Particularly
troubling
for students, the GOP tax
bill
greatly
undervalues
education. For one, student
loan repayment will no longer
be tax deductible. Currently,
44 million borrowers owe $1.3
trillion in student loan debt in
the U.S. As such, this legislation
would make a college education
much more unaffordable for the
average American.
Graduate
education
takes
a
much
bigger
hit.
Under
the Section 117 (d)(5) of the
House
tax
plan,
graduate
school tuition waivers will be
considered
taxable
income,
rendering an already meager
income
unlivable.
Given
most
graduate
students
receive
funding
primarily
through teaching or research
assistantships,
taxing
these
waivers as income may make
pursuing graduate education
financially
difficult
for
students, particularly students
of lower socioeconomic status.
This legislation relies on
a misunderstanding of what
a graduate level education
actually is. Graduate students
do not get paid for sitting in
classrooms all day; rather,
teaching
and
contributing
to
research
serve
as
indispensable parts of the
graduate
education.
This
work
is
notoriously
time-
demanding
and
deserving
of compensation. As such,
the United States’s research
productivity — particularly
in the sciences — will likely
take a big hit, because it isn’t
unreasonable for prospective
graduate
students,
who
conduct much of the research
done in the U.S., to look abroad
for their graduate degrees or
forgo earning one altogether.
The economic justifications
for the GOP tax plan reflect
a flawed knowledge of the
efficacy of economic policies.
The tax plan will add anywhere
between $1.5 trillion and $1.7
trillion to the deficit and,
while many senators argue
the added economic activity
will make up for the increase,
most
economists
disagree.
This, in conjunction with the
prioritization of corporations
in
the
plan,
illustrates
Republicans’
continued
adherence
to
the
concept
of
trickle-down
economics.
Their support of this economic
idealogy signifies a disregard
for the popular consensus in
the economic community of
the fallacies of the success of
these policies.
Nevertheless, even if we
assumed
that
trickle-down
economics
were
a
viable
solution, the tax plan is still
flawed. The writers of the
bill justify treating graduate
school
tuition
waivers
as
taxable income by saying it
is
non-spendable
and
will
therefore not contribute to
increasing economic activity.
However, higher enrollment
costs will likely cause graduate
school enrollment rates to
fall, stalling any potential for
trickle down before it can even
begin, as fewer people overall
will have degrees that will give
them more money to spend in
the economy.
Additionally,
this
tax
bill fails people outside of
higher educational contexts.
The reduction in corporate
tax rates will prioritize the
needs
of
large
corporate
interests over the needs of the
most
vulnerable,
including
students
and
people
of
lower socioeconomic status.
Everyday workers will see less
economic activity, and will
be subject to higher costs in
many areas.
For example, teachers and
medical
professionals
will
no longer be able to write off
expenses
for
supplies
and
other
expenses
they
incur
at work. Furthermore, the
removal
of
the
Individual
Health
Insurance
Mandate,
a part of Obamacare, would
likely lead to higher insurance
prices across the board. This
plan will strip Americans of
needed health care coverage
while funneling savings to the
wealthiest corporate interests.
This is a bad tax plan
overall
and
works
against
our country’s ideals. We urge
the Senate to change these to
protect not only the interests
of
graduate
students,
but
also of the general American
population.
A
s all new years begin,
resolutions are created.
So, as the fall semester
approached this year, a few
friends and I made a resolution
to be more physically active this
semester. Whether it was to walk
more, bike, run or attend cycling
and yoga classes, we planned to
encourage each other to see this
resolution through.
With the intention to be a
more active human, when I heard
the news that my housemates
were
deciding
to
form
an
intramural soccer team in the
non-competitive league, I jumped
at the chance to join. The last
time I played soccer was in sixth
grade when everyone made the
team. I didn’t make the team the
following year in seventh grade
because I kept tripping over my
feet during the scrimmage game
in tryouts. This would be a great
shot for my second try where I
could be active and put myself
outside of my comfort zone.
I have never called myself an
athlete, but I have always tried
my best because I love being a
part of a team. Arriving at our first
game, I could feel butterflies in my
stomach walking toward the field
of players. My team of housemates
began warming up and passing
the ball back and forth with skill
and finesse. I was shocked by their
abilities, energy and talent. I soon
realized that most have played
soccer competitively and our
team of competitors shared these
characteristics as well.
In general, competitive sports
have an ability to bond people.
People could have nothing in
common, but with a ball and a
net, individuals from drastically
different
lives
can
share
a
common goal wanting their team
to win. To me, framing sports in
this light makes athleticism sound
quite beautiful. And there I see the
greatness in this team camaraderie
and lessons individuals can learn
from group cooperation. But this
doesn’t mean competitive sports
are for everyone.
The game began and I was on
the sidelines, anxiously hoping
there was some way I didn’t have
to sub for someone who was in. But
with time, one of my teammates
wanted some time to rest, and I
tied up my borrowed cleats and
ran in. My time on the field was a
blur. My heart beat out of my chest
as I ran up and down the field. I
think I may have made contact
with the ball once or twice. When
the half was over, I was happy to
go back on the sidelines.
When the game ended, I
honestly felt traumatized by this
small experience. I know that may
sound dramatic. Looking around
at my smiling teammates who
gained so much joy from their
time on the field, I reflected on my
own feelings of panic and anxiety.
At this point, I knew this wasn’t
the right activity for me.
I spent the next week after
the game hoping there was a
way I didn’t have to play again.
Luckily enough, I found myself
with a horrible ingrown toenail
from wearing borrowed cleats
that were just too tight. With this
strong excuse, I knew I would be
able to sit out and not play. Sharing
this news with my teammates,
I felt a rush of embarrassment.
I felt like I failed myself and the
team. I didn’t want to leave my
team at a disadvantage, but I
knew playing again would only
make me feel worse.
Normally, I find I’m a group-
oriented thinker, but in this case, I
found that I needed to do what was
best for myself. And I think overall
this was better for the team. I
still showed up to our games and
drove a car full of teammates to
the field. I even had a friend fill in
for me and play very last minute.
This way, I wasn’t putting myself
in a situation that made me feel
too uncomfortable because in that
space one cannot grow.
In an effort to try new things
and be active, I ended up feeling
embarrassed and ashamed. I don’t
think this feeling is necessary to
be an active, social person. Since
this event, I have been throwing
myself
into
non-competitive
physical activities like yoga and
bike rides. Here I can still hold
up my resolution and do it on my
own terms.
It is important to remember
we all have different skills that
we bring into our group and team
dynamics. I have found myself in
similar settings in course group
projects as well. A group relies
on the strength of its individuals
who are there for each other.
In my projects where my group
members cared for and valued
each others’ ideas, skills and time,
the group performed better and
had better outcomes. If everyone
makes an effort to think about the
group first, the group will have a
good outcome.
This indicates that we are
only as strong as the strength
of the individuals who make up
our groups and teams. When we
form this trust with our group
members, we must do this with
ourselves as well. When we
know everyone is looking out
for one another, the team trusts
that you will take the time and
energy
for
self-care.
These
group dynamics are complex,
but with folks who care, it
can truly make an impact for
everyone involved.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, November 22, 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
The team, the team, the team
ELLERY ROSENZWEIG | COLUMN
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
Ellery Rosenzweig can be reached at
erosenz@umich.edu.
FROM THE DAILY
A bad tax plan overall
O
n Nov. 16, the House of Representatives passed their version
of a tax bill. The bill aims to overhaul many Obama-era tax
legislations, including the Obamacare health care mandate
aimed at reducing overall health care costs, in order to facilitate tax
breaks for the wealthiest Americans. Furthermore, the bill hurts
those in higher education by implementing higher taxes on students.
This tax bill is incredibly detrimental to students, the general U.S.
population and the economy, and we urge the Senate to revise it entirely.
In my shoes
EMILY WOLFE | CONTACT EMILY AT ELWOLFE@UMICH.EDU
Editor’s note: The writer’s name
has been changed to protect their
identity.
L
ast year, I was sitting in
class and out of nowhere
our
graduate
student
instructor started talking about
a case where football players
sexually
assaulted
a
female
student at a Texas university. As I
sat digesting what I was hearing,
I could feel my face get hot, my
heartbeat quicken. I could feel
my eyes start to water. I knew
I was about to cry but I held it
in. Finally, we broke into small
group discussions and I excused
myself to go to the bathroom.
I had barely stepped into
the hallway when I began to
sob uncontrollably. My brain
was simultaneously numb and
overstimulated with a thousand
different thoughts, and they
were overwhelming me to the
point that I had no idea what to
do with myself. So, I paced. In
those few moments, all of what
had happened to me freshman
year was made worse by the fact
I had become visibly upset in
public and in front of my peers.
To make matters worse, in
an effort to hide my distress
from my peers, I now had to try
to conceal my meltdown from
strangers in the hallway. I was
trying to do the impossible: shut
down memories that had a habit
of reemerging up like the moles
in that Whack-A-Mole game —
erratically, suddenly and in the
worst moments.
A few moments later, my GSI
stepped out of the classroom to
find me. For a little while, we sat
together on the stairs silently.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I’m so, so sorry.”
That was all she could say. I
could tell she knew what had
made me so upset, but because
of her obligation as a GSI to
report sexual violence, she
didn’t say much more. And I
thank her for that.
After some time, she had to
go back to class before other
students could wonder why she
had disappeared for so long. I
stayed put in the hallway.
She came back a little later
with the belongings I’d left
behind. She was kind and caring.
I am grateful every day that I had
a GSI as understanding as she
was. But in that moment, I felt
like a bug under a microscope
— like every move I made was
being watched.
When I finally started to head
home, I walked at lightning speed
to avoid human interaction at all
costs. I had a meeting in less than
an hour, but there was no way I
was going to make it. Not in one
piece, at least. So, after sending a
vague and potentially alarming
email to my professor, I crawled
into bed. That’s where I stayed
for a better part of the afternoon,
feeling uncontrollably upset, as if
what happened three years ago
had happened yesterday.
***
My freshman year, I got a
boy’s number at a party. A few
months later, I went to his house.
I hadn’t put everything together
as I made my way over, but when
I stepped into his room, I almost
immediately
started
feeling
scared and uneasy. I realized
what was about to happen. But he
was bigger in size, intimidatingly
so. I didn’t know anyone in his
house, and I knew I wouldn’t
be able to figure out how to get
home. I was trapped. So that’s
where I stayed. Trapped.
This night turned my world
completely upside down. For a
while, I was almost always on
edge, always looking around me
to make sure he wasn’t there.
I was startled by people who
resembled him; I would begin to
breath heavily, my face would get
hot, my throat would constrict.
I would hear my heartbeat in
my ears. Now it’s gotten a little
easier, but I still shudder when
something reminds me of what
happened or when a random
thought of that night intrudes
my headspace. And there are still
moments when I think I’ve seen
him and I panic.
“You look like you’ve seen a
ghost,” one of my friends said
to me one day after I could have
sworn I saw him on the street. I
smiled awkwardly.
“I’ve just had a day,” I told her.
The summer between my
freshman and sophomore years
was the hardest. I had only
told one person about what
happened,
and,
more
than
anything, I hated myself. I felt
stupid and ashamed that I’d been
in that situation, because I felt
responsible. To this day, I still
often question whether I could
have done something differently.
That summer, I was very
quiet and I stayed in bed a lot.
There were times when I just
felt overcome with sadness. I
looked sad, too, and my mom
would ask me if everything was
alright. It wasn’t, but I told her it
was. She and I are best friends,
and I could tell she knew
something was wrong, but just
the thought of telling her sends
me into a panic.
***
I can never be 100 percent
sure what would have changed
had I known beforehand what
we were going to talk about
that day in my discussion. But I
do know I was not prepared. As
a result, I couldn’t participate
in the conversation. We should
never shy away from talking
about sexual assault because
it’s important, but it’s equally
important to give survivors
the tools to allow them to
comfortably talk about these
things. Just a simple email or a
note in the syllabus when a class
is talking about a topic that could
elicit a very emotional reaction
would help immensely.
So, no. I don’t want trigger
warnings so I can skip out on
class. They aren’t so I can shelter
myself. I’m not asking that we
water down these important
conversations to accommodate
survivors.
Trigger
warnings
would allow me to participate
in these tough discussions with
my peers because I would know
what to expect.
When I found myself in this
situation last semester, I had
no time to stop for a moment
and breathe. It was all hitting
me like a train that I couldn’t
stop. I was glued to the tracks
and couldn’t step off. So, the
next time you question the
importance of trigger warnings
or roll your eyes because you
think that it’s politically correct
culture “back at it again,” think
about if you were me. What
would you want?
ALEXIS
Alexis is an LSA senior.
This is the fifth piece in the
Survivors Speak series, which
seeks to share the varied,
first-person experiences of survivors
of sexual assault.