The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
6 — Wednesday, January 26, 2022

The Orange Bowl game was 
playing on a television behind 

me, visible through a reflection 

on a picture frame. Though 

I couldn’t make out the 

details of the players, 
or 
their 
movements, 

I turned and looked 
back at the screen 
hanging 
over 
the 

bar 
periodically, 

watching 
with 

disappointment 
as Georgia’s score 
increased 
at 
an 

exponentially 
greater rate than 
the Wolverines’.

My 
friends, 

seated beside me 
in a restaurant 
outside 
Minneapolis, 
listened 
to 

my 
frustrated 

commentary 
with a mixture 
of patience and 
annoyance. None 
of 
them 
were 

particularly 
interested in the 
sport. And they 
were 
probably 

alarmed that I, 
someone 
who 

had 
outwardly 

expressed 
my 

dislike of football 
in the past, was 
suddenly 
so 

invested in a game 
occurring 
two 

thousand 
miles 

away. 

I 
was 
the 

only 
University 

of 
Michigan 

student among them. I felt an 
urgent obligation to convey my 
pride in our football team, to make 
them comprehend the enormous 
significance of making it to the 
Orange Bowl despite predictions 
of major losses. My proud remarks 
were a means of reaffirming my own 
connection with the school and its 
underdog success.

As I passed the evening eating food 

and awaiting the arrival of the new 
year with my friends, anticipation 
over the results of the game remained 
at the back of my mind. Just prior to 
midnight EST, the final score put an 
end to our 2021 football success story. 
As I texted my roommate about the 
outcome, my heart sank. It seemed as 
if the illusion of prosperity and school 
spirit I fostered throughout the 2021 
fall semester had shifted. I celebrated 
our entrance into 2022 with my 
friends soon after the end of the 
game, not knowing that the loss to 
Georgia would perhaps be an omen 
for the start of my next semester at 
the University. 

***

We all know the cheer: “It’s great 

to be a Michigan Wolverine!” It’s easy 
for most of us to pick up if someone 
begins chanting it at the Brown Jug, 
on State Street or in the Big House 
student section. But for me, the 
affirmation was slow to ring true. 

Truthfully, most of my college 

experience hasn’t been “great.” 
For the past three semesters I’ve 
attended school here, my feelings 
associated with being a student at 
the University generally ranged 
from neutral to disappointed. There 
was no common tie linking students 
together last year, the virtual barrier 
too big of an obstacle, blocking any 
possibility for building a Wolverine 
network.

At any time during my freshman 

year, starting in the fall of 2020, 
I felt like I was lying when I told 

someone that I was a student at the 
University of Michigan. It was a year 
characterized by a lack of in-person 
classes, minimal official community 
or sports events and a stressful 
residential situation as I was forced 
to find alternative housing outside 
of the dorms a mere two months 
after moving to Ann Arbor. I was 
pushed out of every component of the 
quintessential college experience, 
denied everything former alumni 
had told me to look forward to: South 
Quad-West Quad rivalries, attending 
hockey games at Yost Arena and 
other honored Michigan traditions. 

The result was a disconnect from 

any and all things Michigan: when 
I thought of my status as a ‘college 
student,’ my emotions were a cocktail 
of anger, resignation and sadness. 
I continuously grappled with the 
abysmal state of the world and the 
turbulent decisions made by school 
administration. 

I began my sophomore year with 

tentative enthusiasm — I didn’t want 
to disappoint myself by becoming 
too eager at the prospect of meeting 
classmates 
and 
organization 

members face-to-face, when I knew 
all too well that that opportunity 
could be taken away at any moment.

August 2021: Fully vaccinated 

and utterly unaware of where my 
classrooms were located, I took on 
my real first day of college. I entered 
my first in-person class — a Statistics 
250 lecture — terrified at the prospect 
of talking to strangers around me, or 
finding someone to sit with among 
the mass of people. This recognition 
of my panicked emotions, though 
daunting, also made me smile 
internally. This is what first-time 
college students are supposed to feel 
like, I thought.

I was able to meet with members 

of my student organizations in real 
life, including my Michigan Daily 
meetings. I was amazed that people 

S T A T E M E N T

G

o

i

n

g 

b

lu

e 

before it’s gone

SARAH STOLAR

Statement Correspondent

actually learned and used my name, 
without reading it below my face on 
a Zoom call. I felt like an integral part 
of the publication team, a sentiment 
I had never experienced with 
virtually-run student organizations. I 
was rejuvenated, ready to contribute 
to the legacy of the renowned student 
paper and carve out my own niche on 
campus with my writing. 

This 
feeling 
of 
newfound 

engagement was a shared experience 
for many U-M students. For LSA 
freshman Jack Pribble, the fall 2021 
semester provided a genuine first-
year college experience, one that 
lived up to even his pre-COVID 
expectations for freshman year. For 
him, “being in person was integral” 
to establishing connections with 
students and engaging with student 
organizations on campus.

“I had a great time meeting a bunch 

of friends, chatting with professors,” 
Pribble said. “Whatever year you 
are, freshman through senior, you 
experienced COVID. And now this 
is kind of a return to normalcy. So I 
feel like everyone was just raring to 
go, everyone was so excited to be a 
collective unit and live their best lives 
with the most entertaining, fulfilling 
year.” 

Though SMTD sophomore Ben 

Martz did have in-person classes in 
the winter 2021 semester to fulfill his 
viola performance major, he hoped 
that the fall semester would allow 
him to be more connected to other 
musicians. 
In-person 
rehearsals 

last year were mainly separated by 
instrumental section, allowing for 
smaller class sizes. 

“Now that I’m physically in 

class and I can sit and be a part of 
the class environment, I’m getting 
to meet these people, different 
instrumentalists and vocalists, and 
there’s more of a network of people 
who know each other,” Martz said. 
“That kind of opens up doors for 
collaborative 
opportunities. 
And 

it’s so much better now that we’re 
all in person, because I think it 
was a lot harder to do those kinds 
of collaborative activities when 
everything was on Zoom, and some 
people were in their respective 
homes around the country, some 
people in their dorms.”

Martz recalled the moments 

from this past semester that made 
him feel most connected to the 
music school, including October’s 
“first (full-orchestra) performance 
in Hill Auditorium,” as opposed to 
recording separately by section and 
combining the parts for a full virtual 
concert. The orchestra’s Halloween 
performance was also a memorable 
event that allowed musicians to 

connect with the audience in a way 
that was impossible to recreate 
during the strictest moments of the 
pandemic. 

“This Halloween concert, it’s an 

Ann Arbor community thing, where 
both students and members of the 
city of Ann Arbor can show up and 
they all wear costumes,” Martz said. 
“And that concert in particular, a lot of 
the stuff that was happening on stage 
was interactive with the audience… 
and Hill Auditorium was completely 
packed. It was really cool to kind of 
feel like what we were doing had a big 
impact on the community, that what 
we were giving to these people was a 
great form of entertainment. And it 
was really obvious that they enjoyed 
it and had a great time there. As a 
performer, that really makes you feel 
like what you’re doing matters.”

Ross junior Megha Kunju said 

that the fall 2021 semester “felt 
most like college pre-pandemic,” 
and as an upperclassman, she feels 
she is even more immersed in the 
campus community than during her 
freshman year.

“A lot has changed, but there is a 

lot of opportunity for growth,” Kunju 
said. “In fact, in an organization 
I’m in on campus right now, we are 
talking about how being virtual really 
helped with accessibility for a lot of 
folks. So, we are trying to implement 
some aspects of our virtual life into 
our organization moving forward. 
I don’t think these conversations 
would have happened during my first 
semester on campus.” 

For transfer students like LSA 

senior Sean Stiles, being online has 
prevented extensive engagement 
with school spirit, but in-person 
interactions have been crucial to his 
feeling connected to other students.

“It was hard to feel connected 

to my work the way I did before I 
transferred and I have struggled 
adjusting to online learning,” Stiles 
said. “I did make some of the best 
friends I have ever had through a 
professional fraternity on campus 
— rush AXE — and these personal 
connections are what I hold onto in 
terms of my school spirit.”

SMTD freshman CC Meade 

noted that in-person rehearsals 
at times made it more difficult to 
engage with other forms of student 
life outside of commitments to the 
Acting Performance major. However, 
she agrees that her in-person classes 
have been “vital” to developing the 
skills she came to the University to 
study.

“If our performances weren’t in 

person, I would not have the same 
experience at all,” Meade said. “It 
is so hard to cultivate an ensemble 

when you can’t physically be there 
with the other people in your group.”

Testimonies like these, found 

across all corners and colleges 
on campus, highlight the shared 
experience we had, arriving at 
a 
tentative 
peace 
despite 
the 

uncertainty of the previous year and 
a half. Campus life was altered by the 
prevalence of hybrid classes, masks 
hiding the facial expressions of new 
classmates and a constant awareness 
of health risks. But we were still 
able to return to regular college 
activities and achieve customary 
milestones. This included one of the 
most prominent of Big Ten college 
traditions: football.

The first sporting event I attended 

as a college student was the football 
game against Western Michigan at 
the beginning of this fall semester. My 
parents encouraged me to purchase 
season tickets, though I didn’t have 
high hopes for the team’s success 
based on last year’s record. I made it 
clear to my friends that I would likely 
leave early from most games if I got 
bored. Nevertheless, I went to the 
first two games, grateful to finally 
take part in a proud Big Ten tradition. 
I thought I could force myself to 
enjoy the sport, if only to be able to 
participate in campus conversations 
surrounding the team’s progress 
throughout the season.

As the season went on, the 

Wolverines’ record became better 
and better. Suddenly, we were high 
in the rankings. I kept attending 
home games even as the weather got 
colder, braving the snow and frigid 
temperatures, eager to continue 
sporting maize and blue alongside 
thousands of my peers. My family 
was shocked when I started to name 
individual players, comprehend the 
specifics of the game and comment 
on particularly good — or bad — 
plays. I began to deeply want the 
team to win, despite my previous 
indifference. 

I was officially a Michigan football 

fan. I was so invested in the team 
that I changed my flight back to Ann 
Arbor during Thanksgiving Break 
from Sunday to Friday night, just so 
I’d make it back in time for our long-
awaited game against Ohio State 
University.

The atmosphere of the student 

section during that game was electric. 
Snow falling and our toes freezing, 
my friends and I sang the student 
cheers in unison with the rest of the 
fans. “It’s great to be a Michigan 
Wolverine!” resounded throughout 
the Big House countless times, 
an assertion of our true pride that 
developed slowly over the season. We 
stood amazed as Michigan outplayed 

OSU in a manner our team hadn’t 
perfected for ten years. 

As time ran out and the score — 42 

points to 27 — confirmed our place 
at the top of the Big East division, an 
overwhelming happiness overtook 
Ann 
Arbor. 
Smiling, 
shouting 

students surrounded me in the 
stadium, joyfully singing along to 
“Seven Nation Army.” Raucous 
cheers would erupt randomly on 
crowded Packard Street after the 
game — the heavy snow continued to 
fall. Though I didn’t make it onto the 
field for the celebration, I savored the 
victory for the rest of the night. 

The pride I had developed for the 

team motivated me to request a ticket 
for the Big Ten Championship in 
Indianapolis, and I was able to watch 
from the stands as the Wolverines 
demolished 
the 
Hawkeyes 
and 

entered the College Football Playoffs 
as the number 2 seed.

The 
football 
team’s 
success 

enhanced my connection to a 
school that previously felt foreign 
when its name sat on my tongue. I 
had never expected to like football 
in college, let alone actually enjoy 
it, making fall 2021 even more of 
a fleeting, unforeseen moment of 
bliss as I took part in activities that 
were nonexistent this time last year. 
Students like Pribble and Stiles share 
similar views on football, seeing it as 
a bridge between them and the spirit 
of the school.

“The experience where I felt most 

connected [to the student body] was 
when I went with friends to Cantina 
during the Iowa versus Michigan Big 
Ten Championship game,” Pribble 
said. “It wasn’t even just the football 
because we were all talking, and 
laughing, and things like that. But 
it was just such a crazy experience, 
and then everyone went out onto 
South University after. Just going 
on Snapchat the next morning just 
seeing everyone posting it out on a 
story made me feel it was like home. 
And I feel like the win definitely 
solidified that feeling.”

“One moment of connection I had 

with the University this semester was 
the Michigan and Ohio State game,” 
Stiles said. “I have never prided 
myself on being a Michigan football 
fan, but I am extremely invested 
in the sport. Walking around the 
stadium before kickoff, with the 
snow coming down, and excitement 
in the air, the feeling of school spirit 
was contagious in a way I had never 
experienced with my own favorite 
teams.” 

It’s this positive association with 

the team, and the connection it 
fostered, that made the Wolverines’ 
defeat in the Orange Bowl all the 

more crushing. The success of the 
team in arguably the most popular 
college sport reaffirmed a unity and 
our status as, in James Earl Jones’s 
words: the greatest university in 
the world. For me, it was less about 
football itself and more with my 
newfound, 
startling 
satisfaction 

with my school, made all the 
more enjoyable by the people who 
accompanied me on each game day.

***

And yet, our fall 2021 in-person 

semester became a beacon in 
the darkness as of recently: the 
undeniably controversial decisions 
made recently by the University 
administration tempered even the 
brightest of college experiences. 
Among these actions is the lack 
of 
recognition 
granted 
to 
the 

survivors of Dr. Robert Anderson, 
a blatant disregard for the victims 
of harrowing abuse within the 
University. The discovery of emails 
detailing a hidden, “inappropriate 
relationship” 
between 
former 

President Mark Schlissel and a 
University employee is yet another 
source of shame and disappointment 
for students. 

With the start of the new year and 

our winter semester, I’ve come face-
to-face with a bitter new reality: the 
harmful actions displayed by those 
who claim to represent the values 
of the school have complicated my 
views of the institution, dimming any 
glimmer of spirit I once felt in the fall. 

Stiles, who works with the 

campus’s “Justice for the 950” social 
activist group, believes that recent 
events have “colored a negative 
image of the University,” nullifying 
any positive occurrences on campus 
we might’ve experienced during the 
fall.

“The victims of Doctor Anderson 

deserve their stories heard, and need 
to be a part of the process of ensuring 
nothing like this can happen again,” 
Stiles said. “This is the least the 
University could do. The fact that 
Mark Schlissel could raise tuition 
prices, cover sexual assault violations 
and sit on billions in endowments, 
but gets fired for inappropriately 
using his University email speaks 
for itself. The University needs to 
start prioritizing its students over its 
donors and money, and that starts 
with giving the survivors a voice at 
the table.”

With the alarming rise of the 

omicron variant and the recent 
dismissal of Schlissel, the winter 
2022 semester quickly proved itself to 
be a continuation of chaos on campus. 
Immediately upon returning to Ann 
Arbor after winter break, the lack 
of University guidelines outlining 

online courses resulted in a jumble 
of online and in-person classes 
amid the rising COVID-19 cases on 
campus. Each instructor individually 
decided whether to remain in person 
or ‘e-pivot’, despite demands from the 
Graduate Employees’ Organization 
to implement a school-wide shift 
to online learning. Those who do 
test positive for COVID-19 continue 
to grapple with isolation housing 
challenges. 

The environment on campus is 

stressful and sporadic — I once again 
feel uncertain, my fragile Wolverine 
identity 
from 
last 
semester 

threatened 
by 
the 
tumultuous 

atmosphere, ready to crack on any 
given school day.

Those I interviewed expressed a 

range of feelings about the current 
semester. For one, Meade said 
she’s “super optimistic about this 
semester.” She continued, “I feel 
much more settled here now and I’ve 
been able to realize what I need to do 
for myself to feel more connected and 
fulfilled here.”

Similarly, 
Pribble 
said 

“going into any semester with a 
pessimistic attitude doesn’t allow 
for the possibility of success,” and 
emphasized 
the 
importance 
of 

staying positive despite outside 
circumstances.

Kunju is “neither optimistic nor 

pessimistic,” and “[tries] to take it 
day by day.” Martz said that “it is a 
little scarier” due to the prevalence of 
omicron and the feeling that, “we’ve 
even regressed a little bit from the 
progress we seemed to be having 
throughout the course of last year.” 

Finally, Stiles is “excited” for his 

final semester, “[hoping to] return to 
in-person classes and social events” 
before entering “post-school life.”

Fall 2021 was replete with myriad 

emotions and special moments, 
shoving all of the quintessential, 
first-time college experiences into 
one eventful semester. It gave us a 
chance to cultivate our identities as 
valuable contributors to the U-M 
community and to take part in the 
spirit that has driven the school for 
over a century. It was a complete shift 
from the previous school year, but the 
experiences were far from perfect 
— the current COVID-19 situation 
just punctuates how ephemeral our 
circumstances can be. 

As students, all we can do is hope 

that the maize-and-blue, glimmering 
memories we made in 2021 aren’t 
fleeting, and that the turmoil 2022 
brought with it doesn’t overshadow 
the milestones to come. If last 
semester taught me anything, it was 
to relish these joyful moments of 
school pride before they slip away.

Design by Priya Ganji, Page Design by Sarah Chung

