OPINION

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CLAIRE HAO

Editor in Chief

ELIZABETH COOK

AND JOEL WEINER

Editorial Page Editors

BRITTANY BOWMAN

Managing Editor

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

Julian Barnard Zack Blumberg Brittany Bowman Elizabeth Cook Brandon Cowit Jess D’Agostino Andrew Gerace Shubhum Giroti Krystal Hur Jessie Mitchell Gabrijela Skoko Evan Stern Elayna Swift Jack Tumpowsky Joel Weiner

Unsigned editorials refect the official position of The Daily’s Editorial Board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.

Saltwater awakening

ELIZABETH WOLFE Opinion Columnist

I’ve never considered myself to be well-versed in the language of travel. I can remember the finer details, but they only leave a faint impression. For me, the experience is defined by my emotions, not the other way around. However, looking back on my childhood, I treated vacations as a semi-conscious experience, enjoyed in the moment and then mostly forgotten, with nothing but the feeling to be savored. The goal was to numb my mind as a means of escapism. And in 2014, my family desperately needed an escape.

Near the end of May, my mom was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer. She wouldn’t have her first surgery until July and until then we wouldn’t know whether or not she needed chemotherapy (we would later find out she didn’t). Suddenly normality had an end date. In the meantime, we continued on with a sense of caution, trying not to dwell on the worst possible outcome.

Myrtle Beach, S.C., was poised as our temporary escape. We had spent many weeks in the summer by the different lakes of Northern Michigan, but never had we stayed by the ocean. My sister and I were excited; our dad was afraid. We weren’t very good swimmers and shark sightings were common. But we were going with family friends who’d frequented the area. We would be safe and, most importantly, have time as a normal family before the inevitable.

Not everything could be frozen in time. I was having my own development; I was beginning to grow into a woman. I had been getting periods for a few months now, I got my first bottle of tinted moisturizer, I graduated to bras from PINK. I was growing aware of my own sexuality, but I was still a child and I wanted to stay that way. It was a delusion, thinking I could maintain control.

Myrtle Beach had a pulse unlike anywhere I’d ever been. Vacations for us were usually spent in the isolation of a cottage or private resort. I’d never seen such a wide range of experiences all occurring within a few feet of each other: strolling families with tiny children, college-aged friends stumbling drunk, adults struggling with addiction and homelessness. Of them all, I was most oblivious to the attitudes of young adults, mostly the men, but I could feel their electric energy as they cruised down the road next to the hotel. It both scared and excited me.

The hotel itself was bare, but we didn’t mind. We spent most of our time by the ocean and hotel pools. The beach itself was expectedly remarkable. The saltwater stung my eyes, but I kept going back in until I could barely see and my skin burned. We drank nonalcoholic piña coladas and pretended they were real. Mom and Dad floated with us down a circular lazy river, again and again for hours.

Across the road, a greenpainted cafe with soft booths and air conditioning balanced out the excitement of the beach. Smiles and soft South Carolina drawls greeted us when we entered. We made conversation with the waiters and other customers, where we were from, where we were going and what grits are exactly.

It was sweet. It was almost real, my mind subdued at last. It was the road around the hotel that awoke me from my dreamlike haze.

Night or broad daylight, it made no difference. We’d be walking between our hotel and our friends’, tankinis on and towels draped around our shoulders.

Cars honking as they whizz by. Who are they honking at?

Male passengers lean out of the car.

Are they looking at us?

“Hey sexy!”

Who are they yelling at?

“Dance for us!”

Oh.

“Don’t wear your bathing suits near here anymore,” warned our parents as they herded us inside. It happened anyway, every day, multiple times a day.

I had never been sexually harassed before. I didn’t even know what those words meant. But I felt them and I was embarrassed and confused. Is it wrong to be wearing this swimsuit in public? Didn’t they notice that our parents were right next to us? Didn’t they know we were children, just 12 and 14 years old? I had so many questions, some of which still I don’t know the answers to and probably never will.

Beneath my discomfort, a sense of pride blossomed. I knew their words were not motivated by kindness, yet I felt almost complimented. I wondered if those reactions meant I was pretty. Insecurity inspired my thoughts; as a child just starting puberty, I relied on others for confidence. But as I gained awareness of myself and the realities facing me, the pride slowly melted away, leaving nothing but shame.

Though lacking the vocabulary to describe it accurately, during that trip I realized the pervasiveness of anonymity in public spaces; the sound moves quickly and the source escapes into the crowd of people or into the air with a speeding bike or car. You may never see their face, but you’ve been violated.

It would be nonsensical to blame Myrtle Beach as an entity or even as an idea. Its quick and loose atmosphere doesn’t cause catcalling, rather people abuse those qualities.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Four weeks into the new school year, the word burnout may seem like an inappropriate term to describe the typical University of Michigan student. The transition back to in-person school from online classes and extracurriculars, however, is challenging. In the past year, clubs and classes often were less structured and offered much more flexibility with asynchronous lectures, opennote exams and forgiving attendance policies.

“Last year while everything was online, I decided to join a couple more clubs and start working in a research lab,” LSA junior Alexa Samani said. “I felt that I had enough time to do everything I wanted to; however, now that mostly everything is in person, I feel very overwhelmed with the amount of time taken up by classes and extracurriculars.”

Asynchronous classes allowed some students to create their own schedules and, occasionally, take online exams open-note. While asynchronous options were often necessary to adapt to the changing needs of students and professors during the COVID-19 pandemic, these classes may have caused some students to go over a year without practicing their organizational or study skills. Similarly, some clubs and other extracurriculars were less demanding during the pandemic since they often consisted of entirely virtual participation. While the return of structure and normalcy is a relief to many students and faculty, the sudden change may put students at higher risk of burning out. Taking the steps to recognize the challenges of returning to campus and preventing burnout before it happens can help students transition with much less stress.

Burnout can be defined as “a negative emotional, physical and mental reaction to prolonged study that results in exhaustion, frustration, lack of motivation and reduced ability in school.” Once you reach the point of burnout, it is difficult to jump back into a positive and productive mindset. While it may feel as though the normal, busy routine of college life shouldn’t necessarily cause burnout, students need to give themselves time to adjust or they will risk overextending themselves.

It has been over a year since everything was in person — as we transition back, every facet of student life feels intensified. “Starting summer job and internship recruitment in person is much more stressful because you are constantly around other people talking about it and comparing experiences,” explained LSA junior Hannah Shipley.

Some students may be more prone to burnout than others due to other compounding factors, causing students that do struggle to question the validity of their experiences. “The monotony of having to be on Zoom and my laptop for over eight hours a day every weekday for the last few semesters made me feel mentally fatigued and burnt out much quicker than I had ever felt before,” LSA junior Ali Abdalla said. “Having in-person classes forces me to go outside and see the sun on my way to class and generally motivates me to study or do work outside of my house.” It is important that even students who do not expect burnout from in-person learning

UMich students, let’s address burnout together understand the stress others may be

LIZZY PEPPERCORN experiencing. The entire University

Opinion Columnist of Michigan community should be empathetic toward those who are struggling and take steps to prevent burnout. On the surface level, there are basic steps students can take to prevent burnout. These include making time for enjoyable activities and socializing, exercising, getting outside, developing relationships with professors, avoiding procrastination, improving time management and maintaining a work-life balance. More specifically, however, it is essential that leaders of organizations reevaluate the structures and systems that existed prior to COVID-19 to allow students the time to readjust. Continuing to offer flexibility and empathy for members is essential because it can help students find their proper work-life balance and manage their time more effectively. Students must also advocate for themselves and their own needs. Communicating with professors and student organization leaders about struggles instead of ignoring them and pushing forward allows for a more productive environment. Club leaders and professors can then understand what their students are experiencing and help students succeed while having their personal needs met. Burnout has always been a challenge for college students, and it is likely every person will experience burnout at some point in their life, whether in school or their career. However, the sudden transition from online to in-person life elevates the risk of burning out considerably. It is essential that all members of the U-M community recognize the unique challenges of this semester and take the steps to prevent burnout now.

Design by SoJung Ham

It’s time for a national service

Hey you! Do you want to explore the world? Do you want to do interesting things with interesting people? Do you want to get paid to do it? I’d like to tell you how you can, all while helping out your fellow Americans. Our country faces many problems, but today, I would like to focus on just three of them. The first is polarization. We are more divided than we have been in recent memory, and this polarization seems to spread to a new sector of our society every day. The second is physical infrastructure. Our roads are covered with potholes, many of our public housing developments are in states of disrepair and the majesty of our national parks is obscured by decaying infrastructure. Finally, our young people are more aimless than they have been in recent history. There is a solution to all of these things, and it is a robust national service program. It is time that we, as a country, invest in one year of service for 18-year-olds to do work that needs to be done, cut down polarization and help millions of young people find their ways in life.

What do I mean by a national service? I mean enlisting every 18-year-old and sending them off to work in a different part of the country for a year. Filling potholes in Kentucky, giving vaccines in New York or killing invasive snakes in Florida. These are just a few of the things they will be doing, each new public servant will be given a stipend of around $500 a month, as well as food and housing to go along with it. I, along with many before me, propose that every person who graduates high school should be expected to serve, barring any major exceptions such as health problems or childcare responsibilities.

Our country is more divided now than it has been in recent history. A smaller and smaller number of Americans can say they have people close to them with differing political views. Exposing young Americans to people with different views will do good for developing a more tolerant, less polarized society. We saw a similar effect occur when the military was desegregated in 1948. Units that were desegregated showed more tolerant behavior towards those different from themselves, and unit performance improved. For many historical reasons, we are a politically polarized country. Democrats and Republicans shop at different stores and work different jobs. We need a program to funnel young people together, even if only for 12 months, so that the next generation of Americans with different social identities can recognize each other’s shared humanity.

We live in a time with sky-high rates of teen depression. Many young people are aimless, often selfmedicating the empty feeling they experience with drugs and alcohol. A national service would allow young people to connect with their labor in a way not possible throughout schooling. It allows them to socialize with other young people while also affirming their commitment to making a better world for their neighbors. Research has demonstrated that service for others is rewarding both because of the immediate feel-good effects of doing something good, but also because of the beneficial social relationships that people gain through it.

Ignoring the benefits to the conscripts, our country still has a lot of work to do. Take infrastructure for example. The American Society of Civil Engineers reports that 43% of our nation’s roads are in either poor or mediocre condition. Our national parks are also in states of disrepair, with billions of dollars of repairs needed to get them up to snuff. Rivers are polluted, the unhoused are suffering and forest fires are rampant. There is so much good that approximately 3.5 million civil service foot soldiers could do for a nation with problems like ours.

JULIAN BARNARD A model for this sort of program can

Opinion Senior Editor be found in the Civilian Conservation Corps of the 1930s. The CCC did some of the most important work of the 20th century, and it is our duty to make sure that their work does not go to waste by allowing our country to wallow in disrepair. Some critics cite this kind of program’s financial cost. But the cost of this program, even if it reaches the $75 billion mark, will be worth it several times over. It doesn’t just benefit the participants; it also enhances the ability of the federal government to get things done. We absolutely can expect that the government will be able to utilize these millions of young people doing their national service to all areas of the government. For example, the price of running the CDC will go down because the custodian will be someone doing their national service, or the price of getting seniors their social security payments will fall because the front desk assistant at the social security office will be someone serving their country. This hopefully wouldn’t displace current, often unionized, government workers, but instead, would add on to the capacity of the government to do good. I support a national service because we have millions of unfulfilled young people and millions of potholes to fill, trees to plant and homeless shelters to build. The cost is negligible compared to the desperate need. Many other developed nations have an expectation of service, like South Korea and Sweden, but unlike them, we wouldn’t require service in the armed forces. I know that I would have loved a government-mandated gap year between high school and college, and I imagine many of my peers would have as well. Even the most put-together young people need time to breathe, decompress and evaluate. And what better way to do it than building paths on a beautiful Montana mountainside with Americans of all colors, creeds and abilities. Accessibility in inaccessible times

SIDDHARTH PARMAR Opinion Columnist

Walk around campus, and you’ll see people in varying stages of leaving the pandemic behind. Some might be roaming around without masks, basking in the sunshine. Most would be heading to an in-person class or to a library to study. After sundown, they might trade the library for a frat party. Then there are Saturdays, with clogged streets and a Big House full of more than 100,000 people cheering on our Wolverines. Even the buses are going back to their pre-pandemic routes.

Coming into this semester, I wanted this. I wanted a taste of the normal college experience, rather than the pandemic-affected, virtual one I ended up getting. We weren’t usual sophomores; most of us were as unaware as freshmen about Ann Arbor. The University of Michigan understood that this might be a common sentiment among the class of 2024 and included us in many Welcome Week events.

It was almost intimidating to be around people at first. The pandemic had left us socially rusty. But apart from some initial awkwardness, we all slowly got used to the small social interactions that are part of the classroom experience.

Just as I started settling in, a second pandemic-induced behavior crept up: hyperalertness towards coughing and similar COVID-19 symptoms. The echoing sound of so many people coughing brought some uneasiness, but I brushed it aside. After all, weren’t we all vaccinated and masked up? It’s probably not COVID-19, I told myself.

Then people in my hall started getting sent to quarantine. There was a spike of COVID-19 cases, with the first two weeks of classes seeing over 460 documented positive cases. It became a part of my waking up routine to read a few COVID-19 notification emails, either of a COVID-19 case in my dorm or in one of my classes. The emails didn’t have much useful information (with no mention of which class, making it very vague if you had multiple large lectures on the same day), but they got COVID-19 back on my mind.

I started thinking about what I’d do if I contracted the virus. While vaccines certainly do a great job at preventing severe disease, a positive test result would still end up sidelining anyone for 10-14 days. I went on Canvas and checked if all my classes uploaded recordings. I was very disappointed to find out that almost half of mine did not. Additionally, some of the recordings that were uploaded had issues like the microphone not being turned on.

What makes this worse is that a lot of professors enforce lecture attendance. How are students who are quarantining supposed to stay in compliance? Or even stay on top of coursework?

Before the pandemic, this would be inconvenient but excusable. Many professors may lack the know-how to record their classes, or classrooms might not be equipped to do so. However, after two and a half remote semesters, this excuse doesn’t hold water. We’ve handled classes over Zoom where professors had to handle massive online meetings. Many buildings have also had equipment upgrades to support Lecture Capture (the lecture recording program connected to Canvas which can also simultaneously record the class slides) covering most classrooms used by LSA and College of Engineering courses. Set-up is also relatively easy compared to managing vast online meetings, with professors needing to request time slots for recordings and wearing the recorder when the time comes. For lecturers and professors who aren’t comfortable, training is also provided.

One might argue that putting in the effort to make recording classes more widespread might not be so urgent now. COVID-19 case numbers have fallen after the initial spike, but I would counter that this is something that will help students long after the pandemic is over. Students will no longer feel forced to go to classes when feeling ill to avoid missing out on content.

It boils down to a choice. Do we try to go back to exactly how things were before the pandemic and forget everything? Or do we try to keep the good things we learned? As the semester progresses, I hope the University opts to go more often with the latter.