A
lmost five years ago,
I attended freshman
student
orientation.
I
attended
campus
tours
and
backpacking
sessions
with
peer
advisors,
learning
about
the myriad things
the
University
of
Michigan
had
to
offer.
I
felt
like
a kid in a candy
shop as I examined
the
massive
array
of
student
organizations,
majors and course options. My
new peers were impressive
and intimidating, and the
prospect of sharing classes
with many of them was both
exciting and overwhelming.
At
orientation,
the
University of Michigan was
novel and alien. I didn’t know
what I would do here — what
was I capable of and what
I wanted to do were both
questions that had yet to be
answered.
It
didn’t
take
long
for
me to find my first role
model — one of the peer
advisors at an orientation
backpacking
session.
She
had just graduated from the
University, and was headed to
Northwestern University Law
School the following fall. I
was completely in awe of this
person I barely knew.
At that time, I had nebulous
aspirations of maybe becoming
a lawyer someday. I didn’t know
many lawyers, and certainly
not female ones. But that peer
advisor showed me what was
possible if I worked hard and
took advantage of the many
opportunities the University
offered.
I
left
orientation
feeling inspired and excited to
start my college career.
But shortly after I moved
into my first dorm room in
the fall, I felt completely
and utterly lost. Many of my
hallmates
seemed
to
have
dozens of close friends from
the first day of Welcome Week,
and already knew what they
wanted to major in and which
student
organizations
they
wanted to be participate in.
I met wonderful people
and made lots of friends, but
really missed the close bonds
I had with my family and
friends from high school. I
loved my classes,
but definitely didn’t
have the next four
years planned out.
I attended meetings
for
student
organizations,
but
didn’t feel like I had
found my place on
campus yet.
To be fair, I was
only a few weeks into
my college career at
this point, so I wouldn’t exactly
call this a crisis. But it seemed
like my peers were already
enjoying “the best four years of
their lives,” and I wondered if I
had made a mistake in coming
to Michigan.
One day during that first
semester, I wandered out of
my
dorm,
across
Maynard
Street, and into the Student
Publications Building. It was
pretty and incredibly close,
and I just wanted to see what it
was like inside. A man told me
to come back for The Michigan
Daily’s
information
session
later that night, and I did.
I went to the info session
thinking I might like to be
a Daily photographer. But
after listening to the editorial
page editors pitch EditBoard,
the group of students that
debates and writes the Daily’s
editorials, I decided to join.
Joining Edit Board required,
among other things, writing
bylined op-eds from my own
perspective in addition to the
editorials written from the
outline created by the entire
group. My first op-ed changed
my entire college experience.
Expressing my opinions in
print taught me their value. It
showed me that the thoughts
in my own head — my voice,
my unique way of thinking
about the world — were worth
sharing. In 650 words or less, I
became more outspoken, self-
confident and self-aware.
I stopped viewing myself
as one person in a sea of
absurdly talented students,
and started viewing myself
as a writer with stories to tell
— my stories, which I didn’t
need to change or conform
to anyone else’s ideology,
experience or worldview.
I kept writing for the
Daily. There are more than
50 pieces with my name on
them floating around the
internet. Many have been
well-received;
others
have
stirred
controversy
and
drawn criticism.
One of my earlier columns
was posted on a blog read
by people who, uh, didn’t
quite agree with my message.
They left dozens of angry
comments, ridiculing me and
my work. I’d be lying if I said
I didn’t cry about it at the
time. But if I had a running
list of my best experiences
in college, publishing that
column would be on it. I grew
more as a person from being
the
momentary
target
for
angry internet trolls than I
did from most classes I took at
the University.
Some opinions and stances
— whether on political issues
like feminism or on ethical
decisions
at
work
—
are
unpopular and controversial.
That doesn’t diminish their
importance.
Learning
to
stand up for causes I believe
in has taught me how to stand
up for myself — one of the
most important things anyone
can learn.
Above
all,
writing
for
the Daily helped me find a
place for myself within a
massive campus community.
It gave me an identity and a
sense of direction. The self-
confidence and sense of self
I developed as a result paved
the way for everything else
I accomplished and decided
to do at the University of
Michigan.
In a little over two weeks,
I will walk across the stage
at the Big House, officially
concluding my time on this
campus. In the fall, I’m going
to attend a law school I never
would’ve even dreamed of
getting into five years ago. I’ll
have to leave the home I’ve
found at Michigan, but now I
know how to build a new one.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Thursday, April 13, 2017
REBECCA LERNER
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
EMMA KINERY
Editor in Chief
ANNA POLUMBO-LEVY
and REBECCA TARNOPOL
Editorial Page Editors
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.
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Thank you, Michigan Daily
VICTORIA NOBLE | COLUMN
Victoria Noble can be reached at
vjnoble@umich.edu.
Your next hurdle should not be
the end of the race. Of course,
the completion of that midterm
you’ve been agonizing over for
weeks feels incredible. Finally
turning in those internship
applications
that
you
told
yourself you would have in
by last Tuesday seems like a
justification for celebration.
But should we let that satisfy
us completely? I don’t mean
to say that we should not take
pleasure in our successes; the
joy derived from our dedication
and
accomplishments
is
necessary
for
progression
and worthy of more emphasis
than it can possibly receive.
But when we begin to think
of our next hurdle as the end
of a sprint, we can easily tire
ourselves out.
What I mean by this is that
we often lose sight of the
bigger picture. Our upcoming
presentations,
projects
and
papers
become
our
destinations. We say that we
“just need to get through to the
weekend.” The problem with
this mentality is that it never
ends. Once you’ve completed
that midterm, you might feel
content for the weekend, but
dissatisfaction
resurfaces
before you know it, and you’re
pining for the next break.
However, once we recognize
that these challenges are just
steps in the journey, we can
maintain endurance. Instead
of fatigue from the thought
of running another race, we
can take comfort in knowing
we’ve taken a step in the
right direction. We’re making
progress.
This
big-picture
understanding also alleviates
many of our fears. When
we
view
every
endeavor
as
an
isolated
trial,
the
fear of failure is immense.
Everything depends on the
upcoming race going our way.
With a larger goal in mind,
we leave ourselves room to
improve.
When
we
aren’t
performing as well as we
hoped to be, we have time left
in the race to come back. In
addition to this general relief,
we perform better because we
aren’t paralyzed by the fear
of deeming our hard work
worthless.
All
our
efforts
have value because we’re still
heading in the right direction.
The
irreversible
setbacks
become amendable missteps.
With this in mind, we have a
choice: We can conceptualize
our race to success as isolated
sprints, repeatedly starting
and stopping, or as a cohesive
pursuit. The cohesive pursuit
doesn’t ensure your race will
be shorter or less bumpy, but
it does give you enthusiasm
and
stamina.
You
may,
at times, feel that you’re
moving at a glacial pace,
but remember that you will
start running again because
you have momentum. This
momentum can blur the lines
of completion and tenacity.
Matthew
McConaughey
expressed this same idea in
his 2014 Oscar acceptance
speech when he discussed his
response to being asked about
his hero. At age 15, he said his
hero was him in 10 years. At
25, he said he wasn’t a hero.
His hero was himself at 35.
He was comfortable knowing
he would never reach his goal
because his ambitions always
left him with “somebody to
keep on chasing.”
So make big goals. When
you
near
them,
distance
yourself from the finish line.
That distance keeps you from
stopping.
And
though
the
finish line may be invisible,
when you look back, you
can no longer see where you
began, and you’ll know you’ve
come a long way.
Never reach your destination
LAUREN ROYCE | OP-ED
Lauren Royce is an LSA junior.
Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns
Samantha Goldstein
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Anurima Kumar
Ibrahim Ijaz
Max Lubell
Alexis Megdanoff
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Stephanie Trierweiler
VICTORIA
NOBLE
APPLY TO BE A COLUMNIST OR CARTOONIST
Have opinions? Love to write? Draw? Apply as a cartoonist or
columnist for the Spring/Summer!
Visit http://tinyurl.com/summeropinion to find out more about
where you might fit in this summer.
FROM THE DAILY
Continue to recognize our history
A
series of seven pop-up art installations appeared around
the University of Michigan’s Central, North and Medical
Campuses between April 3 and April 8. The Stumbling
Blocks exhibit, created by the Future University Community, was
designed to reflect on and draw attention to problematic moments
in the University’s history. The exhibit was included as part of the
University’s bicentennial celebration to encourage the University
community to reorient and reflect on its values and goals. The
Michigan Daily Editorial Board commends the pop-up exhibit as
a means for confronting the dubious history of the University and
believes these reflections should become more regular, or even
permanent, parts of our campus.
The interactivity of the
Stumbling
Blocks
pieces
created a unique foundation
for dialogues across campus.
The presence of self-reflective
artwork on campus is crucial
to
the
understanding
of
our
past.
By
sponsoring
self-critical
work,
the
University took crucial steps
to
acknowledge
historical
issues
that
have
impacted
our campus and that some
current University community
members
may
have
not
otherwise known about. For
example, the enlarged Native
American Land Gift plaque
drew attention to the fact that
three Native American tribes
gifted the University the land
that it sits on, in the hopes
that their children would be
able to attend. Yet, for many
years, very few, if any, Native
American
students
were
enrolled in the University.
Many at the University may
not have been aware of this
essential
context
prior
to
observing the piece.
Furthermore, the exhibit
was incredibly affective in
nature, forcing observers to
immediately feel connected
to campus issues instead of
listening to a set of facts in
structured academic settings
like lectures. One of the most
visible portions of the exhibit
was the 950 chairs in the Diag,
representing the number of
minority students that could
not attend the University
as a result of the state’s
ban on gender- and race-
based affirmative action. We
believe this resonated with
community
members
more
tangibly than simply sharing
information on Proposal 2,
a Michigan ballot initiative
passed in 2006 that banned
the use of gender- and race-
based affirmative action in
admissions
and
was
later
ruled constitutional by the
Supreme
Court
in
2014.
This
tangible
emotional
connection makes the impacts
of an abstract historical event
more salient and powerful.
Nonetheless, we felt that by
making the exhibit temporary,
the University was not doing
all it could to acknowledge
its complex history and foster
an
important
long-term
conversation on the issues.
The exhibits were only visible
to people who happened to be
on campus during a particular
week,
which
may
hamper
their ability to create long-
lasting conversations on these
important University issues.
The University community
can learn from these exhibits
going forward, by teaching
us to reorient the way we
display, think about and engage
with campus issues. Pop-up
installations, or other affective
pieces, should become a more
regular
occurrence,
so
as
to hold the University more
accountable and better inform
the campus population about
our past pitfalls.
Furthermore,
instead
of
simply
disseminating
the
facts about these historical
events through plaques, for
example,
there
should
be
events or pieces created to
catch our eyes and create
unique
interaction
with
historical
issues.
Students
should also become more
involved in the process of
putting
on
these
events
and creating future pieces,
as
collaboration
between
University
community
members and the University
itself is crucial to take strides
to recognize our history.
The University of Michigan
community should be using
its
bicentennial
to
think
about how we will move
forward. Critically thinking
about our past shortcomings
is vital to informing our
actions in the coming years.
Using interactive exhibits,
such as they did with the
Stumbling Blocks art exhibit,
creates a unique and engaging
dialogue about this history
throughout
the
campus
community, and we implore
the University to make these
events and exhibits a staple
of our community in the
years to come.
— Passengers on United Airlines Flight 3411 on Sunday,
responding to Chicago Department of Aviation officers assaulting
and forcibly removing a passenger from the overbooked airplane
to accommodate United employees.
“
NOTABLE QUOTABLE
Please, my God... What are you
doing?... This is wrong... Look at
what you did to him... Busted his
lip...
”
When we begin
to think of our
next hurdle as the
end of a sprint,
we can easily tire
ourselves out.
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.