A

t first glance, the University 
(and only the University) 
causes 
the 
stress 
that 

defines many parts of our college 
lives. That stress has translated to 
action many times over; it seems 
that every other week, some 
coalition of students expresses 
its grievances toward University 
of Michigan President Schlissel. 
This academic year has been no 
different. In September there 
began more of a push to rename 
the C.C. Little Science Building; in 
October, Charles Murray; and this 
month, perhaps as a chaser for the 
acrimonious start to the year, East 
Quad Residence Hall dining hours. 
At the University, when students 
detect so much as a drop of blood 
shed by the University, you can say 
goodbye to nuance. Outrage and 
oppression take the wheel.

I 
myself 
am 
not 
entirely 

blameless of this mindset. I 
have been contemptuous of the 
University in the past; a few of 
my columns have even dealt 
with problems that I believe the 
University should address. Nor 
do I believe students must always 
acquiesce to the University. We pay 
a premium to attend the University 
of Michigan. There is something to 
be said about ensuring we have the 
best experiences here.

But is our university really so 

broken that we must harp on its 
small shortcomings, rather than its 
years of triumph? Must the student 
body so frequently drive a wedge 
between itself and the University?

On both counts, I found myself 

answering in the negative. I arrived 
at this answer not out of disdain, 
but from my Twitter feed. It was 
on my Twitter feed where, proudly 
displayed 
on 
the 
University’s 

Twitter account, I saw an homage 
to Janaki Ammal, the first woman 
to earn a U.S. doctorate in botany.

In the backdrop of our own 

seemingly taxing lives at the 
University, consider Ammal’s life. 
Ammal, one of 19 children, was 
born and raised in India. Although 
she was arranged to marry her first 
cousin, Ammal instead left for the 
United States after she earned a 
prestigious Barbour Scholarship 
from the University of Michigan. 
At the University, she first earned 
her master’s degree in 1925 and 
then her doctorate in botany in 
1931.

She 
then 
returned 
to 

Coimbatore, India, where she 
used her expertise in cytogenetics 
to create a high-yielding strain of 
sugarcane that thrived in Indian 
conditions. Shortly thereafter in 
1935, Ammal was invited to be 

a research fellow at the Indian 
Academy of Sciences, but her status 
as a single woman of a low caste 
forced her to move to London to 
continue her research. Working 
in London during World War II, 
Ammal would describe to friends 
how she would dive under her bed 
during German night bombings 
and continue with her research the 
next day.

Stories of University alumni 

like Ammal put our own lives 
in 
perspective. 
Ammal 
used 

the University to explore and 
to innovate. For Ammal, the 
University was not an infringer, 
an impediment or an institution 
confining us to our daily routines. 
The University was instead a 
bridge, moving her from poverty 
in India to international acclaim in 
the sciences. For those of us today 
who inevitably hail from more 
fortunate backgrounds, Ammal’s 
story still offers valuable lessons, 
like the need to step back and 
considers the University’s storied 
history before embarking on our 
own diatribes.

Lessons 
like 
these 
hold 

true in the stories of the other 
impressive alumni emblazoning 
the University’s Twitter feed. 
There were the familiar names, 
of course, like Desmond Howard, 
the University’s stud wide receiver 
who won the Heisman in 1991, 
and Larry Page, the co-founder 
of Google. But the University 
predominantly celebrated some 
of its less well-known, but equally 
impressive alumni like Ammal. 
There was William Mayo, who 
co-founded the Mayo Clinic in 
1889; Frances E. Allen, he first 
woman to win the Turing Award 
for her high-speed computing 
innovations; and Robert Shiller, 
who shared the 2013 Nobel Prize in 
economics.

For the unaware, the surge in 

alumni 
acknowledgments 
and 

folklore comes as the University 
celebrates its Bicentennial. The 
University has used the hashtag 
#umich200 to honor alumni like 

Ammal, Howard and Mayo.

For the cynics on campus, the 

Bicentennial is easy fodder. A 
cursory look at the Bicentennial 
celebration flatly reads as another 
distraction to dodge on the walk 
through the Diag. And, for that 
matter, is this even the University’s 
true Bicentennial?

A little research reveals that 

yes, it is in fact the University’s 
true Bicentennial, and, yes, the 
Bicentennial celebration is more 
than a Diag nuisance. If it were 
not for the University’s prolonged 
celebration of its Bicentennial, 
perhaps the stories of Janaki 
Ammal, William Mayo or Frances 
E. Allen would have remained 
sparsely told. If nothing else, 
the 
Bicentennial 
celebration 

has done a commendable job in 
acknowledging our University’s 
history.

Possessing 
a 
deeper 

understanding 
and 
knowledge 

of the University’s history helps 
us when we feel tempted to lash 
out at the University. For the 
students who feel bogged down 
by the stresses of University life 
and for those who feel the need to 
issue demands toward President 
Schlissel, the Bicentennial reminds 
us that our most notable alumni 
worked with the University rather 
than in opposition.

It does not invalidate our 

rights as students on campus. 
We deserve the best here, and 
it is within our jurisdiction to 
hold the University to the best 
standards. But celebrations like 
the Bicentennial that honor people 
like Janaki Ammal should give us 
perspective on how lucky we are 
to be at this University. There is a 
wealth of potential for us to seize 
on campus.

And while protest is a right 

guaranteed to us all, something 
I touched upon in a previous 
column, we would do better 
to remember the great people 
and the storied history of our 
University. We are a part of 
the University, not a foil to 
it. Consider the role of the 
University in the life of alumni 
that 
the 
Bicentennial 
has 

illuminated. Appreciate that we 
go to a University that takes pride 
in alumni like Janaki Ammal — 
not all schools celebrate their 
history. Ally with the University 
and who knows, maybe when the 
tricentennial comes along, you, 
too, will be mentioned in kind.

W

hen I was about five 
years old, I found 
a picture book in 

the children’s section of my 
neighborhood library with an 
illustration of a mass of KKK 
members 
in 
white 
sheets, 

riding horses down a hill. I 
don’t know whether the book 
was about Reconstruction or 
the civil rights movement, but 
that image has been a visceral, 
scarring memory ever since. I 
had no idea what the KKK was, 
but it was one of the first times 
I instinctively felt utter fear. 
My stomach still drops each 
time I think about it.

With civil rights and public 

interest lawyers as parents, 
I had picture books about 
Harriet 
Tubman, 
Frederick 

Douglass and Ruby Bridges. In 
my family’s annual Passover 
seders, we talk about the 
connection 
between 
the 

enslavement and centuries-
long persecution of Jews, and 
the enslavement of African 
people and persecution Black 
people throughout the world 
deal with today. We talk about 
the responsibility we feel to 
work for equity and justice.

So when in my first semester 

at the University of Michigan 
I learned there was strong 
presence of KKK sentiment 
just 30 minutes away from 
campus, I was naively but 
seriously unnerved. I looked 
more closely at hate group 
maps 
from 
the 
Southern 

Poverty Law Center. I talked 
with folks about the way that 
chapter’s existence impacts 
the 
movement 
of 
people 

throughout 
the 
state 
and 

its psychological effect on 
residents near the chapter. 
Of course, in my time at the 
University we have seen white 

supremacy surface above its 
daily institutional and cultural 
presence 
to 
interpersonal 

violence, pseudoscience fliers, 
a 
student-organized 
debate 

and more.

On Aug. 11 and 12, white 

supremacists 
converged 
in 

Charlottesville. They brought 
with 
them 
anti-Blackness, 

antisemitism, 
xenophobia, 

Islamophobia and hatred for 
anyone who “isn’t a member of 
their respective communities.” 
If that were my campus, I 
probably would have been 
in the crowd of counter-
protesters. While swastikas 
are triggering for me, I think 
I would mostly not have felt 
threatened as a Jew because 
white 
privilege 
allows 
me 

to pass as Christian. But I 
would have been terrified as 
an unarmed young person 
standing up to a mob in military 
gear. I would have been a 
target with a masked identity, 
a complex positionality I often 
feel in this political moment.

I don’t want to have to make 

that choice of whether or not 
to show up to protest against a 
mob of white supremacists, but 
if University President Mark 
Schlissel and the Board of 
Regents allow Richard Spencer 
to come to campus, I will have 
to. Let’s make it so that none of 

us have to make this decision. 
Join me in demanding the 
University 
deny 
Spencer’s 

request to speak on campus. 
Sign the petition, write a letter 
and ask alumni, friends and 
family to do the same. 

As a student organizer, I 

think a lot about who feels like 
they belong on this campus and 
how I can help make it so that 
more and more people feel that 
way. The white supremacists 
who 
marched 
through 

University 
of 
Virginia’s 

campus took a space away from 
students, professors and staff 
who cultivate it, but the reality 
is that many marginalized 
students have likely never felt 
that space totally belonged to 
them.

At our predominantly white, 

higher-income 
institution, 

we white people — especially 
those 
of 
us 
from 
higher-

income backgrounds — need to 
lean into the things that help 
our fellow Wolverines feel 
welcome and safe. Michigan 
is a battleground. We need to 
call out bigotry. We sometimes 
need to put our bodies on the 
line. We need to check-in with 
and check our friends. We need 
to report bias incidents in class 
instead of worrying about our 
grades and recommendation 
letters. We need to be in spaces 
where we are the minority 
(if we’re welcome) and listen. 
We need to set goals for self-
education. We need to actively 
acknowledge 
that 
this 
is 

America and this is real, but 
this is not us.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Tuesday, November 14, 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

This is America, but this is not us 

LEAH SCHNECK | OP-ED

 Yes, our bicentennial matters

Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns

Samantha Goldstein

Emily Huhman
Jeremy Kaplan

Sarah Khan

Max Lubell

Lucas Maiman

Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy 

Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury

Ali Safawi

Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer

Rebecca Tarnopol

Stephanie Trierweiler

Ashley Zhang

 Prioritize language study

MICHAEL MORDARSKI| COLUMN

“

I never use the word very. 
It is a very weak word.”

That quote from former 

Secretary of Defense Donald 
Rumsfeld 
is 
written 
on 
a 

whiteboard above my desk.

It’s there alongside other 

quotes from an almost comically 
diverse group of writers and 
public 
figures, 
which 
the 

warmongering 
Rumsfeld 
is 

a part of. Quotes from Ruth 
Bader Ginsburg, George Carlin, 
Khaled Hosseini and Aaron 
Sorkin overfill this whiteboard 
in fading dry-erase colors.

And as an avid reader and 

writer, I like to think they 
serve as reminders about how 
effective written and verbal 
communication can be within 
our world.

No matter how poorly others 

may think of my writing, I 
take pride in my efforts when 
attempting to thread together 
words and thoughts in order to 
inspire emotion and motivation 
within my readers (see my 
article “We smug liberals”).

And if I could do anything in 

the world, it would be writing 
speeches for a future president 
of the United States.

Yet, this passion I have 

for writing is restricted to a 
single language. I have not 
truly expanded these skills 
and talents into anything other 
than English.

Sure, as LSA students here, 

we are required to develop 
proficiency 
in 
a 
foreign 

language. And most likely, 
many of us, after years of 
tepid practice in elementary 
and high school, develop a 
beginner’s 
fluency 
in 
our 

language of study. But in the 
overall spectrum of our higher 
education, the courses are not 
properly 
stressed 
as 
being 

equal to the core requirements 
for our degrees — but they 
should be.

The importance of another 

language 
is 
paramount 
in 

the rapidly changing world. 
Physical distance no longer 
matters as the instantaneous 
connection between countries 
continues to expose us to 
new 
people, 
cultures 
and 

economies.

Participating in this new 

hyper-connected 
world 

requires 
learning 
new 

languages in order to break 
down the final barriers holding 

us 
back 
from 
connections 

across the globe.

America has a language skills 

problem. 
My 
self-absorbed 

story at this university is not 
even remotely exclusive. Across 
the country, foreign language 
is viewed as secondary to the 
more emphasized core courses 
within education. 

The Atlantic published a 

piece last year that highlighted 
the ineffective way in which 
our education system teaches 
foreign languages throughout 
the 
country. 
The 
author, 

Amelia Friedman, argued that 
foreign language courses are 
not prioritized, which has a 
massive impact on students 
early on. The secondary level at 
which we value these courses 
prevents the proper funding, 
emphasis and applicability of 
learning a new language within 
schools early on.

This lack of prioritization 

creates low enrollment levels 
in which a cycle emerges where 
fewer students study a foreign 
language, and less work is put 
in to promote such courses.

And 
even 
the 
languages 

that 
are 
studied 
are 
still 

primarily European and not 
applicable of the emerging 
global markets. According to 
Friedman’s article, “In 2013, 
roughly 198,000 U.S. college 
students were taking a French 
course; just 64, on the other 
hand, were studying Bengali. 
Yet, globally, 193 million people 
speak Bengali, while 75 million 
speak French.”

Mandarin, Arabic, Bengali 

and Hindi — all languages on 
which we place less emphasis, 
despite them being some of 
the most widely spoken in the 
world. All these languages 
of peoples and markets are 
ready to be connected to, but 
only if these communication 
barriers 
could 
be 
more 

effectively broken. 

In totality, the academic 

culture we learn in can make 
people feel intimidated when 
they attempt to learn a foreign 
language. According to Richard 
Brecht, the founding executive 
director and founder of the 
Center for Advanced Study of 
Language at the University of 
Maryland, “It isn’t that people 
don’t think language education 
important. It’s that they don’t 
think it’s possible.” Learning 
a new language is challenging, 
and maintaining it is even more 
difficult within the United 
States, as there is often a lack 
of opportunities to practice 
and maintain such skills.

But the world has shrunk; the 

globalized economies we live in 
can provide such connections. 
Prioritizing foreign languages 
would further encourage us to 
study these courses and be able 
to transfer such skills to the 
professional world.

To be clear, the teachers 

and instructors are not the 
ones at fault here. Personally 
speaking, 
here 
at 
the 

University of Michigan, I have 
had some of the most hard-
working, passionate and caring 
instructors who deeply cared 
about students gaining this 
immensely resourceful skill, 
and I know fellow students 
who have felt the same way 
about other instructors.

I 
just 
wish 
there 
was 

greater emphasis placed on 
this 
requirement, 
not 
only 

in college and high school, 
but far earlier on within our 
elementary classrooms as well.

I take pride in my writing 

and communication, but I have, 
in the most underachieving 
way, restricted myself from 
billions of others in our world.

There is another quote on 

my 
whiteboard 
that 
comes 

from George Carlin. He was 
once said: “Language is the 
most 
elementary 
aspect 
to 

our 
humanness, 
probably. 

In addition to that, it’s the 
embodiment, it’s the apotheosis 
of the human experience, it’s the 
way we summarize ourselves.”

Learn another language; the 

world is a small place.

 Leah Schneck is a Senior in the 

Residential College

 Join me in 

demnading the 
University deny 
Spencer’s request

LUCAS MAIMAN | COLUMN

 The importance 

of another 
language is 
paramount

 There is a wealth 

of potential for 
us to seize on 

campus

— Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., after recent sexual assault 

allegations against Senate candidate Roy Moore

“

NOTABLE QUOTABLE

 “He should immediately 
step aside and allow the 

people of Alabama to elect a 
candidate they can be proud 

of. ”

”

 Lucas Maiman can be reached at 

lmaiman@umich.edu.

 Michael Mordarski can be reached 

at mmordars@umich.edu.

