T
here has been a great
deal
of
justifiable
outcry from graduating
students with regard to the
University
of
Michigan’s
decision to replace a traditional
commencement address with a
multimedia presentation that
stitches together past speeches.
This deviation from the status
quo on the University’s 200th
birthday feels counterintuitive.
Why break from tradition for
a celebration that is steeped in
it? Though it may not be the
University’s intention, replacing
the big-name speaker with a
video compilation makes a major
milestone (for the class of 2017
and the University alike) seem
like an afterthought.
There are myriad reasons
members of the graduating class
are disappointed and angry, but
the crux is that the University’s
administration largely ignored
our voices en route to designing
the commencement ceremony.
The
finalized
lineup
comes
after more than 1,000 students
signed a petition protesting the
elimination of a traditional
commencement
speaker,
and
after
the
Bicentennial
Office received survey results
revealing
that
97
percent
of
respondents
expressed
negative
opinions
about
replacing the commencement
address with a video.
University spokeswoman Kim
Broekhuizen wrote in an email,
“The university has worked for
the last year to gather student
input
on
the
bicentennial
commencement
and
involve
students
in
planning
this
special occasion.” But multiple
student leaders raised concerns
to members of the University
administration to no avail.
Engineering
senior
Clare
Hyde,
who
served
as a representative on the
Bicentennial Commencement
Student Advisory Committee,
said in a statement to The
Tab that when she brought
up the survey results showing
student
resistance
to
the
multimedia
presentation,
a staff member responded,
“We’re going to try to focus on
the graduating students, but
that’s going to be hard.”
Similarly, LSA senior Aaron
Cahen, who led Central Student
Government’s
liaison
efforts
with the Bicentennial Office,
said in an interview that even
though he and several others
told the administration the video
presentation wasn’t a good idea,
“It doesn’t appear that pretty
much any of it (our suggestions)
was incorporated in any way,
shape or form.”
Systems were put in place
for student involvement here,
so where was the disconnect?
Why was it that students were
sought out and asked for their
input, only to produce results
that don’t reflect that input?
Clearly,
the
Bicentennial
Office and the graduating
class
had
different
ideas
about the role bicentennial
celebrations should play in
commencement.
Music,
Theatre
&
Dance
Prof. Malcolm Tulip, who is
responsible for creating the now-
infamous video presentation,
previously said in a press release
the video will allow graduates
and their families to “gain
a sense of their place in the
university and nation’s history.”
Understanding the greater
context of one’s experiences
is important — who are we to
face and attempt to tackle the
problems of this world without
understanding
how
they’ve
come to exist in the first place?
In this sense, a compilation
video of past speeches actually
has the potential to be great by
weaving a unique narrative from
the combined voices of others.
To be fair, the forthcoming
“multimedia presentation” is
something we’d be excited to
see on YouTube or Facebook.
But we’re just not interested in
watching a historical hype video
on the jumbotron at graduation
in lieu of a live address. Our
frustration is that the University
seems
to
have
abandoned
making
commencement
a
reflective,
standalone
experience for graduates in
favor of creating a reusable,
promotional sizzle reel.
The
administration
had
an opportunity to integrate
bicentennial
celebrations
into our commencement in a
way that highlighted the best
aspects of both. The concern
now is that the bicentennial will
overshadow our commencement
and, consequently, devalue the
accomplishment of graduating.
So much for a positive send-off.
In her statement to The Tab,
Hyde speculated that getting rid
of the traditional keynote speaker
was a move by the University to
control the message given at
commencement, and claimed
that the decision is “merely an
attempt to be non-controversial
after some previous speeches.”
This may refer to Michael
Bloomberg’s
address
at
last
year’s commencement, which
generated
national
headlines
for
criticizing
university
administrations that “bow to
pressure and shield students
from
(controversial)
ideas
through
‘safe
spaces,
‘code
words’ and ‘trigger warnings.’ ”
University President Mark
Schlissel
has
previously
espoused the importance of
engaging with “the conflict of
discordant ideas and opinions.”
If Hyde’s allegations are true,
few decisions could be more
contrary to this practice than
refusing student requests for
a graduation speaker in an
effort
to
prevent
potential
controversy on the University’s
200th birthday.
Some
students
have
also
suggested that the University
may have had difficulty finding
a
big-name
speaker
and
therefore decided not to have
one at all. The irony is that
the administration had ample
opportunity to hire an amazing
keynote speaker — and we know
this because some incredible
people will be in attendance at
commencement anyway.
Academy Award- and Golden
Globe-winning composers will
perform a song they wrote for
“La La Land,” and no fewer than
10 incredible alumni will also be
at the event to receive accolades.
We’d prefer a keynote speech
from any one of these extremely
accomplished graduates to not
having one at all — even if these
folks aren’t as famous as former
President Barack Obama or
ex-Twitter CEO Dick Costolo.
However, without a keynote
speaker or an alternate way to
tailor the event to the graduating
class,
the
alumni
awards
seem jarringly out of place.
The heavy focus on alumni at
commencement has led some in
the graduating class to believe,
even if it’s not true, that the event
is primarily focused on building
alumni relations and bolstering
fundraising efforts.
It feels like the University
has
appropriated
our
commencement
ceremony
to
organize a fundraising ploy
that honors its most successful
previous
graduates.
That’s
hard to swallow when some
current graduates-to-be have
just finished paying tuition and
others haven’t begun paying off
student loans. We’re proud of
our alumni, and believe these
inspiring people more than
deserve
the
awards
they’re
receiving. But, as many students
have expressed, commencement
isn’t the time or place.
Ultimately,
CSG
President
David Schafer, an LSA senior,
said in an interview that he’s
learned “things don’t end well”
when students aren’t consulted
on the issues that directly affect
them. “Students have their finger
on the pulse in ways that no
other constituent or stakeholder
at this University has,” he said.
We overwhelmingly agree.
Commencement is case in
point. Even if the ceremony still
has the power to be meaningful
and memorable (which it does),
it was not handled in a way
that reflects our constituency’s
feedback. The reality, then, is
that the University is leaving
a bad taste in the mouths of
the people it was supposed
to celebrate — and that’s an
unfortunate way to culminate
our experiences here.
Most University graduates
remember who delivered their
commencement address, even
if they don’t remember the
minutiae of the speech itself.
At this school, we’ve come to
understand
commencement
as a defining moment of our
education, something we all
work toward and a memory
meant to last a lifetime. The
University
prides
itself
on
grooming the Leaders and the
Best; this decision fails to meet
that standard. It’s not too late
to fix it.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Thursday, March 30, 2017
REBECCA LERNER
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
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Editor in Chief
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and REBECCA TARNOPOL
Editorial Page Editors
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All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns
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Sarah Khan
Anurima Kumar
Ibrahim Ijaz
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Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer
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EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
So much for our send-off
MICHAEL SUGERMAN AND VICTORIA NOBLE | COLUMN
Michael Sugerman can be reached
at mrsugs@umich.edu. Victoria Noble
can be reached at vjnoble@umich.edu.
I
f there’s one thing that
I
can
recommend
to
incoming
University
of
Michigan students, it would be
to eat your macaroni
straight out of the
pan (no extra dish
to clean — life hack).
After that, though, I
would say everyone
should
understand
that there is a really
good
chance
that
you will be victim of
some sort of horrible
administrative
nonsense at least once,
and that handling it with some
flexibility and humor is definitely
going to save you some grief.
This university is huge and
most of us have at least one
instance of special circumstances
that
mess
with
transcripts,
schedules, living situations or one
of myriad bits of minutiae that
compose the everyday experience
of college life.
This
extends
outside
of
school too; our world can seem
like one long stream of random
administrative annoyances. And,
while there are plenty of online
resources to check in with to
figure things out, ultimately, it’s
up to the individual to make sense
of it and figure out how to handle
it without losing his or her mind.
To
illustrate
this,
I
was
a transfer student after my
freshman year, and I can point to
approximately 6 million personal
examples
of
administrative
nuances that have tried to screw
me over. There was a mistake in
sending my transcripts first, then
my prerequisites were jumbled
in the system, then I found out
that when my credits from my
quarter-system
school
were
moved to the semester system,
it gave my transfer classes odd
thirds of credits that I had to
figure out how to distribute neatly
to stay on track for graduation.
Possibly the most frustrating
thing that I went through, though,
was when I had to petition for my
honors writing course from my
previous university to
count as my first-year
writing requirement
here. The non-honors
writing course that
I could have taken
at
my
old
school
was
automatically
accepted
at
the
University as counting
for
this
freshman
requirement,
but
the more advanced
alternative wasn’t. I had to
submit paperwork, syllabi and
an extensive write-up about that
writing course for the school to
even consider that this honors
course could count.
That’s ridiculously frustrating,
right?
As irritating as that whole
thing was, though, I can’t say that
it was completely unexpected
since, in my experience, living in
an organized society sometimes
just means dealing with series
of unfathomable oddities. In
essence, a lot of life is just one long
“what the hell?” feeling followed
by
resigned
sighing.
What
actually counts is how we handle
these moments of frustration.
It might be easiest to write
these things off as meaningless
confusions,
things
that
we
just might have to live with as
unchangeable, but these same
points of annoyance could also be
opportunities to prove to yourself
that you are an agile person,
willing to roll with the punches.
Stress can lead to anxiety, or it
can be viewed as a chance to rise
to the occasion.
For instance, with my transfer-
credit petition, was I annoyed
and confused about why I had
to do it? Absolutely. That saga
was an unprecedented amount
of nonsense and hurdles, even
for me (and I go out of my way to
seek out more nonsense). But I
also decided that, because it was
a necessity that I had to power
through, I at least had the power
to decide how to view the process.
For me, I’d like to look at
that undertaking as being both
an average tale about being
prepared
to
wade
through
some paperwork to get things
completely straightened out —
the more traditional view on such
an event — and also a tale of my
new school challenging me to be
the proactive, assertive person
it wanted me to be and to fight
for my desired result — the less
traditional way of looking at this.
As someone who is about to
graduate and move onto a new
step in my life, this outlook on
nonsense as an opportunity for
interpretation or reflection can
be very comforting. I don’t know
what’s waiting for me out there,
but I know that, for the most part,
I can take life how I want, and
decide what lessons to take away
from what I find.
Assuming that there’s a whole
lot of nonsense waiting for me out
there to tease apart and analyze,
I have full confidence in myself to
work these things out, largely from
my chance to prove I can whenever
things get strange and annoying. If
I can deal with all of the obstacles
that transferring presents and
choose to find a positive lesson in
that, then I can almost definitely
deal with whatever gibberish I
encounter outside of school in a
meaningful way.
Really, though, the little bits
of annoyances in life can add up
to an overwhelming amount if
you let them. But not only will
you be happier — the people
around will thank you if you
take life with a grain of salt and
roll with the punches.
Roll with the punches
SARAH LEESON | COLUMN
Sarah Leeson can be reached at
sleeson@umich.edu.
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tothedaily@michigandaily.com.
SARAH
LEESON
M
onday, March 20, was
the International Day
of Happiness, a day
that would’ve gone otherwise
unnoticed to me had
I not serendipitously
stumbled
across
a
“Happy Acts” wall
that asked me how
I would go about
spreading happiness.
The answer came to
me with surprising
ease: “I will share
happiness
by:
showing people that
life gets better.” I
was
surprised,
because
a
little more than a year ago, I
would’ve thought that I had
no happiness to give.
I’ve long been known as
the happy girl, with a smile
ever-present on my face and a
penchant for laugher but few
people know that, for a period of
about two years at the end of high
school, the smiles were more of a
facade. I’m not sure exactly when
it began, but there became a time
when I would dread waking up
and facing the day, and trudge
through it with complete apathy.
I was filled with self-loathing, my
self-esteem was at an all-time low
and thoughts of suicide pervaded
my life on a daily basis. It was a
miserable way to live — if it could
even be called living.
Although
I
was
never
diagnosed, a subconscious part
of me recognized my symptoms
for what they were. I didn’t dare
tell anyone, because I was the
happy girl, and happy girls who
grow up in the lap of privilege
don’t get depressed — at least,
they don’t have any reason to be.
Of course, I was plagued with
many of the problems commonly
faced by teenage girls — high-
school drama, a severe lack of
sleep and the stress of school
— but in a world full of “real”
problems so much more serious
than mine, it felt silly to think
that my problems warranted
sadness and depression. My diary
took the brunt of my private
dark thoughts, while I pasted
on a smile and forced laughter
in public, because that was what
was expected of me.
The end of my senior year
of high school was a dark time,
as anxieties about college built
on top of existing anxieties, but
things started to turn around
at my high school’s all-night
senior party, when an astrologist
saw my depression in the stars.
“You have been in a
dark place since the
winter of 2014,” she
read with startling
accuracy, “but things
will
turn
around
this fall.” Somehow,
those words were
the ember of hope I
never knew I needed.
Critical
as
I
was
about astrology and
fortune telling, I was
also desperate for some divine
sign that there was light in my
future. When one unexpectedly
presented itself, I took it. Clinging
to the hope that my stars were
right, I gave life a chance, and
it’s carried me through the
aforementioned fall into a spring
full of life and happiness.
I still don’t know if I believe
in astrology, but that astrologist
undoubtedly saved my life. It
was not grand nor life-changing
to anyone besides myself, but
through the smallest pinch of
hope, she gave me a lifeline. If I
had followed through every time
I seriously considered suicide,
I never would’ve seen today,
when I am finally content and
at the pinnacle of my happiness.
Again, I’m not exactly sure when
my perspective on life began
to change, but some time along
the way, it felt like a curtain was
lifted, revealing the beautiful
world
that
depression
had
hidden. It’s difficult to describe,
but the whole world seems
clearer, and even the simplest of
things, such as a sunny day or a
Diag squirrel, can put a genuine
smile on my face for the rest of the
day. I lived for so long in a dark
haze that it is important to me
to treasure each and every day of
clarity. If anything, I’m grateful
for that period of darkness,
because it gave me a much greater
appreciation for life.
My journey to where I am
today was a slow one, which
involved lots of self-reflection and
journaling, an attempt at fixing
my sleep schedule and the gradual
declaration of independence of my
self-worth from arbitrary things,
such as grades, other people’s
opinions or a number on a scale.
Tyler Knott Gregson’s poetry
about chasing the light helped me
in realizing that happiness is not
something that simply happens; it
must be sought, even in the darkest
of times. It has been arduous,
but being patient is well worth
it, because the clarity that comes
with a healthy state of mind is
exhilarating. Positivity is the best
lens through which to view life. Of
course, I still struggle with putting
things into perspective sometimes
and sadness strikes everybody, but
now, I can finally say that I’m a
happy girl and mean it.
I do not tell this story for
attention or sympathy; I tell it
because I see so many people
around me dealing with similar
struggles, and I pledged on a
“Happy Acts” wall that I will
share happiness by showing
those people that life gets better.
Sharing my testimonial is the
best way I know how. If just one
person reads this and decides
to live another day — a day that
could potentially offer a glimmer
of hope or a hand of help — I’ll
be happy. It’s so easy to tie one’s
self-worth to things like school
and develop tunnel vision as
the semester hurtles toward
its end with astonishing speed,
but it’s best not to forget that
life is beautiful and very much
worth living, worth persevering
in the midst of depression. It’s
important to remember that there
are a number of resources that
Counseling and Psychological
Services offers for those who
are struggling — resources I
would’ve loved to have access
to as a high school junior —
and
that
many
university
students
experience
feelings
of inadequacy, depression or
anxiety. You are never alone.
Perhaps
my
method
of
spreading happiness is not quite
as affectionate as others’ — most
of the responses on the board
proclaimed
that
they
would
spread happiness by hugging
more people, smiling at strangers
and telling people that they are
loved — but I believe that it is
effective. After all, the clichéd
saying that life gets better is a
cliché because it’s true and offers
hope. And hope is why I’m here
today, the happiest I’ve been in a
long time.
Ashley Zhang can be reached at
ashleyzh@umich.edu.
Seeking light in the darkness
ASHLEY ZHANG | COLUMN
ASHLEY
ZHANG