Environmental change is nothing new in Polynesia. For centuries, the inhabitants of the volcanic, sea-battered islands have been employing a variety of strategies to adapt to their changing landscapes.
They don’t call it a drone, because it’s not a drone.
Archaeologists have a month to find the smoking lunchbox of the Bray School, and Terry Meyers has lost none of his optimism.
Mike Panciera had already helped a blind man navigate the perilous fantasy worlds of video games. It made sense that the next step would be to design a mobile app to help the blind find their way through the interiors of real buildings.
H. Wade Minter, the chief technology officer at a company that provides web and mobile services to five million users, stood in Swem Library, looked out upon the frantic final minutes of William & Mary’s first 24-hour hackathon and talked about the influence of the liberal arts on computer science.
It is dawn near the mouth of the Pacora River in Panama and the shorebirds are beginning to break from their night roost on an offshore bar. They move out over the water in dozens of flocks, merging and splitting, folding and undulating, to make abstract sculptures between water and sky.
Listening to Ellen Stofan talk to a room full of geologists is like being in on a brainstorming session for a new science fiction movie.
Cornwallis sank as he died, making a couple of revolutions on his way down, finally ending belly up and flippers akimbo, making a sort of “whale angel” on the ocean bottom.
As a summer counselor at Camp Takodah in the woods of New Hampshire, Benjamin led a group of teenage girls in a non-traditional learning experience that she based off of the theory and thought of perhaps the ultimate camp counselor—Henry David Thoreau.
William & Mary math student Robert Torrence is shedding some light on a decades-old game that continues to puzzle thousands each year.