Opinion
Don’t cross the picket line
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
10 — Wednesday, April 19, 2023
T
his
year,
Ivy
League
universities
received
a
whopping
311,948
applications.
Of
that
overwhelming
number, only 21,168 lucky students
received a decision letter starting
with
“Congratulations!”
This
shouldn’t come as a surprise.
With acceptance rates ranging
from 3% to 8%, the odds aren’t
exactly in your favor. The “Ivies,”
as they’re commonly known, have
always had a certain reputation.
Although the term “Ivy League”
wasn’t introduced until the 1950s,
people
have
long
recognized
these eight institutions as some of
the most sought-after programs
in the world. As the title of Ivy
League is synonymous with top-
notch academics and unmatched
prestige, it’s obvious why many
students
share
a
dream
of
receiving an acceptance letter. But
are these schools prided because
they actually are the “best” or
because their names have a certain
ring to them?
It’s no secret that getting into
an Ivy League school takes more
than a stellar academic record. For
those who truly want a chance at
admission, the process is a high-
cost, high-stress gauntlet. A New
York Times study found that 38
American universities, including
five Ivies, have more students from
the top 1% of earners than from
the bottom 60%, showing that
if you want to make it to a “top”
university you have to pay to play.
The
2019
admissions
year
revealed
a,
now
well-known,
conspiracy
code-named
“Operation Varsity Blues” where
investigations found the parents
of 33 college applicants guilty of
bribing their kids’ way into top
universities, including several of
the Ivy League schools. When
people are willing to take such
extreme measures to secure their
kids a college acceptance letter,
it begs a question: Is going to an
Ivy League college really that
much better? The obvious answer
is of course. Ivy League schools
offer
top
academic
programs
coupled with extensive alumni
networks. Yet, so do tons of other
public universities, one being the
University of Michigan. The thing
that the Ivy League schools are
offering that other universities
aren’t is the honor attached to their
name, maintaining superiority in
title only.
Unlike many other applicants,
the
University’s
elite
athletic
program wasn’t a huge factor in
my decision to apply. While I’ve
always played sports and regularly
attended
my
high
school’s
sporting events, I had never been
particularly involved in college
sports. But from the moment I
walked into the Big House for
the first time, I was hooked.
Although the term “Ivy League”
did originate as the title for a D1
NCAA athletic conference, nobody
does sports quite like the Big Ten or
the SEC. Seeing the streets of Ann
Arbor flooded with maize and blue
on game day is a tradition unlike
any other and football isn’t the only
sport worthy of mention. If you
haven’t attended a hockey game
at Yost Ice Arena, it might shock
you to know there is often a line of
students eagerly waiting outside
the arena doors over an hour
before puck drop. With a lot of U-M
sports being highly competitive, it
leads the way to a highly involved
student fanbase, something that
you tend to see less of at Ivy League
schools.
But if it is academics you’re after,
again, an Ivy League school might
not be your best bet. U.S. News — the
gold standard for college rankings
— recently found the University of
Chicago’s Booth Business School to
be the best business school in the
nation, ranked over both UPenn’s
Wharton and Harvard’s business
program. This is not to discredit
the Ivy League schools in any way
but simply to illustrate that there
are other programs comparable
to them in terms of academic
rigor and excellence. Although
admissions may be more selective,
upon entrance, academic standards
and class difficulty aren’t all that
different from other programs. It’s
not uncommon to see Ivy League
graduates holding high positions
in American society — for instance,
seven of the nine members of
the
Supreme
Court
attended
undergrad at one of the Ivies.
However, it’s not because they
were taught any differently from
the students at other universities.
With that said, there is an
argument to be made for attending
a university in your state. The cost
of out-of-state tuition can range
anywhere from double to even
triple that of your in-state school.
And while you might be expected to
make more by graduating from any
Ivy, that money isn’t guaranteed
— the money you’ll owe in student
loans is. If you can receive a
relatively similar education but at
a significantly reduced cost, why
wouldn’t you? It’s understandable
to want a fresh start or to want a
change of scenery, but if you have
an in-state school comparable to
the one you’re applying to out of
state — again, take the University
of Michigan, for example — surely
you can put up with the harsh
winters for a few more years.
In
the
end,
the
prestige
associated with Ivy Leagues isn’t
going away anytime soon and
they’ll most likely maintain their
elite status for many years to come.
However, we can change the way
that we view other seemingly
“lesser” programs. According to
the U.S. Department of Education,
“a college degree is the surest
way to economic strength and
stability,” but which university
signs your degree is less important
than simply having a diploma. So
why not look at the four years we
spend as undergraduates as a time
to enjoy the community that we
are a part of rather than viewing it
simply as a means of jump-starting
our careers?
Those who are accepted into the
Ivy League schools might appear
to be the “winners” in the college
admissions competition, but they
definitely don’t have it all. They’ll
never get the thrill of rushing the
field after their football team beats
The Ohio State University in one of
sports’ biggest rivalries and they’re
missing out on some of the best
parts of college that an Ivy League
ticket can’t deliver.
Rethinking college rankings: Why they don’t tell the whole story
TEA SANTORO
Opinion Columnist
I
currently
have
more
than 900 connections on
LinkedIn.
Realistically,
I probably only know about 200
of them. On a weekly basis, my
inbox is inundated with emails
urging me to accept “invitations
to connect” with strangers and to
explore the profiles of our mutual
connections — and I hate it.
In comparison to other social
media
platforms,
LinkedIn
masks
its
toxicity
under
a
guise of “professionalism” and
“executive
development.”
An
article published by The Guardian
accurately describes the ordeal
as “a giant, living, breathing
resume,
complete
with
bad
formatting, plasticised optimism
and synthetic relationships.” It
weaponizes productivity, trapping
its users in an endless cycle of
networking.
And
with
more
than 300,000 job applications
submitted on the platform every
hour,
LinkedIn’s
propagation
of this serial professionalism
appears to be far from slowing
down.
Similar to other social media
sites,
LinkedIn
hinges
upon
branding
and
self-promotion.
The
platform
leverages
the
same damaging tendencies of
self-comparison,
but
through
the
misleading
rhetoric
of
professional
development
and
career advancement. It offers
substantial
opportunities
for
users to inflate their credentials
and
present
an
exaggerated
or misleading image of their
qualifications. A recent study
found that more than one-third
of
LinkedIn
users
fabricate
certain details in their profiles.
These falsified details can prove
especially damaging to the mental
state
of
users,
perpetuating
feelings of imposter syndrome
and
complacency.
The
site’s
resulting domain emerges as a
warped professional hierarchy,
where profile connections and
skills function as points to keep
score.
This
overwhelming
user
experience is not uncommon for
the average university student.
With more than 199 million
members
and
counting,
the
United States currently ranks
as the country with the highest
number of LinkedIn users. More
than 59.1% of LinkedIn’s user base
is composed of people ranging in
age from their mid-20s to early-
30s, particularly recent college
graduates. A common affliction
for this age bracket is career
uncertainty, which makes them
even more vulnerable to self-
doubt and insecurity.
“I
probably
spend
around
three to five hours on the
app per week,” said Andrew
Van Baal, an LSA sophomore
studying Environmental Science.
“Scrolling through the endless
feed of achievements definitely
creates
a
bit
of
imposter
syndrome.”
Recent studies have revealed
nearly half of LinkedIn’s users
as prone to these feelings of
negativity,
evidence
that
the
effects of the app’s toxic hustle
culture is experienced by the bulk
of users. Despite these sentiments,
however, many individuals feel
that LinkedIn is harder to ‘quit’
than traditional social media.
With nearly 85% of jobs currently
being filled through networking,
LinkedIn’s web of connectivity
is getting progressively harder to
escape.
This
perceived
necessity
of
LinkedIn as a “job search assist”
has become the gold standard of
the app’s interface, trapping users
in an endless scroll under the
veil of professional development.
Correspondingly,
LinkedIn’s
revenue increased by 26.2% in 2022,
currently resting at a cool $14.5
billion. The platform’s reliance on
monetizing user data and leveraging
connections to generate profits
results in a direct commodification
of
interpersonal
relationships.
Ads and sponsored content are
also designed to match users’ job
aspirations, causing even the pursuit
of career ambitions to be exploited
as an opportunity for profit.
However, as is the case with
most social media, the problem
does not lie exclusively in the app’s
interface itself, but also in the way
users engage with it. Platforms
like LinkedIn have blurred the
boundaries between professional
and personal domains, guilting
individuals
into
engaging
in
business relations outside of the
office for fear of “falling behind.”
Consequently, the daily use of
work-related apps like LinkedIn
is eclipsing what we consider
as leisure time. The statistics
corroborate this reality, with three-
quarters of Americans reporting
symptoms of burnout in their jobs.
Currently,
the
United
States has one of the longest
workweeks
in
the
world.
Job unhappiness among the
American working class is also
currently at an all time high.
LinkedIn is the worst form of
social media: Here’s why
TATE MOYER
Opinion Columnist
Design by AJ Nieto
N
oted education author
and
activist
James
Murphy argued in a
recent op-ed for the Chronicle
of Higher Education, “You can’t
drive social mobility if you don’t
enroll poor people.”
The University of Michigan’s
Ann
Arbor
campus
enrolls
half of the proportion of Pell-
eligible students — that is, lower-
income students — compared
to the regional campuses in
Dearborn and Flint. In fact,
U-M Dearborn, where 44% of
students are Pell-eligible, is one
of the most successful in the
nation at promoting economic
mobility.
Despite
representing
significantly
more
low-income
students, the University’s central
administration
significantly
underinvests in U-M Dearborn
and U-M Flint students. In fact,
U-M Ann Arbor students are
provided almost four times the
resources as U-M Dearborn and
U-M Flint students.
Austerity at U-M Flint and U-M
Dearborn prevents the University
from realizing a positive vision
of inclusion by institutionalizing
class and race inequalities. Like
individuals,
organizations
can
engage in behavior that has racist,
classist or discriminatory impact.
Organizations can, inadvertently
or sometimes deliberately, adopt
policies, budgets and rules that
systematically
disadvantage
people
of
some
backgrounds
relative to others.
U-M Ann Arbor campus leaders
have a responsibility to monitor
their policies and rules to make
certain that they do not have
discriminatory
impacts.
This
work has yet to be accomplished. If
the administration chooses not to
do so, our democratically elected
Board of Regents must step up.
Yet, the regents have taken no
action to suggest they understand
the
profoundly
discriminatory
nature of the current model. U-M
Dearborn and U-M Flint enroll
proportionally
more
working-
class students, first-generation
students and students of Color
than
U-M
Ann
Arbor.
And
despite the profound efficacy of a
college education for low-income
students, the University’s recent
review of its diversity, equity and
inclusion audit, DEI 1.0, failed to
mention students from regional
campuses.
Leadership will say that each
campus has its own plan. But
like everything else, DEI at
U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint is
underfunded and under constant
strain. It seems like the central
administration thinks of us as
one university when they are
touting their diversity statistics in
a recent affirmative action amicus
brief, but excludes the highly
diverse regional student bodies
in DEI outreach, programming,
benchmarking and reporting.
Through a budget model that
under-resources
low-income
students, the University enables
inequity and is failing at its
espoused DEI mission. It is
undermining
its
responsibility
as a state-founded and funded
institution, creating a culture that
is hypocritical and imperiling the
University’s ethos of inclusivity.
This system of inequitable
funding has also imposed a regime
of permanent austerity on the
Dearborn and Flint campuses.
Liberal arts classes and programs
that fulfill an essential part of
the University’s mission are cut.
University President Santa Ono
has said that an education without
the liberal arts is “a danger to
humanity.” And yet, these cuts
reduce such vitally important
educational options for students,
perpetuating a vicious circle of
declining
enrollment,
falling
revenues and further rounds of
cuts.
The
U-M
Flint
and
U-M
Dearborn have been closing their
liberal arts-centered programs
—
notably,
Africana
Studies
at U-M Flint — and shrinking
others, preventing students from
majoring in these disciplines.
Closing programs, cutting classes
required for majors and reducing
the number of times that classes
are available reduces student
enrollment. Enrollment at the
Flint campus has been falling for
some years now, reinforcing a
vicious circle of austerity. If you
don’t build it, they won’t come.
Why
is
austerity
across
campuses not more equally shared
if equity is a U-M value? The
truth is that austerity is imposed
by policy, not a lack of resources.
Every
year,
the
University
generates a large enough surplus
of
income
through
operating
expenses to easily provide U-M
Flint and U-M Dearborn with the
extra resources they need without
cuts to U-M Ann Arbor programs.
An equitable budget might
include $15 million per campus
per year to pay for the full-
fledged U-M Ann Arbor version
of the Go Blue Guarantee for U-M
Dearborn and U-M Flint students,
and leave substantial sums on
both campuses to pay for student
support programs and needed
improvements in faculty and staff
compensation. This $30 million
could come from surplus revenue
and would not need to come out of
the U-M Ann Arbor General Fund
budget.
There are other ways in which
that money might be distributed
more evenly. To give some sense of
orders of magnitude, $30 million
would be just 1.2% of U-M Ann
Arbor’s 2022-23 General Fund
expenditures. Living up to its DEI
principles, central administration
should make such changes in its
next budget and commit to these
transfers of funds unless and
until increases in other revenue
streams
make
such
transfers
unnecessary — that is, if equity is
achieved when U-M Dearborn and
U-M Flint students are no longer
subject to austerity.
This budget would also make
up for the Ann Arbor campus’s
current practice of admitting half
of its students from out of state.
A growing population of out-
of-state
students
compromises
the
campus’s
mission
as
a
state university. However, the
underfunded
Dearborn
and
Flint campuses could pick up the
slack, bolstering the University’s
value to the state. They run on
shoestrings in constant crisis
mode even as their student bodies
support the diversity that the
central administration allegedly
values. How is the current culture
not discriminatory?
When talking about DEI 1.0,
Ono said, “Institutions have to be
committed to continuous, positive
momentum. It’s important for
me to show I’m behind DEI 1.0
to make sure when we embark
on DEI 2.0 as an institution,
we do so with even more vigor,
determination and support.”
We agree with Ono. Diversity,
equity
and
inclusion
at
the
University should be vigorous,
determined and supported. But
moving forward, DEI initiatives
should
include
revitalized
resources for U-M Dearborn and
U-M Flint students. Self-imposed
austerity
on
the
University’s
regional campuses is stressful
for its students, faculty and staff,
making teaching and learning
more difficult and degrees harder
to pursue and enjoy. Without a
new budget model, authentic DEI
is not possible.
There can be no DEI without UMich Dearborn and Flint
LIZ ROHAN, DAILLE HELD &
ANDREW THOMPSON
Opinion Contributors
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Read more at MichiganDaily.com