After an Anschutz medical team helped her family, Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder student resolves to become a doctor

Ledya Gebrehiwot did not always want to be a doctor. But when her father was hospitalized with pancreatic cancer, that all changed. 

ā€œThe medical teamā€™s hard work struck a chord with me, and Iā€™ve wanted to follow in their footsteps ever since,ā€ says Gebrehiwot. 

ā€œI want to be what they were for my family, to others.ā€

Ledya Gebrehiwot

Gebrehiwot, who is a senior majoring in integrative physiology at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ, is this yearā€™s winner of the Annabelle K. Lutz Voss Student Support Fund scholarship. The fund was founded to support students who are leaders in their communities and interested in health-professions careers.

ā€œAt the heart of this award is that academic achievement influences oneā€™s path through life,ā€ says Omer Voss, Jr., one of the fundā€™s trustees. ā€œIt relieves the students of some financial pressure and lets them focus on achieving what theyā€™re aiming for in their lifeā€™s path.ā€

Winners receive up to $2,000 that can be applied as a scholarship or stipend to help with tuition or expenses related to their education. Gebrehiwot was a strong candidate with a solid grade point average and extracurriculars, both of which showed her interest and drive, says David Aragoni, scholarship coordinator and analyst in the College of Arts and Sciences. What set Gebrehiwot apart, though, was her personal connection to medicine brought about by her familyā€™s experience.

ā€œShe had faced health obstacles with her family, but they influenced her desire and interest in medical school,ā€ says Aragoni. Rather than prove a hindrance, the difficult experience confirmed ā€œwhy she had that passion for medical school and what she wants to do with her life.ā€

Omer Voss, Jr. agrees. ā€œShe sounds like a committed student with a lot of interests. And she has the determination and the common sense to use those resources to improve her knowledge or to gain experience.ā€

ā€œItā€™s rewarding to see a good winner, and the intent of the fund and its criteria being fulfilled.ā€

Gebrehiwotā€™s journey to and preparation for medicine

Born in Ethiopia, Gebrehiwotā€™s family moved to Aurora when she was 9. In middle school and high school, she enrolled in , a program designed to lead students in Aurora Public Schools to medical school through rigorous, college-level teaching and classes about the medical profession. When choosing her college, Gebrehiwot felt Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder would continue to stretch her with new experiences and offer the best preparation. 

ā€œĀ鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder ā€¦ was close to where my family is in Aurora,ā€ says Gebrehiwot. ā€œI wanted something differentā€”a new environment and new experiences. I wanted something as close to what medical schools are teaching or what would prepare me best for medical school.

Gebrehiwot says she enjoys meeting challenges in integrative physiology. She also seeks experiences outside of classes to improve her grasp of medical-school requirements. Most recently, she successfully earned admission into Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲDenver Anschutzā€™s (UPP), a competitive, year-long experience that teaches undergraduate students about health disparities and social justice issues that impact equity in health care.

Through UPP, she has opportunities to volunteer at , which offers affordable care for people without health insurance. At the same time, she works in Professor Doug Sealsā€™ Circadian and Sleep Epidemiology Lab at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder, where she gains research experience in epidemiology. 

Despite the rigorous schedule, Gebrehiwot believes she has seen success at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder by maintaining a healthy balance between her academic and personal lives, while learning from her mistakes. 

 

At the heart of this award is that academic achievement influences oneā€™s path through life."

ā€œMy health comes first, not school,ā€ she says. ā€œAnd my family, my friends, the experiences that I have with them come first as well.ā€

She advises fellow students ā€œto have a life. Not just an academic life. Whatever you love doing outside of school ā€¦ Keep that interest, because just doing science takes a toll and itā€™s not always fun.ā€

For Gebrehiwot, maintaining relationships that offer her perspective outside of her major are critical. She especially values advice from mentors to whom she connected through Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulderā€™s Miramontes Arts and Sciences Program (MASP).

ā€œIt's always good to listen to other people who have been around more students and ā€¦ take their advice into account instead of just being like, ā€˜This is my plan and I'm going to do it regardless of whether itā€™s rational or not,ā€™ā€ says Gebrehiwot. ā€œIn MASP, they help you do the best that you're capable of.ā€

This summer, Gebrehiwot plans to begin applying to medical schools, and the University of Colorado School of Medicine is at the top of her list. She is interested in studying emergency medicine, a career to which sheā€™s drawn for the challenge of learning as much about the human body as possible. 

She also enjoys the fieldā€™s fast pace and the need to rapidly adapt to the needs of every patient. ā€œYou have to, in the moment, compile your knowledge and what's happening in front of you and figure out a solution fast,ā€ she says.

ā€œYou never know what's coming at you.ā€

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A petition created by two Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder students seeks to make Black, Indigenous and other people of color feel safe, heard and valued

Galvanized by recent racist incidents around the country and on campus, student activists Olivia Gardner and Ruth Woldemichael are challenging systemic racism, unconscious bias and microaggressions at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ. 

Ruth Woldemichael

Their goal is to bring about broad changeā€”to enable Black, Indigenous and other people of color to be safe, heard and valued.

The easy route, they agree, would have been to put their heads down and focus on getting through school and earning their degrees. But doing so would have contradicted why they chose to come to Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder and would have made them feel complicit if they did not speak up about racial injustice. Taking the easy route would have made them feel ā€œless than,ā€ they said.

 

Focusing on the goal of what needs to occur is intertwined and connected to all issues, all movements"

Olivia Gardner

ā€œSo many students feel harmed on campus,ā€ said Woldemichael, a junior considering a major in ethnic studies and the president of Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulderā€™s Black Student Alliance on campus. 

ā€œHarmed by racist, violent rhetoric by students and professors toward Black, Indigenous and other students of color. Boulder has a racist reputation. I feel called to bring change to my community, knowing that future generations are relying on our footsteps now.ā€

ā€œIt goes back to the old adage of ā€˜if not us, then who?ā€™ Recognizing the legacy that we move from,ā€ said Gardner, who graduated in May in ethnic studies, and women and gender studies. ā€œThis work did not start with us and unfortunately will not end with us.ā€

Gardner is co-founder of Transformative Teach to support and work with underrepresented communities, school districts and students through school-to-prison-pipeline prevention strategies and implicit bias trainings. She also has been working as a COVID-19 contact tracer.

After George Floydā€™s death in police custody in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on May 25, Gardner and Woldemichael talked with Jael Kerandi, the student body president at the University of Minnesota. Kerandi had released a statement about police presence on the Minnesota campus.

ā€œWe wanted to show solidarity with the University of Minnesota, but Olivia and I didnā€™t want to just speak for the community without asking what the community wanted,ā€ Woldemichael said. 

They decided to start a petition to see if people at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲwould support demands for racial justice to the administration.

Their petition was titled A Response on the Murder of George Floyd (In Solidarity with Minnesota). It called for Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder to cease partnership with the Boulder Police Department and the Colorado Department of Corrections (which supplies the university with furniture made with prison labor); reallocate resources from the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲPolice Department to the student community, and bring in mental health professionals who could work with Black, Indigenous and other students of color to create more safe spaces on campus. It also demanded that the university reinvest 1% of its endowment to support businesses run by people who were formerly incarcerated. 

Last October, the Black Student Alliance submitted a letter to the administration asking that Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲhold de-escalation and anti-racism training for faculty, staff and campus police. This request is included in the recent petition they co-wrote in May. 

When the petition received 2,500 signatures, Gardner and Woldemichael began meeting with other student leaders and supportive faculty and staff to brainstorm how to move forward. In the end, the petition garnered more than 4,950 signatures. 

The petition was supported by the Staff Council, Boulder Faculty Assemblyā€™s Diversity Committee, United Government of Graduate Students and the University of Colorado Student Government. Titled Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder Staff Council Resolution 2020-02: Call for Racial Justice and Institutional Change, the petition was presented at a meeting with the provost in June.

ā€œWe want to build a relationship between student organizations and the administration, which is supposed to advocate for all students,ā€ Woldemichael said. ā€œIf you donā€™t have a relationship with us or hear what weā€™re saying, nothing can be done to bridge that gap of communication.ā€ 

Raising awareness and expecting action to be taken by the administration is key, they said. 

ā€œFocusing on the goal of what needs to occur is intertwined and connected to all issues, all movements,ā€ Gardner said.

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Anthropology students at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder explore how we feel a pandemic

As graduate students in Professor Carla Jonesā€™ advanced anthropology seminar worked through challenging course materials in the spring of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic inevitably wove itself into their discussions.

Jonesā€™ class focused on affect theory, a diverse field which analyzes feelings as both personal and public. Affect theory asks how feelings are produced, shared and circulated intimately and interpersonally, making it possible to talk about feelings between people, with other creatures, or the mood of a community or a nation.

While students worked through these questions, they also began to personally experience a mix of the feelings that were topics in the class: fear, anger, grief, humor, love.  

For a lot of the students in the class, it was a wonderful opportunity for us to help each other make sense of what weā€™re going through by doing a dive into the particular themes we were starting to see emergingā€‹"

ā€œSo much about what we are experiencing feels anxious, uncertain, stressful,ā€ Jones said. ā€œWe found ourselves saying it was therapeutic to try and make sense of this moment with the tools affect theory had provided us. For a lot of the students in the class, it was a wonderful opportunity for us to help each other make sense of what weā€™re going through by doing a dive into the particular themes we were starting to see emerging.ā€

Students felt strongly about creating a historical archive where they could document these feelings and categorize themes they saw emerging during the coronavirus pandemic. Watching this unfold, Jones decided for their final assignment to give students a choice of writing a review of the field or analyzing one of these themes. 

Jones mentioned her studentsā€™ essays to Carole McGranahan, an anthropology professor at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ who also edits the online supplement to American Ethnologist, a journal put out by the American Ethnological Society and one of the premier journals of the discipline.

ā€œAs soon as Carole heard we were doing this, she thought they would be appropriate for the journalā€™s website,ā€ Jones said. ā€œCarole was instrumental in getting the studentsā€™ work out in the world.  So, itā€™s thanks to her.ā€

Four of the students who had their essays posted on the ā€œPandemic Diaries: Affect and Crisisā€ webpage wrote about what the experience meant to them. 

At top of page: SWAB TEST. Patient and medical supervisor preparing for a COVID-19 nasal swab test. Image created by Russell Tate. Submitted for United Nations Global Call Out To Creatives - help stop the spread of COVID-19. Above: Image created by Nubefy Design for All. Submitted for United Nations Global Call Out To Creatives - help stop the spread of COVID-19.

Gillian Davenport

ā€œI never thought that I would have published an essay in a high-profile venue such as an American Ethnological Society collection by the end of my first year of graduate school. This writing experience allowed me to not only work through some of the emotions I felt as a result of the pandemic, but it also gave me the opportunity to collaborate with my incredible peers. Our amazing instructor, Carla Jones, offered us this opportunity, which enabled us to try to understand widespread public feelings during such a confusing time. ā€œ

Paige Edmiston

ā€œDuring a moment of physical isolation, working on this collection with my peers became a much-needed source of community and connection. It also reminded me of the importanceā€”and long feminist traditionā€”of reading and writing in community: The process of thinking about (and feeling) the world seemed far less lonely and far more generative together.ā€

This writing experience allowed me to not only work through some of the emotions I felt as a result of the pandemic, but it also gave me the opportunity to collaborate with my incredible peers"

Chu Paing

ā€œMy experience writing this essay was cathartic because I had recently become a naturalized citizen just prior to the global outbreak of the COVID-19. All of my family members remain in Myanmar, whereas I find myself stranded alone in the United States. My natural instinct to be close to my home country and family led me to join the Facebook page I discussed in the essay. Little did I know, I came across a bunch of satirical cartoons, which kept me feeling both intimate and distant from my home countryā€”intimate because I get to enjoy in the somewhat coded Burmese humor through those cartoons; distant because I had no one really to share that laughter with. I even became to feel guilty and ashamed for not being there with my family and friends in these difficult times. So, actually I wrote another short reflection for the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder Center for Humanities and Arts (CHA) Pandemic Posts. While this essay captures a sense of intimacy, my essay in the CHA Pandemic Posts captures the other side of the coin, the distance. I appreciate both outlets which allowed me to articulate those complex feelings for my home. I think they go hand in hand together.ā€

Anna Wynfield

ā€œThe beautiful thing about this experience was how fundamentally collaborative it was. While collaboration is always a part of anthropology, it is often kept somewhat behind the scenes. I love that by compiling a collection that not only considered the many affective dimensions of the pandemic, but also was thought through together, we were able to center the importance of collaboration in anthropologyā€”especially in a moment like this one. So many of the ideas were born out of direct conversations from our classroom as we processed what we were witnessing and feeling. Each week, as we met and discussed new readings, we were able to refine and better articulate those observations. In a moment of physical and social distancing, working on this project felt empowering.

ā€œIn anthropology, we tend to take our time researching and writing. We conduct yearlong fieldwork, and only upon returning home do we write our dissertation. This project felt different because we wanted to respond to a particular moment, even as the experience of the pandemic was changing each day. I think there is a different kind of power in writing ā€œfrom the field,ā€ so to speak, and I hope our essays evoke a sense of the affective underpinnings we were witnessingā€”and felt in that momentā€”as the pandemic continues to unfold.ā€ 

(Wynfield co-wrote How to Sense a Pandemic: Curves, Models and the Affective Allure of Flattening with Lauren Storz)

Read more on the website American Ethnologist ā€œ.

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Leukemia survivorā€™s blog lets people with cancer know they are not alone

At a time when Aspen Heidekruegerā€™s high school classmates were thinking about what to wear to the prom and whether their team would win the big game, she was instead wondering if she would survive the cancer that was wracking her body.

 

This is my story, beginning to end, with all the gory detailsā€‹"

Aspen Heidekrueger

Heidekrueger was diagnosed with leukemia when she was 12. For the next three years, she fought to survive grueling chemotherapy and high-dose steroid treatments.

Now cancer-free, Heidekrueger is a junior at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ, studying philosophy with a communication minor. Sheā€™s interested in ethics and metaphysics, fascinated by the kinds of questions that donā€™t have firm answers but which she enjoys delving into. 

Questions such as: Does God exist? How did the universe come into existence? What can we know about reality?

As a way to work through her cancer experiences and fulfill a desire to share her story, Heidekrueger has designed and built a blog called to spread cancer awareness and offer advice and encouragement to patients and survivors.

She wants people with cancer to know they are not alone.

ā€œAnyone out there whoā€™s surviving cancer, trying to recover after chemotherapy, or supporting a loved one who is struggling, just know that help is out there,ā€ she said. ā€œI created this blog to connect all of us.ā€

She has much to share.

Because of her age at diagnosis, Heidekrueger was considered a high-risk patient. For the first 18 months of her treatment, she endured intense pain and dealt with numerous physical side effects, including hair loss, neuropathy in her hands and feet, and nausea. 

Aspen Heidekrueger

ā€œThe chemotherapy did its job killing the cancer, but my body didnā€™t handle it very well,ā€ she said. ā€œDuring the first treatment, I went into a coma for seven days. My doctors thought the chemotherapy would kill me. When I woke up, I was in so much pain I felt like I was going to die.ā€ 

For three years, cancer, chemotherapy and emergency surgeries put her life at risk.

Through the entire ordeal, she managed to keep up with her studies, so she only missed one year of high school. During treatment, returning to school was difficult. Just walking was a struggle, let alone carrying a backpack full of books. As challenging as the physical part was, she also faced a struggle she hadnā€™t expected and wasnā€™t prepared to cope with: The social aspect of cancer.

ā€œIt was a disaster,ā€ she said. ā€œEveryone in my school was generally nice to me, but conversations never got below surface-level topics, like the weather. When my peers asked how I was doing, they caught themselves and had panic on their faces. You could see them thinking, ā€˜Oh, no, what do I say now?ā€™ Even after I finished my treatment, I couldnā€™t get past the ā€˜girl with cancerā€™ social perception they had of me.ā€

Despite being cancer-free now, Aspenā€™s health battle continues. Years of intense chemotherapy and high-dose steroids have left her with chronic health problems. Doctorā€™s appointments and hospital visits have become frequent occurrences. 

Even just a year ago, emergency abdominal surgery was necessary to remove the scar tissue built up from a previous surgery. Years of physical and emotional trauma have also forced her to wrestle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, anxiety and panic attacks. 

But she refuses to allow the events of her past or the challenges of the present to prevent her from pursuing her goals.

Writing on her blog has been cathartic for Heidekrueger, and she presents the information unvarnished, yet in a lighthearted way. The goals of Complicated Cancer are to share her story and experiences; spread awareness about cancer; and offer encouragement, advice and information to those who battle the disease.

As she pursues her bachelorā€™s degree at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder, she hopes to connect with a community of friends. 

Her plans are to continue to grow her websiteā€”including adding discussion boards, selling items of use to cancer patients, and finding new ways to promote her contentā€”to try to reach as many people as possible. Sheā€™s eager to be a resource. 

ā€œThis is my story, beginning to end, with all the gory details,ā€ she said. ā€œI donā€™t want to sound like I know everything. Iā€™m just like anyone who has struggles and challenges theyā€™re trying to figure out. But I hope this will help those who read it.ā€

You can find her website here: 

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ā€˜I fell in love with space that day. I didnā€™t even know I liked space,ā€™ student Maureen McNamara notes

Decades from now, when Maureen McNamara looks back on her career, she says that she will still vividly remember the defining moment when she knew that she wanted a space-related career. 

How many people can say that a chance meeting with a Nobel laureate inspired them on their education and career path? McNamara, now a senior in integrative physiology with minors in space and leadership studies, can.

McNamara was a sophomore attending a session in Washington, D.C., on science policy with the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲin D.C. program. One of the scheduled activities was visiting the NASA Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland. While there, she encountered the person who changed the course of her life.

Maureen McNamara  standing in front of the space shuttle Discovery at the National Air and Space Museum Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, VA.

ā€œWe met this guy, John Mather, and spent the day with him,ā€ McNamara said. ā€œI fell in love with space that day. I didnā€™t even know I liked space.ā€

That guy turned out to be a Nobel Prize winner in physics, who, along with astrophysicist George Smoot, helped refine the big bang theory of the universe. 

Before that fateful encounter two years ago, McNamara had planned to be a physician. When she learned she could combine the two career paths through space medicine, she set her sights on becoming a flight surgeon

Since then, McNamara has been working with a fierce focus on achieving her new goal.

ā€œĀ鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲis such a great school for space studies, especially space medicine because of the bioastronautics program,ā€ she said. ā€œIā€™m in a class that is about space medicine. We get to go to the Mars desert research station in Utah and simulate medical emergencies in space. No other schools have that, so I really lucked out.ā€ (This yearā€™s program has been canceled because of the COVID-19 pandemic.)

She has been working in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology in the lab of Barbara Demmig-Adams and William Adams studying the nutritional value of duckweed, a plant that grows on freshwater ponds around the world. This unpretentious little plant is rich in micronutrients important for eye health, such as zeaxanthin, which can protect astronautsā€™ eyes, as well as their whole bodies, from radiation damage in space. 

ā€œDuckweed can produce a lot of zeaxanthin, so that could be a crucial aspect for eye health in people on Earth,ā€ she said. ā€œHuman space flight is important. Weā€™ll continue to find beneficial discoveries for life on Earth as we push the frontiers of space flight to the moon and beyond to Mars.ā€ 

 

Research is something Iā€™ve always been interested in and Iā€™ve been able to try it out in several different labs. But the spark for space happened that day at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲin D.C."

Demmig-Adams met McNamara a couple of years ago when McNamara was the only undergraduate representative on an arts and sciences committee charged with defining a vision for the universityā€™s academic future.

ā€œMaureen made notable contributions to this committeeā€™s charge with ideas she supported, insightful observations and persuasive arguments,ā€ Demmig-Adams said. 

ā€œShe has a passion to contribute to the quest of humankind to explore, and eventually settle, extraterrestrial space. She has a knack for integrating concepts from a broad range of disciplines, and chose a combination of academic pursuits that allow her to specialize in human physiology, medical science, space science and, in my lab, plant biology with the goal to develop a plant-based regenerative life-support system that provides fresh, highly nutritious food in space.ā€

McNamara has twice been awarded a grant from the Biological Sciences Initiative, a program that helps fund undergraduate research at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder. Her first project was in a bioastronautics lab in aerospace and involved measuring pressure in the skull. Her second project was for duckweed research.

Her duckweed research was selected for the renowned in D.C. this spring, which has now been canceled.

The Council of Undergraduate Research holds the event to showcase the work of undergraduate researchers for academics and members of Congress. The title of her poster is Co-optimization of Duckweed Biomass, Nutritional Quality, and Energy-use Efficiency for Human Consumption in Space.

She has also had research experiences at the University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus and at the Armed Forces Radiobiology Research Institute in Bethesda, Maryland.  After graduating in May, McNamara will again work at Anschutz as an intern in the Gates Center for the Regenerative Medicine. 

ā€œResearch is something Iā€™ve always been interested in and Iā€™ve been able to try it out in several different labs. But the spark for space happened that day at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲin D.C.ā€

When applications open in May, she will apply to medical schools, which is a yearlong process that she hopes will result in her acceptance for 2021. While waiting to hear where she is accepted, McNamara wants to pursue a hobby that is definitely not space related: baking and decorating wildly colorful and creative cakes. In fact, sheā€™d like to work in a bakery during her gap year.

Perhaps sheā€™ll figure out how to make duckweed cake.

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Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder program makes undergraduate research accessible, teaching students to follow their curiosity and reframe their failures

Amy Martinez didnā€™t think it would take so long to start her research on Latinx identities. As a junior, she received a research grant from Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulderā€™s Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program (UROP), but she struggled to earn separate approval from Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulderā€™s Institutional Review Board (IRB). 

Amy Martinez

Because she wanted to study human subjects, she needed IRBā€™s OK before collecting data.

ā€œThere were so many questions and details that the IRB required me to write about that I didn't even have answers or solutions to yet,ā€ says Martinez, who graduated in December from Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder with a BA in anthropology and communication. 

ā€œIt really required me to think outside of the box and make tough decisions about where my research would take me.ā€

It took time for Martinez to address IRBā€™s stringent requirements. The complication extended her project timeline, which meant she had to change her summer plans and collect data. 

She completed her project and defended it as an honorā€™s thesis in December. Her research documents the struggles of bicultural, bilingual youth who try to maintain Latinx identities while meeting the expectations of mainstream, white-dominant U.S. culture. 

 

I learned that I can, really, do anything. It just takes a lot of really hard work.ā€ā€‹

Notwithstanding hardships these youth face, they succeed as resilient, adaptable individuals who feel secure in their Latinx identities. 

Undergraduate research fueled Martinezā€™ self-confidence as a scholar, and she is exploring graduate school. 

But this outcome was no foregone conclusion. Three years ago, she would not have considered applying for a university research grant. 

Sheā€™d heard about UROP but figured ā€œthatā€™s not something that someone like me does. ā€¦ Thatā€™s what some other crazy, determined student would do.ā€

Redefining ā€˜research and creative workā€™

Martinez is not alone. According to UROP, many undergraduates have difficulty seeing a path to research and creative work.

ā€œA huge issue is what the word ā€˜researchā€™ evokes,ā€ says Joan Gabriele, who directs Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulderā€™s Special Undergraduate Enrichment Programs (SUEP), which houses UROP. 

ā€œWhen we do workshops, I just love to ask the question, ā€˜What images come to mind when you hear the word research?ā€™ Itā€™s usually science. Itā€™s usually labs. And if youā€™re not in that world, then research does seem like something that (only) scientists do.ā€

Other students donā€™t pursue research and creative work because they think theyā€™re unqualified.

ā€œA desire weā€™ve had is to avoid that language of hierarchy that says ā€˜only the best and the brightest should do research.ā€™ Those definitions are pretty slippery,ā€ says Gabriele. ā€œRecognizing that potential looks different in different students, thatā€™s one of the reasons that UROP is available to everyone.ā€ 

Since its 1986 beginning, UROP has sought to recruit and support more student research with a relatively flat budget. Four years ago, Gabriele and her staff examined every facet of the application and funding processes, then changed ineffective procedures. 

For example, they removed eligibility requirements for a minimum GPA and credits earned and removed the restriction on simultaneously earning Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder credit while receiving UROP funding.

ā€œTake about any aspect of the program, and weā€™ve really tried to say, ā€˜How can this be easier? How can students make more sense of this and how can they get started faster?ā€™ā€ says Tim Oā€™Neil, assistant director of UROP. ā€œWe are getting it into a position where weā€™ve cleared out as much of the bureaucracy as we can.ā€

The circuitous path toward a scholarly idea

With a simpler application process in place, Oā€™Neil is helping students see how faculty and students generate ideas.  

ā€œStudents donā€™t see it (the path to a research outcome) when they see a faculty member in the front of their class with a lot of credentials and a lot of success often highlighted in terms of disciplinary success,ā€ says Oā€™Neil. 

ā€œThey donā€™t know that the person up there has taken a far more circuitous route to that destination than they realized. And it has been sign-posted by failure as far back as they can go. The turns are often serendipitous, and in every case, someone helped.ā€ 

In the case of Martinez, she heard about research and creative work as a first-year student and again as a sophomore, but she thought she needed a focused problem or idea. She had neither. Instead, she knew she loved cultural anthropology field work and wanted to know more. 

She took a class in practicing anthropology at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder and was introduced to , a program that supports the siblings of pregnant and parenting teens. While observing the programā€™s strategies to support Latinx teens, she reflected on her past. 

ā€œI had these personal questions about my own cultural identity and why I wasn't given the opportunity to experience some of it,ā€ says Martinez, who is the great granddaughter of Mexican immigrants. ā€œIā€™ve always had those questions, and then I was introduced to the (GENESISTER) program.ā€

A faculty advisor in anthropology helped Martinez form her questions into a potential project. She then applied for and received a grant from UROP. 

Martinezā€™s project met unexpected barriers from the outset. Conducting research over the summer challenged her ability to collect data and affected the scope of work. But she adapted, completed her project and successfully defended it before a faculty panel. 

 

You can have the most general, overarching idea. A word or a concept. Just meet with professors and as many as you can,ā€ā€‹

UROP invests in stories like Martinezā€™s that stress both the result and the process of coming to that result. Another initiative called the Lightbulb Moment uses videos to describe students driven by curiosity, strategies they deploy to overcome challenges and pathways to results. Staff members with UROP and other programs within SUEP believe that showing research and creative work as a process helps students understand a facet of scholarship that many undergraduates misunderstandā€”failure.

ā€œWeā€™re getting high-achieving scholars who a lot of times are stuck in these narratives about who they are as learners,ā€ says Jim Walker, teaching faculty in SUEP. He notes that many feel pressure to avoid failure, which discourages them from taking risks. 

Oā€™Neil says self-forgiveness is critical. 

ā€œIf (students) only see the final outcome and a linear path to it, whenever life presents a turn or a failure, that seems catastrophic,ā€ says Oā€™Neil. ā€œThey donā€™t see how you can turn and actually end up some place better than you had hoped.ā€

The hardest part is getting started

Martinezā€™s UROP experience built her confidence as a student, a scholar and as a graduate exploring her next career step.

ā€œI feel like I can do more. I want to go to grad school, and Iā€™m thinking about PhD programs,ā€ says Martinez. ā€œI learned that I can, really, do anything. It just takes a lot of really hard work.ā€

Martinez believes her confidence grew as a result of her UROP experience. She encourages fellow students to apply, even if early in their academic careers.

ā€œYou can have the most general, overarching idea. A word or a concept. Just meet with professors and as many as you can,ā€ says Martinez. 

ā€œIt can be really scary to show up to someoneā€™s office hours and say ā€˜I kind of want to do this, but I also have no idea what Iā€™m doing.ā€™ But thatā€™s what theyā€™re there for. They want to help you figure it out. The hardest part is making that first decision of ā€˜Am I going to do this or am I not going to do this?ā€™ā€ 

Her advice is succinct:

ā€œJust do it.ā€

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Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder environmental studies student gets a taste of ecological research via independent project

As she approached the end of her time at Boulder High School, Lydia Jones figured sheā€™d soon be attending college in another state. 

ā€œAll the friends Iā€™d made in Colorado were going to school in different places,ā€ says Jones, 22, a senior majoring in Environmental Studies. ā€œThatā€™s what I thought I was supposed to do, too.ā€

But before launching her college career, she decided to take time off to attend a National Outdoor Leadership wilderness-education program in Baja California, Mexico. And it was there, more than a thousand miles from home, that she began seriously considering attending the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ.

We need to be looking at different dams and diversions, to assess whether they make sense for river ecology, but also for the culture of the area and to see whether benefits outweigh the costs. ā€¦ Itā€™s really important to realize that there are pluses and minuses; itā€™s really not a black-and-white issue.ā€

Lydia Jones, a senior majoring in Environmental Studies, takes a break while climbing. Photo courtesy of Lydia Jones.

ā€œOne of guides there had gone to Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder for environmental studies and was talking about how great it was,ā€ Jones says. She looked into it, decided to stay home and has never looked back. ā€œIā€™ve really loved it. Iā€™ve really found my passion and itā€™s been great.ā€

Sheā€™s particularly pleased to have discovered the opportunity to undertake an independent undergraduate research project exploring the impact of dams on river ecology with instructor Ryan E. Langendorf. Teaming up with a faculty member, undergraduates can design projects that allow them to get a taste of researching their given topic in depth. 

ā€œA lot of undergraduates donā€™t even know this is possible,ā€ she says.

In fact, when she approached Langendorf, he didnā€™t, either. But he liked the idea, and starting last summer, Jones was hard at work learning about river ecology and consulting professionals in the field and a laboratory to design a small field project.   

ā€œMy own research has involved gathering water samples above and below two dams, two diversions that are part of (the city of) Boulderā€™s water supply,ā€ she says. 

Using sampling and recording techniques gleaned from the professionals, she tested water for pH levels and then sent the samples to a laboratory to analyze them for dissolved nutrients like phosphorus and nitrogen to gauge the health of the water beneath the dams. 

The project, while too small to be statistically significant, has given Jones valuable field experience and the data will be available to future researchers. She hopes to publish a piece on her research in a popular-science journal or website and give presentations about the work to non-governmental organizations. 

ā€œPretty much every river today is dammed, and it can be an extremely controversial topic,ā€ she says, noting that Proposition DD, a Colorado ballot measure to allow and use revenues from sports betting on water projects, narrowly passed in November. 

With science continuing to accumulate about the impacts of global climate change, issues involving water, water supply and dams are only going to become more critical, Jones says. 

ā€œThis is a very legitimate issue. We need to be looking at different dams and diversions, to assess whether they make sense for river ecology, but also for the culture of the area and to see whether benefits outweigh the costs,ā€ she says. ā€œItā€™s really important to realize that there are pluses and minuses; itā€™s really not a black-and-white issue.ā€

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Along the way, both of them, with help from Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder, pave the way for greater accessibility

Canine support companions help people with disabilities succeed in many environments, and at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ, a service dog is enabling a wounded military veteran to pursue his dream of hands-on research in neuroscience.

Xenna is a service dog for Navy veteran Jon Coulson. The 1 Ā½-year-old dog with a sable-colored coat helps Coulson manage his severe pain and anxiety. She will soon be allowed in neuroscience labs at Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder, paving the way for service dogs in the future.

Coulson is a senior with a double major in neuroscience and molecular, cellular and developmental biology who works in the neuroscience lab of Distinguished Professor Linda Watkins. 

ā€œPeople with service animals have typically shied away from a STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) degree because of potentially dangerous lab environments,ā€ Coulson said. ā€œBut a STEM environment is why I decided to come to CU. I want to solve the (accessibility) problem or at least have a hand in it.ā€

There are times just the sheer pain makes me want to isolate and not have any interaction with people,ā€ he said. ā€œHaving Xenna in the lab with me means everything to me.ā€

Xenna became Coulsonā€™s service dog a year ago when she was six months old. She is a second generation Shepinois (a Belgian Malinois and German Shepherd mix). Wherever Coulson goes, Xenna is by his side, providing constant emotional support. She is trained to call Coulsonā€™s attention to signs of an imminent seizure or a rise in his anxiety by nudging his leg or touching his foot with her paw. 

The idea that Coulson might have to be separated from her while working in the labs was unthinkable. 

ā€œThere are times just the sheer pain makes me want to isolate and not have any interaction with people,ā€ he said. ā€œHaving Xenna in the lab with me means everything to me.ā€

To be able to stay together in chemistry and  neuroscience labs, Coulson and Xenna went through specialized training. Xenna had to learn to stay still and quiet, since sudden barking could startle researchers, causing them to drop chemicals they might be working with. 

ā€œXenna is paving the way for others,ā€ Coulson said. ā€œA lot of people who have disabilities that require a service animal are often eliminated from the possibility of pursuing a lab environment. Dr. Watkins and her team have welcomed us with open arms. Itā€™s about changing the culture to accept us into the environment.ā€

Navy veteran Jon Coulson (center) with his service dog, Xenna, along with Linda Watkins (far right) and the laboratory research team at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ. Note: Xenna is appropriately dressed for the neuroscience research lab. Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder Photos by Patrick Campbell.

In 2010, Coulson injured his back on an overseas mission. The injury caused an almost total paralysis of his left leg that is only partly relieved. 

He has seizures and neuro-disabilities. He also has Ankylosing spondylitis (AS), a rare type of arthritis that causes pain and stiffness in his spine, which is causing some vertebrae to fuse. Changes in temperature and barometric pressure exacerbate the pain. The Veterans Administration considers him to be 100% disabled. 

After leaving the Navy in 2012, Coulson got a job with Concur, a travel and expense management company coding software. When sitting for hours working at a computer exacerbated his back and leg injuries, Coulsonā€™s doctor advised him to change careers. Wanting to understand his disabilities, Coulson enrolled at the University of Mississippi. In 2018, he transferred to Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder for the neuroscience program.

While taking Watkinsā€™ introductory neuroscience class, Coulson became interested in her research and asked to join her research group, which works to develop novel therapies for pain. He was particularly excited about Watkinsā€™ work on chronic pain in dogs with osteoarthritis and how her research teamā€™s new therapeutic approach was having positive results.

Xenna, a service dog, in her lab-approved protective gear standing next to her owner, Navy veteran Jon Coulson. Note: Xenna is appropriately dressed for the neuroscience research lab. 

To join Watkinsā€™ research group, Coulson and Xenna went through an approval process with the building manager and campus veterinarian to determine where the service dog could and could not go in the labs. For Xenna to be with Coulson in the lab for general chemistry and organic chemistry courses, she has to wear a specially made lab coat that covers her from head to tail, special booties and eye protection (dog goggles). 

During Xennaā€™s initial training, Coulson worked outside the research lab in the ā€œpeople areaā€ of the building. He helped enter and analyze canine chronic pain data from their studies of a new therapeutic for osteoarthritis in dogs, leading to his upcoming co-authorship on a manuscript. 

He also worked with data on a project testing efficacy of oral CBD (cannabidiol) in a pilot study for dogs in pain. Coulson will also help with a project on canine atopic dermatitis thatā€™s about to begin. 

Now that Xenna is set up for accompanying Coulson into the tissue analysis (ā€œwetā€ lab) areas, Coulson is training on rodent tissue preparation assay and photomicrographic analysis involving him in several ongoing projects in the lab.

ā€œWeā€™re grateful to the chemistry department,ā€ Watkins said, ā€œas theyā€”for good reasons given what the labs involveā€”required Jon to have protections for Xenna.ā€

Since Watkinsā€™ grant-funded neuroscience research lab is not a course lab like general and organic chemistry, Xenna isnā€™t in danger from the chemicals used in those labs. And since her fur could contaminate various tests that take place, the lab coat also helps to minimize dog hair in neuroscience labs. 

The nature of general and organic chemistry labs is quite different from neuroscience labs; hazards in chemistry labs include toxic chemicals, potential glass breakage, possible spills and greater numbers of people. When Xenna is in those labs, greater personal protective equipment is required for her. 

She also has a bed where she can rest and still stay near Coulson while heā€™s working. 

Thanks to the accommodations made for Xenna, she will remain at Coulsonā€™s side as he earns his bachelorā€™s degree. 

ā€œXenna is such a benefit to me because she can tell me if Iā€™m about to have a seizure,ā€ Coulson said. 

ā€œChronic pain and the mental health challenges it poses, coupled with a lack of a solution, becomes a bleak existence. The work that Dr. Watkinsā€™ team has been advancing is incredible and has completely changed my outlook on life.ā€

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Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder grad studentā€™s work deepens understanding of evolution and extinction 

In the late 1980s, just as another group of scholars was preparing a 2,500-page, two-volume text cataloging the unique flora of the Hawaiian Islands, Harold St. John, once a pioneering professor of botany, long-time chair of the Botany Department and director of the arboretum at the University of Hawaiā€™i at Mānoa from 1929 to 1958, then in his 90s, published 37 articles describing 894 new plant species in the islands, an almost unprecedented number, including 157 new species of mint. 

Under the international code of scientific nomenclature, first publication takes priority. But the researchers on the other project found some small errors in his work, and the scientific community dismissed and then ignored St. Johnā€™s prodigious work. 

Above is a species of mint identified by Justin Williams as Stenogyne sessilis. At the top of the page, Mitchell examines Stenogyne macrantha. Photos courtesy of Justin Williams.

ā€œPeople wrote him off. They just thought he was this old guy whoā€™d done sloppy work,ā€ says Justin Williams, a graduate student in museum and field studies at the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲ Natural History Museum. Williams suggests that St. Johnā€™s few errors might have been due to his intentionally rushing to press in the race for publication priority.

Flash forward three decades. Botany has been revolutionized by molecular DNA work, which has led researchers to re-examine and, in many cases, rewrite, long-held taxonomies for Hawaiā€™ian flora. And Williamsā€™s own research on mints in the Hawaiian Islands has led him to a surprising revelation: ā€œPreliminary data is suggesting that Harold St. John was onto something.ā€

But thatā€™s just one wrinkle in Williamsā€™ gradual unraveling of mysteries surrounding Hawaiā€™iā€™s mint species. They are true mints, but like so much of the islandsā€™ flora and fauna, they are quite distinct from their generic continental relatives you might pluck from your garden for iced tea or other continental species. 

For one thing, they donā€™t have that familiar minty odor. Rather than evolving into trees like Hawaiā€™ian violets and lobeliads, they are either dainty herbs or enormous woody vines. And unlike any other mint, they produce fleshy fruits. 

ā€œHawaiian mints seem to be an oddball when we evaluate them under traditional ā€¦ evolution theory,ā€ says Williams, who has been working with two of the 157 species described by St. John, courtesy of the botany department at the world-famous Bishop Museum. 

ā€œPreliminary molecular results strongly support that these two specimens are unique taxa, supporting St. Johnā€™s species hypothesis and refuting previous claims that his work was rushed and sloppy.ā€

Williamsā€™ molecular sleuthing indicates that while Hawaiian mints likely came to the islands from North America, some 2,500 miles away, they later dispersed more than 3,500 miles to the island of Tonga, unusual for a species that evolved fleshy fruitā€”which sinks, rather than floats, in seawater, a factor that has limited long-distance dispersal of several other Hawaiian species. 

The mints also seem to violate Hennigā€™s ā€œprogression ruleā€ in evolution, which states that the most primitive species of any group will be found in the earliest, most central location. 

Finally, the currents and prevailing winds donā€™t support the case for ā€œextra-Hawaiian dispersal,ā€ but thatā€™s what the DNA says.

 

These mints have the potential to redefine how we think of insular evolution, as well as regular evolution and the speciation and extinction process,ā€

ā€œThese mints have the potential to redefine how we think of insular evolution, as well as regular evolution and the speciation and extinction process,ā€ Williams says.

Of the currently parsed 59 mint species, all but two are found in Hawaiā€™i. The other two, only found on that islands of Tahiti and Tonga, were first collected in the late 1800s. Williams notes that the Tongan species was collected only once, in 1958 ā€¦ by Harold St. John.

The mysteries surrounding St. John and Hawaiian mint species fascinate Williams. But he hopes his systematics researchā€”properly describing and placing species on the taxonomic treeā€”will have a real-world impact for the islands known as ā€œthe endangered species capital of the world,ā€ where two-thirds of species are considered threatened, endangered or even extinct.

ā€œRefining our systematic understanding of what the species are will inform immediate conservation action, but also provide a foundation from which to answer interesting evolutionary and ecological questions,ā€ Williams says. He hopes that persistent fieldwork will lead to the rediscovery of species thought to be extinct, as well as new populations of rare and endangered plants.

ā€œIn a time of mass global extinction, any efforts to refine our knowledge of these processes, especially that of extinction, could significantly contribute to us reversing that trend,ā€ Williams says.

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ā€˜Learning hip-hop can give engineering students an opportunity to get out of the lab and use a different part of their brain,ā€™ instructor says

Students in the College of Engineering and Applied Science looking for a fun way to take a break from math and science have a new opportunity: Hip-hop.

Engineering students can now enroll in a new hop-hop class being offered by the Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder Theatre and Dance department where they can learn hip-hop dance moves and get in shape while earning two hours of humanities & sciences credit. 

Larry Southall, right, gives pointers to a hip-hop class. At the top of the page, some of his students puts his lessons literally into action. Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder photos by Patrick Campbell.

Rhonda Hoenigman, senior instructor in computer science and an associate dean in engineering, and Larry Southall, instructor of dance, developed the hip-hop technique course, which is a special section of an existing course. Other sections will be taught next semester that arenā€™t restricted to engineering students.

The class starts in the spring 2020 semester. The instructors created the class exclusively for engineers to make hip-hop dancing a less intimidating experience. Engineering students wonā€™t be dancing next to dance majors and will have the opportunity to interact with other engineering students in a different context.

ā€œThe idea for this class started because I took a hip-hop class as a faculty member,ā€ Hoenigman said. ā€œI have no dance experience, but I saw the class as great exercise and a way to try something that was completely unfamiliar to me. Learning hip-hop can give engineering students an opportunity to get out of the lab and use a different part of their brain.ā€ 

This is the second hip-hop class for Kevin Yang, a senior in computer science. Last semester he had some open slots in his schedule and looked around for a new class.

ā€œThis class is unique,ā€ Yang said. ā€œItā€™s a lot different from an engineering class. Collaboration with other students is strongly encouraged. Itā€™s a fun way to meet people. I feel a sense of closeness to my classmates where I donā€™t necessarily feel that in a traditional class. Other people in class might be able to see the moves one or two times and get it. I go home and have to think about how (Southall) did that move. You have to put in the time, but I find it rewarding.ā€

Southall was born in the Bronx borough of New York. He has an MFA in dance from Ā鶹Ćā·Ń°ęĻĀŌŲBoulder and is on the dance faculty. He teaches traditional hip-hop, different styles such as locking, popping, b-boying, b-girling, hip-hop party dance, and its history and multifaceted culture. 

In addition to learning the dance, in his class students also learn about hip-hopā€™s origins, evolution, and the social, economic and political environment where it began.

ā€œWhen we talk about hip-hop here, itā€™s different from what you see on TV,ā€ Southall said, addressing students. ā€œThatā€™s rap culture. Rap is something you do. Hip-hop is something you live and breathe. Iā€™m asking you to use the other part of your brain to stimulate and grow and make yourself stronger.ā€

Hip-hop emerged in the economically depressed South Bronx section of New York City in the late 1960s and early ā€™70s, as a response to dramatic socio-economic changes. When the white, middle-class population moved out of the area and into the suburbs in the 1950s and ā€™60s, the remaining population was primarily black and Hispanic. 

 

 Learning hip-hop can give engineering students an opportunity to get out of the lab and use a different part of their brain.ā€

The construction of the Cross Bronx Expressway that runs through minority neighborhoods devastated the inner-city areas in its path from 1948 to 1963. In the late ā€™60s and ā€™70s, an arson epidemic swept through the Bronx, leaving burned out buildings in its wake.

Urban decay, rising crime and poverty spurred young people in the South Bronx to look for creative ways to express themselves through art, music and dance as a way to find wellness for themselves.

ā€œHip-hop came out of the South Bronx with people trying to get out of gangs and avoid that violent lifestyle,ā€ Southall said. 

ā€œThere were no social services; Mother Teresa came to visit the children. So, people at that time wanted something to keep themselves from falling through the cracks. Hip-hop was it. I want students to understand the difference between what you see commercialized and commodified versus real hip-hop culture. Within that context, I teach the culture of the dance. I tell my students itā€™s OK to come in and struggle, because hip-hop is hard, but you will get there. Students coming in think weā€™re just going to dance, but no, theyā€™re going to learn where it started, who started it and why we do this.ā€

For more information, contact Rhonda.Hoenigman@colorado.edu or Erika.Randall@colorado.edu. To enroll, contact Stacy.Norwood@colorado.edu. 

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