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Thursday, June 7, 2018
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
OPINION
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Edited and managed by students at
the University of Michigan since 1890.
I
spent this past weekend moving
into a new house, “new” meaning
not yet lived in by me, but old by
all other standards. My father and I
rolled up our sleeves and got to work,
climbing up and down three stories,
arms filled with boxes of oddities,
mementos of game days and fragile
mugs. We worked strategically and
hastily, combining our mental and
physical capacities to rebuild the
deconstructed IKEA bed in the
designated corner of my uniquely
shaped room.
My dad taught me how to do this–
how to move. How to ready cardboard
boxes for packing, how to use a set
of tools, how to lift boxes from your
knees (not your back) and how to
declutter. I had 45 minutes a day in
the third grade dedicated to cursive,
another 45 to long division. In high
school, 60 minutes a day were set aside
for lacrosse and another generous 60
to seeing friends. However, among
the dance classes and math tutors,
there was one lesson I was never
explicitly taught, a sport for which
I’ve never attended practice. Nobody
has taught me how to be happy.
Intrinsically, we are inclined to
try to find happiness ourselves. We
all take a break from homework to
surround ourselves with positive
friends or music, allow ourselves
to wander and get lost between the
pages of a book, go for a run or stop
for an ice cream cone just because
it makes us happy. But when those
tactics don’t work, I (along with many
other college students, it seems) don’t
know where to turn. My classmates
and friends are often stressed and
unhappy, riddled with anxiety and
inclined to hide it in order to prioritize
the coursework that needs to be
done by tomorrow. And the day after
tomorrow. And the day after that.
Slowly, classes trump hobbies, and the
things that make us happy succumb
to the tasks that keep us enrolled in
school; it’s hard to enjoy the pages
you’re reading when they come with a
looming due date or require a 10-page
analysis. My lacrosse coach and third
grade teacher taught me how to work
hard but not how to be happy. Who is
responsible for doing that now?
Colleges
and
universities
nationwide
are
beginning
to
recognize this gap in education. At
Yale University, Happiness 101 aims
to change the culture on campus
by
promoting
social
activities,
organizational skills and gratitude
while pointing out detrimental habits
like procrastination and sweeping
emotions under the rug. Nearly a
quarter of Yale’s undergraduate
population enrolled in the course this
semester, a statistic that reflects the
need and desire for information about
happiness and how to achieve it.
The University of Michigan is
following this trend and joining
Yale in offering courses designed to
discussing happiness. For example,
a first-year seminar offered this fall
term called Psychology as a Social
Science addresses what makes life
worth living and promotes practices
that align with a healthy and
meaningful life. Another course, titled
Happiness and Health: Exploring
the Science, will hit on similar
ideas, asking if laughter can heal us,
if thinking positively can help us
succeed, and how stress, depression
and anxiety play a role in the world of
psychology and medicine.
A big question that we must ask
ourselves is whether we think our
University can fill that role and
promote a noncompetitive, grade-
independent
well-being
rather
than focusing simply on academics.
Certainly the kinks would need to be
smoothed out and questions answered
regarding how one would be graded
in a U-M Happiness 101 class. But I
believe Wolverines would welcome
this class into the LSA Course Guide
with open arms. Many of us prioritize
our classes over anything else (to any
who discredit that claim, I challenge
you to find a table at the Shapiro
Undergraduate
Library
on
any
given Sunday), meaning this week’s
statistics lecture takes the No. 1 spot
on our to-do list, and our hobbies and
interests are slighted. We’ve been
conditioned to deprioritize happiness
in order to achieve a high grade
point average, resulting in life habits
that are harmful and unsustainable.
That’s why I think that a Happiness
101 class here at the University would
allow us to reprioritize happiness
along with our GPAs and forgo those
harmful habits altogether. Given
the competitive nature and drive for
success that is bred at the University,
Happiness 101 might be the only way
to simultaneously focus on our work
and well-being.
EMMA CHANG | COLUMN
EMMA CHANG
Editorial Page Editor
EMMA RICHTER
Managing Editor
Emma Chang
Joel Danilewitz
Samantha Goldstein
Elena Hubbell
Emily Huhman
Tara Jayaram
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig
Jason Rowland
Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Alex Satola
Ali Safawi
Ashley Zhang
Sam Weinberger
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.
ASIF BECHER
Editor in Chief
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
JULIA MONTAG | COLUMN
Happiness 101
Julia Montag can be reached at
asafawi@umich.edu.
Confessions of a closeted Rosshole
I
t really is a daunting
task,
deciding
your
career path at the ripe
old age of 18. It has been a
little over a year since I found
out I was accepted into the
University of Michigan and
the Ross School of Business.
I
remember
thinking
everyone knew what they
were going to study in the
fall. Little did I know, that
is not true for everyone and
many people will change
their minds at least once, if
not twice, in college. With so
much excitement joining the
U-M community, I did not
realize it came with a whole
new
platform
for
college
memes. The punchline for a
lot of these jokes, however,
involves business majors or
– as we’re known on campus
– Rossholes.
I’m what you might refer
to as a “closeted” Rosshole.
I applied to the Business
School without any rhyme or
reason and, to my surprise,
was accepted. I remember
being
ecstatic
until
I
realized the reputation that
being in Ross carries on
this campus. STEM majors
scoff at you and you can’t
exactly
bond
with
other
non-STEM majors because,
you know, capitalism. As a
freshman
with
absolutely
no
idea
what
the
stock
market is and an inability to
pretend I understood how
Wall
Street
worked,
this
was particularly confusing
to me. What exactly is the
stigma
surrounding
the
B.B.A.? What exactly made
me a “Rosshole?”
Honestly, to truly define
what
campus
deems
a
Rosshole, you have to go
to the meme pages. There,
you can find the meaning of
Rosshole clear as day. First,
you have to be someone
who incessantly talks about
the fact that they’re in the
Business
School.
Then,
obviously, comes the Canada
Goose jackets. Can’t be a
true Rosshole without it.
The overall effect is just a
stuck-up person who will
end up with some kind of
fancy internship – that they
may or may not deserve –
doing something they don’t
particularly understand that
will eventually get them a
lot of money. Kind of mind-
boggling, no?
I can totally see why the
rest
of
the
school
hates
business students so much.
The building itself screams
Rosshole with its namesake,
Stephen M. Ross, donating
millions
of
dollars
to
enhance the already-garish
façade on East University
Avenue. Meanwhile, across
campus, other departments
may be struggling to find
funding. It is infuriating. It
is, wait for it, capitalism.
With
this
mindset,
I
entered
freshman
year
unwilling to divulge the fact
that I was in the Business
School, which, let me tell
you, was very difficult. The
first two questions you get
when meeting someone new
anywhere on this campus is,
“What are you studying?”
and, as a freshman, “Where
are you living?” Both of
these questions posed issues
because I was in the Business
School and living in Martha
Cook. Both of these answers
can garner very negative,
albeit interesting responses.
I learned how to explain
away the funny looks I got
when I said I lived in the
all-girls dorm with a severe
reputation by mentioning it’s
actually a really nice place
to live, but that’s another
story for another time. How
did I deal with answering
the major question? I had
a couple of solutions, both
of
which
were
equally
Continue reading on page 5.
“Little did I
know, that...
many people
will change
their minds
if not once, at
least twice, in
college.”