I

n Detroit, 195 public schools have 
been closed since 2000. But the 
mass 
liquidation 
of 
neighborhood 

schools is not unique 
to 
Detroit. 
Several 

urban 
communities 

are restructuring their 
public education systems 
to 
suit 
the 
needs 
of 

changing demographics. 
The rapid pace of school 
closures raises questions 
about 
its 
impacts 
on 

neighborhoods and their 
residents. 
Research 

suggests 
that 
closing 

neighborhood 
schools 

increases the likelihood that neighborhoods 
around them will deteriorate. In conjunction 
with challenging neighborhood conditions, 
poorly 
performing 
schools 
accelerate 

neighborhood 
decline 
by 
hindering 

the 
preservation 
of 
stable 
residential 

communities. With a loss of a community 
anchor, school employees are displaced, 
property values decrease and businesses 
lack incentives to develop in neighborhoods. 
 

Detroit has a number of vacant school 

buildings 
scattered 
around 
the 
city. 

According to a 2015 report by a public data 
company called Loveland, “Out of the 195 
schools that closed between 2000 and 2015, 
81 of the buildings are currently vacant 
and unused.” Vacant school buildings can 
be locations for crime, 
such 
as 
scrapping 
or 

drug dealing. As large 
architectural 
structures 

dilapidate, their presences 
subtract from the aesthetic 
of 
a 
neighborhood. 

Instead of closing these 
structures, Detroit Public 
Schools should consider 
repurposing 
school 

buildings 
to 
develop 

mixed-income 
housing 

or maintain operations of 
the school, and increase 
their usage as community-
centered buildings.

Instead 
of 
spending 

exorbitant 
amounts 
of 

money 
on 
demolishing 

architecturally 
sound 

school buildings, the city can encourage 
new and mixed-purpose buildings. Some 
closed schools have been redeveloped into 
residential 
apartments, 
movie 
theaters 

and churches. The city should encourage 
housing developers to create mixed-income 
housing structures within vacant school 
buildings. Mixed-income housing increases 
benefits and resources within schools and 
ultimately improves student achievement. 
Neighborhoods with mixed-housing prices 
are three times more likely to have highly 
rated schools than affordable neighborhoods.

Mixed-income housing, however, can 

be used as a veil for gentrification, and 
only serve the poor who are “most likely 
to succeed.” Detroit City Council should 
invent specific protections, such as low-
interest mortgages and down payment 
assistance for specific income brackets, 
in housing developments that surround 
neighborhood schools.

“Education policy is constrained by 

housing policy,” claims Richard Rothstein, 
a research associate at the Economic Policy 
Institute. “It is not possible to desegregate 
schools without desegregating both low-
income 
and 
affluent 
neighborhoods.” 

Schools are influential institutions in 
determining where people live.

A 2015 study administered by the 

National Association of Realtors Home 
Buyer and Seller Generational Trends 
found the quality of the school district was 
the sixth-most-important factor affecting 
neighborhood 
choice 
for 
homebuyers. 

Researchers found a direct correlation 
between school quality and home values: 
Schools receive a substantial portion of 
their funding from local property taxes, 
thus, highly valued homes are critical to 
supplementing school funding.

The disparities between Detroit’s and its 

suburban counterparts’ home values is stark 
— the average home value in Bloomfield Hills 
is an estimated $400,000; in Detroit, the 
average home value is just under $40,000. 
“As a result, Detroit must levy a property 
tax 10 times higher than Bloomfield Hills to 
raise the same amount, per home, for a school 
maintenance or improvement project,” MLive 
reported. As Detroit resurges from financial 
troubles, city leaders must make it a priority 
to conjointly create quality schools and build 
solid districts to attract more residents to 
populate the neighborhoods.

Schools 
are 
prominent 
community 

anchors, and when their facilities are 
accessible to the surrounding community, 
their public utility and value increases. 
Twenty-one DPS schools have been named 
12/7 Community Schools, which are schools 
open beyond the traditional school day 
hours to offer services such as child/elder 
care, job skills training, financial literacy 
training, food distribution and medical care. 
Facilities that accommodate community 
members and expand opportunities for 
students provide a positive impact on the 
neighborhood as a whole. For example, 
Priest 
Elementary-Middle 
School 
is 

a 12/7 community school that hosts a 
Parent Resource Center: a community 
gathering space with computers, phones, 
small libraries, play areas for children, 
workshops, GEP support, book support, 
college information, etc.

Homeowners 
would 

value 
amenities 
schools 

can 
provide, 
such 
as 

community 
spaces, 

libraries, swimming pools 
and 
playgrounds. 
Open 

school buildings facilitate 
democracy 
because 

community members can 
decide the best uses for 
the 
buildings. 
Schools 

can provide a sense of 
community 
ownership 

and 
can 
encourage 

community 
members 
to 

be more invested in the 
quality of the educational 
activities 
for 
students. 

With authentic parent and 
community engagement in 
school facilities, there is 

an equal stake in ensuring school facilities 
are maintained and accessible to the public. 
12/7 community schools are examples of 
a best practices approach that enhances 
school value to the neighborhood.

Revitalizing Detroit’s landscapes will 

require a commitment to providing quality 
education and living conditions for students 
and their families across the city. Detroit’s 
past economic, political and social history 
has made meaningful development difficult. 
Racial tensions, population declines and 
restrained budgets have challenged the 
city to transform its school system and its 
operations, and envision a new city design. 
With new leadership and restored power to 
residents, Detroit neighborhoods and the 
public school system have the potential to 
revive Detroit’s urban vibrancy.

Urban 
planning 
and 
educational 

policy leaders can and should work in 
tandem with each other to streamline 
neighborhood revitalization. Community-
based education models can enhance 
student 
achievement 
and 
improve 

neighborhood 
conditions. 
Preserving 

Detroit’s neighborhood schools ensures 
their presence as valuable community 
establishments for all members.

A 
school-centered 
community 

revitalization effort depends on safe and 
affordable housing that is attractive to 
families with children, retains current 
families and improves the academic quality 
of neighborhood schools to sustain Detroit’s 
renewal. A close partnership between 
school leadership and city planners can 
create school-centered communities across 
the city that will transform the quality of 
our urban schools and communities. 

—Alexis Farmer can be reached 

at akfarmer@umich.edu. 

Opinion

SHOHAM GEVA
EDITOR IN CHIEF

CLAIRE BRYAN 

AND REGAN DETWILER 
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS

LAURA SCHINAGLE
MANAGING EDITOR

420 Maynard St. 

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at 

the University of Michigan since 1890.

Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s editorial board. 

All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION

Readers are encouraged to submit letters to the 
editor and op-eds. Letters should be fewer than 
300 words while op-eds should be 550 to 850 

words. Send the writer’s full name and University 

affiliation to tothedaily@michigandaily.com.

4 — Thursday, April 14, 2016

Facilities that 
accommodate 
community 
members 

and expand 

opportunities for 
students provide a 
positive impact on 
the neighborhood as 

a whole. 

Every Thursday morning, I 

walk into Weill Hall, climb three 
flights of stairs, open the door to 
a boardroom overlooking State 
Street and am transformed from 
a 
fourth-year 
college 
student 

into a member of a philanthropic 
foundation 
tasked 
with 

distributing $50,000.

Endowed 
with 
a 
grant 

from 
The 
Philanthropy 
Lab, 

a 
foundation 
dedicated 
to 

charitable 
education, 
Public 

Policy 
475: 
Philanthropic 

Foundations (the section taught 
by 
Megan 
Tompkins-Stange) 

explores what it means to give 
away money. My 14 classmates 
and 
I 
dissect 
standards 
for 

giving, 
who 
is 
“worthy” 
of 

philanthropic funding and how 
we see ourselves giving in the 
future. 
Across 
the 
country, 

there are 13 other universities 
exploring these same themes, all 
to the tune of a very real $50,000 
to be given away at the conclusion 
of the semester.

I am a senior now, and I am 

planning 
on 
working 
in 
the 

nonprofit sector, so this course 
aligns perfectly with my own 
career aspirations. However, it 
flips the script on my ambitions — 
I anticipate I will be spending the 
next few years of my life raising 
money, rather than giving it away. 
I have come to the conclusion that 
it’s a lot more fun to be giving 
away money for a cause than 
asking for money for a cause. As a 
donor (rather than a fundraiser), 
I feel immensely powerful. I have 
$50,000 burning a hole in my 
pocket, and it’s my decision who 
gets to take home a slice of the pie.

Every Thursday morning, I 

walk into this class and I feel 
powerful and important. This 
class has more gravitas than 
any other that I have taken 
here, with real money and the 
potential for substantive social 

change on the line.

But how should philanthropy 

operate? 
Metaphorically 

speaking, 
altruism 
gives 
me 

glowing, clear skin. Naturally, 
helping others makes me feel good 
about myself. Yet, acknowledging 
those benefits I gain from giving 
away money makes me squeamish. 
The social expectation is that we 
help others without any selfish 
motivations. Truthfully, I give 
away money for selfish reasons 
all the time. I pull out a few coins 
out of my back pocket for a person 
who is homeless on the streets of 
Ann Arbor, knowing full well that 
my friends are watching, with me 
secretly hoping they think I am 
generous and selfless.

And, like Carrie Bradshaw before 

me I can’t help but ask myself: Does it 
demean the gifts I am giving because 
my motives are not entirely pure? 
Despite my best intentions, could 
this form of paternalism hurt more 
than it helps?

I honestly don’t have the 

answers 
to 
these 
questions. 

But every Thursday morning, I 
am surrounded by supportive 
classmates who ask the same 
questions and worry about how 
to leverage privilege and money 
to build a future focused on 
social justice.

If I were ever to meet one of the 

writers of those ubiquitous think 
pieces about millennials and 
our 
perpetual 
self-absorption 

and complacency, I would point 
them to this classroom. Sure, 
my peers are idealistic, perhaps 
naive 
and 
probably 
indebted 

to a personal foundation of 
various forms of privilege. But 
we’re 
also 
questioning 
what 

we have been granted. We are 
poring 
over 
nonprofits’ 
tax 

returns, 
critiquing 
concepts 

about international development 
and exploring how to revitalize 
Detroit 
without 
gentrifying 

blighted neighborhoods.

The 
policy 
concerns 
of 

our generation are perfectly 
encapsulated in Public Policy 
475 
— 
our 
commitment 
to 

economic, racial and gender 
justice come to the forefront of 
every discussion. We don’t all 
agree on the best approaches 
to these challenges, but our 
commitment to positive change 
unites us.

It also unites the final five 

organizations that have made it 
past our rigorous preliminary 
debates and research. Of these 
organizations, according to the 
stipulations of our grant, we 
can only choose a maximum of 
three. Furthermore, we must 
choose what percentage of the 
pot will be allocated to each 
organization, and whether the 
funding will be restricted to a 
specific project or program.

The process of eliminating 

nine of the originally nominated 
organizations was hard enough. 
I can already tell that these 
final decisions will be the 
toughest — my conscientious 
classmates and I do not take 
this mandate lightly, and we are 
eager to responsibly distribute 
our funds.

At the end of the day, the 

collective emotional investment 
in the learning happening in that 
boardroom in Weill Hall is one of 
the most profound experiences 
of my college career. Whatever 
organizations 
make 
the 
final 

cut will be forces of change, but 
it is not the end goal that has 
already empowered and changed 
me. It is the community 14 other 
millennials and I have built, 
founded on a thoughtful process 
of dialoguing and questioning that 
inspires me beyond the classroom.

—Micah Nelson is a senior in 

the Ford School of Public Policy.

Altruism in philanthropy

 Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Gracie Dunn, 

Caitlin Heenan, Jeremy Kaplan, Ben Keller, Minsoo Kim, 

Payton Luokkala, Kit Maher, Madeline Nowicki, 

Anna Polumbo-Levy, Jason Rowland, Lauren Schandevel, 

Melissa Scholke, Kevin Sweitzer, Rebecca Tarnopol, 
Ashley Tjhung, Stephanie Trierweiler, Hunter Zhao

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

Schools as community spaces

ALEXIS 
FARMER

MICAH NELSON | OP-ED

Using creativity to build bridges

HAFSA GHIAS | OP-ED

Foreigner. 
Conservative. 
Oppressed.
America, 2016: I find myself 

placed 
into 
a 
seemingly 

indestructible 
box 
with 
steel 

reinforcements because of the 
cloth that lies purposefully on my 
head. I wear my hijab by choice, 
and yet those around me see me as 
a helpless, weak woman.

As Islamophobic rhetoric has 

skyrocketed, so too have my 
feelings of helplessness. I watch 
this bloodthirsty beast rear its 
head, straining to break the chains 
that keep it from losing control. 
As a visual artist, I often express 
my frustration through a flow of 
colors onto my canvas. I do this 
in hope that art might crack the 
stereotype I find myself defined 
by, that my work might help 
someone choose love over hate.

Last year, as a senior in high 

school, I began combining my 
artwork into a portfolio I titled 
the Peace Initiative. And within 
a 
year, 
the 
Peace 
Initiative 

has grown into a movement 
greater than I would have ever 
envisioned. It has become a 
campaign to advocate for social 
respect 
and 
equality 
using 

different mediums of creative 
expression. The goal is to put 
up art in public places around 
Ann Arbor and start an online 
campaign through Facebook to 
reach out to those who normally 
would not push themselves to 
meet new people.

Just a few weeks after I 

arrived on campus, my friend 
and I were walking by the 
Diag when we saw a table for 
optiMize — a social innovation 
organization on campus. I didn’t 
think I had any ideas for their 
Social 
Innovation 
Challenge 

— I never thought of myself as 
an innovator, but my friend 
wanted to check it out, so I was 

reluctantly dragged into going 
up to the table.

As we walked up, I met Jeff 

Sorensen, 
a 
co-founder 
of 

optiMize. When he asked me 
if I had any ideas, I told him 
I didn’t. But then he asked 
me another question: “If you 
could 
change 
one 
thing 
to 

make the world a better place, 
what 
would 
you 
change?” 

And 
that 
got 
me 
thinking. 

We spent the next 10 minutes 
talking about Islamophobia and 
discrimination. 
When 
I 
told 

him about my art portfolio, his 
response surprised me: “Well, 
why don’t you apply to the 
Challenge to work on that?”

Suddenly my passion project 

became 
a 
social 
venture. 
I 

reached out to two of my good 
high school friends, Limi Sharif 
and Halimah Ahmad, as well as a 
friend I met in one of my lectures, 
Mariam Reda. As freshmen, we 
came together to channel our 
passion for art as a medium to 
influence social change. Over the 
next seven months, the optiMize 
Challenge gave us a chance to 
begin creating a community of 
individuals 
passionate 
about 

social justice and artists who 
believe art can break barriers.

Through this journey, we have 

realized that Islamophobia is part 
of a larger issue of tense relations 
between 
differing 
cultural 

groups who have not been able 
to relate to one another. A lack 
of interaction between groups, 
because people remain in their 
comfort zones, leads to the rise 
of stigmas and stereotypes. Our 
theme for next semester is the 
“implications of societal trigger 
words” such as feminism, racism, 
activism and all the connotations 
these words carry with them. We 
are a student organization that 
welcomes all artists who want 
to use their art to replace fear 

and hate with compassion and 
understanding. Together, we are 
the Peace Initiative.

Developing this initiative has 

been the most difficult thing 
I have tackled yet, but it has 
also been the most spiritually 
rewarding. The electric positive 
energy flowing through each 
member 
in 
optiMize 
has 

been contagious. I leave each 
workshop 
feeling 
refreshed, 

empowered, 
inspired 
and 

powerful enough to tackle all the 
negativity in the world, without 
allowing it to pull me back down 
in its endless pit.

This project has sparked a 

thirst in me to learn as much 
as I can about social justice. 
I’ve found a purpose for my 
education. Instead of watching 
Netflix, I spend late nights poring 
over scholarly articles on topics 
like race, discrimination and 
Islamophobia. As I delve deeper 
into these topics, I realize I want 
to continue pursuing similar 
endeavors throughout my life.

Graduating high school with a 

class of 70 students, I felt lost in the 
crowd when I arrived on campus. 
I do not feel lost anymore. Thanks 
to the optiMize community, I 
go to bed every night feeling 
confident in myself and what I am 
doing. I wake up every day feeling 
loved and appreciated by the most 
inspiring group of people I could 
have ever imagined.

I do not know what the future 

holds, but I know my friends and I 
will help shape it. optiMize and the 
Peace Initiative have taught me that 
while some people will try to trap 
me in a box, others will see that I 
have wings and encourage me to fly.

Which would you choose? 

—Hafsa Ghias is an LSA 

freshman and was recently 

honored by the Daily as 

a student of the year.

