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Weird Science

<p>Temple professors teach scientific principles through the lens of sci–fi and disaster films.</p>

Professors Jonathan Nyquist (left) and Leroy Dubeck debate the scientific merits of sci–fi, disaster and action films. Photo credit: Ryan S. Brandenberg

Story by Gary Kramer, SBM ’05

Photography by Ryan S. Brandenberg

When it comes to action sequences, stunts, special effects and explosions in Hollywood movies—from volcanoes and earthquakes in the end–of–the–world film 2012 to nuclear explosions used to save the world from doomsday in Armageddon—most viewers wonder, “How did they do that?” But when Temple professors Leroy Dubeck and Jonathan Nyquist see science presented on the silver screen, such eye–popping scenes usually prompt them to ask, “Why did they do that?” instead.

Leroy Dubeck, professor of physics, and Jonathan Nyquist, Weeks Chair in Environmental Geology, respectively teach How Things Work: The Physics of Everyday Life and Disasters: Geology vs. Hollywood, two courses that explain scientific principles to non-majors. Both classes debunk myths about everything from global warming and the greenhouse effect to natural disasters, such as earthquakes and tsunamis. Examples from action, sci–fi and disaster films illustrate scientific principles. For example, global warming may cause the polar ice caps to melt, but the idea that the event would flood Earth—as the premise of Waterworld suggests—just does not hold, well, water. “There’s not enough ice in the caps to cover all the land,” says Nyquist, a geophysicist.

EVEN YODA WAS WRONG

Dubeck, a longtime film buff, started using examples from films in his classes when he witnessed the popularity of Star Wars. However, even that sci–fi classic maligned a few principles of physics, such as telekinesis and the sounds of zooming, soaring ships as they plunge through space.

“Often, movies will take five minutes of screen time to solve a scientific problem that would take 500 years in real time.”
-- Leroy Dubeck

The law of conservation of energy proves that minds do not produce enough energy to move objects, Dubeck says.”You cannot get energy from nothing—you can only transform energy from one form to another, or transfer it between objects.” In Star Wars, Yoda moves a weighty spaceship with his mind, which violates the law of conservation of energy.

Likewise, there is no air in space to transmit sound. “Sound waves move in air by compressing air molecules,” Dubeck confirms. “No molecules, no sound transmitted.” Or, to cite the famous movie tagline for Alien, “In space, no one can hear you scream.”

GETTING A KICK OUT OF TERMINATOR

Dubeck believes that showing films can captivate pupils. He uses cinema to make science “more relevant and interesting” to students who tend to remember scientific ideas more successfully with cinematic examples. He illustrates the law of conservation of momentum, which reads, “If one object exerts a force on a second, the second exerts an equal and opposite force on the first.”

Dubeck applies this theory to gunplay in film. “If a gun pushes the bullet forward, the bullet pushes back on the gun, which is why recoil occurs. The more powder there is in the bullet, the more recoil. That’s reality.” He points to the Terminator series, which relies heavily on gunfire.

“When you see the bullet hit someone, the impact knocks them down. But there is never recoil.” Dubeck rejects the idea that the character of the larger–than–life Terminator is so big and strong, he could “resist” the force of the recoil. And when the Terminator is later knocked down by a gunshot, the human who shoots the robot does not experience recoil, either.

“In class, I compare that scene to a video of real guns—a Colt .38 and a sawed–off rifle,” Dubeck says. “The kick is enormous—you can’t hold the gun! In the movies, the human saws it off and knocks the Terminator down and he doesn’t recoil at all.”

Whether disasters on film are natural or manmade, moviegoers tend to retain expectations about such events. For example, Nyquist notes that when viewers watch a volcanic eruption, they assume that lava always moves at a flood–like speed. But different kinds of volcanoes produce lava of varying thicknesses.

HEADED RIGHT FOR US

But Hollywood is not always wrong. Dubeck is impressed that the disaster film Deep Impact—about a comet heading toward Earth—is “actually quite accurate.”

“A comet 7 miles wide, seen two years before impact, is plausible,” he explains. “When [those chasing it] land on the comet, there is no gravity. Their attempt to destroy it with nukes fails—they just split it in two. The smaller comet piece falls into the sea and creates a tsunami.”

The tsunami is caused because a comet the size of the one depicted in Deep Impact would release “energy equal to millions of Hiroshima–sized atomic bombs. That energy would be released, in part, as a pressure wave through the oceans,” Dubeck notes.

Therefore, the energy would be great enough to displace sufficient amounts of water to generate giant tidal waves hundreds or thousands of feet high, as shown in the film.

But some moments in Deep Impact favor visual appeal over accuracy. “The surfaces of comets have very low reflectivity—like a black carpet,” Dubeck says. “All you would see is black. Sunlight would not be reflected from the surface as seen in the film. You can’t see black in the movies, so they make it much lighter than it is. Viewers have to see it.”

In his class, Dubeck contrasts Deep Impact with the aforementioned Armageddon, a film he admonishes for its “laughable” physics. Yet he uses Armageddon to assign research projects, such as plotting the trajectory of a near–Earth asteroid and calculating its value and probability employing the Torino impact hazard scale. (The scale is used by NASA to predict the possible impact threat of asteroids and comets.)

“It would take the simultaneous detonation of 10,000 atomic bombs to destroy the asteroid in Armageddon,” he says. “Often, movies will take five minutes of screen time to solve a scientific problem that would take 500 years in real time.”

Dubeck aims to teach his students the laws of physics so they can better understand the world in which they live. “I want them to learn more about the universe and the way things work, and look critically at the information they get from mass media,” he says. “Most of them get their information from media, not scientific papers. If they learn to be more critical, that will be with them for the rest of their lives.”

EARTHQUAKES ARE PREDICTABLE

Nyquist also wants his students to keep reading about the topics he presents in class, so they can “read between the lines” and be educated about the next earthquake. Nyquist says that one fallacy students often believe is that during earthquakes, the Earth breaks apart and sucks the landscape and its inhabitants into fault lines. “Earthquake faults don’t do that,” he notes. “That’s a classic Hollywood cliché.”

“Part of California is on a separate plate,” he explains. “It is sliding past the North American plate, but it is not going to fall into the ocean. It’s on continental crust, which is buoyant and floats on the mantle material below it. When two continents collide, neither one of them sinks; instead, the result is something like the Himalayas. California is not going to get sucked underneath.”

Nyquist uses those geological principles to get students thinking about quakes and, more importantly, how to prepare for and even predict them. “Earthquakes kick out waves. ‘P waves’—primary waves—come first, but don’t do much damage. The ‘S waves,’ or secondary waves, are next; they shake things up. The P wave travels faster. When the P wave hits, you know the S wave is coming.”

In Hollywood films, earthquakes almost always happen without warning, Nyquist notes. He is amazed at how sloppy Hollywood is about details. In the film The Core—about a nuclear bomb deployed by a team of scientists, government officials and military officers—a ship tunnels through solid rock.

“The filmmakers wanted the ship to have a window,” Nyquist recalls, positing that viewers needed to see what the ship’s crew was seeing and doing. “But the whole ship would break under the geologic pressure near the core.” A window would melt, so the writers “solved” the problem of showing the action by using an invented metal called “unobtainium” that could withstand the heat and pressure.

While writers and directors sometimes come up with interesting solutions to scientific problems, sometimes they simply take chances. Consider how disaster movies depict volcanoes. Nyquist expresses his exasperation: “They take everything a volcano can do and throw it into one disaster.”

He goes on to explain why this is wrong. “Volcanoes come in different types. Stratovolcanoes, like Mount St. Helens, are found along coastlines. They are more explosive than shield volcanoes, which are common in Hawaii and erupt almost continuously. Shield volcanoes don’t erupt the way Mount St. Helens erupts. Hawaiian lava is less viscous, so it flows more easily, which reduces the pressure buildup and chance of an explosive eruption. Mount St. Helens has high–viscosity magma, so its lava does not flow easily. When Hollywood creates a volcano, it does all those things.”

He continues, shaking his head. “Look at Dante’s Peak, about a dormant volcano that wreaks havoc: It’s an explosive volcano and it has lava flows. Audiences expect that. If there are no lava flows, it doesn’t seem right.”

Scenes like these might endanger Nyquist’s—and his colleague Dubeck’s—suspension of disbelief, but he certainly understands why directors do it. “You want a lot of special effects, so you have to draw the action out. These movies are rollercoaster rides. You go for the thrill, and not for the science. And, it’s easy to root for the heroes when the bad guy is nature.”

Gary M. Kramer, SBM ’05, is a Philadelphia–based freelance writer whose work appears regularly in numerous magazines and journals. He also is publicity manager for Temple University Press.

 

“Often, movies will take five minutes of screen time to solve a scientific problem that would take 500 years in real time.”
Source: 
Leroy Dubeck
Abstract: 
Most big–budget sci–fi and disaster movies make us wonder, "Could that really happen?" Two Temple professors reveal the science behind the big screen.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>Temple professors teach scientific principles through the lens of sci–fi and disaster films.</p>
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Sinking into Smart Art

<div>Robert Blackson</div><div>Occcupation:Director, exhibitions and public programs, Temple Gallery</div><div>Location, Tyler School of Art, Main Campus</div>

Robert Blackson sits among two artworks: "Love Songs"—the records on the table, chosen by Lucas Henry in the Boyer College of Music and Dance—and "I<3 CZ," a fiber sculpture by Susie Brandt made from 120 skeins of yarn.

Robert Blackson arrived at Temple Gallery in mid–2011. Since then, he has organized a staggering—and unorthodox—level of programming, from a mobile blood bank to 10 audio exhibits about moments of silence, to draw attention to a variety of social issues. At the time of this interview, the gallery featured a performance–art piece by Philadelphia artist Tim Belknap. Over an eight–week span, Belknap donned a NASA suit and suspended himself in a giant white cube outfitted like a spaceship. In this setup, he used the internet conferencing software Skype to talk to local fourth graders about space exploration. Blackson says the artist was inspired by the shuttering of the NASA program.

HOW DO YOU CHOOSE WHAT WILL BE EXHIBITED IN THE GALLERY?

We have an advisory council, made up of people from across campus and Philadelphia. When we meet, everyone brings a question they don’t know the answer to. A discussion ensues about the different issues posed, and we vote. Based on the votes, we decide how much space, money and time to devote to [exhibits in] the gallery.

Robert Blackson sits among two artworks: “Love Songs”—the records on the table, chosen by Lucas Henry in the Boyer College of Music and Dance—and “I<3 CZ,” a fiber sculpture by Susie Brandt made from 120 skeins of yarn.

Robert Blackson, curator of the Temple Gallery at Tyler School of Art, explains the gallery’s mission, and what’s behind a somewhat unorthodox installation.

Art instills in us a sense of humanity; we are drawn to it, believe in it and value it.

IS THAT DIFFERENT FROM HOW OTHER GALLERIES OPERATE?

It is. Usually, a curator relies on what they’ve seen in the art world, such as what kinds of exhibits they’ve seen, the types of artists they know—things like that. But here at Temple, our mission focuses on what we need to learn about now.

CAN YOU PROVIDE AN EXAMPLE?

In 2011, we had the Big Shale Teach–In to discuss the issue of fracking. It’s a topic almost all of us are interested in, whether you’re an artist, a geologist or a mother of four worried about your drinking–water supply. We involved a number of speakers from across campus and across the city, to come together to talk about what it means to drill thousands of feet below us, break apart a rock and try to extract the gas within that rock without harming the environment.

WE’VE HEARD THAT YOU MAKE YOUR OWN CLOTHES. HOW DID THAT START?

That came out of my time [in art school] in Scotland. I arrived in January, and was not prepared for how cold it was. I didn’t have enough clothing, but there was a sewing machine available to students, and I could get fabric cheaply, so I decided to sew things to keep me warm. I’ve been doing it ever since.

WITH CULTURAL INSTITUTIONS LOSING MONEY AND SCHOOLS ENDING THEIR ART PROGRAMS, HOW DO YOU MAKE THE CASE FOR ART’S IMPORTANCE?

Art instills in us a sense of humanity; we are drawn to it, believe in it and value it. Even amid the destruction and negativity [in the world], there’s a sense that art should be saved. I think that’s been borne out by history. If you visit ancient places such as Greece, they didn’t keep the notes on city–council meetings or voting registration cards; they preserved really curious objects instead.

Art instills in us a sense of humanity; we are drawn to it, believe in it and value it.
Abstract: 
Robert Blackson, curator of the Temple Gallery at Tyler School of Art, talks about what makes the gallery one of a kind.
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Year: 
2012
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<div>Robert Blackson</div><div>Occcupation:Director, exhibitions and public programs, Temple Gallery</div><div>Location, Tyler School of Art, Main Campus</div>
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Taking it to the Streets

<p>Reformed offenders disarm those at risk through Temple's Philadelphia Ceasefire program.</p>

CeaseFire outreach workers focus on high-risk youth in the 22nd Police District in North Philadelphia.

Story by Renee Cree, SMC ’12

Photography by Ryan S. Brandenberg

Terry Starks used to walk the streets of North Philadelphia, heavily involved in high-risk street activity such as drugs, money and aggression.

Though he might not look physically imposing or swagger like a stereotypical thug, he has seen and done it all, and it never occurred to him to escape that lifestyle. According to Starks, it was business as usual.

“I made some bad choices,” he says. And then, in 2002, Starks was shot four times in the chest while being robbed. He spent 19 days unconscious, and still carries a bullet in his heart.

After that, he says, the fragility of life became clear to him. Something had to change, and he decided to use the money he still had for something positive. He bought property in North Philadelphia and built a barber shop for the community. Wholeheartedly committed to the business, he lived above the shop while it was being built. From his profits, he opened two other businesses in that same building: a recording studio and a record store. He also began mentoring some of the young men in his neighborhood.

That drive to help his neighbors is what led him to a job with Philadelphia CeaseFire, a program based in the Center for Bioethics, Urban Health and Policy in the School of Medicine at Temple that aims to curb gun violence in North Philadelphia. It is the latest Temple effort to further reduce violence in that area. (The first was called Cradle to Grave—a controversial, yet effective, program that exposed young people to gunshot victims.)

Now, Starks is back on the streets. This time, he is an outreach worker, canvassing a beat within the 22nd Police District that extends from 22nd Street to the Schuylkill River and from Diamond Street to Lehigh Avenue. Starks talks with community members who knew him before he turned his life around, with the hope of making inroads with some of the young men in CeaseFire’s target demographic: those ages 14 to 25 who are involved in high-risk street activity, such as guns and drugs, and are interested in turning their lives around.

STREET CRED 

Outreach workers such as Starks have street credibility; three of them working with Philadelphia CeaseFire are ex-offenders. They act as advocates for their clients, contacting them on a regular basis and trying to redirect them toward employment, job training and education.

In one instance, Starks says he even helped save a client on the verge of being sent to jail for parole violation.

“I sat and talked with his parole officer, and explained that he was on a new path, involved in this new program, and that I would take full responsibility for him,” he says. The young man avoided jail time and is now enrolled at Philadelphia Community College.

Starks says that life experience is a powerful tool in breaking through to the young men he mentors. “A lot of these guys know me from before I was shot, when I was doing the wrong things,” he says. “They see that I can relate to them because I know the lifestyle, but I also am coming to them as a gunshot victim.”

The fact that Starks is so well known in this community—both as a mentor and as someone who used to “live the life,” as he says—helps him make the initial contact. “I’ll see them standing on the street corner, and some of them will speak to me before I approach them,” he says. “They’ll say, ‘What's up, O.G. [original gangster]?’ It gives me the opportunity to address the entire group, to tell them where I used to be and where I am now.”

Starks explains that he is there to help them turn their lives around; that he knows what it’s like—that he was there too; and that he doesn’t want to see them in the emergency room, as he was.

“I give them an ultimatum,” Starks says. “‘We can talk now, or we can talk when you're laid out with a gunshot wound. It's up to you.’”

Starks then offers his business card and says he can help. For him, it has been an effective strategy. Most CeaseFire outreach workers aim for a full caseload of 15 clients. Though the program began in July 2011, Starks has all 15 clients already.

While this method of employing ex-offenders to prevent gun violence might seem unorthodox, the data show that it works. The original CeaseFire program, launched in Chicago in 2000, blends statistical information and the knowledge and experience of community members to focus efforts on individuals most at risk for gun violence: those who come from a low socio-economic background, live in an area with a high rate of violent crime and have a history of violence.

We're here because we think change can happen here.
-- Brandon Jones, former outreach worker, Philadelphia Ceasefire

In 2008, the Department of Justice issued a report on CeaseFire’s effectiveness and found a reduction of up to 73 percent in the number of shootings and killings in areas of Chicago where the program was implemented. Marla Davis-Bellamy, director of Philadelphia CeaseFire, calls the rise in gun violence across large U.S. cities “a public-health epidemic.” One of the keys to CeaseFire’s success is that it treats gun violence as such, focusing on engaging communities and changing behavior.

“We work collectively with community and faith-based leaders who have the ability to influence the thinking and behavior of young people who are losing their lives to gun violence,” she says.

PUBLIC UNITY

In addition to its man-on-the-street technique to prevent violence, members of the outreach team respond directly to shootings, typically by holding a march or a vigil conducted at the site of a shooting within days of a homicide. They also saturate the targeted neighborhoods with posters, leaflets, flyers and other materials that disparage violence and carry pointed messages about the consequences of shootings and killings. Additionally, Temple University Health System refers gunshot victims to the CeaseFire program.

At a recent march, a group of community members followed the Philadelphia CeaseFire team, clad in bright orange shirts, while holding signs and flyers with the simple message to “Stop. Shooting. People.” Former outreach worker Brandon Jones, armed with a megaphone, urged community members to join the cause.

“We’re here because we think change can happen here,” he called out. A chorus of voices, all repeating the mantra “Stop! Shooting! People!” rose up behind him.

Outreach Coordinator Quinzel Tomoney, a seasoned outreach worker with a background in after school programs and summer league basketball, directly supervises the outreach workers. He has worked with at-risk youth for years, and is driven to get them off the street and change the direction of their lives.

Tomoney is an asset to Philadelphia CeaseFire because he also can relate to those who need his help. “I’ve done it, and I see it happening over and over again,” he says. “The trouble is, there is no structure at home. There’s no stability there.” Tomoney aims to guide at-risk youth toward responsible decision-making that will have a positive effect on their futures.

The organization, funded by the Pennsylvania Commission on Crime and Delinquency, is collecting data to determine its effectiveness in the 22nd district. If it is successful there, the goal is to extend the program to other areas of the city.

Davis-Bellamy is confident that the success of Chicago's program can be replicated in Philadelphia. “You have to work one-on-one with at-risk youth to help reverse this poisonous behavior in favor of positive pursuits, such as mentoring others, and it's what we've found to be very effective,” she says. “We are taking an interest in these young people, which is a new experience for some of them. It's the first time anyone has shown them that they care.”

Starks’ entrepreneurship and community involvement are powerful evidence of where those positive pursuits can lead. For his mentoring and work in the community, he was recently honored with a humanitarian award from Pennsylvania Sen. Shirley Kitchen, SSW ’75—a far cry from 10 years ago, when he was fighting for his life.

“The biggest thing we can do is to help set goals and make plans for these kids to have a positive future,” Stark says. “If we don't, they’ll just fall right back into their old habits.”

 

We're here because we think change can happen here.
Source: 
Brandon Jones, former outreach worker, Philadelphia Ceasefire
Abstract: 
Reformed offenders disarm those at risk through Temple's Philadelphia CeaseFire program.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>Reformed offenders disarm those at risk through Temple's Philadelphia Ceasefire program.</p>
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Kunal Nayyar

<div>Degree: MA, acting, School of Communications and Theater, 2006</div><div>Occupation: Sitcom star</div><div>Location: Los Angeles</div>

Kunal Nayyar, SCT ’06, (far left) on set with co-stars Jim Parsons (middle) and Simon Helberg. Photo credit: Monty Brinton/ © 2011 CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Story by John Di Carlo, SCT  ’98, ’06

Los Angeles is about 2,800 miles away from North Philadelphia, but Kunal Nayyar, SCT 06, a cast member on the Emmy Award-winning CBS comedy The Big Bang Theory, sees a lot of similarities between his old and new homes.

“The same feeling I have on the show now is the feeling I had at Temple,” Nayyar says. “The brotherhood and the camaraderie I found at Temple were great. It was a community of people that wanted everyone to do well, as opposed to a community of people that competed against each other.”

Nayyar--who was born in London, raised in India and went to Oregon to study at University of Portland in 1999--did some television ads in the U.S. and then found theater work in London before landing a guest role in the CBS drama NCIS. When he got the chance to audition for the role of an astrophysicist on The Big Bang Theory, he nailed it and has been with the cast through the show's first five seasons.


Kunal Nayar, SCT ’06, plays Raj Koothrappali on The Big Bang Theory.

“I think I was just sort of young and confident and I had just gotten back from the Royal Shakespeare Company in England,” Nayyar says. “I came into a very good situation. I screen-tested for Warner Brothers and the following week, I was called back for a screen test and got the show.”

It was during his first few days on the set that Nayyar found the feeling he had at Temple.

“We got very, very lucky, in that even though we're all different people, our personalities fit like a puzzle,” he says of the cast. “Working with Johnny Galecki and Kaley Cuoco, who are sort of veterans in the television world, is great. Watching them and the way they interact with the producers, cast and crew, and just how humble they are, is amazing. They come to work and work hard every day, and you pick up on those signs very early.”

Nayyar, who will appear in the feature film Ice Age: Continental Drift in July, returned to Temple in October and spoke to a class of about 300 theater students. It was both a homecoming and a new experience all at once. “Even though the spirit of Temple hasn't changed, it has changed physically,” Nayyar says. “It really has this new feeling to it.”

For more alumni profiles, check out the latest issue of Temple.

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Abstract: 
Kunal Nayyar (left), SCT '06, talks about his journey from North Philadelphia to Hollywood.
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2012
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<div>Degree: MA, acting, School of Communications and Theater, 2006</div><div>Occupation: Sitcom star</div><div>Location: Los Angeles</div>
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The Young and the Wireless

<p>Today's hyper-connected students experience a very different university than their alumni parents remember.</p>

Today’s students can take advantage of the TECH Center's free Wi-Fi and more than 300 computer terminals.

Story by Christopher Wink, CLA ’08

Any college student who attended school before Steve Jobs was a household name is well-versed in freshman-year war stories: discovering that an overturned coffee cup drowned a final paper or a typewriter ribbon dried out overnight; camping out on the cold marble floor of an administrative building to ensure enrollment in courses required for graduation.

The stories most often swapped usually include a reviled roommate, such as the time he left for a three-hour seminar, never turned off the hot pot and got the entire dorm evacuated when the fire alarm inevitably sounded. Some survivors bemoan a roommate’s penchant for black velvet posters and lava lamps, or her refusal to do a load of laundry anytime sooner than when entering the room was akin to stepping directly into a hamper.

Of course, those kinds of tales were once considered rites of passage for students living on campus. But with today’s constant access to technology, current college students have fewer—or, perhaps, differently themed—stories to tell.

ODD COUPLE NO MORE

The 1970s sitcom The Odd Couple is all but obsolete—and the concept of two roommates as poorly matched as Oscar and Felix is fading fast, too.

Before moving into the 1940 Residence Hall in 2010, Linsey Tomasi, a biology and pre-pharmacy student in the Class of 2014, turned to an app called RoomBug. Through Facebook, RoomBug connects like-minded students with housing options. That is how Tomasi met her suitemate Heba Nasr, a fellow student in the College of Science and Technology.

Before the semester began, Tomasi signed in to her Facebook account and answered a series of questions, identifying her sleeping, studying and social preferences. She and Nasr had a lot of similarities and decided to share a suite with two others who also had used RoomBug.

The pair lived separately this past year as sophomores—Tomasi in University Village and Nasr in an off-campus house—but have remained friends.

“All my roommates have been good, but finding Heba online was a great way to start college, ”Tomasi says. “My father, who went to college in the 1970s, was even more impressed by it than I was.”

Of course, the internet has been transforming every corner of our lives for nearly 20 years, and hyper-connected college campuses have kept up with the revolution. Temple alumni see their children experiencing a very different university than they remember.

Before a Temple student ever sets foot in a residence hall, she can take a 360-degree online tour of what her room will look like, and then get a sample of campus life by visiting student media online, such as The Temple News and Templar yearbooks.

Every single thing I do as a student starts with the internet.
-- Britt Miller, Class of 2012

And when Owls come to campus to roost, their residence halls are fully equipped with wireless internet. They also might find themselves on the cutting edge of consumer electronics changing the classroom. For example, in fall 2011, 24 iPad 2s were handed out to Honors Information Systems in Organizations students in a pilot project to teach course material in a new way.

HOW LONG IS THE WAIT?

For alumni of institutions nationwide, one of the most prevalent memories of 20th-century campus life is the waiting: waiting in line for class registration, anticipating that long-awaited check from home and standing in line at the bank to cash it or blocking off a whole afternoon with the hope of snagging a washing machine.

Now, rather than racing to the laundry room after catching a glance of someone balancing a precarious tower of clean clothes, students simply sign up for text alerts that announce when a washing machine becomes available. And if someone wants to know if the university gym facilities are crowded, he can view one of the webcams installed by the Recreation Department.

A generation ago, Owls hand-picked courses from cards in boxes and waited in line to sign up, says William Bech, EDU ’79, ’81. By the time his daughter, Rachel Bech, SCT ’08, arrived at Temple, it was a comparative breeze to register online. Though in-person course advising is still an important aspect of academic life, Temple students now select and edit their course loads on the web. Even the use of Blackboard software, a longtime online staple of faculty-student interaction at college campuses across the country, has continued to evolve. Through Blackboard, classmates who are not yet friends can contact each other for assignment help or study advice, or easily reference reading recommendations and course assignments from professors.

Paley Library might have gone through the most pronounced technological evolution of any campus building. “When I was in school, simple library research consisted of looking up books and references via the card catalog,” says George Miller, CLA ’73, SBM ’83.

“By the time I found the item in the card catalog and walked to the back of the second floor, the book wouldn't be there. Better yet, nearly every article I ever researched was cut out of the journal by some other student before I got to it. I swear, it happened all the time.”

Those are not problems most current students encounter, considering how much research can be done without ever even entering the building. Students can look up books online and view whether or not a book is currently on loan. They have access to a seemingly endless stream of academic journals, digital collections and databases, and can mine many of Temple's archival collections electronically. The library's use of social media, QR codes and other forms of outreach also have expanded research capabilities.

Therefore, they do not necessarily have to drive to campus, ride the Broad Street subway or even trudge from their dorm to the library to do research—they can conduct much of it in their pajamas.When they do visit the library, they are welcomed by a cafe and a sea of computers and collaborative study spaces abuzz with energy—the polar opposite of the hushed silence found among the stacks upstairs.

Or, as George’s daughter Britt Miller, Class of 2012, puts it, “That library is extremely hooked up.”

THE SOCIAL NETWORK

Though much of the foundation of those kinds of innovation has been around for years, the scale of it is still very new.

It wasn’t until 2005 that most Temple students could sign up for Facebook, making the Class of 2009 the first to always have a dependable resource for finding a new roommate or an old classmate online. Text messaging and smartphones, video conferencing and online research tools are now essentials of the college experience.

“I literally have no idea how I would have gotten through school in the past,” says Britt, who was in London at the time this article was written, and communicated via instant messaging, another web tool that has changed college life. “Every single thing I do as a student starts with the internet.”

Britt is a consummate social butterfly, and a natural connector. She sees the impact the web has had on campus life almost exclusively through the social lens: creating Facebook groups to learn about her fellow students earning international master of business administration degrees, using Google Docs for collaborative projects and following Twitter lists to track business trends for class.

After spending the fall semester studying in Paris, Britt is continuing the IMBA program on Main Campus this spring, before her coursework bounces her between India, China and Japan during the summer. Whenever she's gone and wants to visit Main Campus, she can hop on the popular video conference service Skype and talk to her brother, also named George, who aims to finish his bachelor's degree in marketing this summer.

Where Britt sees friends and followers, her somewhat more reserved brother sees a chance to increase the value of his classroom experience. For example, when a professor shares practice tests online, George says he can better prepare for the style and focus of the real test questions, allowing him to study more efficiently and effectively, and ultimately retain more of what he’s learned.

A POSTAGE STAMP AND LOTS OF HOPE

Owls also have better access to faraway, firsthand research sources—just ask Vivienne Angeles, CLA ’78, ’87, associate professor in the religion department of La Salle University in Philadelphia. Angeles came to Main Campus from the Philippines to study with the late, celebrated Professor of Religion Isma'il Raji al-Faruqi.

Her doctoral thesis was on the then-nascent Muslim movement in the Philippines, and she tried for the better part of a year to locate a leader of the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF), the movement’s leading political faction. She decided to send a letter addressed to the group in Tripoli, Libya, where MNLF members were rumored to be based.

“I sent it with no street address—just the group name, the city, a postage stamp and lots of hope,” Angeles says. After months of silence, a response arrived in her mailbox. It was a triumph for her thesis. “Now, you could probably get a response the same day,” she says, smiling.

And for Angeles, the extra legwork on the academic side of things was more than equaled by what it took to maintain a social life. To see what was going on around campus during her time at Temple in the ’70s and ’80s, Angeles relied on two indispensable tools: the college newspaper and department bulletin boards.

“You had to check those to stay up to date, and that took some effort,” says Angeles, while her daughter Jamie Nguyen, CHPSW ’08, listens. “I thought bulletin boards were only used for decoration,” Nguyen chimes in.

Britt, who completed her undergraduate degree at Penn State in 2008, notes that in the few short years since her time in Happy Valley, Pa., to her brother’s time at Temple, the impact of technology on college life is palpable. When she started college, she says that smartphones and social media were around, but the groundswell of change had not yet happened because students were still adapting to the technology.

“If you haven’t [adapted] by now, you're strange.”

Her father puts that in perspective.

“It’s easy to take it all for granted,” George says. “It’s important for Temple graduates of my era to remind our kids how far we’ve come. Still, I think we all try to imagine what we would have been able to accomplish if we had these tools when we were their age.”

Christopher Wink, CLA ‘08, is co-founder of the consulting firm Technically Media and its technology news site, Technically Philly.

  • This old photo of a dorm room shows how far technology has come on Temple’s campus.

Every single thing I do as a student starts with the internet.
Source: 
Britt Miller, Class of 2012
Abstract: 
Rites of passage that once embodied residential campus life are ancient history.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>Today's hyper-connected students experience a very different university than their alumni parents remember.</p>
News Article Thumbnail: 
magazine_feature

Intrepid Nature

<p>On-campus protest was one of the long-running themes of the Vietnam War. But David Zierler, CLA ’08, tells the story of a group of academics who bucked the system from inside.</p>

A U.S. Army helicopter sprays vegetation with Agent Orange during the Vietnam War. Photo courtesy National Archives and Records Admin.

Story by Larry Atkins, LAW ’86

Campus demonstrations and rock music might be the most iconic markers of resistance to the Vietnam War, but they certainly are not the only ones. In fact, U.S. Department of State historian David Zierler, CLA ’08, presents a fresh perspective on Vietnam-era protest in his 2011 book, The Invention of Ecocide: Agent Orange, Vietnam, and the Scientists Who Changed the Way We Think About the Environment.

Zierler’s account—which began as a doctoral dissertation at Temple and culminated in a 2011 book by University of Georgia Press—rises from the ranks of professional academia, rather than from the era’s counterculture.

The Invention of Ecocide documents the unusual and little-known efforts of a group of intrepid scientists who spoke out against herbicidal warfare used in South Vietnam.1

From 1961 to 1971, 11 million gallons of the controversial weed-killer Agent Orange were used in South Vietnam to clear approximately five million acres of dense vegetation. Until now, most of the debate about the chemical has focused on its potential toxicity to humans.

Since the use of Agent Orange during the Vietnam War, the chemical’s effects have been examined repeatedly in both the U.S. and Vietnam. A biennial study, Veterans and Agent Orange by the Committee to Review the Health Effects in Vietnam Veterans of Exposure to Herbicides, has found strong connections between exposure to Agent Orange and numerous cancers, including sarcoma, non-Hodgkin lymphoma and chronic lymphocytic leukemia.2 According to the Vietnamese Red Cross, exposed populations in Vietnam have experienced higher rates of numerous conditions, including spina bifida and other birth defects.3

But Zierler writes of a lesser-known destructive effect of Agent Orange—”ecocide,” or, the destruction of an entire ecosystem and its all-encompassing effects on human life.

“Agent Orange not only defoliates trees; it actually kills the trees,” Zierler says. “This results in widespread forest death and provides ideal circumstances for a number of invasive species to take over a given ecosystem, essentially rendering the area an ecological disaster.”

Ecocide can even devastate an area’s sociopolitical climate. Richard H. Immerman, Zierler’s dissertation advisor, Edward J. Buthusiem Family Distinguished Faculty Fellow in History and Marvin Wachman Director of the Center for the Study of Force and Diplomacy at Temple, adds that the destruction of the environment—which, in Vietnam included farmlands, crops and wildlife—can generate “famine, dislocation and other phenomena” that can dramatically destabilize a nation and its neighbors.

SILENT NO MORE

John Constable, Robert Cook, Arthur Galston, William Haseltine, Matthew Meselson, Bert Pfeiffer, Arthur Westing and scientists in the fields of botany, molecular chemistry, biochemistry, biology and other areas, were dismayed by the ecological destruction Agent Orange had wrought in Vietnam. Led by the efforts of Galston, a plant biologist and chair of the Department of Botany at Yale University, the scholars demanded change to the U.S. government’s policy on herbicidal warfare.

The result was not only to affect the course of the war, including U.S. strategy and operations, but also to link the environment with security.
-- Richard H. Immerman, Edward J. Buthusiem Family Distinguished Faculty Fellow in History; Marvin Wachman director, The Center for The Study of Force and Diplomacy at Temple

They first raised such concerns in 1964, the same year the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution passed, which gave U.S. President Lyndon Johnson the power to take “all necessary measures” to defeat North Vietnam. To describe such all-encompassing devastation, Galston coined the term “ecocide” in 1970. He and his colleagues saw more destruction looming on the horizon: They were wary of the devastating ecological and human tragedies that could result from future wars fought with more sophisticated chemical weapons, such as nuclear or biological ones—especially in the wake of the atomic destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.

“Damaged bodies coming home from Vietnam showed what humans could do worldwide,” Zierler says. “Environmental issues can’t be confined within national boundaries; they transcend them. That's the normative view today, but those scientists started that viewpoint.”

In January 1966, 29 Boston-area scientists from myriad fields sent a petition to the White House that denounced herbicidal warfare and called for its termination. In September of the same year, 12 plant physiologists sent a letter to the White House urging President Johnson to reconsider the herbicide program.

“The group had limited political activity, but they benefited from middle America losing interest in the Vietnam War as protests against it intensified,” Zierler says. “Scientists latched on to concerns about the environment and the antiwar movement. Both factors buoyed their attempts.”

DOGGED STRATEGY

Even with the war losing popularity among the American public, the resisters hit multiple roadblocks. Despite arguments against it, President Johnson considered the danger herbicides presented insignificant; in his eyes, the bigger issues were victory in Vietnam and avoiding nuclear warfare.

Prior to the group’s activism, the Johnson and Nixon administrations did not view the ecological impact of herbicide as a danger to human life. U.S. President Richard Nixon followed the lead of the Kennedy administration—the catalyst of the herbicide program—and argued that by using chemicals that killed plants and not people, the U.S. was exempt from the guidelines of the Geneva Protocol.

The protesting scientists also were a minority in their own profession: An American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) poll indicated that 81 percent of those surveyed supported the defoliation program.

Nonetheless, the group persisted with its campaign, and as support for the war continued to dwindle, they wrested the support of AAAS and of some members of Congress. In 1970, a group assembled by AAAS went to Vietnam and reported that the U.S. military had failed to isolate its spray missions from civilian areas, which meant that the farms dotting the Vietnamese landscape--on which civilians relied for food and money--also were threatened.

As a result of their tireless efforts—and because they were able to demonstrate the devastating short- and long-term effects of Agent Orange—ecocide eventually became prohibited under international law. In 1975, Congress and U.S. President Gerald Ford finally agreed that under the 1925 Geneva Protocol, the nation could not use Agent Orange in the future. Since then, herbicides have not played a major role in any war around the world.

And as predicted, Agent Orange still lingers in Vietnam. According to Hatfield Consultants, an environmental consulting and services group that studied the long-term impact of Agent Orange from 1994 to 2009, toxins are still found in the soil and water near the Da Nang and Bien Hoa airbases where Agent Orange was stored. It is located in water runoff and soil, and has been ingested by the region’s wildlife.

A NEW CONVERGENCE

Zierler’s perspective contributes significantly to the study of U.S. history. “Combining his expertise in both the history of U.S. foreign relations and environmental history, he is the first to demonstrate how war, diplomacy and environmental concerns converged in Vietnam, particularly, but not exclusively, over the use of Agent Orange,” Immerman explains. “The result was not only to affect the course of the war, including U.S. strategy and operations, but also to link the environment with security.”

Zierler’s unity of environmental and diplomatic history flourished while he was a student. “I came to Temple to work with Richard Immerman, one of the top diplomatic historians in the country,” Zierler says. “He and [Professor of History] Andrew Isenberg were very supportive of my dual interest in the environment and diplomatic history. Temple was a terrific place to launch my scholarly work and eventual State Department career.”

Kate Scott, CLA ’09, an assistant historian in the U.S. Senate, affirms the political significance of the ecocide resistance. “Concerns shared by a group of political novices took a complex issue like herbicidal warfare and made it an issue of national public policy,” she says. “Their lobbying efforts convinced members of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations that Agent Orange was a form of chemical and biological warfare--over the objections of the Nixon administration.”

Larry Atkins, LAW ’86, is an adjunct instructor of journalism at Temple.

 

1. Unless otherwise noted, information for this article is cited from Zierler, David. The Invention of Ecocide: Agent Orange, Vietnam, and the Scientists Who Changed the Way We Think About the Environment. Athens: University of Georgia Press. 2011.

2. Committee to Review the Health Effects in Vietnam Veterans of Exposure to Herbicides (Eighth Biennial Update); Institute of Medicine. Veterans and Agent Orange: Update 2010. Washington, D.C.: National Academies Press. 2011. nap.edu/catalog.php?record_id=13166

3. Martin, Michael F. Vietnamese Victims of Agent Orange and U.S.-Vietnam Relations. Washington, D.C.: Congressional Research Report for Congress RL34761. 2008.

  • David Zierler, CLA '08, author of The Invention of Ecocide.
The result was not only to affect the course of the war, including U.S. strategy and operations, but also to link the environment with security.
Source: 
Richard H. Immerman, Edward J. Buthusiem Family Distinguished Faculty Fellow in History; Marvin Wachman director, The Center for The Study of Force and Diplomacy at Temple
Abstract: 
David Zierler, CLA '08, tells the story of a group of academics who bucked the system from the inside.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>On-campus protest was one of the long-running themes of the Vietnam War. But David Zierler, CLA ’08, tells the story of a group of academics who bucked the system from inside.</p>
News Article Thumbnail: 
magazine_feature

Do the Locomotion

<p>An unconventional Temple researcher learns about human movement by setting lizards and crabs in motion.</p>

Assistant Professor of Biology Tonia Hsieh lets loose one of her lizards along a runway that includes a slippery surface, to study how the lizard can stabilize itself.

Story by Jaime Anne Earnest, CLA ’07

Photography by Joseph V. Labolito

In a lab in the College of Science and Technology, a small, unassuming lizard sits on an ad-hoc plywood runway. Suddenly, a burst of air behind him startles the little creature, and sends him sprinting down the runway at top speed. His gait is wide-rather than having his legs move in front of him, they flare to the side in a kind of propeller motion.

A high-speed camera trained on the runway catches all the action, and records the slightest change in the lizard's movement as he hits a slick spot. But, he keeps right on going, never stumbling, never skipping a beat. How did he do that?

It’s just one of the things that Assistant Professor of Biology Tonia Hsieh and her research team contemplate. She also is interested in how the cute-but-cannibalistic ghost crab can function after sacrificing a limb in battle with another of its species, and how the average cockroach is able to reach its top sprinting speed, hanging completely upside down.

As it turns out, understanding how we get around might depend on understanding how they get around.

Existing research illustrates some of the ways that animals walk and run in their native ecosystems, as well as how we humans navigate the challenges in ours. But many questions about how their movement can improve ours still remain.

[Ghost crabs] are incredibly cute, but they're also predatory, cannibalistic and merciless.
-- Tonia Hsieh, assistant professor of biology, College of Science and Technology

By studying the locomotion of these bipedal creatures, Hsieh’s team aims to understand how our bodies instinctively adapt to different surfaces and changing environmental conditions. The results could aid the elderly and enhance our understanding of robotics. “Our world is so complex,” Hsieh says. “As we make our way through our built environment, we have to deal with so many things: broken city sidewalks, grass, potholes. Until now, the biomechanics of movement have been studied in very controlled experimental environments. While that's been essential for understanding locomotion, we need to better understand how animals move in natural environments.”

LIZARD LOUNGE 

More than 100 small green anole lizards live in Hsieh’s lab—their slip-recovery methods particularly interest her. She also studies the basilisk lizard and baby frilled dragons, both bipedal runners. The researchers construct most of the surfaces on which their creatures run—like the runway. 

“For me, it's one of the most fun parts of the research—getting to build things,” Hsieh says. The runway comprises hard, smooth pieces of plywood and glossy poster board covered with a slick film. Hsieh and her team coax the lizards to sprint down the runway, and study how their movements differ depending upon whether or not they keep their balance on the slick spots.

The lizard can stay upright by rotating its upper body opposite the direction of the perturbed foot. But Hsieh adds that many times, the lizards will fall. That has to do with a number of variables, such as their leg position when they hit the slippery surface, where they are in their stride, and how fast they run. She says that these variables help the researchers understand what causes or prevents a fall, which has implications for physical therapy, and to better prevent injury in groups such as the elderly.

“Slipping and falling are major causes of morbidity and mortality in the elderly,” she explains. “As a result, this is a major public-health concern.”

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, one in three U.S. adults ages 65 and older experiences a falling accident each year. In addition to broken hips, ankles, pelvises and other debilitating conditions, those falls often contribute to traumatic brain injuries and death. Understanding how elderly bodies adapt to changing surfaces can help create living environments that cater to those most at risk for falls.

CRAB CLAWS

The lizards’ neighbor in the lab is Ocypode quadrata, also known as the ghost crab. Named for its nocturnal habits and its pale coloration, it has prominent front claws and shining black beaded eyes that are suspended above its body. Despite its small stature, the ghost crab fiercely battles other crabs when provoked. Hsieh describes their behavior with a discernible hint of glee.

“They’re incredibly cute, but they’re also predatory, cannibalistic and merciless. They systematically rip each other's legs off. They go from being fully intact, to spontaneously not. How are they compensating for limb loss?”

Understanding how the crabs compensate after injury has direct implications for building a better robot, especially for an organization such as the Department of Defense or for the military. “Imagine a robot that can jettison its leg after becoming disabled or stuck, and still be useful,” Hsieh says. Such a robot might be able to better aid soldiers in battle, or continue functioning after damage in conflict.

Traditional robotic design incorporated wheels, but wheels limit a robot’s range of motion, particularly in difficult, uneven terrain. But now, a growing trend among researchers is to use legs, allowing for more mobility. Hsieh says that understanding how those legs work in nature could mean a more adaptable robot.

MOVIE MAGIC

In order to effectively study her small, speedy subjects, Hsieh employs movie magic: 10 high-speed, super-high-definition video cameras, each capable of shooting up to 16,000 frames per second. A standard video camera shoots only 30 frames per second. One six-camera system is even the same type that was used to prototype Avatar. Using infrared light, the team films at 500 frames per second, gathering information from reflective markers placed on the lizards’ bodies. The data is fed through software that recreates the markers in three-dimensional space, allowing Hsieh and her team to track the creatures’ movements more precisely.

In another part of the lab, Hsieh uses a fluidizable trackway: essentially, a 1-foot-by- 3-foot tank filled with tiny glass beads between 2 and 300 microns in diameter. For comparison, a strand of human hair is about 50 microns in diameter.

Hsieh uses a wet vac to force air between the beads, which have the consistency of sand, and can assume the properties of a solid (think hard, compacted sand) or liquid (think of sand being poured out of a pail). When the volume changes from solid to liquid, the surface ripples like water. This particular setup provides the perfect controllable platform on which to simulate more of the variation of surfaces seen in nature.

The fluidizable trackway is used to study how changing surfaces affect the crabs’ ability to run. Surprisingly, Hsieh notes that crabs use pointy feet on the softer, granular surfaces, though humans would use snowshoes to adapt to a similar surface, like snow.

Much of Hsieh’s work crosses boundaries both within biology and across other disciplines, including engineering, physics, genetics and even architecture. It also challenges the notions of long-held theories in biomechanics.

One of the basic assumptions of the prevailing model, known as the Spring Mass model, states that all running animals will bounce like a pogo stick. The model assumes the constants are a hard, high-traction surface, and that gravity always points downward, toward the feet. Studying the water-running behavior in the plumed basilisk lizard—known as the “Jesus lizard” for its ability to run across the surface of the water—Hsieh found that this model did not apply to the mechanisms of the lizards running on water. And some animals, including the cockroach, run upside down.

“Cockroaches are remarkably stable and simple,” Hsieh says. “They make a great model for understanding how animals move, because they have a very simple neurological system and run with incredible stability. What is most amazing is that research both in my lab and by others shows that cockroaches are so stable, they use the same mechanisms for running in very different environments.”

INTO THE WILD

To interact with subjects in their natural habitats, Hsieh and her team have travelled throughout the Caribbean, Panama and Guam. Through her travels, she added yet another animal to her menagerie: Alticus arnoldorum, or the Pacific leaping blenny, which she first observed during a trip to Guam in 2002. Hsieh says these little fish demonstrate extraordinary feats of locomotion, and can even climb glass.

“These fish are incredibly dynamic and acrobatic,” Hsieh says. “They can twist their tails and direct most of the force for jumping into the ground.”

In 2010, Hsieh published her findings about the blenny, citing its ability to curl its body into a “C” shape, then twist the tail axially, using it to push its body off of the ground--whereas other types of fish can only move their tails side to side. She credited the blenny's unique tail-twisting abilities as a contributing factor to its being able to set up shop on land.

‘SCIENCE A.D.D.’

Hsieh says her love of animals began in childhood: “I wanted to be a veterinarian.” That is, until a research trip to New Zealand as an undergrad at University of California, Berkeley. “I was sitting atop Stephens Island, taking a break from fieldwork and staring into Cook Strait, when I suddenly realized I wanted to be a researcher, asking interesting questions and striving to find answers.”

Since then, Hsieh (who claims to have “science A.D.D.”) sometimes mirrors her tiny research partners when it comes to her work, running at high speeds from one project to the next, always conducting more than one study at a time. She has published nine papers relating to animal movement; her first was a study on how geckos are able to stick to surfaces, which earned her an article in the coveted journal Nature while at Berkeley. She is currently writing a paper about how tail loss in lizards affects their running stability.

It is clear that Hsieh loves what she does; in the lab, she lets the lizards crawl all over her, and as she watches them run, she smiles. As one nearly launches itself off the runway, she and her colleagues hoot with delight.

“I get to play with things that I've been chasing since I was a kid—this is my job,” she says with a laugh. “It’s really fantastic.”

Jaime Anne Earnest, CLA ’07, studies interdisciplinary science and is the Lord Kelvin/Adam Smith doctoral scholar at the University of Glasgow in Scotland.

 

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/hp1IwS4tKTY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
[Ghost crabs] are incredibly cute, but they're also predatory, cannibalistic and merciless.
Source: 
Tonia Hsieh, assistant professor of biology, College of Science and Technology
Abstract: 
An unconventional Temple researcher learns about human movement by setting lizards and crabs in motion.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>An unconventional Temple researcher learns about human movement by setting lizards and crabs in motion.</p>
News Article Thumbnail: 
magazine_feature

Cubic Feat

<div>Stephanie Chow&nbsp;</div><div><span style="line-height: 1.538em;">Degree: School of Medicine, Class of 2015</span></div><div>Hometown: Cupertino, California</div>

Photography by Ryan S. Brandenberg

Watching Stephanie Chow deftly solve a Rubik's cube is akin to watching a hummingbird: Like the speed of the latter’s wings, focusing on her actual movements is nearly impossible. A first-year medical student, Chow competes nationally in Rubik’s cube competitions—called “speedcubing”—and once was ranked the fastest female Square-1 solver in the world. (The Square-1 is a variation on the standard Rubik’s cube.)

When Temple met her in the Medical Education and Research Building, she was sitting with her classmates, whose jaws collectively dropped as they watched her solve the puzzle in under 15 seconds.

WHAT BROUGHT YOU TO TEMPLE?

The Medical School has great facilities, awesome classmates and wonderful faculty. Philadelphia also is a nice city. I’ve always wanted to live in the city.

HAVE YOU CHOSEN A MEDICAL SPECIALTY YET?

Not really, but I have ideas. I am thinking about oncology. The subject fascinates me. But really, it’s a bit early to decide.

THE RUBIK’S CUBE WAS FIRST RELEASED IN 1980. WHEN AND HOW DID YOU FIRST PICK IT UP?

In 2006, my friend—the former world-record-holder for speedcubing—gave me a cube for Christmas. I didn't improve my time until I attended UC Berkeley. There is an amazing Rubik’s cube community there, where we have a club, hold competitions and teach classes about how to solve the Rubik’s cube.

I'm only fast because I skip steps.

HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO LEARN HOW TO SOLVE IT?

A friend taught me, and I was able to solve it by the end of the day.

DO YOUR FRIENDS MAKE YOU SOLVE IT AT PARTIES?

Absolutely. I don’t really carry my cube around, but when I do, it’s a pretty big hit.

HOW DO YOUR INTEREST IN CUBING AND YOUR INTEREST IN MEDICINE DOVETAIL?

One thing we are learning about right now is how the embryo develops. During that stage of the life cycle, there are many folds of tissue and new membranes developing. It’s very much like picturing what happens to each part of the cube when I use a specific algorithm to solve it.

CAN YOU GIVE BEGINNERS SOME TIPS ON HOW TO SOLVE THE RUBIK’S CUBE?

The centers never move, so you are basically rotating all the faces around an axis. You solve the cube as you would make a three-layer cake. You start with the foundation, and then you build your way up from there. That is the simplest way I solve the cube, but there are many other methods to it. I'm only fast because I skip steps. For example, I construct the first two layers of the “cake” at a time.


 

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/XnJ60nMjMz8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
I'm only fast because I skip steps.
Abstract: 
Meet Stephanie Chow, Class of 2015, one of the world's fastest Rubik's Cube solvers.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<div>Stephanie Chow&nbsp;</div><div><span style="line-height: 1.538em;">Degree: School of Medicine, Class of 2015</span></div><div>Hometown: Cupertino, California</div>
News Article Thumbnail: 
magazine_feature

Express Yourself

<p>Temple helps North Philadelphia teens make art from struggle—and transform their lives and communities in the process.</p>

Winners of the New Voices at Temple program have their plays staged by professionals at Tomlinson Theater. Photo by Paola Nogueras

Story by Renee Cree, SMC '12

Education is the key to success
But just like the windows bolt lock the door\
It's never a good thing to know too much
They rather incarcerate than educate so we can never get a job
And ask why we rob
And say that we're the problem
No, we’re just the aftermath

Jamarr Hall became disinterested in school in second grade soon after the death of his mother. Though his frustrations lasted throughout high school, they did not manifest until after graduation.

“I didn’t realize what I’d missed out on—all the opportunities that students at better schools had,” he says now. To purge his true feelings about his learning environment, he wrote the poem “Budget Cuts,” an excerpt of which is above.

“I write from my life experiences,” says Hall, now 20 and employed full–time as a plumber with dreams of a career in entertainment. “I write from my heart.”

Hall liked to write, but he never performed his work until his senior year in high school, when he was invited to a poetry gathering in Philadelphia. There, he met Greg Corbin, founder and CEO of Philly Youth Poetry Movement (PYPM), a volunteer–run nonprofit organization that provides an environment for Philadelphia teens in which they can flex their creative muscles.

Corbin invited Hall to a slam–poetry workshop, where participants perform poetry and bounce ideas off each other. At that first workshop, Hall met Cait Miner, EDU ’08, ’09, who oversees PYPM’s slam–poetry program. In addition to weekly workshops, the program includes a high school slam–poetry league. It operates similarly to school sports programs: Students from approximately 15 area high schools compete in poetry meets throughout the academic year that culminate in semifinals and a championship.

“Cait was excited and happy that I wanted to continue with poetry, and she encouraged me to keep coming back,” Hall says.

That was two years ago. Since then, he has become a kind of teacher himself. This past summer, he coached, mentored and traveled with six PYPM members to the annual Brave New Voices International Youth Poetry Slam Festival in San Francisco. With more than 40 participating teams, it is the largest ongoing spoken word event in the world.

“Many of the kids who go through PYPM come back as mentors after they age out of the program,” Miner says. And many PYPM alumni who attend Temple join Babel, the university’s student–run spoken–word team. “PYPM is a like a family,” she says.

“A lot of the kids who come through here have seen hardship. To see them connect with their peers and come out of their shells is amazing.”

CREATIVE SOLUTION

Miner notes that many of her students in PYPM deal with issues such as drug abuse, homelessness, violence and even murdered family members. Unfortunately for many adolescents across Philadelphia, and in major cities across the country, these issues are all too common.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, violence is the leading cause of death among urban African Americans between 10 and 24 years of age, and the second–leading cause of death for Hispanics in the same age group. African–American youths also are victims of crime at a rate of about 26 per 1,000, versus 18 per 1,000 for Caucasian youths, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. With 72.6 percent of North Philadelphia’s population being African American and 20.5 percent being Hispanic,* that deadly threat of violence looms large.

Research also shows that chronic exposure to violence among minority youths could affect a child’s ability to cope with distress. But according to Gerald Stahler, CLA ’79, ’83, psychologist and professor of geography and urban studies at Temple, the news is not all bad. Creative outlets, such as writing and performing, can provide young people with a way to deal with such issues.

“Arts programs have been shown to improve engagement and communication, and lower rates of truancy,” he says. “They also promote important life skills, such as problem solving.”

A widely cited study conducted by the U.S. Department of Justice in 2001 looked at the effects of arts programs on children in Atlanta; Portland, Ore.; and San Antonio. It found that arts programs led to an improved ability to express anger in a healthy manner; more effective communication with adults and peers; better attitudes toward school; and higher self–esteem and self–efficacy.

“Arts programs can create a feeling of success, of ownership,” Stahler says. “That can go a long way in raising a child’s self–esteem.”

Miner sees that firsthand among her students. “They use PYPM to find themselves, get support and help other kids. Poetry is the vehicle to do all of that.”

"This program is a way for teens to see themselves in the arts, and to connect with the arts in a whole new way.”
-- Robert Blackson

PAGE TO STAGE

Temple’s Department of Theater brings the words of young writers from the page to the stage. Each fall, nine winners of the Philadelphia Young Playwrights’ annual festival see their plays come to life when their work is performed by Temple students, directed by theater professionals and staged at Tomlinson Theater on Main Campus.

“The plays are part of [Temple Theaters’] regular theater season,” says David Ingram, the associate professor of theater who produces the program, called New Voices at Temple. “The playwrights are there during rehearsal and are excited to take part in what is essentially their first professional endeavor.”

“The kids realize there is a power behind their writing,” he continues. “They put down an idea concretely, and have that idea validated through performance. They realize that what they say is important and that people will listen.”

Glen Knapp, CEO of Philadelphia Young Playwrights, says many of the writers infuse the plays with stories from their own lives, hoping for some type of resolution.

“One of our past winners wrote a complex, powerful play about living with an abusive father,” Knapp explains. “She presented it as fiction, but we came to understand that it was based on life experience. She was leaving for college, but we believe she wanted to protect her younger sister, who was still living in the house.” That young woman found her resolution through her play: Shortly after it was performed, her mother and sister left the house.

The 25–year–old New Voices program is powerful for all involved—playwrights, students and industry veterans, Knapp and Ingram say.

“While the undergraduates who perform these plays and the professionals who direct them teach the writers about the process, the writers educate the students and professionals about their lives and about what´s important to them,” Ingram says.

ROLL CAMERA

The stage is not the only place where North Philadelphia teens can express themselves. Through the University Community Collaborative of Philadelphia (UCCP), Barbara Ferman, professor of political science and UCCP executive director, provides teens and young adults with a different kind of creative outlet.

Since 1997, UCCP has worked with youth in the Philadelphia region through a number of different programs that not only give them an opportunity to talk about what is happening in their lives, but to figure out ways to change those things as well. Each of UCCP’s programs has a video component.

Temple students in the master's program for film and media arts assist participants in assembling public–service announcements and documentaries about issues that are important to them.

Saeed Briscoe, a junior studying film and media arts at Temple, is a UCCP veteran. For the past 12 years, he has been involved with a number of programs within the organization, including VOICES, the UCCP’s flagship program aimed at high school students. VOICES is a mix of leadership training, civic engagement and media production.

Two years ago, Ferman approached Briscoe about a new program—a youth–oriented news broadcast that would air on public access, called POPPYN (Presenting Our Perspective on Philly Youth News).

“I created POPPYN to counteract the negative depiction of young people of color in the media,” Ferman says. “The program gives teens and young adults the opportunity to develop stories about positive things and then present them on a sustained basis.”

Part of her plan is to inspire young adults to participate in their communities. Data show that exposure to a creative outlet can be a catalyst: According to a study published by the National Endowment for the Arts in March 2012, low–income youths who are exposed to arts programs during their teenage years are more than twice as likely to volunteer in their communities and 14 percent more likely to vote in a local election than their counterparts with less arts exposure. In addition, they are three times more likely to earn bachelor’s degrees than their peers.

Presenting Our Perspective on Philly Youth News has a year–round production schedule, and new episodes premiere each season. Broadcasts focus on issues such as the National Drop Out Prevention Program (a story Briscoe worked on, during which he met Philadelphia first lady Lisa Nutter), and zero–tolerance policies in schools.

Briscoe says his work with POPPYN exposed him to passionate professionals who guided him and gave him advice.

“POPPYN presents a positive view and sort of knocks those negative stereotypes to the side,” he says. “If you tell people they’re bad enough times, they’ll believe it. But if you offer them an alternate viewpoint, it lets them know that that’s not always the case, and that they can do something positive, too.”

He adds: “Kids don’t need to believe everything people tell them about themselves.”

EXHIBITING LEADERSHIP

The Tyler School of Art also empowers Philadelphia youth. This fall,Temple Contemporary (formerly Temple Gallery), as a part of the North Philadelphia Cultural Alliance is helping teens explore opportunities that await them in the arts through a new mentoring program aimed specifically at high school students of color.

A study published by the Philadelphia Cultural Alliance in 2009 found that though the city surpasses the national average of cultural participation in areas such as museum exhibitions, live music shows and theater performances, two in three of those patrons did not return. Robert Blackson, curator of Temple Contemporary, thinks that might be due to a lack of connection between arts management and arts audiences—especially adolescents.

“Across arts administrative roles, there is a lack of people of color, and there are few arts programs that focus on management,” Blackson says. “While Philadelphia is head–and–shoulders above other cities in terms of the variety of cultural outlets, this program is a way for teens to see themselves in the arts, and to connect with the arts in a whole new way.”

The program matches sophomores and juniors with leaders of cultural mainstays in Philadelphia, such as the Wagner Free Institute of Science—which provides educational programs about natural science and history—and Art Sanctuary, a nonprofit that encourages creative expression among African Americans. The students learn about the business of being creative, and what it takes to produce a great show or exhibition. Blackson says its goal is to introduce more people of color to management roles in the arts.

“This program puts the students in the driver’s seat,” he says. “Cultural leaders are listening and taking their advice. Their suggestions could lead to changes in programming in institutions around the country, and that would be huge for their self–esteem.”

* Philadelphia Research Initiative. A City Transformed: The Racial and Ethnic Changes in Philadelphia Over the Last 20 Years. Philadelphia: Pew Charitable Trusts. 2011.

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"This program is a way for teens to see themselves in the arts, and to connect with the arts in a whole new way.”
Source: 
Robert Blackson
Abstract: 
Temple helps North Philadelphia teens make art from struggle.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>Temple helps North Philadelphia teens make art from struggle—and transform their lives and communities in the process.</p>
News Article Thumbnail: 
magazine_feature

Robodocs

<p>Temple's rapidly expanding robotics surgery program reduces months of recovery to days.</p>

Barbara Singleton, a dairy farmer, was back on the farm soon after robot–assisted endoscopic mitral–valve repair at Temple University Hospital. Photo by Ryan S. Brandenberg

Story by Renee Cree, SMC ’12

When Barbara Singleton, 52, went to her doctor’s office on a chilly fall day in 2011, her heart was the last thing on her mind. She was meeting with her doctor for a routine physical, but as the doctor listened to Singleton’s chest, she frowned. She did not like the sound of a murmur in Singleton’s heart. The murmur itself was nothing new to Singleton—she had known about it since she was 19. Many heart murmurs are innocent and require no medical treatment. But not in Singleton’s case.

Michael Miller, 57, a construction worker in Philadelphia, also knew he had a heart murmur, and like Singleton, he had not thought much about it. But during a physical, Miller learned that his heart had become enlarged. After testing, his doctor concluded that the problem was due to mitral–valve prolapse. The condition occurs when the mitral valve of the heart, which forces blood from the left atrium to the left ventricle, does not close tightly and causes mitral regurgitation, a backflow of blood.

According to the Mayo Clinic, mitral regurgitation often causes a murmur in the heart, and can progress slowly over decades. Symptoms can develop so slowly that patients—such as Singleton and Miller—do not even notice them.

“I hadn’t felt shortness of breath, fatigue or any other outward symptoms,” says Singleton, a dairy farmer who spends hours each day doing strenuous outdoor work. “I didn’t realize how serious it was.” Miller echoes that sentiment. “I had been seeing my doctor regularly for physicals, and felt totally fine.”

“Mitral–valve disease is largely undertreated,” says T. Sloane Guy, associate professor of surgery in the School of Medicine and chief of cardiothoracic surgery at Temple University Hospital (TUH). “It’s innocuous; it doesn’t present with serious symptoms all at once.” He likens it to smoking. “You might not notice anything wrong today, but over time, it causes significant damage.”

If left unchecked, mitral regurgitation can lead to an infection in the heart, pulmonary hypertension or heart failure. A study published in July 2010 in The New England Journal of Medicine noted a mortality rate of 3 percent per year among patients who had moderate to severe mitral regurgitation, but showed no symptoms. Mitral regurgitation is found in about 20 percent of people older than 55, but surgery is not always needed.

Guy says that an echocardiogram, or echo, can quickly determine the difference between something benign and something more serious. Echoes performed by their respective cardiologists showed that Singleton and Miller did have damage due to mitral regurgitation and required surgery. Both were referred to Guy and TUH, to try a relatively new procedure in the region: robot–assisted endoscopic mitral–valve repair.

I came home three days after surgery and was already doing light housework, washing dishes and that kind of thing.
-- Barbara Singleton

MAN VERSUS MACHINE

During traditional heart surgery, the surgeon opens the ribcage like a set of double doors. He or she makes a long cut near the breastbone, or sternum, and moves the muscles to reach the heart. The doctor then cuts into the left side of the heart to reach the mitral valve.

But in robot–assisted endoscopic mitral–valve surgery, Guy makes five small incisions in the patient’s side, each only a few millimeters wide. He then inserts a small camera that lights and magnifies the heart, so he can see a high–resolution, three–dimensional image of the heart broadcast on a large screen. He directs robotic instruments inserted into other incisions via devices similar to video-game joysticks.

For patients, the pros of the procedure are simple. “People don’t like big holes in their bodies,” Guy says.

After traditional heart surgery, patients are advised not to drive for four to six weeks; they cannot lift anything heavier than a milk carton. Additionally, they are often prescribed strong narcotics for pain management, are left with a huge scar and have a long recovery time in the hospital. But for patients who have the minimally invasive procedure at Temple, their total recovery time is a matter of weeks. Sometimes, it is only days.

“I went in on Valentine’s Day—a fitting day for heart surgery,” Singleton laughs. “I came home three days after surgery and was already doing light housework, washing dishes and that kind of thing. Within a few weeks, I was back out on the farm, but monitoring my activity levels.”

Singleton’s uncle had traditional heart surgery, during which the chest cavity is opened, and says his full recovery took close to three months. “I would have hated to go through traditional surgery; the downtime is so much different,” she says. "I wasn’t stiff or sore when I got home. I didn’t even need the pain medication they prescribed me.”

Michael Miller had the procedure a week before Singleton, “and was out that Friday,” he says. “I was up and walking around, and working with a physical therapist just a few days later.

“A friend of mine had traditional surgery the same week I had mine, and he was in the hospital recovering for three weeks,” Miller adds. “I still don’t think he’s 100 percent. But I felt better right away.”

  • Temple Health´s burgeoning robotics program got Michael Miller back to work much sooner than if he had had traditional heart surgery. Photo by Joseph V. Labolito

TOMORROW’S O.R., TODAY

The mitral–valve repair procedures were the first to be performed in TUH’s burgeoning robotic surgery program. Since Guy’s arrival in 2011, the program has grown significantly: Surgeons perform approximately two robotic–assisted surgeries per week, ranging from cardiac procedures such as coronary bypass grafts and atrial septal defect repairs, to other specialties including gynecology, urology and thoracics (parts of the chest unrelated to heart function).

The first–ever surgical procedure to use a robot was performed about 35 years ago, making it a fairly new surgical field. By hiring talented doctors, expanding the robots in other specialties and purchasing more high–tech equipment, Guy hopes to make TUH one of the nation's leaders in robotic surgery.

The first step toward that goal came in April. Daniel Eun, MED ’01, newly appointed vice chief of robotic surgery and director of minimally invasive robotic urological oncology at Temple, performed the nation’s first robotic–assisted repair of an obstructed kidney by operating through a single, small incision in the patient’s navel.

“Using a platform that improves the surgeon’s ability to manipulate the instruments with greater range of motion through that single incision truly brings the greatest benefits to patients,” Eun explains.

“If we want to attract more patients to TUH, we have to do things that other places aren’t doing,” Guy says. “My goal is to develop a high–volume, multi–specialty robotic program that is on the absolute cutting edge, but that we do it in the best interest of the patients. I want robotics to be in every specialty where it’s beneficial.”

Listen to a regular heartbeat, versus one with mitral regurgitation.

 

I came home three days after surgery and was already doing light housework, washing dishes and that kind of thing.
Source: 
Barbara Singleton
Abstract: 
Temple´s robotic surgery program reduces months of recovery to days.
Quarter: 
Year: 
2012
Sub-heading: 
<p>Temple's rapidly expanding robotics surgery program reduces months of recovery to days.</p>
News Article Thumbnail: 

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