THE HARVARD CRIMSON | February 20, 2020
Page 6
Editorial The Crimson Editorial board
column
Excited for LabXchange
Profiting from Harvard Square
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n 2013, we expressed hope that edX, which we saw as “the future of scholarship,” would be allowed to grow in its scope and range of content. Today, we applaud the launch of LabXchange — an interactive learning platform that will bring free, quality science education to students around the world. The result of a collaboration between the Faculty of Arts and Sciences and the Amgen Foundation, this initiative utilizes the open-source infrastructure from edX to create a virtual scientific lab environment, particularly for students in areas without the infrastructure necessary for lab-setting experimentation. As technology’s potential to reshape education — and particularly to expand its accessibility — is considerable, we are glad that Harvard is working to set the standard for high-quality, widely avail-
As funding for education has remained inadequate and inequitable, we commend Harvard for its efforts to make scientific education more accessible to all. able online education. We encourage the platform’s use of interactive formats and other multimedia tools to make online content engaging, and we hope that LabXchange keeps innovating the ways in which it delivers information to stu-
dents. But more than the novelty and potential of educational technology, we are heartened by the ways this technology is being utilized. As funding for education has remained inadequate and inequitable, we commend Harvard for its efforts to make scientific education more accessible to all. These efforts are critical in guaranteeing access to knowledge and increasing social mobility for those with limited access to more conventional institutional approaches to learning. We have previously affirmed the utility of the Extension School in encouraging social mobility, and we appreciate the bite-sized nature of these modules, which better serves those who may not have the time to commit to a full course offered by the Extension School through edX. As of right now, the diversity of scientific fields offered through the program is laudable and we hope that Harvard will continue to expand its online education program in the humanities. That said, we recognize that LabXchange cannot fully replace the experience of having the opportunity to be in a real lab and actually do hands-on work. There are certainly components, such as providing modes of interaction and the ability to ask and answer questions, that can be added to the current program in order to enhance learning experiences and more accurately capture in-class environment. But there is still a long way to go, and
we believe that the current program is a good start to remedy the inequities in learning.
As technology’s potential to reshape education — and particularly to expand its accessibility — is considerable, we are glad that Harvard is working to set the standard for high-quality, widely available online education. All in all, we hope that the University continues to pursue its efforts in making education accessible and devoting its resources to enriching society as a whole. The LabXchange launch is, indeed, representative of the sort of general approach toward engagement with the broader community — including high schoolers, working adults, and those around the world — that we would like Harvard to embody in all of its endeavors. This staff editorial solely represents the majority view of The Crimson Editorial Board. It is the product of discussions at regular Editorial Board meetings. In order to ensure the impartiality of our journalism, Crimson editors who choose to opine and vote at these meetings are not involved in the reporting of articles on similar topics.
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Appreciating an Allergy-Friendly HUDS
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hen I arrived at Harvard, one of my primary concerns was not making friends or picking my classes, but rather navigating the dining hall. I have life-threatening allergies to milk and tree nuts. I’ve needed an EpiPen on multiple occasions despite taking extreme caution every day and have ended up in the emergency room in the aftermath of these reactions. So it’s not surprising that my food allergies were an incredibly important consideration in choosing a college. There was no margin for error; I would be eating at this new school three times a day for four years. After facing challenging dining experiences at two different school dining halls in middle and high school, I recognized the weight of my decision. Recent articles have presented student criticisms of the dining experience for students with food allergies and celiac disease at Harvard. A few students have expressed concerns about the possibility of cross-contamination in the self-serve areas and the fact that complete and updated ingredient lists must be accessed online rather than posted by each food. One student wrote that the “email method,” in which students with food allergies order individualized cookedto-order meals by sending an email to dining services, was “reinventing the wheel.”
I have deep gratitude for the ways in which the workers at Annenberg have made my Harvard experience exponentially easier (and less stressful) than I expected it to be. Ironically, this is exactly the program I had hoped to find in a college dining hall. I am one of the students on the “email method.” I email Annenberg each night and let them know what time I’ll be eat-
ing meals during the next day and what I’d like for each meal. They’ll make me a safe version of anything they have available and double-check all ingredients. I usually order a “safe” version of something from the grill menu, but any time there’s something special like mussels or salmon (personal favorites) on the line, I’ve emailed and asked whether it was possible to cook them in a way that avoided my allergens. On each occasion, the dish that appeared filled me with gratitude because it was clear how much thought and attention had been put into creating a safe dish for me. There’s no doubt that the “email method” requires a bit of planning on the student’s part. As I was deciding on what college to attend, I met with the dining hall manager and head chef and expressed concern about the email method, and particularly about what would happen if my plans changed last minute. Annenberg’s manager assured me that they understood that students’ plans are fluid, and that there would be no consequences if I ordered a meal and didn’t pick it up. No harm, no foul. There have been times when I’ve arrived early for a meal or forgotten to place my order the night before. In each instance, a chef has cheerfully asked me to wait just five minutes while they prepared a safe made-to-order meal. I am constantly appreciative of the unflagging devotion of the Annenberg team to student health and well-being. By definition, a food allergy is a marker of difference. For years, I sat awkwardly at birthday parties while my friends had pizza and ice cream. College is no different. Nearly every event requires intervention. Whether it’s the Crimson Jam or simply dinner at a restaurant with a friend, food is a part of nearly everything we do. I understand the desire to inhabit the world like everyone else, to pull food off the line without checking ingredients online or placing an order the night before. For me, the goal is always safety and the fact that HUDS has a process in place
A
store closes in Harvard Square. Tributes flood in, recalling fond memories of afternoons spent in a coffee shop, or a warm bowl of soup on a cold winter night. Inevitably, the topic of rising rents in Harvard Square comes up, and many conclude that some greedy landlord was responsible for pushing out yet another historic establishment. It seems that they do this stuff for fun. The story becomes even juicier when we remember that, lately, a few of these landlords have been investment firms. Yes, now the narrative is shaping up well: wealthy investors are destroying local businesses. This story is convenient, but it’s incomplete. That’s because we pretty much absolve ourselves — the consumer — of any responsibility for the closures. In truth, we too hold responsibility, because the stores are, after all, there for us. That is the nature of business. If we had wanted Crema Cafe to stay open, we should have frequented it more. Crema’s owner told this newspaper that “Crema sales dropped 30 to 35 percent in two years” before its lease wasn’t renewed. “I don’t fault the landlord,” he said. Neither should we. As someone who was fond of Crema and Papyrus, among other bygone stores, I would have loved for them to stay open. But I also recognize that not enough other consumers went to those establishments, and my occasional coffee or annual Christmas card was not sufficient to warrant a location in the square. Put bluntly, property owners aim to find the most profitable tenants, which are the businesses that can attract the most customers; if a landlord replaces an existing tenant with a store that is less popular, they’ll lose money themselves. In turn, stores with high demand last and become staples of the square. That’s how we got places like El Jefe’s (October 2015) and Tatte (October 2016). Investment firms that buy properties in the square are no different.
If we truly want certain stores in the square, the strongest action we can justly take is to put our money where our mouth is.
The Crimson
By Orlee G. S. Marini-Rapoport
ANDREW W. LIANG a BOX OF CHOCOLATES
to keep me safe (a process that has, to date, resulted in zero reactions while in college) is far more important than the ability to wait in line with hundreds of my closest friends. Of course, I would never presume to speak for all students with allergies at Harvard. We are all different, whether it’s the sensitivity of our allergy or our level of comfort in trusting others to cook our
I’m grateful that Harvard offers a cook-to-order program and that every single HUDS worker I’ve ever spoken to has shown through word and deed that my safety and happiness matters. food. Having food allergies means that in order to keep ourselves safe, we lose a certain amount of spontaneity. Can Harvard do better? Clearly some people think so, and I suspect that Harvard’s structure of a separate dining hall for each house presents unique challenges for students who don’t know in what dining hall they’ll be eating the next day. Fair enough. But I’m grateful that Harvard offers a cook-to-order program and that every single HUDS worker I’ve ever spoken to has shown through word and deed that my safety and happiness matters. As students with allergies speak up about their dining needs, let’s not forget that these are real people working to keep us safe. Suggesting that we shouldn’t have to experience a moment of inconvenience or lose a tiny bit of spontaneity when there is quite literally a chef waiting to cook you your very own safe meal while you skip the line reeks of entitlement. I have deep gratitude for the ways in which the workers at Annenberg have made my Harvard experience exponentially easier (and less stressful) than I expected it to be. —Orlee G. S. Marini-Rapoport ’23, a Crimson Editorial Editor, lives in Greenough Hall.
Interestingly, in our popular narrative, the phrase “investment firm” seems to be closely associated with the mental image of a mustachioed Monopoly man holding bags of money. But that’s hardly the case. Let’s look at Asana Partners, for instance, which is a commonly cited antagonist in the square closures story. It turns out that Asana’s major investors include a litany of pension funds: the Los Angeles City Employees’ Retirement System, the Los Angeles Fire & Police Pension System, the New Mexico State Investment Council, the South Carolina Retirement System, the Tennessee Consolidated Retirement System. The list goes on. In fact, the largest investors in the investment firms that we love to lambast — ranging from real estate investment trusts to hedge funds — are often pension funds and endowments. The Los Angeles City Employees’ Retirement System pays out benefits to its more than 17,000 retirees by investing in firms that provide a sufficient return. Every U.S. state has such funds — sometimes separate for teachers and firefighters and public servants. Individual cities have them too. Harvard has a massive endowment, as do many other schools, from the University of Texas system to Yale University. It turns out that a more accurate mental image of those profiting from Flat Patties’ demise would probably be of firefighters and public school teachers — and maybe even professors and students of other universities. That is not to say that firefighters’ pension benefits warrant the closing of the square’s old businesses; that’s a value judgment where people can disagree. But landlords aren’t closing stores to spite us; they’re doing it because they think we’ll shop, eat, and drink at their new tenants. Even if newer stores in the square aren’t frequented most by students, there must still be demand coming from somewhere, if the stores last. If the demand is from tourists, we may not like their preferences, but they nevertheless matter. Indeed, this should probably make us feel even more responsible for square closures as Harvard students, because our institution brings them here. And if the demand is from other Boston area residents, then we have even less to complain about. They actually live here long-term, while we are only transplants for a few years. In any case, we shouldn’t call upon government intervention to stop the closures either. Calling on a government authority to limit what the owners of land can do with their own property would be contrary to the basis of a free society. And quite authoritarian. If an individual owns a plot of land, they have the right to decide who can operate there. My mandating who could live in your house would be a gross violation of your basic freedom. In just the same vein, it would be very illiberal for a fan of Zambrero to insist that it be mandated by the city to stay there, whether through artificially low rent or something else. If we truly want certain stores in the square, the strongest action we can justly take is to put our money where our mouth is. When we like a business, we should go to it more often. And if a landlord replaces it with one we don’t like, we should avoid it. On second thought, though, the firefighters might not like that. — Andrew W. Liang ’21, a Crimson editorial editor, is a Social Studies concentrator in Adams House.
