After sitting in drama classes nonstop from 10:30 am until 4:30 pm, I have a two-hour break before evening rehearsals begin. I walk out of Carnegie Mellon's Purnell Center to recharge, planning a sunset stroll through Pittsburgh's Schenley Park. Much to my surprise, the typical bustling afternoon campus crowd on The Cut is nowhere to be found. Instead, there are police officers and a cluster of ... shacks? The G-20 has just become more than a newspaper headline to me.

The G-20, short for the Group of 20, is composed of the leaders from the world's top 20 economies. They have come to Pittsburgh for the group's annual conference, where they will discuss economic policy. A media frenzy has descended on the host city, chosen by President Barack Obama because of its transformation from an industrial town to a city of knowledge and innovation—the type of transformation Obama wants to underscore at the summit. Pittsburgh is in the global spotlight.

That spotlight is shining on Carnegie Mellon, too, which is getting its fair share of accolades from the media for its role in Pittsburgh's "Meds and Eds" success. And, in the past few days, the university has hosted a plethora of world-renowned speakers, including Bill Gates, founder of Microsoft; Dan Rooney, the U.S. ambassador to Ireland; Shaha Ali Riza and Mansoor Dailami, senior executives at the World Bank; and Kevin Rudd, prime minister of Australia.

Undeterred by the hoopla, I walk toward Schenley Park, passing a plywood-and-staples village. When I get to the edge of campus, a 10-foot wall of steel bars halts me. Police officers in riot gear stand guard behind it. They've cordoned off Schenley Park. Change of plans. Intrigued, I follow the barricade as it continues to the nearby Phipps Conservatory, where the G-20's opening night reception dinner will be held in a few hours. News trucks, their satellite antennas pointed skyward, are parked side-by-side just outside the restricted zone.

I think to myself, The world is listening right here, right now. But we, Carnegie Mellon students, tomorrow's leaders, stand voiceless. Where is our microphone?

I give up on my walk and head back to campus to grab a bite to eat at the University Center. On my way, I notice that a crowd now surrounds the village. Several students hold cardboard signs reading, "End World Hunger Now." Reporters buzz about. One protester tells me that this "shantytown" is their way of imploring the G-20 to address world poverty.

These students have found their microphone. I pick up a sign and join them.
Nick Ducassi (A'10)