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.