Editor’s Note: In My Rice Era, Again

By Sarah Rufca Nielsen

I was a senior in high school, working the hostess stand at a Tex-Mex restaurant, when an older man walked in wearing a Rice T-shirt. I had only recently received the embossed blue folder announcing my acceptance, so, of course, I asked if he’d gone to Rice and told him I’d be there in the fall. In an instant, we were no longer strangers, separated by a generational divide, but kindred spirits who shared something deep and special. He invited me to have a seat with him and his wife, asked what I wanted to study, and told me — very seriously — that there would never be another time in my life when I’d be surrounded by so many great minds doing so many different things — not just the faculty, but among my friends and classmates. Twenty years later, it’s still the most accurate description of Rice I’ve ever heard.

I’ve thought about that statement a lot these past few months, as I’ve been given the opportunity to explore many of the fascinating corners of intellectual life on campus. In working on this issue, I learned that Andy Warhol gifted the university a tree when he visited Rice Cinema in the 1970s (it’s still standing outside the new Sarofim Hall); that the university will soon have a rooftop pickleball court, which is somehow both extremely 2025 and extremely Rice; and that a Rice undergrad just designed a computer program to help NASA improve astronaut health by identifying stowaway microbes on the International Space Station. I even added a bit of my own Rice lore: that time the president of Russia stopped by campus during my freshman year. 

Right now, I’m writing from my new favorite spot on campus — the courtyard between Brochstein Pavilion and Fondren. (With love to my late, lamented favorite hangout, the bench swing hung from a low-hanging oak branch in the tiny corner courtyard of the Humanities Building — you will be missed.) Tucked next to the soft burble of an artful water feature, underneath a canopy of leaves just starting to think about turning gold, it’s the kind of peaceful space Rice seems to produce effortlessly. It didn’t exist during my undergraduate days, but sitting here feels familiar in all the best ways. 

Despite all the changes — stunning new buildings, new art dotted across campus, far better access to espresso — the essential Rice atmosphere remains the same. There’s a bright, easy energy of intellectual curiosity that hangs in the air, right alongside the humidity. I hope these pages bring you back to the Rice you remember — and help you connect with the Rice that continues to grow, change and renew itself every year. 

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From the Winter 2026 issue of Rice Magazine