T
he Ann Arbor Public Schools
district is in trouble. Within the
past few weeks, AAPS has canceled
in-person school three times. On Oct.
22, three schools went remote. Five
days later, it was one school. The most
recent closure, on Nov. 1, affected
every school in the district.
Naturally, parents were upset.
For working parents, the need
to find emergency child care is
an
exceptional
burden.
AAPS
discontinued their before and after-
school care program this year, and
the cost of private childcare has risen
dramatically as providers attempt to
recoup losses from the pandemic.
Following
the
announcement
about the Nov. 1 closure, parents
took to Twitter and an AAPS
school board meeting to voice their
discontent. Many parents proposed
solutions, such as raising substitute
teachers’ pay, or opening cafeterias
and gymnasiums up for group study
halls if individual classrooms could
not be staffed. Others raised concerns
about teacher burnout, while still
others took the time to contrast the
empathetic messaging from their
student’s principal with an email
from Superintendent Jeanice K.
Swift, which they considered glib.
In a recent Daily article, LSA junior
and AAPS parent Patrick Gallagher
criticized the school board for not
coming up with a plan to prevent
the possibility of a staff shortage. He
pointed to low wages for teachers and
support staff as the primary factor
driving the shortage, emphasizing that
the pandemic is no longer new and that
the administration should have been
aware of the precarious hiring situation
before the school year started.
To gather additional comment
on the closures, I reached out to
lecturer Adam Stevenson. Stevenson
is a lecturer of economics at the
University, a parent of two children in
AAPS and also teaches a class on the
economics of education.
When asked about his reactions
to the closures as a parent, Stevenson
groaned. He did not enjoy telling his
middle schooler at 9:40 p.m. on Oct.
21 — while saying good night to her —
that she would not be going to school
in the morning. Her reaction to the
news: a plaintive “I’m not going to see
my friends!”
Stevenson
distinguished
the
difference between the systemic
issues facing teachers and the acute
problems facing AAPS. Systemically,
he argues “it’s definitely true that
hiring is becoming difficult across
many industries — most industries —
and so wages are rising more rapidly
than they have been, which makes it
easier for people to quit a current job
and opt-in to another job instead. And
so to win that bidding war for workers,
wages are going up, and by and large
schools can’t do that because wages
are determined by teacher union
negotiations.” However, he asserted
that he finds it “very difficult to
believe that’s a particular explanation
for what’s going on right now,”
specifically in AAPS. In short, hiring
enough full-time teachers is not the
problem. Then what is?
Teacher absences. According to the
school board’s data, the fill rate for staff
absences oscillated between 51-65%
throughout October. If teachers called
out sick, or for any other reason, the
district could not find an adequate
number of substitutes to replace
them. Without enough staff per
student, guaranteeing safety became
a concern, and closures became
necessary. According to Stevenson,
“the extent that the COVID crisis can
explain (the absences) is that people
who would’ve done substitutions are
either unwilling to work under sort of
risky circumstances or they’re getting
better bids from someone else.”
At the Oct. 27 school board meeting,
that exact sentiment was raised by
Amanda Bergren, a former teacher
who often substituted while pursuing
her teaching degree. She commented
that the pay for substitute teachers —
about $100/day — is exactly the same
as it was when she was a substitute
twenty years ago. She urged the board
to raise the pay, adding that she would
consider teaching again if the price for
giving up her time were not so low.
Talking with Stevenson helped me
establish a couple of key points about
the closures. First, raising teacher pay
is a non-starter, and more importantly,
not the likely culprit behind the
closures. Salaries cannot be legally
raised until next December, when
the current labor contract expires.
Teachers should be paid more — but
that is a decades-long problem that
cannot be resolved overnight. Second,
the immediate issue for the district
is recruiting more substitutes, and
unfortunately, the district will likely
fail to attract enough of them without
a dramatic increase in pay.
So, if raising teacher pay is not an
option, and hiring enough substitutes
is unlikely, how can AAPS prevent
further closures?
Increase the pay for substitutes.
AAPS took a step in this direction by
raising the wage from $130 to $150 on
Mondays and Fridays, the days with the
most absences. But that is not enough.
An extra $20 might incentivize a middle
schooler to mow their neighbor’s lawn,
but it certainly would not motivate a
working adult to dedicate their day
to monitoring a classroom, especially
when other jobs pay better. I should
know. I worked in an after-school care
facility my senior year of high school for
$8.25/hr. Children are a joy in general,
but not after they’ve jammed a tiara on
your head or insulted the kind of car
you drive. (A 2011 Chevy Malibu is not
lame.)
L
iquor stores thrive in a college
environment like Ann Arbor.
Sporting
events
and
consistent
partying throughout the school year
make it a prime place for a booming
alcohol economy, representing a
portion of the state of Michigan’s
$123.8 million in gross liquor sales
as of March 2020. But there is a
clear asymmetry between college
alcohol culture’s profitability and the
community’s interests in the mental
and physical health of its students.
Central Campus offers a host of
liquor stores: State Street Liquor,
Champions Party Store, Campus
Corner and Blue Front Ann Arbor,
to name a few (all located on some
of the most frequented streets on
Central Campus). Although clearly
in demand, is it morally permissible
to sell so much alcohol so close to
designated learning spaces and
student housing?
These liquor stores’ proximity to
student hubs reveal that the University
of Michigan’s commitment to alcohol
moderation education such as “Stay
in the Blue” only puts a Band-Aid
over the pervasiveness of college
drinking culture. It is obvious that
these stores are designed to sell to
not only the adults that come to enjoy
athletic
events
each weekend and
of-age students, but also potentially to
the underage students that are excited
to party two, three and even four to
five nights a week.
The truth is, college drinking
culture
is
ingrained
into
the
economic fabric of Ann Arbor as well
as college campuses across the United
States, and this is done through
institutionalized
social
norms
bonding drinking with celebrations
and social connection, something
that students desperately crave after
a year and a half in a pandemic.
Football,
basketball,
hockey,
fraternities and sororities, the end
of midterms, holidays and more are
all celebrations that are intrinsically
bound to copious consumption of
alcohol. Even parents’ weekend is
often an opportunity to hit the beer
bong with mom or dad, which can
further normalize students’ drinking
behavior.
Some may argue that college
drinking
culture
is
far
too
widespread to attempt to reduce it
by restricting alcohol sales within
a certain radius of central campus.
However, the belief that “that’s
just the way it is” does not justify
the moral implications of literally
placing alcohol in front of underaged
students. The U.S., even amongst
its growing educated population,
is plagued by alcoholism. College
students are far from exempt.
The National Institute on Alcohol
Abuse
and
Alcoholism
reports
that 33 percent of college students
who drank alcohol in the past
month admit to binge drinking, or
consuming 4 to 5 drinks per occasion
for women and men respectively.
The high rate of overconsumption is
not without systemic cause. Alcohol
is a social institution enabled by
economic landscaping and social
norms. Specifically, alcohol is a
university institution.
D
ear President Schlissel,
If you’re reading this message,
walk outside your door and talk to
Jonathan Vaughn. In case, President
Schlissel, you don’t know who that
is, you may want to check out the
student, local, statewide and national
press coverage that his courageous
statement has attracted. He is one of
more than 2,000 students and athletes
who survived the abuse of Dr. Robert
Anderson, and he would like to talk
to you. Now that you must know who
Jonathan Vaughn is, walk outside your
door and speak to him.
If you’re still reading at this point,
President Schlissel, and not outside
talking to Jonathan Vaughn, then
I have to imagine there must be
some problem preventing you from
talking to him. Let’s brainstorm some
solutions.
Maybe you’ve been looking for Jon
all over campus but can’t find him
to speak with him! Finding your
way around campus, especially with
changing bus routes, can always be
tricky. Thankfully, he’s right outside
your house! If you’re still having
trouble finding him, send me an email
about directions, and I’d be happy to
walk you the 10 steps out your door to
the sidewalk.
If you’re still reading, President
Schlissel, then it must not be a problem
of directions. Maybe you’re staying
inside because you’re worried about
catching COVID-19? A reasonable
fear, given that we are living in an
ongoing pandemic. If you are staying
inside because you’re concerned
about catching COVID-19, don’t you
think it’s a little hypocritical that
you aren’t giving faculty the same
opportunity? You provided a ringing
endorsement of “Work Connections”
in the face of faculty members telling
you the current process is a failed
system. While I can’t cure hypocrisy,
I can say that it does breed discontent.
Studies have shown outdoor, masked
and
vaccinated
meetings
have
incredibly low chances of COVID-19
transmission. Put on a mask, walk
outside your door and talk to Jon.
If you’ve gotten this far, President
Schlissel, then it must not be
directions or a COVID-19 worry
that’s stopping you. Perhaps you’ve
lost your voice and are worried Jon
won’t be able to hear you if you go
outside to speak with him. I know my
voice would undoubtedly be hoarse
if I spent even half the time making
empty promises of accountability
and transparency as you do. To your
credit, it is astounding you found the
words to keep your job scandal, after
scandal, after scandal, after scandal,
after scandal; we’ve all been waiting
for years for the other shoe to drop.
If your voice is sore from all of the
platitudes, as someone who works
with singers as part of my degree
in the School of Music, Theatre &
Dance, I suggest warm water with
honey and lemon, a humidifier for
your bedroom and vocal rest. Drink
some tea, walk outside your door and
talk to Jon.
If you’ve made it here, President
Schlissel, then it must not be
directions, COVID-19 or a sore voice
that’s preventing you from doing,
quite literally, the bare minimum
for these survivors. Perhaps your
schedule is too busy; maybe you’ve
penciled in too much time to think
about how you’re going to spend your
early removal package! If that’s how
much a failed presidency costs, I can’t
even imagine how much we’ll have to
spend on a successful one. But look,
I get it, especially at this point in the
year, things just pile up. I’d suggest
budgeting time a little differently;
why don’t you take some of the time
you spend ignoring the Faculty Senate
and use it to talk to Jon? Make some
free time, walk outside your door and
speak to Jon.
If you’ve read this far, President
Schlissel, I can’t say it is looking good
for you. I would like to think I’m an
intelligent guy, but truthfully, I’m
running out of solutions for you.
Suppose it’s not about directions,
COVID-19, losing your voice or a
packed schedule. In that case, the
only remaining problem I can think
of is that you’re a selfish, cowardly
embarrassment to the University
of Michigan. We’re supposed to be
the “Leaders and Best” around here,
remember? If you can’t muster up
the courage to go outside your house
and talk to someone who is far braver
than you, then you don’t deserve
to be the head of this University.
Being the “Leaders and Best” is not
a passive description of who we are,
but a higher calling we are charged
to pursue in all we do; if we don’t have
that in the highest office, what are we
as an institution? If you can’t do this
one small act that would make a large
impact in the lives of these survivors,
and survivors of other scandals under
your tenure, then I suggest you close
this article, gather your personal
belongings and resign immediately
instead of in June 2023 as planned.
Make sure you sneak out the backdoor
so you don’t risk bumping into a real
“Leader and Best.”
If you feel, President Schlissel,
that none of these possible problems
address your neglect of Jonathan
Vaughn, feel free to reach out. I’m sure
we can think of something.
Opinion
BRITTANY BOWMAN
Managing Editor
Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
CLAIRE HAO
Editor in Chief
ELIZABETH COOK
AND JOEL WEINER
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
Julian Barnard
Zack Blumberg
Brittany Bowman
Elizabeth Cook
Brandon Cowit
Jess D’Agostino
Benjamin Davis
Andrew Gerace
Shubhum Giroti
Krystal Hur
Jessie Mitchell
Evan Stern
Elayna Swift
Jack Tumpowsky
Joel Weiner
H
oliday season is well underway
and although many might
argue it’s only just begun, for over
a billion people around the world it
peaked last week, on Nov. 4. Before
any Thanksgiving turkeys or Karamu
feasts were served, before any dreidels
were spun or carols were sung,
people lit hundreds of thousands of
candles to honor a festival of lights.
There exists no Halloween hangover
arduous enough and no Dia de Los
Muertos celebration tiring enough to
prevent this annual commemoration
of the victory of good over evil from
captivating all those that choose to
celebrate it. Rooted deep in Indian
mythology, an everlasting symbol of
the strength that lies in togetherness,
kindness and respect for one’s values
and beliefs, it isn’t just a festival, but
an emotion shared by a subcontinent
that holds 1.4 billion people and a
community that houses even more.
So, let me take this opportunity to
wish you a very happy belated Diwali.
I am one of the many Indians
studying at the University of Michigan.
As I prepared to leave the city and
country I had lived in for the first 19
years of my life and come to Ann Arbor,
I was warned of the most commonly
cited side effects of being in Ann Arbor,
aside from cold weather: non-home
food, the lack of native Indian speakers
and homesickness. For the most part, I
can proudly say that that’s one virus I
have avoided in my three months away
from home.
All of that changed when I was
woken up on the morning of Nov.
4 by a phone call from halfway
across the world. It was the evening
of Diwali and my brother, parents
and
approximately
100
other
people whom I call family were all
gathered in one place celebrating the
biggest festival of the year. Yup, that
homesickness I mentioned… hit me
like a shovel. It’s not like there weren’t
any Diwali parties or celebrations on
campus, but there was something
special about the way my family did
it that made me feel, for the first time,
like I genuinely missed being home.
The importance Indian culture
places on the community has never
evaded me. It’s something I am
extremely proud of, and I’m sure others
are as well. I was brought up with the
constant reminder that what we have
is difficult to find anywhere else, an
idea that was further drilled into me
as I prepared for the next step in my
journey: my four years in Ann Arbor
and at Michigan. I had been warned
by many that it would not be as easy as
it had been back home to find my own
community, and as Diwali approached,
I couldn’t shrug off the nagging
feeling that they might have been
correct. Admitting that to myself was
disappointing because all everybody
had to say about Michigan was that it
isn’t just a school, it’s a family. That was
the very reason I chose to come here.
Alas, I spent most of Diwali doing
what I’d do on any other Thursday. The
day just passed me by, but there was
one thing to look forward to: the pooja.
Pooja is that part of the Diwali festivities
where one prays to god and distributes
sweets to all those in the household. My
friend, Shrey Sehgal, had graciously
decided to host a Diwali pooja at his
house and at 8 p.m. that day, I found
myself in what was the closest thing to
home I could have imagined. I watched
as Shrey and his roommates, almost all
of whom have no connection to India
or Indian culture and no real obligation
to participate in these traditions, sang
along to the hymns, followed all the
customs and even listened intently
as Shrey and I explained the history
behind the festival.
On my way home, I walked past
the block “M” on the diag and was
pleasantly surprised to see it lit up in
honor of Diwali. I quickly took a picture
and put it up on my Instagram. As I
scrolled through the never-ending
wave of Instagram stories, I came
across Saanika Kulkarni’s. It was a
picture of five plates of food she cooked
herself. The captain read: “An honour
treating my friends to diwali food.” I
couldn’t help but laugh at myself. Less
than two hours ago I was lamenting
my first Diwali away from home, and I
hadn’t even given it a chance.
I had been so grateful all my life for
what my community had given me that
I thought being part of a community
could only mean one thing. So much
so that I didn’t recognize the one I am
part of right now even though it was
right in front of me. Yes, nothing I have
at this university will be like it is back
home, but it can still be one hell of a
community. Shrey’s pooja, Saanika’s
dinner and a Diwali-themed Diag
reminded me that this place is full of
passionate people that are not only
accepting of but open to those who
want to express themselves. A place
where people care enough to respect
each other’s background and interests
is a place where I belong.
Celebrating community at Michigan
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Wednesday, November 17, 2021 — 5
RUSHABH SHAH
Opinion Columnist
AAPS has a problem. The solution is
raising pay for substitute teachers.
ALEX YEE
Opinion Columnist
Is it morally responsible to allow the
proliferation of liquor stores on campus?
ALEXIS HANCZ
Opinion Columnist
Dear President Schlissel, talk to Jon.
ANDREW GERACE
Opinion Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Travis Scott, Kyrie Irving and other celebrities
— don’t evade personal responsibility
I
like concerts, as I’m sure most people
do. They’re fun, they’re impulsive
and, if done well, they keep you coming
back. The rush of adrenaline one gets
from watching their favorite artist
roam the stage alongside thousands of
other screaming fans is pure dopamine.
That said, I’ve only been to a handful of
them, so I won’t necessarily say I’m an
expert.
However, I don’t enjoy live music
where the crowd is totally, or perhaps
mostly, uncontrolled. I really wouldn’t
enjoy it when an ambulance shows up
and the artist continues to perform.
Personally, I would feel guilty about
attending a concert, especially when I
read the news the next day that eight
people passed — the number has
since risen to nine.
I understand that Travis Scott,
a multimillionaire and masterclass
entertainer, did not intend the crowd
at the Astroworld Festival to start
trampling each other, let alone for
people to die. However, he is not
totally innocent either. When 50,000
people are clamoring to get close to
a stage, what do you think is going to
happen?
Hindsight is 20/20, sure. Yet, for
some reason, the Houston police
chief felt strongly enough to enter
Scott’s trailer before the show to
convey concerns about the size and
energy of the crowd, likely because
Scott is known for making crowds
rowdy. Shockingly (not really), the
rapper didn’t listen. A sold-out festival
of hype-fueled fanatics sounded
cool beforehand, I agree. But when
there is a potential safety issue, the
implications grow much larger than
new marketing material or a fun
memory. Now, his negligence has
resulted in a slew of lawsuits.
I could even look past all this
if Scott stopped his show. But he
didn’t and, internally, we all know he
wouldn’t anyway. Don’t kill the vibe,
they all say. Scott loves to open his
songs with “It’s Lit!” Sorry, Travis,
but there is no disguising the optics on
this one. You can’t evade the negatives
of the situation or the downfalls of
your judgement. You have to face the
music and acknowledge that you are
culpable, at least to some extent.
Kyrie Irving denied himself the
vaccine. Not just any common flu shot
you could get at Walgreens, however,
but rather the one prospective chance
at immunity from a pandemic that
has claimed the lives of millions. Who
is Kyrie Irving, you might ask? He
plays professional basketball for the
Brooklyn Nets. Oh, and he signed a
four-year, $136 million-dollar contract
to do so. Times must be tough.
He lives in New York City, a
metropolitan
area
that
just
so
happened
to impose a vaccine mandate. While
the National Basketball Association
doesn’t have one, the vast majority of
players have decided to get vaccinated
anyway. If 95% of players in the league
can be poked by a needle, so can
Irving. Nevertheless, he claims it is
“his choice” and has no plans to get it
anytime soon.
He
is
right:
Ultimately,
no
organization or administration can
force immunizations. However, it’s
his job — he can’t cash in on his payday
without his 4×3 white piece of paper
from the Centers for Disease Control
and Prevention. Also, at a certain
point, how much is his absence costing
the organization? There’s quite a
good possibility that fans from all
over New York and, to a lesser extent,
the country, are coming to see him
play. They shell out hundreds for the
experience, only to arrive and he’s not
there. That can’t reflect positively on
the Nets. No player is more important
than the team, and there are many
other point guards who would gladly
replace him.
Each of these celebrities is in the
wrong, there is no doubt. But the real
question remains: Why did they each
take the actions they did? It would
seem that the solutions here are simple:
stop the show and get the vaccine.
SAM WOITESHEK
Opinion Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Read more at MichiganDaily.com