Innovation, Meet Lifestyle

From where he stood observing the surgery, Brody King could see that the product the surgeon was squirting into the patient’s body would be ineffective at preventing scar tissue adhesions. It was too liquid to work after going through the tiny laparoscopic incision. A few months later, King launched a company, XLynk Surgical, to work on a better product, and he brought on a chemical engineering friend, Jordan Davis, to help with the chemistry. Soon, they had devised a solution that could be sprayed into the body and cover an affected area without dripping away before it could do any good.

After speaking with several physicians and pharmaceutical chemists, King and Jordan partnered with Dr. Raminder Nirula, chief of Acute Care Surgery at the U, and then hired Arielle Hassett to tackle marketing. Now, King, Davis, and Hassett (along with Nirula) are plotting their multi-year path through development, clinical studies, and FDA approval. Not bad for three University of Utah undergrads still juggling classes, homework, and part-time jobs. XLynk Surgical is just one of more than 700 student startup teams supported by the U’s Lassonde Entrepreneur Institute.

Giving entrepreneurship a boost

In 2001, gold mining and investment legend Pierre Lassonde MBA’73 donated $30,000 to the U’s David Eccles School of Business to honor his late wife, Claudette MacKay-Lassonde MS’73. Pierre and Claudette had left Canada in 1971 to pursue master’s degrees at the U (hers in nuclear engineering). Pierre credits his MBA as being the most important degree he’s received, setting him on a path toward success, and he wanted his donation to reflect his and his wife’s melded passions for business and science by creating an interdisciplinary entrepreneur center. The Pierre and Claudette MacKay Lassonde New Venture Development Center would help graduate students develop business plans to commercialize faculty innovations.

By 2006, students were coming to the center asking for help launching their ideas. So Lassonde gifted $13 million more to expand the entrepreneur program. Only five years later, the U hit the Princeton Review’s top 25 universities for entrepreneurship (where it has remained every year since).

Then the Great Recession hit, and technology and the Internet were changing how businesses operated. “Students were coming to us saying, ‘I’m probably going to have to create my own future and control my own destiny, and I need the tools to do that,’ ” says Troy D’Ambrosio BA’82, executive director of what is now called the Lassonde Entrepreneur Institute.

And further, just being on par with other entrepreneur programs wasn’t good enough for Lassonde or the U. So in 2013, Lassonde returned to the university with a question. What could we do to push the U’s program to the forefront of entrepreneur education, allowing it to compete with not just other universities, but with the growing popularity of online programs?

Taylor Randall HBA’90, dean of the U’s business school, says, “We were tasked with coming up with something unique and different that would bolster the University of Utah’s reputation and take us decades ahead.” First, the center needed a physical location to make its programs more visible. Next, Randall, D’Ambrosio, and Lassonde wanted an innovation space (also called “maker” space)—labs and workshops where students can build and test ideas. Finally, they wanted to try something new: to fold in a residential component where innovators could live and work together.

Yet no one was quite sure what all of that should look like. So they turned to the students. And what they came up with was an innovative approach to innovation, and the perfect building to house it all in.

In the the heart of the Lassonde Studios is the Neeleman Hangar, a 20,000-square-foot “maker space”—think of a cross between lab space, workshops, and a rec room, complete with pool table and a 24-hour cafe. (Photo by Trina Knudsen)

A world-class innovation incubator

The 160,000-square-foot, $45 million Lassonde Studios building opened in August 2016. Its upper floors—the residence floors—are sheathed in copper, and they float above a ground floor encased in glass, where natural light illuminates students studying in small groups, using the woodshop or metal-working tools, 3D printing a prototype of their latest idea, grabbing a meal at the Miller Cafe, and maybe testing out a video game. In offices scattered around the floor, businesses are hatching, with brainstorming ideas sketched in dry-erase marker on glass walls, products stacked on desks, and help-wanted notices scribbled on a community white board.

It looks like the headquarters of a hip technology company. It definitely does not look like a typical college dorm.

As a freshman, Adam Shelton lived in the Lassonde Studios last year and worked with two other freshmen on a phone app startup company. “Whoever designed the building was very ingenious about the social aspects of how people interact,” he says.

That genius? Turns out it was students just like Shelton, whose ideas designer Mehrdad Yazdani tapped for direction. Yazdani, design principal at Yazdani Studio of CannonDesign, says, “What was intriguing to me was the notion of creating a living and ‘making’ environment for student entrepreneurs on the campus, which is rather unique on university campuses.”

Buildings are usually based on how similar spaces were used historically. Yazdani and his colleagues, along with architect of record EDA Architects in Salt Lake City, reversed that process, first identifying the culture of the students who would be living and creating there, then designing the building around that culture.

Students at work making their own prototypes in one of the many workshops at the Lassonde Studios. (Photo by Trina Knudsen)

When asked what they wanted in living and creative areas, students requested “spaces that were non-institutional, spaces that students can make their own, spaces that were not intimidating, spaces that promoted easy collaboration and interaction,” says Yazdani. “It’s important that students feel comfortable. That doesn’t mean plush carpets or plush furniture, but spaces where they can make a mess. If an idea comes to them, they can immediately set it up, and they don’t have to worry about spilling something on the carpet.”

The resulting building blurs the line between living and working, immersing students in a unique, collaborative environment. The residence areas are designed for maximum interaction, with single, double, pod, and loft dorm rooms clustered around common areas with kitchens, tables, and seating areas. These open, sunshine-filled common areas entice the 400 residents out of their rooms to join study groups or brainstorming sessions, or just to socialize. Each residence floor has a separate theme: Sustainability and Global Impact; Products, Design & Arts; Adventure and Gear; and Games and Digital Media.

Downstairs, the heart of the Lassonde Studios is the Neeleman Hangar, a 20,000-square-foot “maker space”—think of a cross between lab space, workshops, and a rec room, complete with pool table and a 24-hour cafe. But it wasn’t enough to provide the workshop space. D’Ambrosio and his colleagues filled it with hand tools, sewing machines, metal and wood-working equipment, and whatever else might help a student launch their startup product or service. Better yet, it’s all free and available to all U students.

One thing that’s missing? Classrooms. You won’t find faculty offices here, either. That’s because the Lassonde Institute is focused on student leadership. Walk into the 3D printer lab, and an undergrad will show you the ropes. Want to use the laser cutting tool? No problem, but first you’ll get a quick student-designed training lesson. Want to attend a workshop on writing business plans? A young scholar set up that workshop and brought in industry experts to present it. About 160 students receive scholarships to run the institute’s many programs.

The Lassonde Institute is more than just a building, but the building allows the institute to attract attention from students, other universities (more than 100 have toured the Lassonde Studios), and the business world. Named one of the “nine best new university buildings around the world” by Architectural Digest, the building has appeared in Fast Company and The New York Times. The institute is ranked first in the country for aspiring entrepreneurs by LendEDU, first for technology commercialization by the Milken Institute, and 15th in entrepreneurship programs for graduate students and 18th for undergraduates by the Princeton Review.

In addition to Pierre Lassonde and the Lassonde Family Foundation, other major donors and partners including alum David Neeleman ex’81 ( founder of JetBlue), the Larry H. & Gail Miller Family Foundation, Zions Bank, the Fidelity Foundation, the Kahlert Foundation, and University of Utah Housing & Residential Education have helped the Lassonde Entrepreneur Institute and the new Lassonde Studios become “world class and cutting edge in terms of student entrepreneur education,” says Dean Randall. “This building is remarkable in terms of gaining visibility. It lets us showcase what we think are the best practices in teaching entrepreneurship.” Ruth Watkins, vice president of academic affairs, agrees: “It was immediately clear that the Lassonde Studios would be transformative for the U—a facility that would bring together entrepreneurs and innovators from all fields of study to live, learn, and create together. And all of that in the context of a stunning building.”

Eliminating barriers

As stunning as the facility is, all the space, tools, and 3 a.m. pizza in the world won’t get a startup off the ground without the know-how to pull it together. That’s why Lassonde Institute resources include workshops on topics like writing executive summaries, using Adobe Creative Suite, or finding a social cause. Students are paired with mentors and experts such as attorneys, venture capitalists, designers, and marketers.

Get Seeded, a monthly micro-grant competition sponsored by Zions Bank, lets students apply for grants to jumpstart their projects. Last year, 49 student startups shared $100,000 in Get Seeded funding. “Get Seeded was my first real experience at the Lassonde Institute,” says King, whose company XLynk Surgical is actually his third startup. “From there, it was like, ‘Come to our mentors workshop.’ I met with the director of software development at Adobe. Then I met with IP [intellectual property] lawyers, and then I met all of these other people. It was like this chain of reactions. You can get anything you need just by being involved. It doesn’t cost me anything. I don’t pay extra tuition for it. It’s just something I can do whenever I have the time, which is awesome.”

It all adds up to an ideal minimal-risk environment for students to explore the entrepreneurial world. Many student startups may not succeed. Many real-world startups fail, too. But here, failures are embraced as learning experiences. “You can be a fine arts student or an engineering student, and you can come in here and get engaged, run a business, and get that experience,” says D’Ambrosio. “You might fail, you might succeed, but nobody rides a bike the first time. This is a safe place to try, test, experiment, and not be penalized for failure.”

Such real-world experience helps students stand out in the job market. “It’s the skill building at this point that’s really valuable,” says XLynk Surgical’s Hassett, whose role in the medical device startup has expanded from making videos and presentations for potential investors to supporting every facet of the business, including helping with the general design and building of the prototype. “Your idea doesn’t have to be amazing. They just want to see that you have an idea, and that you have your next milestone that you want to get to, so that you can try it and see if it works.” As a bioengineering and modern dance double major, Hassett had never considered entrepreneurship until King hired her. Now she’s hooked, and she’s co-directing the institute’s Utah Entrepreneur Series competitions.

JoCee Porter started and runs her own business renting prom dresses to underprivileged high school students. (Photo courtesy JoCee Porter)

Entrepreneurship isn’t just for technology. JoCee Porter, a computer engineering major, started a nonprofit in her parents’ basement while in high school. Loaning a prom dress to a financially struggling student blossomed into a full-blown nonprofit entity called Celebrate Everyday, providing hundreds of free prom dresses to underprivileged populations. “I was running my nonprofit every day, but I didn’t know what business was; I had no interest in it,” she says. “Going into Lassonde, I realized a nonprofit needed to be run like a business. I can serve more people by using business strategies.”

Students at the institute aren’t just the ones with the big business ideas. Few people can run an entire company alone. They need help from people with different skill sets, like marketing, design, law, accounting, fundraising, programming, or manufacturing. So Lassonde is also a place where students can find each other, team up, and see where the possibilities take them. The Neeleman Hangar is a hot spot for interaction. “If you’re in the library, everybody’s kind of head down. Here it’s okay if somebody is working on something to walk up to them and interrupt them to say, ‘Hey, what are you working on? That’s really cool. Can I help you?’ or ‘Can you help me, because I’m trying to solve that same problem?’ ” explains D’Ambrosio.

The Lassonde Studios’ interactive floor plan invites hardworking students to relax, too. “If you want to make new friends, Lassonde is the place to go,” says phone app creator Shelton, a pre-med finance major and a swimmer. “It’s a very social, vibrant community. There is always something going on. Lassonde never sleeps!” The Lassonde Institute has undeniably taken the lead in entrepreneurship education. “The Lassonde Studios is a true partnership of an academic unit and student affairs,” says Watkins. “I think that this type of partnership is likely to be much more common in the future. We are fortunate to have a highly successful model of collaboration at its best.”

For students, the transformative experience can be far-reaching. “There are so many resources at Lassonde, but the biggest resource is the people,” says Porter. “In 10 years, when I start my tech company, I know my cofounder will be someone I met in this building. They’re the people I’m going to call, because they’re going to be great people in their industry, and great friends.”

Kelley J. P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, and a frequent contributor to Continuum.

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Facing the Teacher Shortage

POP QUIZ: Name a millionaire computer scientist. (Easy, right?) Now, name a millionaire business executive. (Take your pick; they’re a dime a dozen.) Millionaire doctor? (Sure.) How about a millionaire musician? (You’re acing this, aren’t you?)

Now, name a millionaire elementary school teacher.

Sorry, trick question. There are no millionaire school teachers. Just teachers who help shape future millionaires. And future leaders. And future social activists. And future engineers, scientists, artists, politicians, bankers, nurses, chefs. And sometimes future teachers… but fewer future teachers than we need, and fewer than we produced 10 years ago.

That doesn’t mean we’re not preparing great teachers in Utah. We are. (And the University of Utah produces some of the best.) But it does mean that we, as a society, have made teaching an unattractive career choice, offering low salaries, shifting expectations, and scant respect. This combination drives away many potential candidates, and of those who do enter the teaching profession, an alarming number bail out in their first few years.

Are there solutions? Great minds at the U’s College of Education think so, and they are dedicated to bolstering the outlook for the teaching profession.

LET’S START WITH SOME MATH

In a 2015 survey of 75 percent of Utah’s school districts, the Utah School Boards Association found that nearly half started the school year without a certified teacher in every classroom. But estimating unfilled teacher positions is difficult. For example, Wayne County School District Superintendent John M. Fahey explains that they currently have a part-time business teacher and a part-time music teacher. “With funding, we would move them both to full time,” he says, because the demand and need are there. However, without funding, the teachers remain part time, and the small district’s records won’t show an opening going unfilled.

Chewed up yellow pencil and eraserSuch hidden deficiencies likely contribute to Utah’s larger-than-average classroom sizes. Many Utah high school teachers report as many as 40 or more students in their classes, indicating where an additional teacher might have been placed had money existed to open a position. The lack of an open position is an uncounted need.

Retention is easier to quantify. The Utah State Board of Education reports that by the end of what would have been their fifth year of employment, more than 40 percent of Utah teachers who began teaching in 2011 had quit. According to Andrea Rorrer, associate dean of the College of Education and director of the Utah Education Policy Center at the U, which focuses on research to inform and influence educational policy and practice in Utah, 11 percent of Utah teachers with one to three years of experience leave the profession every year, compared with 7 percent nationally.

Rorrer says the teacher shortage isn’t spread evenly across subject matters or districts: “We see far more shortages in the STEM [science, technology, engineering, and math] areas, particularly science and math, than we do in other general content areas.” Need is also highest in early childhood classes, special education, and rural areas.

One of the biggest hurdles the teaching profession faces is low compensation. “Pay is really important,” says Fahey. “When kids decide what they want to do for the rest of their lives, they look at the financial rewards of a profession. They want to support a family.” In a 2015 Economic Policy Institute report, the average starting salary across 10 broad categories of majors was $50,556. Teachers settled solidly at the bottom of the list at $34,891, a good $11,000 below the next lowest category, and Utah teachers start even lower at $33,852. And from 1996 to 2015, the weekly wage (adjusted for inflation) of all other college graduates rose by $124, while the average wage of public teachers actually decreased by $30 per week.

The salary level is so low that many families with a teacher as the only working parent qualify for federal reduced or free lunch programs for their own children, explains Donnette McNeill-Waters, Granite School District’s director of Human Resources. “Some of our own teachers are telling their kids not to go into the profession,” she adds. “We have generations of families who are educators, and we have never had our own employees telling their kids not to go into education until now.”

In STEM subjects, teaching can be an especially hard sell. Mary D. Burbank BS’86 BS’87, assistant dean and director of the U’s Urban Institute for Teacher Education, explains, “A person with a math or science degree has so many options that are much more lucrative—particularly people who are underrepresented, who are recruited heavily across fields, and who may choose many other options that are much higher paid.”

As if the financial aspects aren’t discouraging enough, over it all hangs a pervasive feeling that teachers’ work is misunderstood and unappreciated.

TEACHING IN THE 21ST CENTURY

Most of us think we know what teaching is, when what we really know is how to be a student. “All of us have been students, but almost none of us have been teachers,” says Kyle Bracken BA’88 MS’11, history teacher and Social Studies department chair at Salt Lake’s Highland High School.

Research shows that people extrapolate from their own experiences as students to determine what a teacher should be doing. It’s a bit like saying that since you’ve gone to the dentist regularly for 12 years, you’re qualified to tell that dentist how to perform dental procedures, negotiate with insurance companies, and run a small business. Moreover, today’s teaching experience is light years beyond what it may have looked like a generation ago.

To understand the teaching profession in the 21st century, we should examine what teachers really do. First, of course, is content. To teach biology, one should have a good grasp of biology. Unfortunately, a common misconception is that subject knowledge is where a teacher’s requirements end. The second aspect of a teacher’s job is pedagogy, or specific techniques for teaching—sometimes tried and true techniques, and sometimes new or experimental techniques. But teaching doesn’t end there, either.

“If we just look at those two indicators [content and pedagogy], what’s missing is the range of factors that impact effectiveness of pedagogy and impact children’s understanding,” according to Burbank. Today’s teachers are expected to be experts on child and adolescent development and their mental and emotional health. They work with English language learners, children with disabilities, and children from different cultural backgrounds. They adapt curricula to support the community’s needs. They differentiate learning for kids who are struggling, kids who are streaking ahead, and kids who are right on target—all in the same class.

Additionally, educators face long hours, expectations to spend personal time grading papers and “volunteering” for after-school activities, pressures from standardized testing and school ratings, and constant scrutiny from administrators, parents, the media, and seemingly anyone else with an opinion.

Fortunately, many stalwart individuals are willing to embrace teaching, despite what others view as disincentives. “I always wanted to be a teacher,” says Carmen Flores, an honors student working on her elementary education degree at the U. Despite gentle nudging to enter a “big career,” like medicine or law, she found she preferred tutoring elementary students and teaching catechism at her church. “I thought, boy, I really love being with the kids. I really love teaching.” The more she investigated teaching, the more convinced she became that it is what she wants to do. Now she says she can’t imagine going into teaching without the experience she’s gained from the U’s education program.

Kyle Bracken, going on 16 years teaching at Salt Lake City’s Highland High School.

Kyle Bracken, going on 16 years teaching at Salt Lake City’s Highland High School.

THE U’S APPROACH

“We have to be very thoughtful about how we prepare people who are going to work with children, who will be the future citizens of America. Content isn’t the only thing,” says Maria Franquiz, dean of the College of Education.

To prep and support the 140-plus students who graduate from the U’s education program each year, the College of Education provides strong research-based training, intensive in-classroom teaching experience, and community engagement.

“One of the things we’ve found that increases the likelihood of retention is solid preparation prior to entering the classroom,” says Susan Johnston, professor and chair of the Department of Special Education in the College of Education. Because the U is a Tier 1 Research university, exposure to cutting-edge research and recommended practices is integrated throughout students’ coursework, daily discussions, and field experience.

U graduates also understand Utah’s diverse communities. “One of the things I like about the program at the U is that it touches on a lot of issues with our growing populations of refugees, of English language learners, of diversity, and I feel like that’s key,” says Flores.

Nothing makes all that theory sink in like applying it in a real school. Every education student spends a semester assisting a “site teacher” in a classroom. During their final semester, they take the reins as full-fledged student teachers, responsible for everything from lesson plans to grading.

To help students transition into the real world, the U assigns them to a cohort of classmates, instructors, and site teachers for their junior and senior years. “During my cohort, we were able to debate and discuss the ways kids learn, why they act out, what are the cultural advantages and disadvantages for specific groups,” says Bracken. Cohorts form a community where students compare challenges, brainstorm ideas, and celebrate successes. “I think I might have become a good teacher without the cohort program, but I would not be a great teacher,” he adds.

University of Utah teaching graduates are in demand across the state. “I want to emphasize that the U has a great teacher program, and the teachers we get from them are really good,” says Wayne County’s Fahey. But there are too few to go around, even with other higher education institutions in the state producing teachers as well.

Alternative routes to becoming a teacher, which bypass formal education in favor of on-the-job training, bubble to the surface in a swirl of controversy from time to time, primarily because they attempt to address the teacher shortage without lawmakers committing additional state money, which in Utah is already famously the nation’s lowest. But school districts say their priority is always a university-educated teacher, though they view alternative routes as an option when preferred teachers aren’t available. “A person with some qualifications is better than a long-term substitute in the classroom,” says Fahey. But while alternative licensure pathways are, in general, well-intentioned solutions to the shortage problem, they still don’t address the underlying disincentives of the profession.

Carmen Flores is gaining experience as a student teacher at Valley Crest Elementary in West Valley City.

Carmen Flores is gaining experience as a student teacher at Valley Crest Elementary in West Valley City.

LOOKING AHEAD

At the College of Education, faculty know that even if they can’t control the financial rewards or many other aspects of the teaching profession, they can continue to seek other ways to recruit teaching majors and benefit not only their graduates but also Utah’s education landscape.

Over the last decade, the U has stepped up recruitment of teaching students, with outreach programs for underrepresented communities, people exploring career changes, special education para-educators who are already assisting in classrooms, and high school students. In addition, the U has streamlined the education curriculum, added online and evening courses, and increased advising and mentoring support to help students complete the program efficiently.

Chewed up yellow pencil and eraserEarly in the program, students are introduced to teaching’s realities, ensuring they are ready to accept the challenges. “If they understand what they’re getting into, we can mentor them through the first few years of the profession,” says Fahey. After graduation, students benefit from the U’s community involvement and ongoing mentoring within the districts.

The U has a number of scholarships available to students who are pursuing degrees in the College of Education and is constantly striving to increase education scholarships. However, says Johnston, “Given that most teachers are not wealthy, it is often difficult for College of Education alumni to donate scholarship dollars.” Businesses tend to donate scholarship dollars for students in their own industry, and it can be hard to convince companies that donating to an education student instead may help create an entire generation of future employees. The addition of much-needed scholarships, stipends, and tuition waivers would help attract more students.

The College of Education has partnered with Granite School District to create a handful of paid internships for student teachers, which help offset some tuition costs for a semester. But the number of internships is limited.

“If I could have a magic wand for the profession, I would do what we did decades ago, which is provide programs with real financial supports: scholarships or debts that are forgiven if you serve in particular districts. We would attract a lot more people into the profession,” says Franquiz. Such programs might bring more underrepresented candidates into education. “A really important goal would be to change the demographic of teaching populations for the good of our very diverse population,” says Bracken. While limited federal debt-forgiveness programs exist for educators working in specific situations, Utah does not provide the state support needed to make a real impact in our areas of greatest need.

Flores sees an evolution in her own vision of teaching since she began the program. She’s not just teaching a subject. She’s teaching students how to critically think about that subject. “If I hadn’t come to the U, I would have been this teacher who had a teacher’s edition, just taught from the book, and never did anything different,” she says. “But now that I have this post-secondary education, I know that I don’t want to be that teacher. I want to be a teacher who collaborates, who differentiates, who does service learning.”

Can the economic outlook for teachers in Utah be improved? It can, Franquiz believes, with the right research, strategies, and commitment from higher education institutions, school districts, the community, the State Board of Education, and the legislature. “Together we certainly have the creativity and the expertise to work better as a community in really addressing how to educate our future citizens for Utah and America and the world.”

—Kelley J. P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah.

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Click here to read “A Day in the Life of a First-Grade Teacher.”

A Day in the Life of a First-Grade Teacher

From the outside looking in, a teacher’s days may appear attractive, with short hours and summers off. However, that view is an optical illusion. The reality is that a teacher’s daily hours don’t end when the kids head home. And that long summer? Most teachers spend the entire month of August preparing lesson plans for the coming year, leaving seven or eight weeks off, during which many teachers try to find a temporary job to supplement their income.

Here’s a glimpse into a single day in the life of Anahi Villegas, a first grade teacher in a dual-immersion program at Valley Crest Elementary in West Valley City. In addition to teaching during the day, Villegas, with five years of teaching experience, is working on her master of education degree in Teacher Instructional Leadership at the University of Utah.

8:15 a.m.: Villegas pulls into the parking lot. With 20 minutes before her day officially begins, she checks her planner and runs through the day’s agenda. “I make sure supplies are in place for the first class, check my email, make sure there are no urgent messages from parents or administrators,” she says.

8:35 a.m.: Villegas herds 28 bouncy, noisy, excited Valley Crest first graders inside. It’s time to shape young minds.

8:40 a.m.: With the kids arranged on the carpeted floor, Villegas leads them in a Spanish song or two—a sneaky way to focus their attention—then shares with them the day’s objectives. First up: math. In Spanish. Children in Valley Crest’s dual-immersion program spend half the day being taught in Spanish and the other half of the day with an English teacher who reinforces math concepts in English and teaches English Language Arts. Villegas and the English teacher split two classes this way, so Villegas works with 55 students every day.

9:30 a.m.: Villegas shepherds her class to the restrooms for a bathroom break. It goes more smoothly than you might think. She’s been doing this for five years, and while the first several weeks of the year are devoted to training these first graders to follow a routine, by now they’ve got it down. Mostly.

9:45 a.m.: The kids divide into four centers, each featuring a different activity that Villegas has designed in science, math, Spanish, and other topics. Villegas sits at one of the centers, which lets her focus more individual attention on each child in a small-group setting. Every 10 or 12 minutes, the groups rotate to the next center. This morning, Villegas is the only adult in the room, so she’s trained the children to help each other if they’ve forgotten the center’s assignment. “If you have high expectations,” she says, “they become very independent. I will hear them go ask a friend, and the friend says, ‘You didn’t listen, but I will show you what to do.’ ”

10 a.m.: Recess! (Aka, controlled pandemonium.) While the kids play outside, Villegas has 15 minutes to help one student take a missed quiz, while she tutors another child one-on-one so he doesn’t start falling behind.

10:15 a.m.: Putting her cat-herding skills to work, Villegas corrals the class and brings them back inside, where she starts them on another rotation through centers.

11 a.m.: For 10 minutes, one lucky student gets to lead Calendar Time, where they talk about the calendar and the weather—in Spanish, of course. Meanwhile, Villegas works with a child who needs a little more help with math. There are still a couple of minutes left, so Villegas reviews some Spanish pronunciation sounds with the class.

11:10 a.m.: Lunch begins. Technically, it’s lunchtime for Villegas, too, but she spends 15 minutes guiding her children through the lunch line, helping them make healthy food choices, and opening milk cartons for small fingers. Then she is back in her room grading yesterday’s test, getting homework ready for the rest of the week, and checking email. A parent needs to talk to her, so she squeezes in a phone call before she goes to collect her kids. Her lunch sits in the fridge in the faculty room, uneaten.

11:45 a.m.: Villegas herds her kittens back inside, stopping for each to get a drink of water on the way. Now it’s time for the “Specials”: depending on the day, it might be PE, computer time, library, or music. Today is PE, which means she must pay particular attention to one student whose medical issues can make physical education challenging.

12:30 p.m.: After ensuring the children get another drink of water on the way back from PE, Villegas has 15 minutes for Spanish Language Arts: “I do as much direct Spanish instruction as I can get in, writing, talking about concepts, and decoding syllables.”

12:45 p.m.: Villegas and the other teacher switch classes, and she starts her whole routine all over again, this time with help—Carmen Flores, a student teacher from the U, is in the classroom to help her.

3:20 p.m.: The bell rings, and the kids are free to go. Villegas is on parking lot duty today, so she makes sure the little ones don’t scamper across the parking lot or dart between cars.

3:30 p.m.: Villegas and Flores go over the day, brainstorming ideas for what to do differently tomorrow, how to reinforce a tricky subject, or how to reach a child who doesn’t seem to be “getting it.” Flores asks about class differentiation and a theory she’s studying in class, and Villegas runs some ideas by Flores that she’s developing in her master’s program at the U.

4:30 p.m.: Flores leaves, and Villegas tackles more grading, prepares tomorrow’s homework, and combs through the kids’ work to see if any of them didn’t understand today’s concepts, then modifies lesson plans accordingly. She and another teacher are considering starting up an after-school Lego club, but that means she has to find time to apply for a grant to buy the Legos. She doesn’t have time for that this week, though. And since running the club will be on a volunteer (i.e., unpaid) basis for her and the other teacher unless they find additional grant money, it feels a tad overwhelming right now.

5:45 p.m.: Villegas packs up, closes her door, and heads home. Tonight, she will be working on an assignment for her graduate class at the U, so she has a long evening ahead.

Despite the long hours, Villegas is passionate about her work. The educational law courses in her master’s program at the U have given her entirely new insights into “how much we are tied to the government, all the litigation behind all the policies and decision making that go on,” she notes. Additionally, she says, “The focus of my master’s program has let me see how other people form their perspective and why they have the opinions they do, so I can hopefully get them to work with me on a vision of what our school should be, breaking down barriers between different groups.”

She isn’t sure where her master’s degree will propel her in the future, but for right now, she says, “I love the kids and I love doing what I do.”

—Kelly J. P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah.

When Bright Minds Turn Dark

 

Midway through fall semester of her junior year, MacKenzie Bray was tired—bone-shatteringly tired—of feeling like she was going to die. Her heart was racing, and she was sweating and shaking uncontrollably. It felt like a heart attack. And it wasn’t the first time. In fact, it was happening daily, and medical doctors couldn’t find a physical cause. Symptoms would hit her on buses, in classrooms, or while driving. “I would get this feeling of impending doom, like something’s wrong and I have to get out of here right now,” she says, so she would rush off the bus or leave abruptly in the middle of class. “It was interfering with so much every day.” Afraid the attacks might make her pass out while she was driving, she stopped driving home to her parents, who lived only an hour away. “It got to the point where I thought, I just can’t do this anymore.”

So on that October day, she typed “University of Utah therapy” into her computer… and found the University of Utah Counseling Center and a pathway out of her personal torment.

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MacKenzie’s story is far from isolated. In fact, the growing number of college students being seen for mental health concerns, such as anxiety, depression, or self-harm issues, is sounding alarms nationwide. In 2014, the annual National Survey of College Counseling Centers, in which the University of Utah participates, revealed that 94 percent of college counseling center directors are seeing a steady increase in students with severe psycho-logical problems. A spring 2014 survey by the American College Health Association showed that 14.3 percent of college students were diagnosed with or treated for anxiety problems (up from 10.4 percent in fall 2008), and 12 percent were seen for depression (up from 10.2 percent in 2008). Still another 2014 report, from the Higher Education Research Institute, found that 59 percent of college seniors had felt depressed, and 35 percent had sought personal counseling in their senior year.

mental-chart2.webThis growth is evident at the University of Utah. According to Lauren Weitzman BS’84, director of the University of Utah’s Counseling Center (UCC), the number of students seen in initial “intake” sessions last year (2014-15) rose 13 percent over the previous year. And the total number of students they saw in sessions of direct service rose 14.6 percent, from 1,240 clients to 1,421, continuing a decade-long trend for growing demand at the UCC. More worrying is that the numbers show increasing severity in the mental health issues students struggle with. Last year, 26 percent of their clients reported self-harming behaviors, and more than one third indicated they had thoughts of suicide, with almost half of those serious enough to require intervention. Meanwhile, UCC staff logged 70.8 percent more hours in direct crisis intervention services than in the previous year. As for referring students for hospitalization due to significant mental health reasons, Weitzman says, “It only used to be one or two people for a whole year.” But in the first six weeks of Fall Semester 2015 alone, the UCC referred four students for hospitalization. “These trends are sobering.”

They are so sobering, in fact, that in October 2014, University of Utah President David Pershing emailed the entire university faculty and staff, reminding them to be alert for signs of distress in their students and to “be prepared to refer them to campus resources designed to provide expert help.”

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MacKenzie picked up the phone and was soon sitting in a UCC therapist’s office. By the end of that first appointment, the therapist had identified MacKenzie’s attacks as a panic disorder. She was confident she could help MacKenzie understand what was happening to her and learn to manage it. “I was bawling in that first intake meeting,” says MacKenzie. “I had a feeling of great relief. I remember that bus ride home—I thought, this is the first time I’ve felt okay in four years.”

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What the numbers don’t show is why more college students are being seen by mental health professionals than ever before. Are today’s students really in worse shape, mental-health-wise? Or are they simply more willing to seek help, so that they are finally being tallied?

Lauren Weitzman

Lauren Weitzman

Recently, the stigma surrounding common mental health issues such as depression and anxiety—while certainly not lifted—has been lessening. Psychologists, talk show hosts, and celebrities are slowly chipping away at barriers that discourage people from getting assistance. Our society is finally, albeit in baby steps, making it easier to ask for help. “I feel that with more and more people seeking mental health support, we’ve normalized that help-seeking behavior,” says Katie Stiel MEd’10, program manager for the Center for Student Wellness. Tony Kemmochi MS’05, prevention and outreach coordinator for the UCC, agrees: “One reason why [we’re seeing an increase in mental health issues] comes from a positive change. Mental health care is more accessible.” Many students are getting help earlier, too, so more are finding it possible to enter college in the first place, and more are entering college already on medication. In fact, 86 percent of counseling center directors in the 2014 National Survey of College Counseling Centers reported a steady increase in the number of students arriving on their campus already on psychiatric medication. At the UCC last year, says Weitzman, “Fifty-six percent of our clients had utilized mental health services previously, and 40 percent had taken medication.”

So today’s students may not necessarily be more distressed than students in the past, those on the ground say. We may just finally be seeing a truer picture of how widespread mental health concerns actually are among students.

mental-chart1.webEither way, President Pershing views the numbers as a call for action, saying, “We consider it a good sign that more students are utilizing valuable resources when they struggle with depression, anxiety, unexpected loss, or trauma.” Battling mental health concerns can greatly affect a student’s ability to study, learn, and even remain in college, he and others acknowledge.

According to Christine Contestable PhD’10, a Student Success Advocate acting under the U’s Student Success and Empowerment Initiative, the U’s goal isn’t just to help students graduate with the required credentials, but also to help them “have a more meaningful, transformative experience while they’re here.” Letting students fall through the cracks because of anxiety, depression, or the emotional ramifications of a family tragedy runs counter to both goals. That’s why the U is reaching out, normalizing help-seeking behavior, and helping students navigate through their issues to success.

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Over the course of eight counseling sessions, MacKenzie learned why her body reacted physically to stressful situations. “I realized what would work best for me, and what my triggers are.” Her counselor soon had her riding buses, for short distances at first, building up a sense of control. Then they tackled driving on the freeway—at slow times first, then gradually working up to rush hour. Relatively quickly, MacKenzie was able to recognize “this is what it is, and this is how you can control it and not have it control you.”

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The UCC, located within the Student Services Building, is the primary hub for clinical mental health resources at the U. Its permanent clinical staff consists of 12 professionals—psychologists and clinical social workers—and, for limited hours each week, a psychiatrist. Together with about two dozen clinical trainees, they provide developmental, preventive, and therapeutic services to the University’s 31,000 students.

Katie Stiel

Katie Stiel

“Our top three reasons why students say they are coming here are always anxiety, depression, and stress,” Weitzman explains. “The big question is, why are people more anxious and depressed?” Weitzman says theories include a modern parenting style that doesn’t encourage resiliency, increasing feelings of isolation, too much interaction with technology instead of the outside world, and even a societal shift from internal values (such as altruism or volunteering) to external values (bigger houses and nicer cars). “We’re still trying to sort that through, but the reality is, for whatever reason, the severity seems to be increasing.”

The UCC’s services include counseling sessions, anxiety-reducing workshops at the Mindfulness Center, and couples counseling. If a student requires more intensive treatment, counselors help the student access off-campus resources.

Across campus in the Eccles Student Life Center, the three staff members of the Center for Student Wellness (CSW), plus one full-time victim advocate, focus on educating the student population on health and wellness issues. “We are the outreach and education arm of the Counseling Center and Student Health Center,” says program manager Stiel. The CSW partners with university departments and student leaders to provide skill-building workshops or programs for their members. Armed with data identifying stressors that impact students’ academic abilities, Stiel says, “We could go to the Personal Money Management Center and say, ‘Hey, finances was No. 9 [on our list]. Can we partner with you on an event?’ ” Or she might offer, “Let’s do a stress reduction workshop” or “What does your community need?”

The CSW doesn’t provide clinical help themselves, but they act as a clearinghouse, connecting students, faculty, and staff to health and wellness resources on and off campus. “In our office, we just want to encourage students to reach out,” says Stiel. “Reach out now, before you’re freaked out and panicked and so overwhelmed that you can’t function.”

Another resource for U students isn’t found in an office at all. Instead, the eight Student Success Advocates carry their offices in their backpacks while they walk around campus meeting students. Their objective? To connect students with resources that can “help them get the most out of their time at the U by making use of the amazing opportunities here,” says Contestable. The Student Success Advocates make themselves available at different places on campus every day, introducing themselves to students and discussing what they need to be successful. While that can mean help landing an internship or advice on applying for a scholarship, Contestable says they may, at times, encounter students struggling with mental health issues. Like the CSW, the advocates are plugged into the U’s web of resources. “That may include making contact with the Counseling Center, the Women’s Resource Center, the LGBT Resource Center, or the Center for Ethnic Student Affairs,” says Contestable. “We are reaching toward them instead of hoping they find resources on their own.”

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Now a senior, MacKenzie says her panic attacks occur only once or twice a month these days, and they’re less severe. “Knowing that I’m not dying and I’m not going to pass out, it’s much easier to deal with,” she says. “Now I’m not scared of getting them anymore.”

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The UCC, the CSW, the Student Success Advocates—all three echo the importance of outreach. “Traditionally, we sat back and waited for students to come in,” says Kemmochi. “Now we’re doing outreach to proactively find those students.” Whether it’s walking up to students in the library, sponsoring a Wellness Fair, speaking at New Student Orientation, blasting out stress-reduction advice on social media, adding resources to mobile apps, or handing out bookmarks printed with tips on getting a good night’s sleep, the organizations tasked with helping students are finding new ways to present a visible face on campus, making it easier for students to find support.

Christine Contestable talks with a student in the Olpin Student Union.

Christine Contestable talks with a student in the Olpin Student Union.

Still, they can’t make individual contact with every student. That’s why the U’s faculty and staff are an essential link in the support chain. They are often the first to notice signs of a student in distress, whether it’s out-of-character behavior in class, disturbing topics in a homework assignment, or a student suddenly opening up during a discussion. “Those are like our inside people,” says Stiel. “To get their buy-in is really important, because they’re seeing students in their own environment.” Weitzman and Stiel, in collaboration with the Dean of Students office, produced a presentation that guides faculty and staff in recognizing distress, listening and communicating, and referring students to campus resources. In addition, the UCC provides liaisons to every academic department, so that faculty and staff have a personal contact they can approach for advice. President Pershing also encourages faculty and staff to be willing to step in, saying, “Those of us who interact daily with students must stay attuned to warning signs they may exhibit when experiencing severe distress.”

mental-chart3.web

Says Stiel, “We tend to think it’s none of our business to ask these kinds of questions, but we’re here to develop students and be resources to them in their quest for academia. Our sole purpose is to help students graduate, and that sometimes requires us to be uncomfortable, especially with health and wellness topics.”

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Because of her UCC counseling, MacKenzie says, “There are a lot of things I’ve done that I would not have done before.” She ran in the Ogden Marathon last spring, just months after finishing therapy. At mile 15, she had a panic attack but talked herself through what she was feeling. Deciding the attack was just her body assuming she was running because something was wrong (the “fight or flight” reaction), she told herself, “I’m just going to try to get to mile 20. If I get to mile 20, then I’ll be fine.” She made it all the way to the finish line.

The next day, she left for a study abroad course in Austria. Flying alone and leaving the country for her first time, she wasn’t surprised when another attack happened. “Before, it would have been, ‘Turn the plane around, I need to go home! Something’s terribly wrong with me!’” she says. “But it’s that whole thing of ‘get comfortable with being uncomfortable.’ ” Once MacKenzie accepted that she would be uncomfortable until she settled into her new routine abroad, she was able to manage her body’s response and keep moving forward. “That was kind of life-changing.”

Learning to manage her panic disorder has given MacKenzie new confidence in her own strength, even in situations that are stressful for anyone. “I don’t mind giving presentations in class anymore, because my heart will be pounding, but I’m like, ‘I’m used to this, I can deal with this.’ I won’t say I like the panic attacks, but they made me realize something good can come from this.”

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MacKenzie Bray

MacKenzie Bray

While some of the recent statistics from the UCC are alarming, others show promise. According to Weitzman, 47 percent of the UCC’s clients say counseling has helped them increase their academic performance, and 70 percent say counseling has enhanced their U experience. And of the 29 percent of clients who indicated they were thinking of leaving the U before they entered counseling, 70 percent said counseling helped them stay.

“I think we should step into the reality that mental health and wellness are a big factor of our college students’ success,” says Stiel. “We know if they’re feeling well, they’re going to do well, and don’t we want them to do well? That’s the whole point of college, right?”

—Kelley J. P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah.

Read the bonus sidebar “Social Media—Hurting or Helping?” here.

Links to resources: http://counselingcenter.utah.edu/, http://wellness.utah.edu/

Social Media—Hurting or Helping?

Social media—Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, WhatsApp, and whatever else is hot this week—has, like it or not, changed the way an entire generation communicates. And like it or not, it’s not going away. Living at least part of your life online is becoming “the new normal,” and being able to navigate and work within it is today’s inescapable reality.

But is social media to blame for some of the mental health issues young people battle these days? The answer appears to be, well, yes and no.

Especially for teens and young adults, online communication is displacing face-to-face (and even voice-to-voice) communication. In 1987, 38 percent of college freshmen spent at least 16 hours per week socializing. By 2014, that same percentage of freshmen spent only five or fewer hours per week socializing. But 27 percent of today’s freshmen spend six or more hours per week on social media (up from 19 percent in 2007). “It is really easy to hide behind a username,” says Katie Stiel, program manager for the U’s Center for Student Wellness. “But when it comes to having the ability to interact with people, maybe that’s a little more difficult, because they’re not practiced at it. How do you navigate a relationship face to face? Those are skills we need in order to be functioning adults and parents.”

In addition to losing the deep, intimate connections that face-to-face connections can help foster, social media can apply incredible pressure on an individual’s self-worth. It can look like everyone online is better than you—they’re taking great vacations, posting selfies with happy friends in fun places, or bragging about their latest love, accomplishments, precocious children, adorable pets, or their winning time in their latest 5K race.

Doug Gray

Doug Gray

And while bullying has existed since the first Neanderthal picked up a rock and eyed his smaller neighbor with bad intent, cyber-bullying ratchets it up to a whole new level. “It’s a different form of bullying,” says Doug Gray, a suicidologist and professor of psychiatry in the U’s School of Medicine. “It’s quicker and more destructive. With social media, it can spread quicker to more people and be more embarrassing.”

On the other hand, says Gray, “Social media is just another tool, and it can be used for good or bad.” Not only can social media keep you connected to family and friends who love you, but if they see that your posts are troubling, they can immediately reach out or call for help. In response to the growing concerns about suicide, Facebook and Instagram let readers report a post as alarming, which activates a screen asking the poster what kind of help they need. There are even studies under way mining the social media activity of suicide victims for language patterns that might trigger help in time to prevent more tragic deaths.

In addition, the Internet is a goldmine of information. Worried you’re the only one feeling the way you do? There’s a community of like-minded folk out there waiting for you with virtual candles in their digital windows at 3 in the morning when your darkest fears hit. Information, advice, and the latest research are at your fingertips. Even the distraction of humorous or inspirational videos can be beneficial. Social media can remind you that you’re not alone; people who’ve already gone through what you’re dealing with—and survived it—are out there posting experiences and information that can help.

“Most people recognize the potential harm of social media,” says Gray, “but it can be helpful, and we need to make use of social media to create new ways to help those who are struggling.”

The Imaginer

In the 1950s, young Ed Catmull loved Walt Disney animated films such as Pinocchio and Peter Pan. He dreamed of becoming an animator, and he filled up sketchbooks and created his own flipbooks. At Salt Lake City’s Granite High School in the 1960s, he took every art class he could. His heroes were Disney and Albert Einstein. “Animation and physics fascinated me,” he now says.

By the time Catmull enrolled at the University of Utah, though, he realized he couldn’t draw well enough to make a living as a professional animator, and the pathway to that career wasn’t apparent. “There was no school for animation. There was no entryway into that field, and I had no idea how to get there,” he says. “Because I couldn’t figure out how to do that, I switched to physics.”

But his path through science and technology soon led him back to his early ambitions. At the U, he learned he could combine his interests in art and computer science. He realized during his studies that he wanted to make computer-animated films, and his computer graphics discoveries enabled him to chart that course.

Forty years later, he’s now regarded as a pioneer in computer animation. He has won five Academy Awards, including a 2009 Gordon E. Sawyer Award from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, for his lifetime contributions to computer graphics used in the motion picture industry. And he’s president of both Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios.

“I’ve thought a lot about creativity,” he says from his office in Burbank, California. “I think of it as problem-solving and expression. …Some people only use what they’ve learned. But there’s a certain amount of things you know, and then there’s stuff that’s brand new and mysterious because it doesn’t exist yet. The proper balance is how to rely on things you know and still be willing to learn the things you don’t know.”

Catmull BS’69 PhD’74 was born in Parkersburg, West Virginia, while his father was a Marine deployed in World War II’s Pacific theater. When Ed was 2 years old, with the war over and his father safely returned, the family moved to Salt Lake City, where Ed and his four siblings grew up. His father became a math teacher at Granite High School, then principal of the brand-new Taylorsville High School. His mother was a secretary in the school district.

In his last year of undergraduate work at the U, Catmull realized that his bachelor’s degree in physics would leave him still a beginner in that field. So he took a look at the U’s fledgling Department of Computer Science. “Here was an area just open with possibilities,” he says. He enrolled in the program and graduated with two bachelor’s degrees, just four years after completing high school.

Catmull then worked briefly for Boeing in Seattle. But when an economic crisis forced Boeing to lay off thousands of employees, Catmull returned to the University of Utah for graduate school. “The first course I took was the brand-new course they offered in computer graphics,” he says. “We’re in computer science, at the frontier, and I got to make pictures with the potential for making art. That was it. Now my direction was set.”

Pixar Animation Studios created Toy Story, the first digitally animated feature film, released in 1995.

Pixar created Toy Story, the first digitally animated feature film, released in 1995.

The U’s Computer Science Department in the late 1960s and early 1970s was under the direction of David Evans BA’49 PhD’53, a computer scientist hired in 1965 to start the department within the College of Engineering. Funded by significant grants from the U.S. Defense Department’s Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA), for open-ended research, Evans and his colleague Ivan Sutherland recruited bright graduate students who they thought would work well together, including Catmull.

That environment helped shape Catmull’s ideas about nurturing the creative process, throughout the rest of his career. “Most people like to think in terms of structure. The way [the U] developed computer science was more unstructured,” he says. “Make a safe environment for people to create. That’s what the program at the University of Utah was: a safe place to make failures. It changed everything. For me, this was the right way to think about things.”

As one of his class assignments, Catmull tackled a short piece of digital animation. “In that class, they had some canned software that people used to make pictures,” he says. “Three of us decided not to use the canned software. Those three of us are the ones still in the industry today.” By choosing to develop his own ideas rather than use the paint-by-numbers software, he says, “I was trying to prove it was possible to do animation.”

The result of his endeavor was a minute-long, three-dimensional animation of his left hand moving, recognized today as the first digitally animated film. In 1976, his animated hand even landed a bit part in a science-fiction feature film, Futureworld. Catmull’s film, known simply as A Computer Animated Hand, was added to the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress in 2011, as a “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant film. Through that film, Catmull proved computers could be used to create at least rudimentary animation. “What it meant for me was I had a new goal in life: to produce an animated film,” he says.

With his new doctorate from the U in hand, he joined the New York Institute of Technology as director of its Computer Graphics Lab, assembling a team to develop tools for 2-D and then 3-D animation. After five years, Catmull’s reputation hit George Lucas’s radar. “George Lucas had just made Star Wars,” Catmull says. The effects in Star Wars were the best that had ever been done, but Lucas wasn’t using any computer animation yet. He was still using film, cel animation, and modeling, although he was using computers to control the models. Lucas was interested in investing even more in movie-making technology. “The rest of the industry was averse to technology,” Catmull recollects. “George was the only one willing to invest.”

Lucas brought Catmull onboard in 1979 as vice president of Lucasfilm’s computer graphics division. According to Catmull, Lucas hired him “to bring higher technology to the film industry: computer graphics, computer audio, and digital editing.” Catmull and his team did just that, pushing the digital frontier forward once more by developing numerous technologies and tools, including digital image compositing technology that combines multiple images in a realistic and convincing way. It was here that Catmull and his team also developed the precursor to RenderMan, the groundbreaking software and application programming interface that for the first time made it possible to produce realistic-looking complex 3-D images.

In 1986, Lucasfilm spun off the digital division as its own corporation, co-founded by Catmull and Alvy Ray Smith, and funded by Steve Jobs. Catmull became the chief technical officer of the new company, now called Pixar. “For the first time,” Catmull says of the transition, “it wasn’t just running a research group; it was trying to run a company. It meant not just learning about the technology, but learning how you keep people engaged, and how you handle issues with managing people.”

Catmull turned his creative energy to making Pixar successful as a business. After producing several commercials and establishing RenderMan as the industry standard for 3-D imaging, Pixar made Catmull’s lifelong dream a reality in 1995 by releasing Toy Story, the first digitally animated feature film. One week after Toy Story was released, Pixar went public with the biggest IPO of the year. “It was a dramatic change,” he says. “But for me, I felt a little lost. I’d just achieved my goal. I didn’t want to go into coasting mode after that.”

20100115EdCatmull11-2

U alum Ed Catmull, who leads both Pixar Animation Studios and Disney Animation Studios, says, “The way you make things happen is you attract smart people and make it safe for them to create.”

He watched friends in Silicon Valley as their companies rose and fell. “I’d see some of those companies doing amazingly stupid things,” he says. “It was intriguing. What in the world was going on? They were coming together as creative endeavors with smart people, but then they’d fall apart. It was very stimulating to figure out what was going on.” Catmull realized Pixar could suffer the same fate if he didn’t learn how to keep it successful.

His solution was to try to build a sustainable, creative culture at Pixar. “The way you make things happen is you attract smart people and make it safe for them to create,” he says, explaining one of his business fundamentals. “If you hire people smarter than you are, it makes you smarter. …It changes the level of everything.” He also believed that making RenderMan an open development interface was important. “Many companies say, ‘I want to keep everything secret so we have a proprietary advantage.’ I didn’t do that. We freely published everything and gave out a lot of our secrets. The reason is that secrets aren’t that important. What is important is the people working on it.”

Even the Pixar building and surrounding grounds were designed to foster creativity, innovation, and collaboration. The heart of the modern, airy glass and steel building is a spectacular atrium designed to prompt unplanned encounters and collaborations. Instead of typical cubicles, animators have small “houses” that they can decorate however they wish—from a cowboy saloon complete with swinging doors to a candy pink hideaway with doll limbs poking out of a flowerbox. Employees can relax with foosball and other games, a café (which features vegetables from the on-site organic garden), video games, a fitness center, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, sports fields and courts, a jogging trail, two 40-seat viewing rooms, and, of course, a large theater.

When Disney acquired Pixar Animation Studios in 2006, Catmull became president of both Disney Animation Studios and Pixar. He and his colleague John Lasseter were tasked with reenergizing the Disney Animation Studios. “I took my ideas and theories and had to apply them to an entirely new group of people, none of whom I knew,” Catmull says. It was a daunting prospect, but for seven years now, it’s been working. Both studios are now successful entities, each with what he calls their own personality and different ways of working.

“Creation by definition means you don’t know exactly what you’re going to get, and you have to be okay with that,” says Catmull. “Trust that the people there are trying to do the right thing. That’s always been true for me. If you have a lot of people who are well-intentioned, unleash them. Get their collective brainpower working.”

That collective brainpower at Pixar has produced 13 digitally animated feature films to date, all of them commercially successful. The studio has received 29 Academy Awards, seven Golden Globes honors, and 11 Grammy awards. True to his roots, Catmull has remained involved in the University of Utah, as a member and past chair of the U’s Engineering National Advisory Council. He gave the University’s commencement address in 2012. “We are so accustomed to assigning patterns, and we attribute our success to our genius rather than to randomness,” he told the graduates. “We should plan for the unforeseen, not prevent it. Rather than being scary, this is where the fun stuff happens.”

Catmull still has family in Utah, including his 91-year-old father and some of his siblings, so he makes it back to visit about twice a year. The rest of the time he splits between his California offices with Disney in Burbank and Pixar in the Bay Area, and his home in Hawaii, where he lives with this wife, Susan, and the youngest of their five children, as well as a rescued Maltese dog that his wife surprised him with last fall. He also manages to find time to enjoy his first grandchild.

Catmull continues to champion his ideas of constant change, innovation, and excellence with both Pixar and Disney, directing his employees to continue to seek both the frontiers and the balance of entertainment and technology. “I have never been good at predicting the future,” he says. “I just see the possibilities and push in that direction.”

— Kelley J. P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, and a frequent contributor to Continuum.

Web Exclusives

This student film by Ed Catmull, A Computer Animated Hand, is recognized today as the first digitally animated film:

 

Photo gallery:

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Making History

The worn quilt that Laurel Thatcher Ulrich holds in her lap has faded from generations of daily use. As she sits in her home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, she examines the pattern and stitching, looking for historical clues. Quilts like this one might not seem like much. Yet to Ulrich BA’60, quilts and other objects such as looms, stockings, and wooden cupboards, as well as women’s diaries of the quotidian details of housework and everyday life, hold rich stories of the people who used them. Until recent years, those stories often went unrevealed in American history. As Ulrich put it in the now-famous phrase she first wrote back in 1976: “Well-behaved women seldom make history.”

Over a career spanning decades, though, Ulrich, who is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and a history professor at Harvard University, has added previously untold chapters to history by exploring the lives revealed by those household objects and diaries.

Ulrich herself started out far from the spotlight of history, as a student and wife in the rural West. She was born and raised in the small farming community of Sugar City, in eastern Idaho, where her father was a teacher and school administrator and her mother was a housewife. The family was active in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Both her parents had attended the University of Utah, so after she received a General Motors National Scholarship, she followed her older brother to her parents’ alma mater. The U also is where she met her husband, Gael Ulrich BS’59 MS’62, who was studying engineering. She married him between her sophomore and junior years.

“I took the education courses that allowed me to become certified as an English teacher, thinking that was what one did with a degree in English,” she says, with a hint of wry humor. “But by the time I finished, I was married and pregnant, and so I didn’t [become a teacher].” While taking those English classes, she took a course in colonial American literature. “I was totally entranced by that early material,” she says, “but I never imagined it would become my specialty.”

Ulrich received her English degree from the U in 1960, and she and her husband promptly moved to Cambridge, so he could begin work on his doctorate at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. As a student in Utah, Ulrich had read so much early and classic American literature—most of which is centered in New England—that, she says, arriving in Massachusetts provoked “a strange feeling of coming home.” At a time when the women’s and civil rights movements were rising across the nation, Ulrich gave birth to her first child and settled into her role as a young student wife. In 1970, Ulrich’s husband took a faculty position at the University of New Hampshire, and she moved with him to Durham, where their family would eventually grow to include three sons and two daughters. During those years, Ulrich worked on her master’s degree in English from Simmons College, and she began meeting with a group of LDS friends in the Boston area to study women’s issues. Like many women of every background and faith in the nation at the time, Ulrich and her friends were moved to examine their roles as women and what it meant to have—or not have—rights and opportunities.

For insight, the group began studying historic women of their own LDS religion. They soon discovered a Utah pro-suffrage newspaper from a hundred years earlier called the Women’s Exponent. Edited by Mormon women, the Exponent was outspoken in its support of almost everything dealing with women’s issues, including health, education, and employment. Ulrich and her friends were inspired by their historic predecessors to create their own periodical addressing the rising consciousness of women in the LDS Church. The group launched Exponent II’’s first issue in 1974. Within a year, they had more than 4,000 subscribers.

Pulitzer Prize-winning historian and University of Utah alumna Laurel Thatcher Ulrich stands outside her home, a renovated 19th-century carriage house in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Meanwhile, Ulrich’s love of history was blossoming. Taking advantage of her husband’s half-price tuition benefit, she enrolled in a history course on the literature of early America and “fell in love with the field.” Solidly hooked, she enrolled in the doctoral program in history.

Her studies merged her two great interests: women’s issues and history. But she took a different approach from many of her contemporaries. As Ulrich explains, “A lot of early feminist interest focused on things like the suffrage movement, the history of witchcraft, the persecution of women—women as victims. My training in social history, and my own experience as a mother and neighbor, and the kinds of things we do when raising a family made me want to say, ‘What about these invisible people we know so little about?’ … I was trying to recover the very little-known lives of women.”

Research into the women who wove the fabric of ordinary society in early America was difficult because of limited records. But then she found an unusual source for her research: funeral sermons. In 1976, her research into those sermons evolved into her first scholarly article, “Vertuous Women Found: New England Ministerial Literature, 1668-1735,” in American Quarterly. In the first paragraph, Ulrich wrote, “[Puritan minister] Cotton Mather called them ‘the hidden ones.’ They never preached or sat in a deacon’s bench. Nor did they vote or attend Harvard. Neither, because they were virtuous women, did they question God or the magistrates. They prayed secretly, read the Bible through at least once a year, and went to hear the minister preach even when it snowed. Hoping for an eternal crown, they never asked to be remembered on earth. And they haven’t been. Well-behaved women seldom make history.” That last sentence would sit there for almost two decades before finding a life of its own.

By 1980, Ulrich’s children were grown and developing lives of their own, and she received her doctorate in history from the University of New Hampshire and accepted a position there as an assistant professor. She also began working on the draft of her first book, Good Wives: Image and Reality in the Lives of Women in Northern New England, 1650-1750. In it, she scoured the scant sources available—such as court, probate, and church records—to illuminate the heretofore hidden lives of women in early colonial America and the roles they played.

After Good Wives was published in 1982, Ulrich was looking for a new project. Then she came across the diaries of 18th-century Maine midwife Martha Ballard, locked in a vault at the Maine State Library. Ulrich had never seen so many pages written in a woman’s hand from that time period, because women’s diaries from then were extremely rare. She knew she’d found her project. Ulrich analyzed the daily entries in the mostly spare, ledger-style diaries, which had been reviewed and discounted as unhelpful by many other historians. With impeccable research, Ulrich merged the information from Ballard’s fragile pages with other sources, written and material, and wove a series of chapters that expose the village of Hallowell, Maine, in breathtaking realism. A textile industry blooms. Sexual attitudes manifest themselves. Disease cycles run their course. And labor issues, such as hiring, transferring, and docking pay for missed work, reveal the strikingly present female half of the workforce.

Ulrich’s book, A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard Based on Her Diary, 1785-1812, won the Pulitzer Prize for history in 1991, as well as the Bancroft Prize in American History. And in 1992, she received one of the prestigious MacArthur Foundation fellowships that have earned the nickname “genius grants.”

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich finds historical clues in everyday objects such as this antique quilt. “Some people think of the work I do as above-ground archaeology,” she says.

In 1995, Ulrich accepted a joint appointment in history and women’s studies at Harvard University. That same year, journalist Kay Mills used Ulrich’s “well-behaved women” phrase as an epigraph in her book about women’s history in America, From Pocahontas to Power Suits: Everything You Need to Know about Women’s History in America. “Then someone put it in a book of quotations, then someone got the idea of putting it on T-shirts,” says Ulrich, laughing. “It got out of hand. It was quite hilarious.”

More than two decades after Ulrich first wrote it, her well-turned sentence had finally blasted its way into popular culture, appearing on everything from bumper stickers to mugs to clothing. “I have a big collection,” Ulrich admits. She seems especially amused by items that wrongly attribute the quote to Eleanor Roosevelt or Marilyn Monroe.

Ulrich’s work received even more popular exposure in 1998 when PBS produced a documentary about A Midwife’s Tale as part of its series The American Experience, with Ulrich serving as a consultant, script collaborator, and narrator. The film showed not just the story of the midwife Ballard, but the remarkable detective story of how Ulrich pieced together Ballard’s life history. “Social history,” Ulrich says, “looks at society and history from the bottom up. It looks at the general or common person, and the uses of labor and work.” The stories of ordinary people in everyday life can reveal evidence about why history unfolded as it did.

Ulrich knew that although most history was originally written by and for men, women kept the local society together and, just as importantly, kept the local economy thriving. While men’s documents included political treatises and records for particular industries, women’s records might reveal entire parallel, but hidden, industries of their own, such as food exchanges, midwifery and medicine, and textile production. She found that “most male diarists do not write about women, but all women diarists write about men.”

So as Ulrich’s search for untold stories continued, she found herself relying on another of her passions: material culture, a broad field that focuses on the material world and uses objects, landscapes, and artifacts as evidence for historical study, she says. “Some people think of the work I do as above-ground archaeology.”

To produce her third book, The Age of Homespun: Objects and Stories in the Creation of an American Myth, Ulrich analyzed the household objects that women made, used, and handed down from mother to daughter in the household economy of textile production. Her work yielded new glimpses into the local economies that underpinned the “bigger” events documented by men.

In 2007, she decided her popular “well-behaved women” slogan deserved a book of its own, and she published Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History. She examined “how and under what circumstances women have made history,” ranging beyond New England to look at the historical significance of individual women from different times and places.

Ulrich is now the 300th Anniversary University Professor at Harvard, an honor awarded to “individuals of distinction … working on the frontiers of knowledge, and in such a way as to cross the conventional boundaries of the specialties,” according to the Harvard Gazette. She and her husband still call New England home. The renovated 19th-century carriage house they live in is within walking distance of Ulrich’s Harvard office and the Harvard libraries and collections that continue to fascinate her.

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich has a large and varied collection of items bearing her famous phrase “Well-behaved women seldom make history.”

She has been on sabbatical this past year while she writes her latest book, “A House Full of Females”: Faith and Families in Nineteenth-Century Mormon Diaries. Although Mormonism hasn’t been Ulrich’s area of professional specialization, she has continued to be engaged in church activities and service.

“The time was right for me to move into a new area of research, one that I had long been interested in but hadn’t had time to explore,” she says. “The opening of the new Church History Library with its amazing resources and ability to connect with some collections digitally was also an attraction.”

The new book, she says, is “about polygamy, but it’s also about women’s organizational life in 19th-century Mormonism and the surprising relationship between a form of family organization that seems very patriarchal and the emergence of a very powerful women’s rights movement.”

Ulrich returned to the University of Utah this past August to talk about those 19th-century LDS women’s diaries when she gave the 2012 Sterling M. McMurrin Lecture on Religion and Culture for the Tanner Humanities Center.

Over the decades, Ulrich has watched the field of women’s history go from an under-appreciated offshoot to mainstream. “Women’s history is now very well established. In fact, I think maybe it’s even more than that,” she says. “It would be irresponsible today to try to write serious history without paying attention to gender and women.” And Ulrich has been a crucial contributor to that change.

As for “well-behaved women” making history? In the introduction to her book that uses the quote in its title, Ulrich writes: “When I wrote that ‘well-behaved women seldom make history,’ I was making a commitment to help recover the lives of otherwise obscure women. I had no idea that thirty years later, my own words would come back to me transformed. While I like some of the uses of the slogan more than others, I wouldn’t call it back even if I could. I applaud the fact that so many people—students, teachers, quilters, nurses, newspaper columnists, old ladies in nursing homes, and mayors of Western towns—think they have the right to make history.”

—Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, and a frequent contributor to Continuum.

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Fostering Education

U alum John Bennion’s Bryant Scholarship Project nurtures refugee students’ dreams and hopes.

Two figures are bent over The Diary of Anne Frank  where it lies open on the library table. The one with the distinguished fringe of white hair is John Bennion, the immediate past president of the University of Utah’s Emeritus Alumni Board, whose members graduated from the University 40 or more years ago. The other is much younger, 12 to be exact, her hair hidden beneath a beautifully embroidered Muslim headscarf, her brown eyes dancing as she reads about a girl not much older than herself.

It’s partly due to Bennion’s efforts that Binti Aden, whose family came to Utah as refugees from Somalia when she was a toddler, is able to read Anne Frank’s story. Binti’s parents, although they are very supportive, don’t speak much English, so they’ve never been able to offer her help with homework or reading in English—the everyday help many American students take for granted. Binti and more than a hundred other refugee and immigrant classmates at Bryant Middle School in Salt Lake City are below grade level in English and are struggling to gain the reading and writing skills that will mainstream them out of the school’s English as a Second Language (ESL) program and on to a path toward successful adult careers.

That’s why Bennion BS’61 MA’62, an educational consultant and former University of Utah professor of urban education, established the Emeritus Alumni Board’s Bryant Scholarship Project. The grandson of Milton Bennion (former dean of the University of Utah School of Education) and son of M. Lynn Bennion BS’26 MS’31 (former superintendent of the Salt Lake City School District), John Bennion obtained degrees in humanities from the U before going on to finish a doctorate in educational administration and leadership at Ohio State University in 1966. He was superintendent of school districts in Rochester, N.Y.; Bloomington, Minn.; and Provo, Utah; and then eventually followed in his father’s footsteps, becoming superintendent of the Salt Lake City School District from 1985 to 1994.

Bennion has spent a lifetime helping children get the education they need to succeed, working hard to bridge the achievement gap between students of varying economic, ethnic, and geographical backgrounds. In 1998, he organized the Utah Urban School Alliance, and in 2002 he was awarded the American Association of School Administrators Distinguished Service award for his lifetime contributions to education.

Bennion was inspired to establish the Bryant program several years ago while serving as chair of the Emeritus Alumni Board’s Service Committee. “I thought that a very worthwhile service project would be to recruit emeritus alumni to tutor in a school that was full of students with diverse backgrounds,” Bennion says, “including students who were refugees and had traumatic experiences before coming to the United States. Bryant Middle School seemed like a good bet.”

 

John Bennion, who created the Bryant Scholarship Project while head of the Emeritus Alumni Board, talks with seventh-grader Binti Aden.

Located near the Avenues neighborhood of Salt Lake City, Bryant Middle School (which sits on the same site as the former Bryant Junior High, of which Bennion was an alum) is fed by several elementary schools from the inner city. This year, of the 540 students in Bryant’s seventh and eighth grades, 45 percent speak one of 30 languages other than English at home. More than a hundred of Bryant’s students are considered “English learners” who aren’t fluent in English and are enrolled in its ESL program, and nearly two dozen are refugees from countries such as Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq, Myanmar, and Bosnia.

Bennion contacted Bryant’s principal, Frances Battle, and the school’s ESL teacher and Alternative Language Services (ALS) coordinator, Michelle Stimpson BA’00 MEd’03. Both were enthusiastic about having University of Utah alumni tutor some of their students.

Now the tutoring project Bennion envisioned is in its fourth year, with 18 tutors helping 19 students this academic year. According to Stimpson, the pool of tutors includes not just Emeritus Alumni Board members, but also other alumni, University students, and friends and families of alumni. Tutors don’t need formal training. They just need to read with the kids and help them talk about what they’ve read. Ted Nagata MFA’60, a tutor, former Emeritus Alumni Board member and retired graphic artist, says when he meets with his students, “we talk about everything. I always want to know how their day went, what they do in the evening, what TV programs they watch. We talk about the Jazz or football. I spend a good portion of the time just conversing with them. That’s part of learning.”

As the tutoring project took off, Bennion says, “the idea emerged of finding a way to incentivize students we’ve tutored as they leave Bryant—those who showed academic promise—so they have a reason for doing their best in high school and being college-ready when they leave high school.” When Bennion suggested a scholarship program, another Emeritus Board member, who wished to remain unidentified, generously donated a $5,000 scholarship to the University of Utah for each of nine candidates Bennion identified.

The next year, the Emeritus Alumni Board raised another $10,000, the original donor and the Alumni Association matched that, and additional contributions filled the coffers until five more promising students could receive the same scholarship. The board hopes to fund a $5,000 scholarship for at least four more students every year.

While many students are tutored by the volunteers, not all will qualify for the scholarship. Candidates are tracked beyond Bryant, throughout high school. “This scholarship will only be given if the students meet certain challenging criteria in high school,” Bennion says. The students must maintain good grades, score well on the ACT, and meet with their cohort a few times a year for progress reports and positive peer support.

Binti Aden, who is from Somalia, works on her writing with University of Utah alumnus John Bennion.

In addition to being the driving force behind the tutoring and scholarship project, Bennion is also a tutor.

“Mr. Bennion, he helps me understand the words. He helps me spell the words and hear their sounds,” says Binti. “It’s been good.”

Binti isn’t just learning to read books. She’s writing one. In fact, she’s already 7,000 words into her novel, which she calls “a fairytale-ish story.” She’s also writing the story of her life, which includes siblings left behind in Africa. She credits Bennion with helping her learn to write so that other people can understand her stories. “Sometimes when I write, I don’t know what I’m writing, I just can’t stop. When I read it, I don’t even understand it!” she says, laughing. But with Bennion helping her, she says, “It’s getting better.”

Successes like Binti’s excite Stimpson and Principal Battle. “I’m just pleased that we have this opportunity,” says Battle. “There are many schools where [the Emeritus Alumni Board] could be doing this, but they chose Bryant. …I feel strongly about a community being invested in the growth and development of our students, and that’s one of the things that this program is definitely providing. It’s a wonderful partnership.”

It’s a partnership that’s working. Bryant continues to pass Annual Yearly Progress requirements (part of the No Child Left Behind program) every year in language arts, showing that their English language learners are making progress according to federal guidelines. “We credit our tutor program with having helped us to achieve this goal each year,” Stimpson says.

But there’s more to the tutoring program than test scores. “The tutoring is wonderful in the academics,” says Battle, “but it’s also great to help the students with transitions during middle school. There’s another person who’s invested in what the student is doing, helping to mentor. Being in middle school and dealing with adolescence is one thing, but then when you have a language barrier coupled with that, that’s even greater.” Stimpson agrees, saying, “The difference I care most about is the looks on the faces of the kids when their tutor shows up.”

Carolyn Kump BS’53—president of the Emeritus Alumni Board, former educator, and community volunteer—has tutored at Bryant all four years. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything,” she says. “The one-on-one makes the student feel like someone cares enough to take the time.” She admits it’s not just the kids who benefit. After a particularly successful session with a student, Kump says, “It is so exhilarating to me. I feel a high, like maybe you touched someone’s life in a positive way, and that’s the best thing you can do in this world.”

The Bryant Scholarship Project depends on the generosity of alumni and caring community members, both as tutors and as donors to fund future scholarships. Battle and Stimpson worry that some of their ESL students don’t have a tutor, and many kids have come to them requesting one. They’re always on the lookout for more tutors, because the impact on kids like Binti is encouraging. “Parents have expressed to me that a tutor does for their kids what they wish they could do,” says Stimpson. “They wish they could sit down and help them with their homework, help them with what they’re reading, so they are grateful.”

As the first group of tutored students navigates their way through high school now, Bennion enjoys watching their progress. “I think it’s reinforced my belief that to help at-risk kids be successful and fulfill their potential, there needs to be a lot of positive intervention in their lives,” he says. Because of Bennion’s contagious belief and tireless drive to make a difference, tutors from the Emeritus Board are helping ensure that at least some of Bryant Middle School’s ESL students have a better shot at getting the education they deserve. And that’s why, for an hour every week, anyone looking for Bennion will find him sitting in the library with a determined seventh-grader named Binti, helping her learn to spell words like “success.”

— Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84 is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah.

If you are interested in becoming a tutor in the Bryant program or donating to the scholarship fund, contact Joanne Beardshall at the Alumni Association, at 801-581-3719 or joanne.beardshall@alumni.utah.edu.


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Saying Yes

For actress Klea Blackhurst, life’s a musical improv.

Performer Klea Blackhurst BFA’85’s first time on stage was while she was still in utero, when her pregnant mother, Utah actor Winkie Tedesco Horman BFA’61, appeared in Oklahoma! singing “I’m just a girl who cain’t say no.” The next time she appeared on stage with her mother, she played the Indian princess’s daughter—and got to die convincingly on stage, at the ripe old age of 3.

When she wasn’t performing, young Blackhurst tagged along to her mother’s rehearsals for a string of performances on the University of Utah campus—both in Kingsbury Hall and in the newly built Simmons Pioneer Memorial Theatre. (Blackhurst was known as Michelle Horman back then, because she used her middle name and her stepfather’s last name for a while.)

“It was always Broadway, and it was always music,” says Blackhurst. “I never looked back.

“As a little kid, I’d be on a blanket in the aisle or I’d fall asleep in the seats,” she says.  “I was comfortable in that world, and I really loved the musicals. I was always waiting for that rehearsal pianist or the orchestra to start up.”

Now when she waits for the musicians to begin playing, they’re accompanying her.

It’s a Friday afternoon in New York, a few hours before Blackhurst steps on stage with the Peccadillo Theatre Company to play Aunt Sissy in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, the first full-length New York revival of the American musical in 60 years. Near the Manhattan base of the Brooklyn Bridge, she’s relaxing in the home that she shares with her partner of 17 years, Pam Shepard, and their dog Moses, a shih tzu and Yorkie mix. “He looks like Jon Bon Jovi in his heyday,” says Blackhurst.

With a ready laugh, the vibrant redhead describes herself as a “belter” who can talk all day. And her laugh is a constant presence. Even when she attempts to give a serious answer, she barely reaches the end of the sentence before she’s laughing again. In a city known for its drama, Blackhurst is a toe-tapping relief.

New York is where she’s wanted to be all along, and she’s been here for more than 25 years now. Not bad for a Utah girl with a dream.

“I desperately wanted to play trumpet in Broadway orchestras,” she says, admitting that watching all those theater orchestras as a child made trumpet her first “great love.” “But by the time I got to high school, it was clear I had about 15 minutes of lip for every 45 minutes of rest. Then I realized I could sing and sing and sing and never get tired.” With the encouragement of her Cottonwood High School band teacher, who gently helped her choose between being a musician and being an actor, she finally focused on acting and singing.

After graduating from Cottonwood High, she attended the University of Utah on a theater scholarship. While at the U, she followed her mother’s theatrical footsteps onto Pioneer Memorial Theatre’s stage. “I was in about 14 shows at Pioneer,” she says, from Guys and Dolls in 1981 to Hello Dolly in 1985, when she graduated with a bachelor’s degree in theater with a musical theater emphasis. She credits professors such as Anne Cullimore Decker BS’57 MFA’82 with helping her shape her talent. “It was a fabulous training ground—so many directors and stars; very expansive.”

Then, with her theater degree and a host of musical-theater credits in hand, Blackhurst did what she had been planning to do her entire life: She packed up and headed for New York. “I came to New York because this is where they kept Broadway,” she says, making it sound so simple. “It was always Broadway, and it was always music. I never looked back.”

Her first big break was in Oil City Symphony at Circle in the Square Downtown. Before long, she was working with the authors of that show to create a role for herself in Radio Gals. She had found her element. Since then, her acting and singing career has taken her from Carnegie Hall to London’s Royal Albert Hall, and from Broadway to regional shows to television.

But at some point a decade or so ago, Blackhurst decided she needed a change. “I wasn’t being hired for the kinds of things I wanted to be doing.” So she penned a one-woman show that combined her passions for musical theater and the songs of another “belter” whose music she had grown up singing: Ethel Merman.

Blackhurst’s show, Everything the Traffic Will Allow: The Songs and Sass of Ethel Merman, wowed New York audiences when it opened in 2001, garnering an enthusiastic review from The New York Times. Less an imitation and more of a playful homage to the Broadway legend, Blackhurst’s show is peppered with historic and comic anecdotes of the woman who sang so many great Broadway songs that became part of America’s collective consciousness. The show “was so well received, it pointed very clearly to the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be done yet,” says Blackhurst. “It’s played all over the country and in London, and people love it.”

The show didn’t just reintroduce Merman to audiences. “It showed me how much I love my history,” says Blackhurst, who jokes about occasionally being called Ethel Mormon (although no longer an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she was raised a Mormon). “One of the things I’ve become is a musical-theater historian. I perform what I find rather than write about it. … I just get up and try to tell a funny story about it.”

For the last 10 years, Blackhurst has continued writing and performing shows that bring musical-theater history out of the mothballs and back onto the stage and into concert halls where she believes it belongs. Her well-received tribute to Vernon Duke highlights the flop-prone composer’s recognizable hits and lesser-known treasures. She teamed up with Billy Stitch to create a show paying tribute to the music of Hoagy Carmichael. Her CD recordings are lauded for her talent and obvious passion.

Between her historical romps, Blackhurst takes on roles in plays and musicals. She also returns to Utah every year to visit family. Last year, she accepted a Distinguished Alumna Award from the University of Utah’s College of Fine Arts.

Her latest project? She’s Shelby Cross in The Onion News Network, a satirical weekly half-hour comedy show on the Independent Film Channel. “The baristas at my local coffee shop think I’m a rock star because I’m on The Onion,” she says, that rich laugh bubbling to the surface again. “I’m just a good old Utah girl—I’m as nice as you can get—but on The Onion, Shelby Cross is the most wonderful alter ego for me, because she’s just awful!”

When asked if her career has taken her where she thought she would go, she answers, “No, not at all.” Then she pauses for a perfect comedic beat and adds, “Yes, absolutely.” Originally, she says, “I expected to be an actor in cast after cast.” But it didn’t really turn out that way. Instead, “I’m performing with orchestras, doing my shows in different cities, getting to talk to audiences about Ethel Merman, Gershwin, and Vernon Duke.” Still, she occasionally finds herself in a cast with other actors, like in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which she says came as a refreshing change of pace.

“Shakespeare said, ‘All the world’s a stage,’ but the older I get, the less I think it’s a Shakespeare play, or a Chekhov play, or an Ibsen play, or even a Neil Simon play. It’s an improv,” she says. “The first rule of improv is to just say yes, so whatever comes along, just say yes to it.” She rattles off instances of saying yes: “Would you want to come sing Oklahoma! at Albert Hall in London? Yes! Would you come and speak to our women’s club about Ethel Merman? Yes!”

Her most surprising example of saying yes might be the time she was asked to develop the role of Cassandra in a musical based on Helen of Troy, featuring the music of rock band AC/DC. She said yes, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. “If you get in your own way at that time in the story, you miss a fabulous opportunity.”

Blackhurst aims to continue that habit of saying yes as she looks to her future. For several years, off and on, she’s been working with Jerry Lewis as he creates a musical version of The Nutty Professor, a project close to his heart. So whether that project comes to fruition, or The Onion News Network keeps her busy for several more seasons, or a director calls tomorrow with a juicy part in a new musical, Blackhurst is ready.

“The more I let go of the expectations, the more delighted I am to find what’s offered to me,” she says. “You know what? By the time people are reading this, who knows what will have come to be?”

Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84, a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, is a frequent contributor to Continuum.

Letting in the Light

A new state-of-the-art building brings nursing students into the 21st century.

~In 1863, when Florence Nightingale journeyed to the Crimea to nurse injured British soldiers fighting the war there, she was appalled at the deplorable conditions in which her patients languished. “The hospitals were dark, the windows were wet and dark—it was really a breeding ground for infection,” explains University of Utah nursing student Ryan Harvey. “She went in and opened up the windows and the doors, let in the light and fresh air, and made it a much better place for healing.”

The first time Harvey stepped into the newly renovated College of Nursing’s Annette Poulson Cumming Building, he says, “I thought about this new building and how it opens up to let in so much light, and it reminded me of her.”

For four decades, nursing students have mastered the art of healing in the University of Utah’s familiar College of Nursing building. But in August 2010, after two years of taking classes in temporary locations during the building’s renovation, nursing students reentered an utterly new home. The transformation from that dark, brick building with its maze of dim hallways into a structure of glass, light, and open space would have dazzled even Nurse Nightingale.

“The opportunity to renovate this building,” says Maureen Keefe, Louis H. Peery Endowed Chair and dean of the College of Nursing, “was to say, ‘Let’s dream about what the future of nursing education should look like,’ and then design that into the building.”

That dream comprised three main objectives. One was “to create more faculty and staff workspace that was appealing and inviting,” says Keefe. With people stacked three and four to an office, cramped research space, and little natural light, the building—though considered stately in its day—no longer served to entice top-notch faculty to the college. “We have a faculty shortage nationwide,” Keefe explains. “We really need to attract other top talent from around the country to keep our faculty strong.”

The second objective led to stripping the building down to the studs. “The infrastructure was so outdated that we had to replace everything,” says Keefe. “Not only did we have to structurally reinforce the building [for seismic stability], but the wiring was so old—and the heating and cooling system and the ductwork—that they had to take out all the infrastructure and put all new in.”

Left: Adjacent to the student services department and a computer lab is the student lounge, which offers comfortable couches and café tables for individual or group study. Middle: Internationally renowned Utah artist and color theorist Anna Campbell Bliss custom designed paint shades to create a sunrise effect in the building's stairwell. Right: A glass balcony on the building's fifth floor gives a sense of connection between research and administrative teams.

Thanks to a generous $5 million lead gift from U of U supporter Ian Cumming (see sidebar) to name the building for his wife, Annette Poulson Cumming BSN’68 MBA’83—along with a donation from partner Intermountain Healthcare, and State funding—the renovation began in December 2008. Because of the onset of a recession and the resulting downturn in construction, dollars stretched farther than originally expected, allowing the design to incorporate additional hoped-for features. Keefe says, “It gave us a chance to look at how we could create a sustainable, open, light, energy-efficient building as we put it back together.” Originally planned to meet silver LEED certification, Keefe says the enhanced design may qualify for the gold certification level.

As important as the infrastructure and faculty work space are, they weren’t the renovation’s primary objective. “The first goal was creating a better learning environment for the students,” says Keefe.

Because the nearby Health Sciences Building provides adequate classroom space, “We could repurpose and redesign the function and flow of this building,” Keefe explains. That meant more room for research areas, as well as open, collaborative work spaces for professors and students.

It also meant there would be room for the building’s centerpiece: the new Intermountain Healthcare Simulation Learning Center, a 12,600-square-foot simulated hospital environment occupying the entire first floor.

“When I was educated as a nurse, we’d go into the skills lab and practice with a syringe injecting an orange, but nursing education has evolved since then,” says Keefe. “A nurse has to know a lot more about sophisticated technology and computers, such as the digital monitoring that’s there by the patient and the bedside computer. So how do you balance all this technology in health care delivery with the human touch, with the person in the bed?”

The building's auditorium was reconfigured, adding glass panels that allow more natural light to flood the space. The five-story facility now features large areas of glass throughout the facade.

The Simulation Learning Center, under the direction of clinical instructor Carolyn Scheese MS’07, with curriculum managed by Assistant Professor Allen Hanberg, is a state-of-the-art teaching environment that tackles that very question.

Stepping into the Basic Preparation Studio, which occupies the western half of the Simulation Center, is like entering a typical surgical ward, complete with a nurses’ station, 20 high-tech hospital beds (which resemble regular beds in the way the space shuttle resembles a go-kart), bedside computers, digital monitors, and wheeled cabinets of equipment and supplies.

In the Advanced Preparation Studio on the eastern side of the floor, nursing students use the technology and equipment in six intensive care rooms to handle critical-care scenarios. Two rooms open to form a pediatric/obstetric room, with a birthing bed and an infant Isolette.

Completing the realistic picture, every one of the beds in both studios is occupied by a life-size computerized mannequin.

“We try to make this as real as possible,” says Sue Chase-Cantarini MS’95, assistant clinical professor and faculty facilitator in the Simulation Learning Center. The mannequins, she notes, “can cry, cough, sweat, and have drainage from their ear, nose, or mouth. They have pulses in seven places. Vomit doesn’t come out, but they make the retching noise. [The mannequin] can have liver failure, diarrhea, pain, seizures, bleeding wounds, or we can make it react physiologically to any intervention. It can urinate on command, or dribble. It has heart sounds, lung sounds, and bowel sounds.” The mannequins come in various shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and ages, including child- and infant-size.

One of the mannequins even gives birth to a baby mannequin.

No one, especially not the professors, expects the Simulation Learning Center to replace the reality of working with actual patients in a live hospital setting. The Learning Center can’t supplant clinical experience. What it can do is focus learning in controlled scenarios, so nursing students experience diverse situations that may not happen when shadowing a nurse in a real hospital. As first-year nursing student Allie Zimmerman explains, “The hospital setting will always be different. It’s really fast-paced, and you don’t have time to go to the debriefing room to talk about what you didn’t understand.” The Simulation Learning Center complements the clinical experience, because it “makes you think more about the pathophysiology of the patient,” says Zimmerman. “It really challenges your learning. The mannequin asks questions, making you think about what you need to know and what you need to tell this patient. I think sometimes that gets missed in the clinical setting because you’re just trying to keep up.” Zimmerman appreciates the professors’ approach, too, when they say, “Go in there and try it. And if you make a mistake, that’s great. Next time you’ll go in and do it differently.”

Such cutting-edge, high-tech/high-touch training is attracting more than just nursing students to the new building. Intermountain Healthcare donated funding to create the Simulation Learning Center not just to train future nurses, but also because the healthcare giant believes the training center can help working professionals. “They want to send their teams of nurses and physicians here to experience better team training,” says Keefe. She sees the center becoming a resource for professionals from University Hospital, Intermountain Healthcare, the Veterans Affairs Medical Center, and all of the College of Nursing’s partners, both on campus and in the community, for team training, recertification, and continuing skills training.

Bliss envisioned the building's main floor as an Italian galleria, with smaller rooms flanking a spacious atrium. Installations representing the four elements adorn the walls outside the classrooms.

Just inside the Basic Preparation Studio hang two paintings, “Man” and “Woman,” created by artist Anna C. Bliss, who provided several striking paintings and design features for the building’s renovation. The two canvases depict figures wrought in geometric lines, resembling the wireframe used to model figures in computer animation. But these representations have energy and movement that grant the figures life. According to Katie Schrier BA’98, manager of public affairs for the College of Nursing, Bliss “wants to remind students that as technology continues to give them newer and better ways of doing things, they can never lose touch with human compassion and the human element.”

Echoing that message, the college’s beloved sculpture of Florence Nightingale, created by noted sculptor Avard Fairbanks in 1979, now stands in her place of honor in the open area between the Basic Studio and the Advanced Studio. With her marble lamp held high, she is poised to welcome a new generation of nursing students into the healing light of the new Annette Poulson Cumming Building.

—Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84, a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, is a frequent contributor to Continuum.

A Nurse’s Gift

As Annette Poulson Cumming’s 60th birthday approached, her husband, Ian Cumming, faced a common husband’s dilemma: What kind of present to get your wife that is truly unique?

Ian, chair of the board and former CEO of Leucadia National Corp., had the means to do something extraordinary, so he did,  choosing to give her a legacy—a gift to the next generation of nurses, and, at the same time, one to the community. At a birthday dinner party for Annette, surrounded by family and friends, Ian announced a $5 million gift to the University of Utah’s College of Nursing for the renovation of the building that now bears her name.

Annette Poulson Cumming and her granddaughter Quinn with a mannequin used in the Simulation Learning Center.

In 1968, Annette graduated with a nursing degree from the U, just months before the College of Nursing moved into its now-familiar campus building. “I never attended classes in the old building, but I did go to meetings and other things there, so I knew it well. It was a dark and foreboding environment—that was the style at that time,” she says of the structure that nurtured four decades of nursing students. “What’s incredible is that they’ve learned so much about architecture since then, and now this building can be one of the jewels on the whole campus.”

Annette’s nursing career and her interest in the business aspects of nursing propelled her to hospital leadership positions, an MBA, and positions on boards and foundations dedicated to improving the health and lives of people, especially women, around the world. In 2000, Annette and Ian established the Annette Poulson Cumming Presidential Endowed Chair in Women’s and Reproductive Health; they have also endowed a chair in dermatology and donated a patient room at University Hospital. Active on the College of Nursing’s fundraising board for two decades, Annette was instrumental in helping the college become one of the first with a community outreach board. Ian, in turn, was a founding member of the John A. Moran Eye Center’s Advisory Board and served as campaign chair for the C. Roland Christensen Center at the David Eccles School of Business (and remains a member of its advisory board).

Annette’s commitment to nurses and their education remains unwavering. “It’s very often a thankless job,” she says of nursing, and yet, “a lot of what I think are my attributes now are things I learned as a nurse.” In 2001, the University of Utah awarded her an Honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters.

Thanks to Annette and her husband’s generosity, future nurses will be able to build on those attributes, ensuring a healthier future for our communities.

 


Web Extra

As a faculty facilitator for the Simulation Learning Center, Sue Chase-Cantarini MS’95 gets to play the Wizard of Oz. From a hidden control room, she monitors students as they navigate through pre-determined scenarios. Using computers, she manipulates the mannequins, changing their blood pressure, giving them heart arrhythmias, or triggering any number of other conditions. Via a voice-changing microphone, she speaks through the mannequins, responding to students’ actions and questions. Sometimes actors join the scenarios, playing worried family members as the students juggle physical tasks like inserting a catheter or administering medication, along with the psychological tasks of calming the patient and relatives.

Afterwards, Chase-Cantarini meets with her students in a debriefing room, reviewing videos and discussing successes, challenges, and performance gaps, and reflecting on their experience in each scenario.

One of the Simulation Center’s goals, says Chase-Cantarini, “is to make it a very safe environment for students to make mistakes, discover new skills and techniques, and learn from watching each other. We make it safe for the patient and safe for the student. They’re learning that they can feel safe to speak up and share new learning strategies in a nonjudgmental way.”

Harvey, in his second year in the College of Nursing, agrees: “There can be a level of fear and anxiety when you walk into a hospital for the first time, not knowing where things are and how they’re laid out. There are sights, sounds, smells, and other things you don’t normally experience in everyday life. When you throw in the human element and you don’t know what to expect, it can be extremely overwhelming the first time. The Simulation Learning Center, with its actors and mannequins and technology, helps students get over that. It lets them practice in an environment where they can make mistakes and not have the consequences. Everybody makes mistakes when they’re new. To make those mistakes in a safe environment is invaluable.”

Mending the Tapestry

Photos by Douglas Pulsipher

UNP/Hartland works to weave the diverse cultures of Salt Lake City into the University fabric.

~ We all know the image of Ivory Towers—universities as places of esoteric knowledge, havens for the elite, separated from the real-world affairs of ordinary people.But we also know our society itself isn’t like that. It’s increasingly nonhomogenous. It’s multicultural. It’s wonderfully messy—a cacophonic parade of colors and cultures.

To remain engaged in educating future leaders and building knowledge, universities must change in the same ways that our society is changing, including differing voices and experiences that have been absent in the past, making room for the knowledge and talent that diverse populations bring.

But trying to integrate diverse human beings into a rigid university framework will never be as successful as transforming the institution’s traditional structures into a more open, global web made up of individual talents and multicultural knowledge. It is no longer a “square peg/round hole” problem. It’s more of a “myriad threads in a single tapestry” issue.

Earlier in this decade, the University of Utah became aware that its tapestry was marred by a hole in the fabric. Two Salt Lake City ZIP codes comprising seven west-side neighborhoods were clearly underrepresented at the U. Historically working-class and ethnically diverse, these neighborhoods are home to more than a third of Salt Lake City’s population, including 70 percent of the city’s Latino community. Eighty percent of Salt Lake City’s growing populations of refugee background also live there, alongside longtime residents as well as recent immigrants from Latin America, the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. A year of interviews with residents and community leaders revealed that increasing enrollment from these ZIP codes wasn’t just a matter of helping residents get into the U of U. It went deeper. Much deeper.

Rosemarie Hunter, director of University Neighborhood Partners

“If the University really wants to change the face of people at the U, or wants the impact to be more inclusive of the community,” observes Rosemarie Hunter, “you can’t expect to just approach it from the education side.” Hunter, special assistant to the president for Campus Community Partners and director of University Neighborhood Partners (UNP), believes universities must be involved in the larger issues that prevent so many people from going to college. “You have to be around the table when we talk about affordable housing,” she says. “You have to be around the table when we talk about health care.” For families struggling to cover the basics of everyday living, people just learning English, or immigrants adapting to a new country, the goal of obtaining a college degree—while often highly valued—remains out of reach.

That’s a significant loss that society can ill afford, considering what some of  those people’s talents, experiences, professions, and knowledge may have been in their former countries, not to mention what they could become here.In 2002, the University Neighborhood Partners program began connecting the University’s resources to the city’s west-side residents in a new sort of collaboration. “It’s important to build on the capacity and existing goals of the communities and organizations here,” Hunter says. “That’s where the University’s resources—in terms of information, people power, and money—all come to bear.” UNP brings faculty and students from various University colleges— such as Humanities, Education, Social Work, Law, Science, Health Sciences, and Nursing—to the table with community residents, organizations, and schools to share knowledge in both directions. “It’s investing in the community instead of operating a program or project, so that the community and the University can both grow to their full potential.”

PARTNERING, NOT OUTREACH

That distinction between investing in the community versus operating a project is important.

“There was a lot of input from the community early on that sometimes in the past the University would come in, do a sort of short-term outreach program, and then leave. But the community would still be here,” notes Hunter. Through UNP, the University of Utah set out to change its profile from a remote presence on the eastern foothills to a partner in community-building on the west side.

That meant, in part, becoming a west-side resident. So the U moved in. A city-donated house next to Jordan Park became UNP’s main offices, its basement renovated into a meeting space for community organizations such as a Girl Scout troop, a library planning committee, and the organizers of Jordan Park’s weekly People’s Market.

Another important UNP presence is the 300-unit apartment complex now called The Seasons at Pebble Creek, though many still refer to the complex by its original name, Hartland, as does the UNP project based there. For six years, housed in a donated apartment, UNP has facilitated partnerships operating programs for residents and the surrounding community. This year, the University is purchasing a 10,000-square-foot building adjacent to the complex so that the work UNP/Hartland does can grow in a dedicated space. From these two offices, UNP manages 33 partnerships in 25 community locations.

But why is it important for the University of Utah to embed itself in this community?

“The goal of this was not just to impact the west side, but to change the structure of the University and how it works, so that across the institution we begin thinking about how we tie teaching and research to the communities where we live,” says Hunter. If the communities in which our graduates will live and work are increasingly multicultural, then the education we provide them must be more multicultural, too, or we’re sending them out underprepared, she asserts. Not everyone learns, thinks, or navigates society the same way; different cultures bring different strengths and knowledge to the same situations. According to Hunter, the University of Utah is vitally interested in tapping into those strengths and that knowledge.

COMMUNITY RESIDENT IN ACTION: BRINGING THE COMMUNITY TO THE TABLE

To forge stronger partnerships, UNP sought out community residents who were already considered formal or informal leaders. “Community partners and residents were saying, ‘We don’t particularly want the University to come here and lead us. We actually have our own leaders. What they need are more opportunity, more access, and the skills to know how to negotiate the formal systems,’ ” explains Hunter. The city is rife with agencies chartered to serve immigrants, non-English speakers, and populations of refugee background. But learning how to find and use those agencies can be a significant hurdle in itself. By training community leaders to navigate those systems, UNP partnerships have watched the knowledge ripple successfully out into the community.

Maria Barajas, UNP Community Resident in Action

Maria Lourdes Barajas is one such community leader. A mother of four, Barajas became interested in UNP’s work encouraging young students to plan for their futures and consider college. With her oldest daughter at West High School, Barajas has been selected as a UNP Community Resident in Action. Her role? To introduce other West High students and parents to the University’s Leap to the U program, which helps students prepare for the University experience.

“Some parents are very difficult to work with because they work and they have other things to do, but also because they’re not aware of the opportunities they’re letting pass by,” Barajas explains in Spanish. “Once they become aware, they become more involved.”

UNP’s influence reaches not just the individual, but also a network of family members, who in turn network to more friends and families, spreading the word. This helps school administrators and teachers, who struggle to find paths through cultural barriers.

Another element critical to UNP’s vision is understanding that these communities have an incredible amount of existing talent and leadership. “What’s key is that we create space, we create access, we make connections, we create opportunities, we share resources. But the knowledge and the potential—that already exists,” says Hunter.Community leaders like Barajas are the direct line into that knowledge and potential.

COMMUNITY SCHOLAR IN RESIDENCE:BRINGING THE U TO THE TABLE

A flyer on the bulletin board outside UNP’s Hartland office advertises partnership programs such as Head Start preschool, life skills classes, health clinics, job search assistance, English classes, citizenship programs, youth sports and educational programs, college planning, and a Youth Center where kids can go for everything from homework help to a boys’ poetry slam. The flyer is repeated in English, Spanish, Russian, and Somali, with pictures for residents who can’t read those languages. There isn’t room on the bulletin board for versions in Arabic, Karen, Kirundi, or any of the other 15 languages spoken here. A steady stream of residents find their way to the UNP/Hartland’s offices every day to ask for help with résumés, child health care, or English, or to teach and work at the centers.

With community leaders, UNP performs ongoing community assessments to identify priorities. Then UNP finds departments at the University to partner with residents and community organizations to address those needs.

TrinhMai, special assistant to the dean on Community-Based Research in the College of Social Work

Trinh Mai, special assistant to the dean on Community-Based Research in the College of Social Work, received a UNP Community Scholar in Residence faculty award this year to recognize and support her work at Hartland. Her project is only one example of University of Utah scholars participating in community-engaged scholarship.

The project, called “Voices of New Americans: Bridging the Cultural Gap between Schools & Communities,” includes the 12-member Hartland Resident Committee and Rai Farelly, a Department of Linguistics doctoral candidate. Mai explains that although community residents “are very interested in learning about the cultures here and how systems work here, they also have a lot to teach. Institutions here in areas such as education, criminal justice, health, and social services could benefit immensely from residents’ and leaders’ backgrounds, knowledge, and experience.” She adds, “Often in cultural trainings or diversity trainings, the communities the presenters are talking about are not represented. They are being talked about instead of talked with.”

To address this, the resident leaders, Farelly, and Mai give cultural presentations to teachers and administrators, promoting dialogue on how to bridge cultural differences and make schools more culturally relevant. Mai and her partners also study cultural issues impacting education, seeking effective ways that communities and schools can collaborate to address these issues.

Mai, who was 9 when her family was sponsored out of Vietnam, also co-teaches a class derived from UNP’s work at Hartland, called “Immigration and Resettlement.” She says the class “aims to bring community and interdisciplinary knowledge that came from our partnership work into the University setting.” Mai co-teaches the course with Yda Smith from the Division of Occupational Therapy, and with Juan Lopez, a teaching assistant who is also a resident leader working in the Hartland Partnership.

A SOLID BRIDGE

Lopez isn’t the only Hartland resident who’s reached the University of Utah. Pausing before a collage of photos in UNP’s Hartland offices, Mai ticks off face after face, describing the undergraduate and graduate programs a growing number of residents are enrolled in. Then there are the names of individuals she rattles off who’ve gone on to head up or participate in their own community and youth organizations. Some have joined the very agencies they once came to UNP to learn about, effecting the changes they could see were necessary and reaching more people in their community.

UNP positions itself as a bridge of partnerships between the University and the city’s west-side neighborhoods. Through UNP partnerships and the efforts of students and professors such as Mai, the University helps the community strengthen itself through education and skills training, with an eye toward encouraging higher education to ultimately benefit the community even more. The community, through neighborhood organizations and resident leaders like Barajas, helps the University by integrating professors and students into a rich research and practical environment of knowledge and background, helping the U shape more effective curricula and support systems—and making campus more inclusive and diversified.

And as the U adapts its curricula and systems, its graduates will carry that knowledge back into the community and create additional change there, too. Says Hunter, “We see it having remarkable impact.”

—Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84, a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, is a frequent contributor to Continuum.

The Time of Their Lives

Meet five diverse freshmen embarking on academic careers at the University of Utah.

~ Once again, the days are becoming shorter. Nights bear the cooler edge of approaching autumn. The sun-baked mountains are a breath away from donning fall colors. And nearly 29,000 students have just arrived on the University of Utah’s scenic campus to begin a new academic year. For 2,600 of these students, it will be for the very first time—as freshmen.

The first day of their freshman year will mean something different for every one of these students. Anxiety, excitement, pressure, freedom, curiosity, dread, ambition, hesitation…. Looking for a snapshot of the entire spectrum of human emotion? You’ll find it here on the first day of class.

But where will that first day lead? Will those freshmen’s dreams ultimately be achieved? Exceeded? Transformed? Deferred?

We asked five of this year’s incoming freshmen to share their University of Utah journey with us. Stephanie, John, Destanae, Sean, and Lauren—representing the wide range of students at the U—welcome us into their worlds, giving us a glimpse of what it means to be today’s University of Utah student, from freshman to (hopefully) graduate, and maybe even beyond. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, academic interests, family situations, and goals, these five students represent some of the best their class has to offer. And they share one thing in common: They are each embarking on an adventure into their own future.

But it all starts with that very first day. So let’s meet our five freshmen and give them a hearty Ute welcome to the U of U campus.

Destanae’s Destiny

Shotput and discus thrower Destanae Howerton-Davis has it all mapped out: the field she wants to study (exercise and sport science), the career she wants to follow (pediatric physical therapy), the siblings she wants to help, the family she someday wants to rear. As a student at Southeast Career Technical Academy, a magnet high school in Las Vegas, Destanae set her future in motion by majoring in health occupations, focusing on nursing assistance. “I could get certified as a nursing assistant right now if I wanted to,” she says of her specialized high school education.

All that was missing was the location for her next phase of education. Her parents attended UNLV (her father on a basketball scholarship), but she wasn’t interested in following in their footsteps quite that closely. “I wanted to go away,” she explains. After five college visits to narrow her choices, she chose the University of Utah. “When I saw the campus,” she says, “I fell in love with it. It was all green, and there were trees! And I loved the track team—the girls were really nice.” To top it off, Utah seemed like a good choice for her long-term future, too: “After college, I could establish a career and a family and live here. Utah seems like a great place to raise a family and have a nice job.”

Career and family seem equally important to this energetic and enthusiastic freshman. With three younger siblings, she sees herself as blazing the trail, showing them that if she can strike out on her own and forge a dynamic career, so can they. She’s looking forward to Skyping (making voice and/or video calls over the Internet using special software) and texting them regularly as she settles into her new life of school and track. But what she’s most excited about is… well, just about everything. “It’s a whole new world. I get to become my own person, experience life by myself, and really get to know myself.”

Stephanie’s Opportunities

“My mom and dad worked really hard for me to have the life they never had,” says Kearns High School graduate Stephanie Cardenas. As immigrants from Mexico living in California, her parents didn’t have the opportunity to go to college. When Stephanie was very young, her family moved to Utah, where her parents strongly encouraged her love of school. “My mom said, ‘I’d rather you focus on your studies and I’ll worry about working,’ ” Stephanie recalls.

Her parents’ hard work is paying off. In high school, the vibrant, self-proclaimed “history nerd” became involved in student government. That experience ignited her passion for political science, law, and ethnic studies. After exploring other schools, Stephanie decided that the University of Utah offers what she’s looking for. The number of diversity groups on campus and the ethnic studies programs especially appeal to her. “My high school had a lot of diversity. I want my college to be that way, too,” she says.

Stephanie is making the most of programs that the U provides to help high school seniors transition to college life. During U-Night, she stayed overnight in the residence halls. At Preview Day, she learned more about the U’s programs and services. She was one of 15 students selected for Jump Start 2010, a summer live-on-campus program for low-income or “first-generation” students that includes three courses (eight credit hours’ worth) on essential math, writing, and study skills. And this fall, she joined the pre-law LEAP program, a three-year venture that encourages a learning community by allowing students and professors to remain together through multiple semesters.

As the first in her immediate family to attend college, Stephanie is taking her education seriously. Although she hopes to get involved in student council at some point, she wants to start out focusing solely on her coursework, adding activities as she learns to balance the rigorous demands of her studies. “College is an opportunity, a privilege given to me,” she says. “I need to take advantage of it.”

Sean’s Pathway

On September 5, ShaoHao Yin, who goes by “Sean” now that he’s in the U.S., will turn 18. At some point during the day, Sean and his parents will negotiate the 14 time zones between Salt Lake City and Beijing and connect, as they frequently do, via Windows Messenger so that they can send him birthday wishes and he can tell them about his first two weeks at the U.

Sean is one of 39 Chinese freshmen enrolled in the University of Utah this year, thanks to the US-Sino Pathway Program (USPP). Designed by a consortium of top American universities to attract promising young Chinese scholars, the program offers a year of courses in China that apply toward a bachelor’s degree, plus English and American Studies instruction and guaranteed admission to one of four partner universities, including the University of Utah.

Sean, who plans to pursue a computer engineering major, chose the U of U for its reputation in that field, as well as its size and scenic beauty. “The mountains—I can’t wait to climb them,” he says enthusiastically.

The USPP’s final preparatory step is a summer bridge program in Boston. Housed in a dorm with other Pathway students, Sean spent this summer there getting used to American student life. Communication has been his biggest adjustment. “You have to think about [what you want to say] and translate it into English. It is even hard to communicate when I get some food from the dining hall,” he says, laughing.

But he’s learning quickly and looking forward to all that the U offers, from badminton (“It’s a good way to get friends, and it’s a good sport”) to the University’s museums—especially the Utah Museum of Fine Arts.

While other freshmen are learning their way around campus, Sean will be continuing to learn his way around a new culture and the American way of life, too. But he is undaunted. He dreams of building a career in computer engineering and establishing his own company in China that will do business with the U.S.

For Sean, the U of U represents a gateway to the cultural and business aspects of his future. He’s excited about “the opportunity, of course. It’s important for me to study in a good environment,” he says. “I think it’s wonderful.”

John’s Journey

Listen closely at the next Ute football game. You’ll hear him, there in the stadium’s MUSS section with other rabid student fans, belting out the Utah fight song. And that’s only one of the diverse U of U experiences John Peterson is looking forward to.

At Skyline High School in Salt Lake City, John swam, played water polo, and was a student body officer. But the high school experience he’s most proud of is the Service Learning Scholar program, which required 170 hours of community service. His hours included an individual project leading a food drive, and an internship at Shriners Hospital. “After I volunteered at Shriners Hospital,” he says, “I realized that this is something I could really enjoy, and it gave me ideas of where to go in medicine.”

As a recipient of an Eccles Distinguished Scholar Award—the U’s most prestigious scholarship for freshmen—John is enrolled in the Honors College and, through the affiliated Early Assurance Program (EAP), is guaranteed admission to one of the U’s graduate programs (learn more about the EAP in the introduction to Lauren, following). “I chose the University of Utah because I felt like it was stronger in the things I was interested in doing, and it has an excellent medical school,” he says. But rather than majoring in chemistry or biology like many pre-med students, John is following advice from a U of U medical professor. “He said to choose a major that we would enjoy doing or something that’s more diverse. So I’m considering political science.”

Combining political science with a medical degree could lead to remarkable possibilities for the future, and that suits John and his wide-ranging interests just fine. As for his immediate educational goals, he’s spending his freshman year living at Sage Point, the on-campus living-learning center, with other Honors students, then will go on a two-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When he returns to the U, he’ll pick up where he left off (and his scholarship will still be waiting for him). He thinks he’d enjoy a Hinckley Institute internship at the state capitol or in Washington, D.C. And because he wants to see more of the world, he’s intrigued by study abroad programs such as one that sends U students to Uganda on a public health service mission. He believes a program like that would give him valuable experience. “I’d learn more about medicine while serving people in need.”

Lauren’s Opening Doors

This summer, while other teens from Omaha were working at fast food joints, Lauren Keller signed up for an EMT course, adding practical experience to her considerable academic strengths and interest in medical professions.

The well-rounded and high-achieving daughter of a University of Utah alum, Lauren has been accepted into the U’s Early Assurance Program (EAP) in the Honors College. The EAP guarantees select freshmen admission into one of the U’s graduate programs after they successfully complete a bachelor’s degree. What sets this program apart from others in the country is that students have two years to decide on a major and graduate program, encouraging them to explore a variety of options before locking into one.

Lauren is confident that her future will involve her affinity for math and science. “I am considering bioengineering at the U,” she explains. “I have a sister who is missing part of her X chromosome and has been diagnosed with schizophrenia and Turner syndrome. I feel that by studying bioengineering I could be a helping hand in the development of technologies that can truly change a person’s life. The opportunities are endless, and by pursuing this particular major, it will keep many doors open for the future, no matter what I end up doing.”

The transition from Nebraska to Utah will be eased for Lauren by the nearby presence of two of her five siblings. “It’s nice that I have an older sister who lives just down the street from the University while she attends [the U’s] pharmacy school,” says Lauren. “Also, my twin sister is heading off to BYU, so we should be able to get together every once in a while.”

Lauren is excited about living in the dorms with other EAP students. “I am most looking forward to new experiences and new people,” she says. “Becoming involved at the U will help open doors to a wide-open future.”

—Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84, a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, is a frequent contributor to Continuum.

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To read personal blog entries by these students, CLICK HERE.

The Brazilian Connection

The U’s new Brazilian Studies Program fills a niche in helping students understand the country and forge connections.

Photos by Douglas Pulsipher    Illustrations by Scott Greer

In 2014, a half-million visitors will descend upon Brazil for the FIFA World Cup soccer tournament. In 2016, the world will stampede to Rio de Janeiro to experience the summer Olympics.

But this summer, University of Utah study abroad students will beat the crowds and spend several weeks exploring the culture, language, and history of Brazil in a far more intimate fashion. Sure, there won’t be banner-waving sports enthusiasts, throngs of reporters, and hordes of snappily dressed volunteers mag-and-bagging them at the entrance to every venue. But there will be art, architecture, music, food, one-on-one experiences, conversation in the Portuguese language, and an authentic taste of what it means to be in Brazil and what Brazil means to the rest of the world.

And that’s precisely what the Brazilian Studies Program in the U’s College of Humanities is all about.

Alessandra Santos (left) and Rebecca Horn of the U’s Brazilian Studies Program

For two years, Rebecca Horn, director of the Latin American Studies Program and associate professor in the Department of History, has been overseeing the building of the U’s innovative Brazilian Studies Program. “Brazil is the economic powerhouse of Latin America,” says Horn. “It’s one of the world’s largest democracies, and it has enormous cultural influence. Brazilian music, art, dance, literature, and film are crossing many boundaries, exerting a tremendous influence in the United States. Brazil is critically important to us on many levels.” With an estimated 1.5 million Brazilians living in the United States and trade relations with Brazil expanding, Brazilian Studies programs are becoming a vital part of university internationalization efforts across the nation.

As important as Brazil is to the United States, the South American country has particular significance in Utah. According to the Brazilian American Chamber of Commerce of Utah, 8,000 to 10,000 native Brazilians live in Utah, and 30,000 Americans in the state speak Portuguese.

Many Portuguese-speaking Utahns are LDS returned missionaries who served in Brazil and wish to stay connected to their Brazilian experiences and maintain their language skills. But a growing number of Utah residents are interested in Brazil and its language because of business ties, its increasing importance in the global economy, or for cultural, environmental, and scientific interests.

This translates into a significant desire from students and employers for courses in Portuguese language and Brazilian culture. “There’s a market demand for students who have linguistic and cultural competency,” Horn explains. “Those businesses in Utah with ties to Brazil want to hire employees who speak Portuguese and who have some understanding of Brazil.”

The Latin American Studies Program itself is fairly young; a minor in Latin American Studies was developed in 2002 and a major offered for the first time in 2009. Now, Horn says, “We have been working the last couple of years to expand the program and announce that we are making Brazilian Studies a central component of Latin American Studies.”

To support this fledgling program, the University administration awarded a tenure-track position in Portuguese Language and Brazilian Studies last year, and Assistant Professor Alessandra Santos was hired into that position in the Department of Languages and Literature. While her department has taught Portuguese language courses for several years, Santos, a native of the Porto Alegre area in southern Brazil, is the first tenure-track professor hired to teach upper division classes on Brazilian literature and culture. Next year, along with Elena Shtromberg (Department of Art and Art History) and Angela Espinosa (Department of Languages and Literature), she will co-teach an interdisciplinary course exploring “Utopia in Brazil.” “In that class, we’ll be combining visual arts, architecture, urban planning, cinema, literature, and history,” she explains.

Santos is also charged with helping develop the entire Brazilian Studies Program. It’s an ambitious goal. Horn and Santos are working toward establishing a minor in Portuguese, and eventually, they hope, a major. They’re also attracting a diverse cadre of professors, in disciplines ranging from biology to economics to art history, who are interested in incorporating Brazilian aspects into their curricula and developing a more global perspective for their students. In addition, says Horn, “There are faculty on campus who already have research interests in Brazil, and we seek to support that and deepen our institutional ties to Brazil.”

Another benefit is the recent acquisition by the Marriott Library of the Brazilian Cultural Collection, a compilation of films, videos, and music that Horn says “has been a great addition to our resources on campus for both teaching and research.”

A key development piece of the Brazilian Studies Program is the Gary J. Neeleman Chair in Brazilian Studies. Once fully endowed, Horn says, this chair “would allow us to recruit someone of national prominence in Brazilian Studies, who could bring academic experience and reputation to the program.”

“Given our community’s unique connections with Brazil, this program is a great fit in our Latin American Studies Program,” says Robert Newman, dean of the College of Humanities. “We owe much to the beneficence of Gary and Rose Neeleman, and to relationships we have fostered with universities in Brazil over the last few years.”

The program’s Roberta Vasconcelos (left) and Elena Shtromberg

The Brazilian Studies Program has already attracted a Fulbright language teaching assistant, Roberta Vasconcelos, who spent this year working as a TA and teaching beginning Portuguese.

Vasconcelos, from Recife in the northeastern region of Brazil, was also asked to start a Brazilian Club, which “is not only for students,” she notes, “but for anyone interested in Brazilian culture and language.” The club provides an opportunity for students, faculty, and community members to gather monthly to enjoy food, games, movies, conversation, and other activities related to Brazil. In March, it hosted a Brazilian percussion and dance group. Students aren’t required to attend club meetings, according to Santos, but many do because of the unparalleled opportunities “to practice Portuguese, to interact with others, and to meet other students who are also interested in Brazil or who have lived there.”

Introducing students to the local Brazilian community is an important facet of the Brazilian Club, but it has a reciprocal benefit: Members of the community are pleased to find an appreciative young audience interested in Brazil.

In April, the Brazilian Studies Program hosted a theatrical performance by BYU students who performed Auto da Compadecida by Brazilian playwright Ariano Suassuna. The performance was the first of what Horn and Santos hope will be numerous collaborations with Brazilian and Portuguese programs at other Utah universities.

Biologists Thomas Kursar and Phyllis Coley

Faculty are discovering the rich benefits of interdisciplinary collaboration with the Brazilian Studies Program, too. Phyllis Coley and her husband, Thomas Kursar, both professors in the Department of Biology, have spent 25 years at the University of Utah investigating how tropical rain forest plants defend themselves against insects. A year ago, they contacted Horn about applying for a grant to fund their research in the Brazilian Amazon region. “Part of the grant said you have to make a difference at your university in terms of international studies,” says Coley. “We called Rebecca Horn and said, maybe we could put together a rain forest ecology course for non-majors. Tropical rain forests are incredibly important for biodiversity, a source for useful products and medicines we haven’t discovered yet.”

According to Coley, the meeting with Horn was fortuitous. “We found all sorts of connections that we never would have thought of. It’s been mutually very beneficial. Previously, humanities and the sciences never talked to each other,” Coley explains. “One of the Brazilian Studies’ goals is making these connections across campus.”

Forging connections between the University of Utah and colleges in Brazil is another important goal. Kursar believes these institutional connections will help researchers. “The Brazilian Studies Program can facilitate two-way interchange,” he says. “In particular, Brazil restricts access by foreign researchers, and there is no simple mechanism that will allow us to bring American students to Brazil to participate in research. One goal of Brazilian Studies could be to develop a program that will facilitate exchanges.”

An invaluable first step in those exchanges will happen this summer, when Shtromberg, director of the Summer Study Abroad Program in Brazil, takes the first group of University of Utah students to Rio de Janeiro. An assistant professor of art history, Shtromberg specializes in Latin American art, and her experience and knowledge will bring a unique perspective to the five-week course. “We’ll teach the [Portuguese] language component in the morning. Then they’ll meet with me in the afternoon for excursions to the city and outside the city, and we’ll have artists come talk to us,” she says, outlining the adventure awaiting these students.

An unmistakable devotion to teaching, research, and all things Brazilian resonates from all the professors involved with the Brazilian Studies Program. The students setting foot on Brazilian soil this summer may not realize that they’re also laying groundwork for future University of Utah research opportunities. They almost certainly won’t recognize the long-term ramifications their visit may have for trade relations between Utah and Brazil.

But being able to experience the art, language, and culture of Brazil in such a unique way is something they will appreciate for a lifetime.

—Kelley J. P. Lindberg is a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah.


Connection Established

Gary Neeleman BFA’74, for whom the chair in Brazilian Studies is named, is currently president of Neeleman International Media Consulting Inc. Neeleman spent 27 years with United Press International, first as a correspondent for seven years in Brazil and later as vice president and general manager over editorial and business in the Latin America and Caribbean areas. He then joined the Los Angeles Times Syndicate International in 1985 and served as executive worldwide VP for syndicate operations. He also worked for the Chicago Tribune Syndicate International for four years before retiring and establishing his own consulting company. He is currently the Honorary Brazilian Consul for the State of Utah and is well known for his lectures and articles about Brazil. In 1985 he authored the book Farewell My South, which tells the story of the Southern Confederate migration to Brazil after the Civil War. Neeleman is the father of seven children, three of whom were born in Brazil and carry dual citizenship.

The Ivory Keys to Success

U of U School of Music teaching assistants Lindsey Wright (left) and Cassandra Olsen (right) instruct students in the after-school piano classroom at Franklin Elementary. Photos by Douglas Pulsipher

The U’s School of Music helps elementary and high school students hit all the right notes.

The third-graders wait in the after-school classroom for their piano teacher. But one little boy is so excited he’s casing the hallway to learn what’s holding her up. The instructor scoots him back into line, and he sighs impatiently.

In the music room, he and his pint-sized compatriots sit before the whiteboard. Well, “sit” might be the wrong word to describe what they’re actually doing, which is perching, fidgeting, squirming, hopping, draping, and wiggling. But they’re answering questions, too.

“That’s the G-clef!”

“That’s a half-note!”

Then they’re scampering to their pianos—sturdy black digital models, eight in the small room. Each kid grabs a pair of headphones, flips open a book, and begins to play.

Because of the headsets, the room is quiet for a minute, despite the busy fingers. Then one child begins chanting, unaware that she’s speaking out loud. “Quarter, quarter, quarter, rest.”

The child who scouted for the teacher carries on a running monologue about the book, the headset, and the notes, and is kinetic energy personified—but he’s playing, and playing well, and is pages ahead of the others.

A third has her hand in the air, ready for the teacher to sign off on her current page so she can move on to the next.

This isn’t a private school for musically inclined protégés. It isn’t an arts-themed charter school. It isn’t Juilliard’s little cousin.

It’s Franklin Elementary, a Title I school on Salt Lake City’s west side. A school where the majority of students are defined as at-risk, either through economic circumstances or as children of single-parent families. Where kids are already being recruited into gangs.

Where twice a week, kids enrolled in the after-school program play the piano, thanks to the University of Utah’s School of Music.

Susan Duehlmeier and Skip Daynes

More than a decade ago, the Youth Enrichment Foundation (YEF), a nonprofit organization dedicated to bringing music and art into Title I public schools, began piano lessons at Whittier Elementary, expanding to Glendale Middle School and East High School. In 2000, Bonnie Gritton BFA’70, Public Service Professor and an associate professor of music at the U, partnered with YEF, coordinating teaching assistants from the University of Utah’s School of Music and volunteers from her Career Development class to help teach. The Warner Foundation provided funding. Gritton’s volunteers also prepared music programs designed to teach music concepts in fun, unique ways.

YEF’s success convinced Susan Duehlmeier BFA’70 MFA’73, chair of the Piano Department in the U’s School of Music, to create a new program to reach additional Title I schools. In 2007, the School of Music partnered with Daynes Music Company, with help from Rotary International, to make after-school piano lessons available to students at Franklin Elementary. In the fall of 2009, the program expanded to Newman Elementary. Two U of U teaching assistants still teach at East High School in the YEF program, and more schools are interested in joining. In all, six teaching assistants and 14 volunteers from the U’s Piano Department are involved.

The reason?

“This opportunity is making a difference in the lives of students,” says Dahlia Cordova MEd’83, principal of Franklin Elementary during the program’s first two years. “It opened the doors to music appreciation and the love of music. It also identified students with an innate type of talent who never would have been exposed except through this program.”

With today’s pinched academic budgets, the arts have been redlined out of many public schools in the United States, unlike in Japan and many European countries, according to Skip Daynes ex’66, CEO of Daynes Music. “We are the only country where we see music as an add-on, not as a core, important part of the curriculum,” he says. Study after study shows a high correlation between learning music and developing reasoning skills in math and language, yet the U.S. continues to eliminate the arts from public education, including Utah, dead-last in the nation in per-student spending.

Left to right, Dahlia Cordova, principal of Franklin Elementary; Samantha Salazar, Franklin’s assistant principal; and School of Music teaching assistants Lindsey Wright and Cassandra Olsen.

In Title I neighborhoods, private music lessons are often unattainable in any economic season. “Our student population does not have the exposure [to private music instruction] that other students in more affluent families might have,” says Samantha Salazar BA’94 MSW’97 MEd’04, assistant principal at Franklin Elementary. “So this program does give exposure to our students who otherwise might not get an opportunity to do it.”

“The Piano Lab is a remarkable program that has brought a 10 percent average gain in reading scores using the Scholastic Reading Inventory, a school-based assessment of students who have had the opportunity to participate in the program,” explains Cordova. Teachers at both schools report fewer behavior problems and less truancy, because the kids don’t want to miss their piano lessons.

In the first year, an article in a local newspaper described how two particularly promising boys drew a keyboard on paper and took it home to practice. After reading that article, an anonymous donor gave a used piano to each boy. “These two boys who had been identified as very talented were from rival gangs,” notes Duehlmeier. “They performed a duet at a talent show and within the district. This was an amazing outcome. It was a way of breaking down barriers.”

Although it is unfortunate that elementary-aged students are already joining gangs, in some neighborhoods, positive options for filling free time while parents work long hours are hard to come by. Poverty, loneliness, lack of role models, boredom—the reasons are as numerous and varied as the students themselves. The U’s after-school piano lessons are an effort to combat at least a few of those reasons.

“Students need some way to express themselves. Without a positive outlet, some may do so inappropriately,” Duehlmeier observes. The piano program “gives them an outlet for self-expression.”

Cassandra Olsen BMu’05, doctoral candidate and teaching assistant at the School of Music and the energetic third-graders’ instructor on this particular day at Franklin Elementary, describes a child she taught last year. “I found out from one of the teachers at the school that they had had problems with him—with tagging and gang-related incidents.” The teacher noticed that his behavior began to change for the better, and, says Olsen, “They thought it was because he was involved in the after-school piano program. He was so excited about it he would go home and play on his keyboard instead of getting into trouble. We love hearing stories like that. That’s the most rewarding part of the job.”

The question, then, is: If the piano program makes such a noticeable difference in these children’s lives, both academically and emotionally, why isn’t it in more schools? The answer isn’t surprising. It takes money for pianos, instructors, and materials—and that’s in short supply.

Both Duehlmeier and Olsen credit Skip Daynes with being the program’s chief benefactor. In addition to donating pianos to the schools, Daynes tirelessly champions the cause. “It’s a hope we have,” he says, “to bring music education back to schools.” When describing the academic benefits of music instruction, his passion is clear. “It’s a fact. It’s not a theory any more. We know [music instruction] is something wonderful to have.”

Daynes also worked with Steinway & Sons to provide rent-free pianos for The Ladies in Red, a five-member piano group that performs benefit concerts to fund the outreach program. Group members—Cassandra Olsen, Lindsey Wright BA’08, Stella Markova, Ruby Chou, and Mary Anne Huntsman—are all School of Music teaching assistants or volunteers in the after-school piano program.

Because introducing piano lessons to a school is expensive, Daynes is also sponsoring the development of software, called Uplay Piano, that tracks an individual’s lessons, progress, and accuracy. The software works with the PNOscan device, which uses an optical scanner under an acoustic piano’s keys and a USB port to connect it to a laptop, making the notes visible on the monitor. Digital keyboards can also be used, fitting well in computer classrooms. The 15-week introductory software course is being developed by U teaching assistant Lindsey Wright. It’s nearly complete, and the students at Franklin and Newman have begun testing its unique storybook format.

Daynes hopes eventually to open the course to the public, encouraging schools everywhere to absorb it into their computer curriculum. But that will require continuing investments in time and money.

For now, Duehlmeier and Olsen are planning additional fundraisers and seeking donors for immediate needs, such as new workbooks for advancing students. Current donors, like Daynes, are already stretched thin, and new donors are scarce. So for now, the U’s after-school piano program is limited to Franklin, Newman, and East High.

This afternoon at Franklin, however, the focus isn’t on money. It’s on finding “D” on the keyboard, counting beats, and earning stickers that show a new song learned. And then there’s a special performance—Olsen has asked two sixth-grade boys to play a song or two. Last spring, they performed at a Salt Lake Rotary meeting, and then in an assembly in front of their entire school. In December, they performed at the Duehlmeier-Gritton Christmas concert at Libby Gardner Hall. Now they’re back in the classroom, playing just for fun. Rafael plays first, smiling shyly when he’s done. Then Christian plays an energetic boogie that had everyone at the assembly clapping along. He finishes confidently, then flashes a smile that could melt the ivory off the keys.

“Children sometimes do better expressing themselves with music than in other ways,” says Cordova. “It helps them build self-confidence and self-esteem, explore other experiences, and develop a sense of achievement. It’s so powerful.”

—Kelley J.P. Lindberg BS’84, a freelance writer based in Layton, Utah, is a frequent contributor to Continuum.