M

y first visit to Ann Arbor 
was on April 4, 2015. 
Having recently been 

accepted to the 
University 
of 

Michigan, 
my 

family decided 
to drive around 
for a bit before checking into 
our hotel room to familiarize 
ourselves with the campus. As we 
drove down State Street, we noted 
how crowded the campus looked. 
As we turned down South U, we 
marveled at how beautiful, yet 
dirty, the Law Quad was. It wasn’t 
until we turned down Tappan 
Avenue that it hit us. “What’s that 
smell?” my grandma asked.

Unbeknownst to us, our blue 

minivan was weaving its way 
through the chaos of the 44th 
annual Hash Bash. 

I knew right away that Ann 

Arbor, 
and 
consequently 
the 

University 
of 
Michigan, 
was 

different. 
Choosing 
to 
attend 

Michigan would mean I’d finally 
be immersed in a progressive 
and inviting environment full of 
intellectually stimulating people 
and ideas. What I didn’t realize 
was 
that 
these 
experiences 

wouldn’t all be as accessible and 
open as Hash Bash — most times, 
these 
eye-opening 
experiences 

would have to be sought.

Following the conclusion of 

freshman convocation, I walked 
over to the University’s welcome 
picnic in front of Angell Hall. 
As my cursory scan of the lawn 
revealed what I’d already known 
— I recognized no familiar faces 
— a terrible thought crossed my 
mind: I should’ve gone to Penn 
State. If I did, I could’ve roomed 
with high school friends and, 
at the very least, I wouldn’t be 
feeling so alone. But seeing as 
I’d chose Michigan, I was stuck 
in Ann Arbor for at least the 
next year. 

At this point, it would’ve been 

easy for me to retire to my room, 

call 
some 
hometown 
friends 

and count down the days until 
Thanksgiving Break. But doing 
so would ensure that I’d miss out 
on the amazing opportunities 
available 
at 
this 
school. 
As 

unpleasant as it was not knowing 
anyone, robbing myself of the 
chance to grow by not spending 
time outside of my comfort zone 
would’ve been equally egregious. 
So, apprehensively, I went out to 
meet people.

The rest of Welcome Week 

was spent exploring campus with 
new acquaintances, bonding over 
the mix of risible University-
sponsored 
events 
(such 
as 
a 

“Party for Your Mind” in the 
Shapiro Library) and not-quite-
sanctioned 
festivities 
around 

campus. Welcome Week turned 
into classes, and gradually, this 
feeling of isolation began to 
fade away. After a few weeks, 
I’d learned the campus layout 
and I was getting into the swing 
of my courses. This was finally 
the college of my high school 
imagination, I naively thought to 
myself. Yet again, I was wrong.

Soon 
after 
classes 
started, 

various 
student 
organizations 

began 
accepting 
applications 

for new membership. While the 
University brags about the number 
of clubs it has on campus, it never 
says anything about how selective 
many of them are. Wanting to 
branch out and try new things, I 
applied to many clubs. However, 
it seemed every day I was opening 
my email to find ones that started 
with “Thank you for your interest 
in … ” and not “Congratulations.”

This 
constant 
stream 
of 

rejections caused me to doubt 
whether or not I had what it 
took to thrive at this University. 
Additionally, 
I 
began 
feeling 

like I’d never find a close group 
of friends, only a loose group of 
acquaintances 
who 
happened 

to live near me. With everyone 
hyping up college to be the 

best time of your life — coupled 
with looking at Snapchats and 
Instagram posts of high school 
friends who all seemed to be 
having an easier transition than I 
was — I thought I was the only one 
feeling these emotions.

What I didn’t realize was that 

these were all normal feelings 
to have. However, I only came to 
this realization after continuing 
to push myself to socialize and 
explore my interests, even in the 
face of failure. One instance in 
particular stands out. I was in West 
Quadrangle’s game room chatting 
with some new acquaintances 
when one by one, people left to 
retire for the night. By the end of 
the evening, it was just me and 
one of my now-closest friends (but 
at the time, just a girl from my 
dorm). Though we’d just met, she 
went on about how she missed her 
friends and family back home in 
North Carolina. For the first time 
since arriving on campus, I heard 
someone else acknowledge how 
hard the transition was. Every 
other freshman, it seemed, was so 
eager to forget the past 18 years of 
their life. It was refreshing to hear 
at least one other person who felt 
the same as I did.

Looking back, I wish I could tell 

my freshman year self to just keep 
on trying, and that, eventually, 
time would sort things out. I’d also 
tell myself that if I keep on joining 
clubs that seem interesting, I’d 
eventually finally find some that 
I love; and if I keep on trying to 
meet new people and strengthen 
the relationships I currently have, 
I’d finally get a solid group of 
friends. Most importantly, I’d tell 
myself to focus on enjoying my 
time at the University and in Ann 
Arbor. But since I can’t go back to 
tell myself these lessons, the best I 
can do is tell them to you.

—Jason Rowland can be 

reached at jerow@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

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FROM THE DAILY

It gets better

O

n Aug. 4, Ann Arbor became the first city in Michigan 
to raise the minimum age to purchase tobacco from 18 
to 21. This change was an effort by the Ann Arbor City 

Council to lower the rate of tobacco-related illnesses, combat 
rising smoking rates among adults and prevent access to tobacco 
among 15- to 17-year-olds. The ordinance states individuals 
under 21 won’t be punished for smoking tobacco products, but 
those who sell or give tobacco products or electronic smoking 
devices to underage individuals will face penalties. While the 
dangers of smoking are important to combat, this ordinance, 
because it contravenes a state law and didn’t fully consider 
public opinion, is flawed.

Raising 
the 
minimum 
age 
for 

purchasing tobacco products is beneficial 
from a public health perspective, but 
City Council should not have passed an 
ordinance that obviously contradicts the 
Tobacco Product Tax Act of 1993, a state 
law pertaining to the sale of tobacco 
products, which states 18-year-olds can 
legally purchase tobacco. What’s more, 
the council passed the ordinance without 
ever putting it on the ballot, and though 
voter turnout rates for city elections are 
traditionally low, failing to put this issue 
to the ballot likely resulted in reduced 
input from Ann Arbor residents. 

The city’s attempt to curb underage 

smoking 
does 
demonstrate 
a 
well-

intentioned effort to improve public 
health, 
with 
some 
council 
members 

claiming the public health benefits of 
passing the ordinance outweigh the costs 
of infringing on individual liberties. Public 
health officials, who strongly supported 
the ordinance, charged that tobacco is 
the leading cause of preventable death in 
the United States, making increasing the 
minimum age to 21 necessary on moral 
and 
financial 
grounds. 
Furthermore, 

tobacco is a social drug — young teens 
obtain access to these substances from 
older teens who they associate with. A 
lower minimum age on the purchase of 
tobacco creates a buffer between 15- to 
17-year-olds and older teens who can 
legally purchase tobacco products. 

However, 
intentions 
aside, 
under 

the Tobacco Product Tax Act, local 
governments “shall not impose any new 

requirement or prohibition pertaining to 
the sale or licensure of tobacco products 
for distribution purposes.” The city 
clearly acted outside its jurisdiction by 
passing this ordinance, demonstrating an 
overstep of municipal power. 

In addition, the council’s deliberate 

refusal to listen the voice of Ann Arbor’s 
community warrants criticism. Despite 
holding an open hearing on the issue — 
during which many Ann Arbor residents 
voiced their concerns with the issue — 
the city refused to include the ordinance 
on a public ballot. The hearing was also 
held in the summer, which may have 
been why most college students — the age 
group most affected by the law — were 
not present to speak on the bill. Though 
voter turnout in local elections tends 
to be very low, it serves as no excuse to 
bypass the democratic process. In passing 
this ordinance during the summer and 
without putting it on the ballot, the 
city government reneged on its duty as 
representatives of the public will.

Though it’s beneficial from a public 

health standpoint to raise the age one can 
purchase tobacco, City Council should not 
have passed an ordinance that contradicts 
state law, and especially should not have 
done so without putting the issue to a vote. 
That being said, passing the ordinance 
has started an important conversation 
about the issue. If the ordinance produces 
the desired outcomes, it will signal to the 
state government that change is needed.

Over the summer, the Michigan 

House 
of 
Representatives 

approved a bill that would allow 
Michigan high school students to 
take computer science courses in 
lieu of foreign language courses. 
Michigan is not the first state 
to 
consider 
such 
legislation: 

Students in Florida and Texas can 
already elect to take a computer 
science course instead of a foreign 
language, and a handful of other 
states have considered adopting 
similar legislation.

Computer 
science 
education 

is one of the most burning topics 
in academia today as the global 
economy 
becomes 
more 
and 

more dependent on computer-
literate workers. Some of the 
nation’s largest school districts 
already have plans in place to 
implement 
computer 
science 

programs into their curricula in 
an effort to equip their students 
with highly valuable computer 
skills. However, computer science 
curricula should not supplant 
traditional 
foreign 
language 

curricula; in fact, this interchange 
would ultimately come to the 
detriment 
to 
the 
students’ 

learning experience, as computer 
science 
and 
foreign 
language 

teach 
students 
two 
different, 

albeit important, skill sets.

The difference stems from the 

fact that computer languages are 
not natural languages. Unlike 
natural languages, no one innately 
picks up a computer language, nor 
does anyone speak it or use it to 
communicate with others. This 
is because languages like Java 
and CSS were not designed for 
this purpose; they were designed 
so humans can teach computers 
to think, instruct computers on 
what to do. Therefore, if someone 
learns to code, they learn a 
technical skill.

Due to its nature as a technical 

skill, rather than a communicative 
skill, it’s much easier to achieve 
fluency in a computer language 
than it is to achieve fluency 
in a natural language. Unlike 
computer languages, which are 

designed to be simple and precise, 
natural 
languages 
are 
chock 

full of ambiguity and nuance. 
Learners of a natural language 
must become familiar with things 
like 
synonyms, 
idioms, 
verb 

conjugations, tone and context 
clues — all of which are difficult to 
learn in a first language, let alone 
a second. Becoming competent 
in a foreign language therefore 
requires an immense amount of 
time, effort and critical thinking 
skills; 
fluency 
in 
a 
natural 

language can take years.

Part of the reason fluency in 

natural languages is so hard to 
achieve is that language requires 
immersion — constantly engaging 
in conversation. Such a task is 
incredibly difficult for students 
to do on their own. (On the other 
hand, it’s not uncommon to hear 
about people teaching themselves 
to code.) Of course, there are 
resources 
available 
to 
learn 

foreign languages on your own, 
such as Duolingo or Rosetta Stone. 
However, these courses are either 
costly (Rosetta Stone costs $199 
for a 2-year subscription) or do not 
facilitate the type of interaction 
necessary to truly get a firm 
grasp on the language. Classroom 
environments, especially those 
where the foreign language is 
the only language spoken during 
class, might be the only place a 
student can experience the type 
of interaction needed to acquire a 
second language.

Whereas learning a computer 

language requires a student to 
learn 
the 
language’s 
syntax, 

foreign 
language 
courses 

encompass much more than some 
vocabulary words and a set of 
grammatical 
rules. 
Any 
good 

language course will weave in 
aspects of life in the countries 
where the language is spoken, 
giving 
students 
insight 
into 

cultures other than their own. 
Some of my best memories of the 
Hebrew courses I have taken were 
days where we cooked Israeli 
foods, watched Israeli films or 
discussed controversial topics that 

were pertinent to the country’s 
social and political climate. Such 
subject matter allows students to 
gain awareness of what matters to 
people in other parts of the world, 
breeding empathy and a better 
understanding of how to approach 
conversation with others.

Society 
often 
brushes 

aside interpersonal skills like 
communication 
and 
empathy, 

marking them as innate and 
therefore easy to acquire. But 
anyone who has taken a foreign 
language 
course 
knows 
how 

hard it is to become proficient 
in a second language, and these 
interpersonal 
skills 
make 
a 

working knowledge of a language 
other than your own just as, or 
even more, advantageous in the 
global economy. After all, every 
job requires human interaction, 
and as society becomes more 
globalized, understanding not 
only the language but also the 
sensitivities of other cultures 
becomes much more important 
in industry.

To condemn the role that 

computer science plays in our 
world today would be ignorant, 
as it has applications in nearly 
every field, if not all fields. Should 
students be encouraged to take 
a programming course at some 
point in their academic career? 
Of course. Should high schools, or 
even the University of Michigan, 
require a programming course as a 
graduation prerequisite? Perhaps.

But to offer or even encourage 

computer science courses as an 
alternative to foreign language 
courses would ultimately do a 
disservice to students. Technical 
skills can only get a student so far 
in their academic and professional 
careers. It is the interpersonal 
and critical thinking skills that 
are honed through courses like 
foreign language courses that will 
truly allow students to succeed in 
their professional life.

Rebecca Tarnopol is a 

Senior Opinion Editor.

Carolyn Ayaub, Claire Bryan, Roland Davidson, 

Regan Detwiler, Caitlin Heenan, 

Jeremy Kaplan, Ben Keller, Minsoo Kim, 

Payton Luokkala, Kit Maher, Madeline Nowicki, 

Anna Polumbo-Levy, Jason Rowland, 

Kevin Sweitzer, Rebecca Tarnopol,

Ashley Tjhung, Stephanie Trierweiler

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

JASON

ROWLAND

REBECCA TARNOPOL | OP-ED

A different kind of language barrier

Tobacco ordinance good in theory