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

