of North Carolina at Asheville1
    University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill169
    University of North Carolina at Charlotte1
    University of North Carolina at Greensboro1
    University of North Carolina Wilmington2
    University of Pennsylvania5
    University of Southern California1
    Vanderbilt University1
    Wake Forest University1
    Washington University in St Louis1
    Williams College1
    Yale University4
    TOTAL Reporting322
  • I Love Hopi Hot Beef, and Other Things About My The West! J-Term

    I Love Hopi Hot Beef, and Other Things About My The West! J-Term

    I became a Junior Ranger of the Grand Canyon South Rim on my trip. Apparently, I am the 5th student to do so in the past 10 years of this trip, according to Dr. Cantrell. (Teresa Fang/The Stentorian)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    I rarely plan my trips, and I always leave some space in my suitcase. Lack of prior knowledge and lightness are the two patron saints of a good journey, in my opinion. As the saying goes, those who travel with a light load have the best adventures or something like that. “The wealthy travel light,” but in my case I’m wealthy in my immense lack of knowledge, as I looked at the itinerary for my JTerm to Arizona the night before the first flight.

    Since emailing our trip sponsor, Dr. David Cantrell, my reasons for wanting to go on the To The West! JTerm trip in the spring of 2024, it’s come full circle; again a very wealthy bank of memories that reminds me why I like the movie Rango (2011) and the hardy terrain of a cacti-filled desert. In the week traveling from Southern Arizona to the North, I’ve learned so much about the landscapes, but even more about the world. Every museum and interaction with locals is a chance to absorb appreciation and wisdom, just like saguaro being physical forms of spiritual ancestors of the native tribal people.

    Through that week in Arizona, here are a few things I’ve taken away, and that I continue to remind myself.

    The group takes in the view at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. (Teresa Fang/The Stentorian)

    Appreciating little bits of happiness

    On the first day, I got lost—mentally, at least. Waking up at 3 a.m. is not for the weak, and as I boarded the shuttle at the Phoenix airport, watching the barren, beige-coded hills felt so out of pace with my life in sheltered suburbia—the world of neat lawns and nice cars, where grass was the shade of emeralds and Sprite, where political posters sprinkled every intersection. Phoenix, Bisbee, Flagstaff, the Hopi reservation—each place, a stark contrast.

    At the Hopi reservation, I kneeled in a millions-year-old bed of shells overlooking a huge limestone canyon. Our tour guide told us to express our thanks to the earth. I’m not religious or spiritual, but in that moment, I felt incredibly grateful. It’s amazing to think this Earth is the same Earth that everything I have seen in museums has also lived on and interacted with. It’s amazing to see exactly how the Hopi ancestors interpreted and interacted with this Earth (and the stars) on this land, especially through my own eyes. This firsthand experience has given me another perspective on what it means to live in the now—with appreciation and cautiousness of the past.

    Being very careful at the Grand Canyon. (Teresa Fang/The Stentorian)

    Perseverance takes many forms

    Somewhere between tumbling over rocks at Picacho Peak and getting lost at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, I realized something: nature keeps moving forward, with or without me. The saguaros at Saguaro National Park, towering and ancient, continue to stand tall. The indigenous stories and artifacts at the Heard Museum are preserved and shared, even as modern life moves on. In Bisbee, a town full of cowboys and artists, the people seemed frozen in a perpetual, quiet celebration of life, adapting the past into a present that felt both nostalgic and brand-new. Just ask Anisa Hasanaj ‘25 about the psychic lady who foretold her “strong bloodline.”

    And in my own way, I was moving forward, too. At Montezuma Castle, I stared up at the five-story cliff dwelling built by the Sinagua people. It sat in the cliff above me, precarious yet permanent. What was the point of living in the cliffs? The structure, facing south, provided warmth in the winter and coolness in the summer. The elevation protected people from annual flooding. But I realized maybe I didn’t need to focus on why things just are—but instead on the lifestyle they created for the people living there.

    Montezuma Castle cliff dwellings. (Teresa Fang/The Stentorian)

    Stop looking for “the point” all the time

    On day five, we visited the Museum of Northern Arizona. The tour guide was passionate but had a voice that could put even the most enthusiastic historian to sleep. The poet who wrote us custom pieces delivered one that was painfully generic, even though I had specifically asked for something about the evolution of forgetfulness and acceptance. But maybe that was the point—sometimes, the journey matters more than the conclusion.

    At the Grand Canyon, I took the Junior Ranger oath. “Don’t feed the squirrels” was the only part I really remembered, but in a way, that summed it all up. Maybe the awe of the canyon, vast and unchanging, wasn’t meant to provide some grand revelation. Maybe I didn’t need to extract meaning from everything—I could just let it be.

    Saguaro National Park. (Teresa Fang/The Stentorian)

    Things go on

    Through writing this, I may have admitted publicly that I eat a lot (big backing had to be an obligation before it became a choice, alright). But my greatest discovery of the trip wasn’t an ancient artifact or a philosophical truth—it was Hopi Hot Beef. Fry bread, beef, a dish so good that it earned my eternal love and gratitude. Thank you, Hopi Nation. Thank you, Navajo Nation. Thank you, Arizona. And most of all, thank you Dr. Cantrell, Mr. Chris Thomas, Ms. Michelle Brenner, NCSSM Foundation, and sponsors for letting me go on such an adventure.

    Things go on. My Arizona J-Term has ended, but its memories continue etched into my notes, my mind, and now, here. And I will continue, too, maybe with a slightly fuller stomach, a slightly fuller suitcase, and a wealth of stories that don’t always need a point.

  • NIH Discovers Healthcare Breakthrough by Cutting Funding and Praying for Innovation

    NIH Discovers Healthcare Breakthrough by Cutting Funding and Praying for Innovation

    THE NIH REPORTS THAT THEIR EMAILS BACK TO CONGRESS ARE MET WITH THIS AUTOMATIC
    REPLY. (Teresa Fang/The Stentorian)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    In a groundbreaking study funded by the National Institutes of Health (NIH)—right before their budget was unceremoniously slashed—scientists discovered that medical research does, in fact, require money. This shocking revelation, published in The Journal of Things We Already Knew, came just in time for Congress to announce its latest fiscal strategy: cutting NIH funding in favor of more “cost-effective” scientific solutions, such as wishful thinking and essential oils.

    Dr. Evelyn Carter, lead researcher at the now-defunct Institute for Curing Everything, expressed her concerns. “We were this close to finding a universal cancer vaccine. But, hey, I’m sure tax breaks for billionaires will cure something,” she said while packing up her lab equipment to sell on eBay.

    In response to public outcry, a government spokesperson assured citizens that medical advancements would not be affected. “We believe in the power of innovation,” he said. “And if there’s one thing history has taught us, it’s that the private sector, with its great track record of affordable insulin and fair hospital pricing, will surely step in.”

    Meanwhile, former NIH researchers have found creative ways to fund their work. Dr. James Patel, a neuroscientist, recently launched a GoFundMe titled Help Me Cure Alzheimer’s Before I Forget Why I Started This Campaign. It raised $27 before being overshadowed by a TikTok influencer’s fundraiser for designer dog sweaters.

    At press time, Congress was considering reallocating NASA’s budget to astrology, citing “strong public interest in Mercury retrograde.”

  • How T-Cell and B-Cell Epitope Prediction Preps You Against Pathogens

    How T-Cell and B-Cell Epitope Prediction Preps You Against Pathogens

    (Teresa Fang)

    By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief

    There are always new viruses emerging, and, like SARS-CoV-2, which causes COVID-19, they are constantly evolving into different variants or strains. Researchers are racing to find vaccines and therapies that can improve outcomes for patients worldwide, using methods ranging from traditional lab work to computational biology (bioinformatics), and even artificial intelligence (AI). To understand vaccine development, we first need to understand how our immune system fights germs.

    “The scientific world is constantly on the lookout for potential new pandemics so when there is a new virus, we would be able to quickly predict and measure the immune response,” said Dr. Alessandro Sette, a professor at the La Jolla Institute for Immunology in San Diego, California, and Director of the Center for Cancer Immunotherapy and Center for Vaccine Innovation. Being able to predict and measure how the body’s immune system will respond to viruses is essential to developing effective vaccines. The immune system recognizes, remembers, and destroys disease-causing organisms, called pathogens, and can provide long-lasting protection from future attacks. Pathogens are made up of antigens, which activate the immune response. 

    The body’s immune response is mediated by B cells and T cells. They do not recognize pathogens as a whole but instead recognize epitopes, which are unique markers on the antigens. If you’ve ever seen pictures of the SARS-CoV-2 virus, the spikes on the virus’s surface are the antigens that allow researchers to develop COVID-19 vaccines. These are critical for the immune system’s ability to identify and respond to foreign invaders such as viruses and bacteria.

    Predicting B-cell vs. T-cell epitopes

    The difference between B cells and T cells makes it necessary to have multiple methods for predicting their epitopes. B cells produce antibodies that usually bind to cell-surface epitopes that are folded in a three-dimensional structure. This method used for B-cell epitope prediction is called discontinuous 3D structure-based epitope prediction.

    “Antibodies recognize things on the outside and often recognize three-dimensional structures that are made out of discontinuous epitopes,” said Dr. Sette. “These are epitopes that are made from parts of a protein that are not necessarily like ducks in a row.”

    (Teresa Fang)

    T cells are entirely different: They recognize chopped-up fragments of proteins bound to human leukocyte antigen (HLA) molecules. Also known as major histocompatibility complex (MHC), these are specialized molecules on a cell’s surface for detection, holding important epitopes, for T cells. T-cell epitope prediction, therefore, is not limited to far-apart 3D structures like B cells are. Instead of discontinuous epitopes, T cells recognize linear epitopes. This method is called linear sequence-based epitope prediction.

    “If you could see the structure of an HLA molecule with a peptide bound to it, it looks like a hot dog bun with a sausage in the middle,” Dr. Sette explained. “That is the fragment where the peptide is stretched out.”

    Currently, most vaccines and therapeutics target B cells because antibodies are easier to measure than epitope fragments in T cells, although both are important for vaccine design.

    Bioinformatics in advancing epitope prediction

    In the past, vaccines were developed by using whole inactivated pathogens (such as in polio), an approach that was not always successful, or by predicting epitopes using traditional lab techniques, which are laborious and time-consuming. Recent advances in computational biology and bioinformatics have significantly improved the ability to predict epitopes for B-cell and T-cell activation in a time-sensitive manner. 

    Dr. Sette is part of a team that develops and oversees the national Immune Epitope Database (IEDB), a free, widely-used bioinformatics resource database for storing epitope structures. It has two purposes: to function as a catalog for epitopes and as a collection of epitope prediction tools for immunology research around the world. The IEDB uses many methods to predict epitopes and is always being updated. Generally, it analyzes patterns in already-known epitope structures to predict the epitope for an unknown one for B-cell or T-cell activation. One key area in these advances lies in AI. Machine learning (ML) algorithms, trained on large datasets of known epitopes and their interactions, can improve the accuracy of predictions. Dr. Sette plans to use ML approaches to improve data curation and algorithm prediction.

    “We will be relying on predictions more than data that is already available because if it is a new virus, we’ll have to rely on more innovative approaches,” Dr Sette said. He believes that if another pandemic arrives, epitope prediction will give researchers an upper hand in fighting against its spread.