An ideal student-professor relationship sets clear and high expectations, but not unreasonable ones. It’s an exchange between the two — the professor teaches the student and stays available to help the student understand the material, and the student shows their adequate understanding of the information on the test. They don’t feel the need to cheat on a test because they’ve already been given the tools they need to succeed.

When coming to college, it is easy to feel homesick — missing your old bed, the comfort of your own kitchen and living with your family. But don’t let your college years go by thinking of Waco as your backup home. With some intentional details, it can become your home base, too.

In the haze of a cultural battlefield, the church is struggling to decide whether to speak louder or love deeper. In a world that perceives complicated issues only in black and white, churches often mirror that mindset, choosing one calling and neglecting the other.

This past summer, I traveled to Jordan for the first time since I was a child. I was brimming with excitement in the months leading up to the trip, wrapping up my second semester of college while daydreaming about seeing family for the first time in over a decade and walking the streets I only remembered through faded memories and old photos. But what was supposed to be a trip about roots and reconnection became a reminder of the fragility of peace.

In a world that’s more politically charged than ever, sometimes holiday dinner tables can feel more like war zones and conversations turn into cross-examinations. Between outdated political beliefs and an influx of propaganda, it frequently feels like the weight of changing our parents’ beliefs falls on us, making holidays seem more like interventions.

Despite the addictive nature of phones, there is a solution to the ever-consuming algorithm — a better way to educate oneself, to engage in critical thought and expand one’s worldview. I propose returning to the original form of entertainment, the humble paperback book.

I had a routine every morning. I’d turn on the light, get out of bed, make my bed, put on my clothes, go to the bathroom and head downstairs. This routine was so ingrained in me that I could literally do it in my sleep, and I know this because I did so multiple times.

It’s so easy to blame the phone, but the truth is, the phone isn’t forcing us to do anything. It’s our own habits that are out of control. Technology is neutral; it becomes what we make of it.

Here’s a reminder to slow down and celebrate yourself. Celebrate the mornings you have woken up and made it to that 8 a.m. class. Celebrate the moments you decided to keep studying instead of hanging out with your friends on a random Saturday. Celebrate being present, being persistent and being proud of how far you’ve come — even if you’re still figuring out what’s next.

Life is a beautiful tragedy. When we slough off the blanketing anxiety of our age, trusting God’s provision in the midst of uncertainty, tomorrow begins to feel a lot more inviting.

I believe transparency is vital to any news outlet, and I would like to address the response to The Lariat’s poll on Dave Aranda. Additionally, explain the posting of our social media community guidelines following the response to a separate story. I stand behind and support all the decisions my staff has made over the past few weeks and want to relay that to our audience clearly.

It’s easy to chase the polished cities and careers. But leaving Waco means leaving behind the porch light conversations, the neighbors who know your name and the kind of realness you don’t find everywhere. In a world that rewards hustle, this town reminded me what it means to be grounded.

Representing other cultures does not negate your own Christianity, the same way being a student at Baylor does not automatically make you a Baptist. As students, we represent Baylor as a Christian university as much as you, and we reflect God’s love by showing the same compassion and care to our fellow students.

In the desert, there was no air conditioner humming, no cars passing or machinery whirring. There were no signs of humanity; I was extremely uncomfortable, and that’s exactly why I think everyone should experience camping.

It’s not too late to relearn how to learn from experiences. Maybe that means leaving the phone in your pocket for one sunset, or asking a local a question instead of just taking a photo with them. Perhaps it means accepting that not every moment is meant to be shared on a screen; some are intended to be kept private.

When you hear a statistic as startling as the rise in autism rates, your mind immediately searches for a reason. And like a knight in shining armor, Trump rolls out the red carpet of rhetoric, parading right over the big picture.

It’s not easy to hear opposing viewpoints and beliefs that differ from your own while keeping an open mind, but it’s important nonetheless. It takes everybody to create a culture of understanding through civil discourse. Be the change in a conversation. Be the devil’s advocate.

Human interaction can’t compete with the dopamine spike that social media provides. The attention economy has made focus a rare commodity. Every app is engineered to pull us back in, fragmenting not just our time, but our relationships. Friendship now competes with algorithms designed to hijack our curiosity.

You don’t owe anyone your time, your energy or your emotional labor. But you do owe the world your basic decency. Because when everyone’s too busy proving they can survive alone, we all end up standing in locked rooms, thinking the title of “most self-sufficient” is how you win life.

In its 125 years, The Baylor Lariat has seen its fair share of news. Though we have had the privilege of being part of just a glimpse of The Lariat’s lifetime, it’s made a mark on us. In honor of 125 years of Baylor’s student publication, we thought it would be fitting to share our favorite memories and lessons we’ve learned from our time at The Baylor Lariat.

Before there were comments sections and quote tweets, there were letters to The Lariat — and Baylor students have never held back. From chef salad complaints to prison pen pals, the opinion page has always been where the campus found its voice.

The hardest version of forgiveness isn’t about someone else’s mistakes. It’s about your own. It’s easier to extend grace to people who hurt us than it is to look back and forgive the person we used to be.

Boredom has become a lost art. In an age defined by constant connection and endless digital stimulation, stillness is often viewed as unproductive or even uncomfortable. Yet boredom once served an essential purpose — one that is quietly disappearing in the modern college experience.

Disney must change how it handles franchises moving forward by prioritizing quality over quantity. The lack of high-level storytelling is lazy, and while sequels like “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales” generate revenue, they tarnish the rest of the series.

We often describe perfection, determination or talent as the keys to success, yet we rarely mention creativity, as modern education actively suppresses it. Instead, we reward repetition and technical perfection over creative, original thought.

The key to navigating YouTube is having the power over it. The algorithm, thumbnails and titles are there to convince you that you have to watch a particular video, and you need to be aware that you actually don’t. In the end, the most important thing that being without YouTube taught me is that I don’t need it. It’s just fun entertainment.

To those facing struggles similar to mine, the truth is liberating and straightforward: nobody cares what you’re eating. And if they did, that is a genuine flaw in their character, not yours.

In just a few days, Baylor’s 116th celebration of homecoming will commence, ringing in all the craziness and excitement that comes with it every year. Events like Pigskin Revue, the parade and the football game are long-awaited and long prepared for, with students putting in the work toward these events for months prior.

Homecoming is a celebration — a time to gather, get to know one another, share ideas and memories and have fun. Ultimately, I always knew that homecoming was an opportunity, but I never knew it as a blessing until COVID-19.

Slapped on the side of Brooks Residential College, the words, “To you I hand the torch,” are for many, the extent of knowledge on Samuel Palmer Brooks’ Immortal Message. But Homecoming is a better time than any to remember the story behind those words: they’re a message of hopefulness and responsibility, even when the times around us are full of uncertainty, struggle and death.