Emme’s done this three or four times.

She’s defeated giant fluffy monsters with non gluten-free bread, lost a hamster, corrected Ashley A. that her name is pronounced E-muh and reluctantly choked down broccoli. But this time is different.

Inside the Bistline Theatre, her light-up turquoise sneakers are caked with mud.

ISU’s Sports Management Department held the twentieth annual Bengal Triathlon last Friday and Saturday, in collaboration with students throughout the athletics program and members of the community.

If you’re reading this newspaper, it’s more than likely that you’re on the ISU campus. If that’s true, it’s more than likely that you’re within eyeshot of a drink machine.

Take a look at it. Notice anything? That’s right, dear reader: you’re on a Coke Campus.

With the hot blue and red lights pouring on his face, Jake Roecker, a second year Commercial Music student at ISU, is solely focused on the movements of his drumsticks. He’s keeping one ear open for his four bandmates, waiting for the perfect opportunity to play them up, emphasizing their talents. 

April 27. Start of dead week. Prepare to have no extra assignments and no energy.

May 1. Last Bengal issue of the semester. The perfect homework break and light read.

May 4. Finals week, not your final week. For the graduates – kiss school goodbye!

Kathie Chandler was working as a massage therapist when one afternoon, she said, a voice interrupted one of her sessions. The massage room was quiet except for the soft hum of a fan.

“Tell her where the money is. Tell her it’s in the coffee cans in the garage,” Chandler recalled hearing.

She hesitated before repeating the message to the woman on the table. The client froze. The voice, she said, sounded like her husband, who had died.

The next day the woman called back with an update. She had discovered $30,000 hidden in coffee cans in her garage.

“As a performer, this show is a marathon,” says Cindy Lou actress Cambry Henline, a sophomore double-majoring in theatre and pre-dental hygiene. “Imagine dancing for 2 hours with no break while also singing and being in heels.”

Tables smashed against every wall and hardly enough breathing room between business partners, but smiles and handshakes still fill the Pond Student Room Ballroom. Nervous students twist their revamped resumes in their hand, prepared with their two-minute elevator speech and ready to ramble about the years of high school fast-food service that make them perfect for McCains Food Manufacturing.

By day, Daniel Shelden pours hours into grading speeches and lecturing as a Communications, Media, and Persuasion professor at Idaho State University.

By night, however, Shelden operates under a different mask. He might be a small-town Christmas tree farm girl for the Hallmark show as suggested by audience member #3 or be forced to finish the scene with a new accent each time he speaks.

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