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.
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