THEDP.COM | THE DAILY PENNSYLVANIAN
OPINION 5
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2021
Here we go again? Caroline’s Queries | As we look ahead to a 2022 that may be plagued with Omicron, we must acknowledge uncertainty and how to live with it
I
feel the year 2021 has this “Groundhog Day” quality. If you described 2021 to me in 2019, I would be flabbergasted. But after living through 2020, 2021 feels like a mix of unexpected and unwanted repetitiveness. 2021 was another year of climate disasters and political dramas. 2021 was another year of COVID-19 variants that continue to threaten to upend our daily lives. Will 2022 be any different, with Americans even more concerned over the emerging Omicron variant than they were with Delta? At the time of writing, there’s a lot about Omicron that’s uncertain. The variant has an advantage over others due to its unique protein structure, and an evolutionary biologist has estimated that Omicron can infect three to six times as many people as the Delta variant can in the same time period. Omicron has been detected in 20 states as of publication, but local transmission has already begun, and some suspect that the variant was in the United States before we even had a name for it. Governments around the world are taking varying degrees of caution, from shutting down borders to complete lockdowns. Are they overacting or not doing enough? We don’t have enough information to know. I hate uncertainty, and in this circumstance, you probably do too. Reaching certainty is central to what many of us do as students, whether we’re conducting lab experiments, predicting stock growth, or writing persuasively. When I
DIEGO CÁRDENAS URIBE
write, it’s incredibly fulfilling to publish what feels like a bulletproof argument. But I also recognize that shoehorning material for the sake of certainty would be a disservice to readers. I strive to write something that acknowledges problems, but also encourages open discussion about solving them: It’s why my columns are “queries.” To spite uncertainty, I declared a major in systems engineering at Penn, where predictions and optimization are our bread and butter. My peers and I transform word problems into equations detailing our constraints and goals, and alter decision variables to meet these goals. Uncertainty is chopped up into probability distributions to represent varying outcomes, so that we can at least ascertain measures like expected value and variance.
I strongly believe in the power of the models we work through in class, because though we can’t simplify all of real life into a set of equations, these approximations often work better than nothing. That said, when it comes to a situation like Omicron, even the most powerful people right now only have access to a handful of decision variables, and extremely limited information. How deadly is Omicron compared to other variants? Do existing vaccines work against Omicron? If so, which ones? Under deep uncertainty, most people aren’t going to jump to Excel and start making graphs — and they probably shouldn’t. We’re getting more and more information by the day, and as Penn students, the best most of us can do is wait and see. Easier said than done. We’re programmed to fight or flee when we sense danger, and 2021 was chock-full of it. On campus, we saw rising cases in January, and we see them again now. We saw major flooding and heavy wildfire haze. And yet, the best way to protect ourselves from these biological threats and natural disasters has been to stay put. After the coronavirus hit, I was flooded with the leftover energy that I once used to chant, protest, and canvas. All of that energy had to go somewhere, and in 2021, it went into poor coping mechanisms like doomscrolling. Understanding tragedy in the world made me feel productive in the short term, but even more powerless in the
long term. In tumultuous times, the best we can do is to accept what we can’t control and instead focus on what we can control. The world around us may follow cycles of tragedy, but as a few variables among billions, our immediate actions can’t change this repetition. But we can shift the trajectories of ourselves and those around us into unique, ever-changing paths. With the changing year, I intend to do just that, spending the holiday season cherishing my family and friends, offering compassion (and presents!), and receiving in turn. In the new year, I will take more time to consider: How can I be better to my friends, my family, and myself? Though we aren’t repeating one day over and over like in “Groundhog Day,” it may be best for us to take small steps toward normalcy and follow regulations as they emerge, rather than hyperfocusing on every new COVID-19 story. Even if Omicron does send us backwards, we can now carry the lessons from 2020 and 2021 with us into 2022, emerging more equipped and resilient than we were in March of 2020. CAROLINE MAGDOLEN is a College and Engineering sophomore studying environmental science and systems engineering from New York City. Her email is magdolen@ sas.upenn.edu.
Life is fickle, but our gratitude doesn’t have to be The Red & Blue Soapbox | Despite the downsides of 2021, we should take a step back to rediscover gratitude
O
n a rather quiet and empty train ride back from New York to Philadelphia from Thanksgiving Break, I had a lot of time to do some thinking: of what I was going to pick up for dinner, of how I was going to pace out the rest of my semester, and ultimately, of what it means to be thankful. Every mile closer I got toward the City of Brotherly Love, the more my reflection became pensive about the semester, and year, that is about to transpire. And as I kept imagining how different life was for all of us exactly one year ago from today, all I kept thinking was how grateful I am to be back at Penn, happy and healthy. Life, we have learned, is fickle. 2021 has shown us that none of what we have come to expect of life is a promise, and that at any moment, our world can turn upside down. I often feel we’ve forgotten that we are still within the grasp of a worldwide pandemic that has farreaching consequences. I count myself lucky that no one in my family, including myself, suffered at the hands of the pandemic, unlike so many others around the world. Or that vaccines allowed a return of in-person learning and social gatherings at an institution that is a privilege to attend in its own right. How did we stop being grateful for the people, things, and experiences around us? When I got off that train, I tended to view the disappointments around me differently. Overhearing someone’s qualms about an unfair exam seemed trivial, or, in another situation, someone’s incredulity that a party was canceled because someone tested positive for COVID-19 earlier in the day seemed to miss the point of just how precarious and fragile society’s situation has become. I myself was not immune to this thinking either. Before the break, I was
miffed that the indoor seating for one of my favorite cafes was still closed off despite many other institutions resuming their pre-pandemic policies. I have since learned that I’ve been looking at it all wrong; instead of viewing what is closed off, I should instead be looking at what has opened up, and I mean this both literally — in terms of this cafe situation (there is never a dearth of cafes in Philadelphia) — but also on the grander, metaphorical level. From our perspective as Penn students, things worked out and life got “back to normal.” We quickly forgot what it was like to watch endless dread on the news, or the need to conserve toilet paper as each roll became more valuable than gold itself. Despite some setbacks, such as the return to masking and increased surveillance testing, the fall semester was an undeniable success. Extracurriculars sprung back to life, gatherings returned from hibernation, and we started to see less of Zoom. But as my previous encounters have shown me, we’ve also become too complacent, and in my opinion, are treading without caution. We have forgotten to be grateful for what we do have. With winter upon us, and concern about the effects of the Omicron variant becoming more salient, in a blink of an eye our lives could be different again. We could very well lose all the progress we’ve made and the life and loved ones that we now take for granted. When we receive gifts, we’re grateful, and the gift of today should be no different. As we reach the end of this calendar year and we make arrangements to see family and friends for the holidays, this soapbox columnist has a favor to ask you. Stop and ask yourself: Despite everything seemingly difficult in life at the moment, what am I grateful for? Who or what am I thankful
BRANDON LI
to know or experience that in another twist of fate possibly would not have occurred? For myself, I am thankful for that train ride of reflection, and I am grateful to you for allowing me to converse with you throughout this semester. As we anxiously await to ring in 2022, full of its uncertainties and expectations, let’s finish this year off strong and be grateful for what
occurred and what is ahead. We made it. Life is fickle, but our gratitude doesn’t have to be. JOSEPH M. SQUILLARO is a College senior studying philosophy, politics and economics from East Setauket, N.Y. His email is jsqu@ sas.upenn.edu
Consistency and compassion: Why Amy G is no common university president Outspoken on Occasion | Beyond fundraisers and the status of her office is a campus leader who has put her genuine passion for students into practice
W
hen I first heard the news that Penn President Amy Gutmann, more affectionately known by students as “Amy G,” would be leaving Penn, I was surprised. I was also saddened, as one might expect to feel when a longtime friend is telling you they are moving away. In discussing the news and my emotions attached to it with my friends who attend other institutions over Thanksgiving break, I was met with perplexed looks. Apparently, it was uncommon to feel strongly — or have an opinion at all, rather — about a university president’s departure. That’s when I realized, Amy Gutmann is no common university president. My first interaction with Gutmann came in the fall of my first year at Penn. As a student in the Class of 2024, I was starting college virtually; so, like many other first years across the country, I joined campus groups like The Daily Pennsylvanian to both meet other students and feel as though I was contributing to the overall culture of our school. 2020 was also a major election year, and as a first-time voter, I had thoughts. This led me to publish my first DP column in which I encouraged my fellow classmates to get out to vote. The day after the article was published, I was shocked to see an email from Gutmann waiting for me in my inbox, double-checking the email address and reading “president@upenn.edu.” In the email, she commended me on the column and wished me well in the upcoming semester. After the initial surprise wore off, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. If I didn’t feel like a Penn student before, due to the virtual nature of things, a personal welcome from my university’s president sure made me feel like one now. That incident might’ve seemed like a one-off to my first-year self. But as fate would have it, we met in person one year later at an Undergraduate Assembly cabinet meeting, this time on Election Day 2021. Though it had been an entire year since I wrote my piece on voting, upon introducing myself to Gutmann at the meeting, she once again spoke on the article’s importance. But it was something she said later in the meeting that
KYLIE COOPER
particularly stuck with me. In discussing how her departure could potentially stall the progress of both UA and University projects, she remarked that as long as she was in the position of president, supporting the work of the University would continue to be her utmost priority, regardless of her Senate appointment proceedings or the end of her contractual term, and that her fellow administrators should act in the same regard. Like any university administrator, however, her term has not been without frustration on the part of students — myself included — at the decentralized and slow-moving nature at Penn that plagues perennial campus issues like prioritizing
our cultural centers. It can be easy to mistake this as complacency, as I first did, but behind each of Gutmann’s decisions is a genuine concern for the impact it will have on students, which may mean taking longer to get right. In fact, most of what I’ve written this far will not come as a surprise to many Penn students. Having had the opportunity to walk and talk with her down Locust Walk recently, I watched firsthand as she stopped for every club when they called out “Yo, Amy G,” posing for group pictures and making conversation with vocal groups about her questionable attempts at singing in the past. She was visible, present, and real, and that matters to students.
When I was first tasked with writing about Gutmann’s legacy at Penn, I thought I might write about the billions of dollars she has raised for the University over her tenure in the position. However, quoting dollar amounts would not be a fair representation of her success because Gutmann views her own success in the successes of her students. And that, well that’s what makes Gutmann no common university president. ALEX EAPEN is a sophomore in the College from Elkridge, Md. His email is aeapen@sas. upenn.edu.