Munier: Andrew, of all the interesting crap stored down here at 139 W. State Street, my favorite must be the collection of old Cornellians in the Editor-in-Chiefs office. Pick a year, and you discover a lot about what Cornell must have been like back then.

I have a confession to make — I am an apostate. I don’t believe in having a bear as Cornell’s mascot. Sorry my dear Touchdown, it is time to bid thee adieu. I know it sounds rather odd and downright un-Cornellian, especially coming from a confirmed traditionalist like me, but let me explain.

I am in my last semester at Cornell, so perhaps it’s not surprising that I find myself missing Cornell even before I have left with my coveted degree in hand. As I stroll across the Arts Quad under the watchful eyes of Ezra Cornell and A.D. White, I am fiercely proud to call myself a Cornellian. And yet, this sense of nostalgia raises a profound question: Do we share a common conception of what it means to be a Cornellian?

Quite frankly, the more I ponder the question, the more I’m convinced that it is overly simplistic and risks missing the point. Cornell is more than the sum of its parts, and its multifaceted nature ensures that each of us has a slightly different understanding of what it means to be a Cornellian.