Vol. CXXIX, Issue 2

This fall, Caltech introduced its pilot Integrated Core curriculum, a new approach to the first-year experience designed by faculty members collaborating across all five divisions.

One of the articles I have been featured in stated that the future Dulbecco is Camilla Fezzi, who is flying to Caltech, where he was. At that time, I did not know precisely who he was…I am honest, but today, after a year and numerous books, I really want to dedicate this article to one of my fonts of inspiration.

Jupiter was getting brighter than I’d ever seen it, brighter in real terms, closer to the earth, than it had been since 1963. And not only was it getting closer than ever, the online forums said it would be in “opposition”—directly opposite the sun from the earth’s perspective, like a full moon, only a full Jupiter.

In an abrupt move, the National Science Foundation (N.S.F.) has narrowed eligibility for its Graduate Research Fellowship Program (GRFP). With effectively no transition period and little advance notice, the change has caught thousands of prospective applicants by surprise.

The email pops up on my screen: of course, today is FoodFest! Who knows what surprises Tom Mannion—the mastermind of it all—has planned for us.

There is an inner crack that runs through women’s journeys in science—the hesitation, the feeling of being out of place. But as Leonard Cohen wrote, that’s how the light gets in.

With the academic year starting up, our Caltech fall athletes have been working at their craft since before everyone else arrived on campus.

Living in small, rural communities and learning organic farming techniques. In between our university semesters.

The Houston heat wrapped around me like an invisible shield as I navigated the city with the strange feeling that I was not walking to a lab or a museum, but to something that provided silence. The Rothko Chapel is hostile to sound: black walls, enormous canvases, light that doesn’t so much illuminate them as permeate through like some ancient sigh.

When the sky turned red from wildfire smoke and the acrid air stung the eyes of Southern Californians, a different kind of fire emerged—one lit by the pens, lenses, and voices of high school and college journalists.