Reconstructing the Past

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Winter 2026

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Pottery demands patience, resilience and a willingness to risk failure. This truth comes into sharp focus for students Ainslee Binkley ’26 and Emmalia Ciccarello ’27, who crouch beside a blazing fire on one of summer’s most sweltering days. As heat radiates from red-glowing coals, they keep a watchful eye on the pieces they crafted using Native American techniques — and wait for the results. 

The pots, some plain and utilitarian, others etched with faint stripes and dots, are shaped from clay that Binkley and Ciccarello dug from nearby creek banks and riverbeds. The firing marks the culmination of a months-long research project, during which both students discovered a powerful metaphor for life and the resilience of the people who once shaped the °”ÍűTV Valley. 

“Recreating the pottery methods forced us to take time and pay attention — to the clay, the water, the fire and the landscape around us,” says Binkley. “The process was slow and challenging, but I think that was the point. It demonstrated how knowledge, culture and relationships to the land were shaped and preserved over generations.” 

Their journey began by looking to the past. To trace original clay sources, Binkley and Ciccarello turned to a large collection of Native pottery shards once owned by Isle of Que native Danny Michaels and donated to Jennifer Elick, professor of earth & environmental sciences and leader of the °”ÍűTV research project.  

Growing up on the Isle of Que, a narrow peninsula in the °”ÍűTV River, Michaels often spotted small pieces of fired clay scattered across the soft, upturned soil after spring planting. Intrigued, he began collecting them on his walks — eventually amassing more than 600 shards, some no larger than the size of a pumpkin seed. Many still bear corded impressions or traces of pigment, possible links to the people who once lived in the central °”ÍűTV Valley. 

Binkley and Ciccarello analyzed some of these pieces by grinding small samples into powder, slicing others to examine with a microscope, and using an X-ray fluorescence instrument to determine the clay’s chemical makeup and that of the temper used to stabilize it.  

“We’re trying to make pots that are identical in terms of the natural resources that Native Americans would have had access to,” Elick explains. “One of the challenges is finding exactly what resources they would have used.” 

The results revealed variations in mineral content — iron-rich clays from one creek, barium-laden temper from local bedrock — helping to map where the original materials likely came from. 

“There is a big gap in the history of the Isle of Que,” Ciccarello says of the area near downtown Selinsgrove. “Because the donated pieces were found in this area, we wanted to understand what kind of routes Native Americans might have taken to source the clay.”  

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Their analysis suggested that the region’s Indigenous people weren’t limited to local clay sources but participated in broader networks of exchange. Some of the artifacts donated with the pottery shards were not native to central Pennsylvania, such as soapstone, metarhyolite and argillite, which may have come from as far south as Lancaster and South Mountain. They also found that barium-rich temper grains were derived from local deposits of chert, which is fine sedimentary rock. Of the little known about the Susquehannock Tribe that once inhabited the central °”ÍűTV Valley, historians believe they might have occupied the Isle of Que on a seasonal basis. 

From lab to field, and back again, the student researchers and their mentor moved between science and craft, theory and practice — each step bringing them closer to understanding how Native Americans created these pots. 

Elick, Binkley and Ciccarello harvested their own clay from nearby Penns Creek, Middle Creek and the °”ÍűTV River. They formed the clay into small bricks and Elick fired them on her grill to test their durability. The clay from the creeks baked into sturdy pieces, while the °”ÍűTV River clay failed, too sandy to hold its shape.  

Once back on campus, they worked the Penns and Middle creeks clays, kneading it and shaping it into bowls using round molds or even small boulders. To mimic Native techniques, they twisted milkweed fibers into ropes and pressed them into wet clay using a paddle and anvil method, leaving intricate corded imprints.  

“When we were making our pieces, we really reflected on how much of an art form it was, not just utilitarian,” Binkley says. 

That trial-and-error process — part science, part art — revealed the project’s deeper value. Each stage asked the students to cross disciplines: geology and chemistry to evaluate the mineral makeup of the clay; anthropology to connect their work with Native traditions; and art to replicate cord markings and decorative patterns — all grounded in cultural respect and research integrity.  

“This project really encompasses what is so powerful about the liberal arts,” Elick says. “They’re thinking like a scientist, an artist and a historian all at once and combining these elements to try to answer some questions that require a lot of critical thinking. That’s the essence of the liberal arts.” 

Then came the real test: the fire. Similar to how Natives would have done it, they arranged rocks on which they built the fire. Once it was ablaze and their pieces had been gently warmed outside the flame’s reach, Binkley and Ciccarello carefully nestled their pots into the coals and covered them with a tent of wood kindling. 

“It’s so nerve-wracking,” Binkley admits. “The whole time you’re holding your breath, wondering if the pots will survive.” 

Slowly, the clay shifted color — from dull gray to red-hot to soft earth tones. All the pots made it through the fire, some bearing a few cracks. A more perfect metaphor for life would be hard to find.  

The project reminded them that curiosity fuels discovery, leading them to pursue answers to difficult questions. It also underscored the importance of understanding that our past and the people who walked this land before us laid the foundation of the world we live in today — literally and figuratively.  

“When you’re making the pottery, you gain an admiration for the people who were once here,” Ciccarello adds. “This experience gave me a real appreciation for respecting the land and the history of a place. That’s something I’ll carry with me always.”  

The Valley’s Earliest Inhabitants  

From °”ÍűTVĂ­s Central °”ÍűTV Valley History Project  

Founded in 1858, °”ÍűTV draws its name from the °”ÍűTV River, which forms in New York and descends through Pennsylvania and Maryland before emptying into the Chesapeake Bay.  

For thousands of years, Native American tribes made their lives along the river’s quiet shores, including the Susquehannock Tribe, the people for whom the river is named.   

By the 17th century, the Susquehannock Tribe had become a prominent community in the °”ÍűTV Valley. They spoke an Iroquoian language that was poorly preserved and much about them remains unknown, including what they called themselves. In Virginia and Maryland, Algonquian-speaking peoples called them Sasquesahanough, or “people of the muddy river.”  

The Susquehannock population had been devastated by disease and warfare by the 1670s. Survivors eventually became known as the Conestoga Tribe. A century later, in 1763, the last remaining Conestogas were massacred by vigilante settlers in Maryland, marking the end of a people who shaped the Valley’s earliest history.  

Article written by:

Amanda O’Rourke

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Confidence & Connections

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Winter 2026

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Launched by the Sigmund Weis School of Business in 2022–23, the mentorship program helps guide business students as they inch closer to affirming their academic and career goals. Every sophomore is paired with two to three mentors who offer an uncommon level of personal and professional support. The model fills a gap faculty and staff recognized: first-year business students benefit from the guidance of upper-level student coaches through Global Business Perspectives, and juniors often find clarity through study abroad or internships. Second-year students, Programs Coordinator Kristie Buriak ’99 Anderson explains, deserve their own dedicated layer of support. 

“Choosing a career path can feel daunting and overwhelming. Having alumni offer a different perspective gives students confidence to make those big, life-changing decisions.”

 Jay Monahan ’07

“Through the mentorship program, students can ask questions directly of someone working in the career they’re considering — what the role is really about, what the path looks like, what skills matter most,” Anderson says. “And because most mentors are alumni,” she adds, “students also receive advice about classes, majors and minors, and ways to maximize their °”ÍűTV experience.” 

The relationships formed through the program have quickly proven transformative. Students connect with mentors for rĂ©sumĂ© reviews, interview preparation, job shadowing and discussions about internships and study abroad. They receive introductions to other alumni and industry professionals and, in many cases, those connections lead to concrete opportunities. 

Mason Winslow ’26, a business analytics major, says the key to landing his first major internship was his mentor, PwC Pittsburgh office Managing Partner Katie Hawley ’05 Mominee.  

“I gained valuable interview skills and great connections with professionals in the field of business,” Winslow says. “After a referral from Katie, I received an interview — and ultimately an offer for a digital assurance and transparency internship at PwC.” 

For Hailey Bowden ’25, the mentorship program “highlighted the strength of the °”ÍűTV network.” The perspective and guidance provided by her mentor, Kelly Jockwer ’16 Gasbarro, contributed to her securing opportunities that aligned with her career goals.  

“Now, as colleagues at Prudential, we often get lunch together and continue those same conversations about career growth, goals and navigating the workplace,” Bowden says. “Kelly has also connected me with other °”ÍűTV alumni at Prudential, which has helped me grow my professional network and build meaningful connections across the firm. Having someone who had been in my shoes — and who genuinely wanted to see me succeed — made a big difference.” 

Mentors, too, speak passionately about the experience. Jay Monahan ’07, who was paired with management major Erin Kavanaugh ’28, remembers how uncertain early college years can feel — while discovering how fulfilling it is to guide someone through them. 

“Choosing a career path can feel daunting and overwhelming,” Monahan acknowledges. “Having alumni offer a different perspective gives students confidence to make those big, life-changing decisions. I’m truly honored to support my mentee through that process. °”ÍűTV shaped who I am today, so it’s rewarding to give back in this way.” 

That sense of shared purpose is reflected across the program, and feedback from students has been overwhelmingly positive, Anderson notes. Students gain not only practical guidance, but also the self-assurance that comes from being supported by professionals who believe in their potential. 

“Ultimately, the power of this program is the relationships,” Anderson adds. “Students build meaningful, lasting networks with people who genuinely want to see them succeed.”

Article written by:

Jennifer Yuricich ’00 Spotts

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Pedaling through Grief

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Spring Summer 2025

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Mark was on the final day of a solo cross-country bike journey in memory of his brother, Chris ’85. After cruising through a busy downtown Astoria, Oregon, Mark was making his way to the Astoria Riverwalk along the sparkling Columbia River. With just eight miles to reach the Pacific Ocean and be reunited with family and friends, his tire caught on a set of trolley tracks, hurtling him and his bike into the air. 

Fortunately for Mark, he had taken a piece of Chris with him on his once-in-a-lifetime ride: his brother’s red Bontrager helmet. 

“It took over 4,000 miles, but my brother’s helmet saved me when my head slammed against the ground,” Mark says. “It was going to be retired after this trip, so it’s only fitting it got banged up finishing the job.”

Mark and Chris, both bicyclists, had talked about biking different parts of the country together. Those plans came to a halt when Mark received an unexpected phone call on April 1, 2021. 

Chris had died of a heart attack just after completing a mountain bike ride in Arizona. He was 57.

“I was home alone at that time when Chris’ wife called me,” Mark remembered. “I was completely devastated and almost in disbelief.”

He clearly recalls certain details of the following days while others have faded into the background. He called his wife, Margot, and his close friend and Episcopal priest, the Rev. Peter Walsh, to help him process the news before driving from his home in Connecticut to New Jersey to be with his brother’s stunned family.

Assistant Professor of Psychology John Monopoli says that grief proceeds in stages. 

“In the immediate aftermath — once we pay our respects and go our separate ways — it can feel like you’re sick. It can be hard to focus,” he explains. “With time, we learn a new normal. We don’t go back to normal or ‘get over it’ — we just reach a new normal. That’s OK.”

It’s true, Mark had never experienced the loss of a brother before. But Chris’ death was not Mark’s first encounter with grief, nor would it be his last. 

Brothers and best friends

Mark and Chris were the only children born to their parents. They spent their early childhood in Minnesota before their father, known fondly as “Big Thor,” moved the family to New Jersey for a professional opportunity in New York City.

New Jersey was a far cry, literally and culturally, from the Midwest, but the Thorsheim family discovered a little enclave of Minnesota natives. And every summer, these families would travel back to Minnesota. One particular summer, members of three families packed into their friends’ green Chrysler New Yorker — five adults, four kids and a dog — and returned to the land of 10,000 lakes.

“Chris was the classic big brother — mischievous, loved to torment me,” Mark says. “We were lucky because we shared so many experiences and knew everything about each other. We navigated our parents being divorced. We left no stone unturned.”

After high school, Mark followed Chris to °”ÍűTV. Both were finance majors. Both played on the men’s soccer team.

“Chris picked °”ÍűTV and loved it and thrived there. He was all in on the experience and so it was fun for me to join him when I was a freshman and he was a senior,” Mark says. “Chris had a presence about him that was special — he had this infectious ability to draw people in and he would make everything so fun. He was my best friend.”

Over the last several years, Mark has become well acquainted with grief. The year before he lost his brother, their mother died. Two years after Chris’ death, Mark paid his final respects to his father. Of the New Jersey–Minnesota crew that Mark has such fond memories of traveling with, only two survive, including one of the other parents and him.

“I’m the last man standing,” he says with a bittersweet chuckle, but there is an acknowledgement that being the “last survivor” can be a lonely feeling, one he admits he wrestles with.

“With our parents and siblings, we have a trove of memories that only truly resonate within the family,” he says. “I’m grateful for my own family and that I have a close connection to my wife’s family, but ultimately that history can only be relived with my parents and Chris.”

Thor Tour

Mark would have been with Chris on his final ride in Arizona, but a torn rotator cuff sidelined him. The brothers had talked about someday biking across the country together. 

“Chris lived by the phrase ‘carpe diem’ and instilled it in me,” says Mark. After Chris died, time seemed of the essence. Mark underwent a thorough physical, which revealed a familial predilection for plaque buildup. He got a statin prescription and a hip replacement and started planning. 

For this, he went to fellow °”ÍűTV alumnus Larry Walsh ’84, who completed the grueling, 4,200-mile TransAmerica Bicycle Race in 2019. 

“Larry was invaluable, he was really great to give me some time to pick his brain on what worked and what didn’t work and the mentality you need to do something like this,” Mark says. Walsh has blogged and written extensively about his cycling adventures, which prompted Mark to do the same. His blog, Thor Tour (), chronicled every day of his 61-day journey from Connecticut to Oregon. 

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For four months after his hip replacement, Mark focused on getting in shape, but he also planned a route that wouldn’t push him into unsafe conditions, limiting his peak elevation to under 9,000 feet. He planned stays with friends and family, and in hotels and inns to give himself time to rest.

On June 25, Mark set off from the Connecticut coast with a bang — literally. His back tire blew up. 

“Big bro Chris absolutely pranking me from above,” Mark jokes. 

It was the first of many serendipitous moments he encountered as he cycled though the hills of Pennsylvania, the cornfields of Iowa, the badlands of North Dakota and the canyons of Montana. Sometimes it was as simple as feeling Chris’ spirit urging him onward during a particularly tough ride or making it to the end of a ride before a summer thunderstorm hit.

“The trip was pretty mystical,” Mark recalls, “with moments of complete clarity that Chris was present in many different ways.”

His most emotional moment occurred at Assumption Abbey, a monastery in Richardton, North Dakota, where Mark enjoyed dinner with the resident Benedictine monks and stayed the night. 

“The next morning, I got up super early and the sun was coming up. It was a perfect day, so I went to the bluff to take in the incredible view that stretched for miles when one of the brothers walked out,” Mark remembers. “He said, ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ I was startled because I didn’t know he was there. He looked at me and said, ‘I’m Brother Christopher.’”

As Mark pedaled away, he says the dam broke.

“I was crying with happiness,” he says. “My whole trip was an extended way to stay close to Chris. I just know I sense Chris when he’s near and receive messages all the time.”

A hidden gift

Mark’s long hours on the road — about 80 miles a day over 50 riding days — gave him an incredible opportunity to grieve his lost loved ones and decide how he was going to move forward with his life. 

Monopoli adds that when we start to adjust to a “new normal” after losing a loved one, we find a way that feels meaningful to us to honor who has passed. For Mark, it was the Thor Tour. Now that he completed it, he realizes his connection to Chris is still going strong. 

“I’ve had to shift my ‘outside’ relationship with him from when he was living to an ‘inside’ relationship that we can continue to build and develop,” Mark says. “It can be painful, but that pain reminds me of how much I loved him and helps me stay close to him.”

Perhaps the greatest surprise for Mark has been discovering that grief, when embraced, can be a friend.

“I have learned there is a hidden gift in grief,” he adds. “It keeps me close to Chris and serves as a powerful agent to stay connected to those I’ve lost.” 

Bonds of Brotherhood 

Mark Thorsheim and his late brother, Chris, were alike in many respects, but as students at °”ÍűTV in the 1980s, they diverged in one notable way: Mark’s involvement in Greek life. 

Mark was a member of Lamda Chi Alpha. More than 30 years after his graduation from SU, he was approached by a parishioner at his church about joining the board of Career Resources Inc., Connecticut’s leading workforce development agency. Coincidentally, and unbeknownst to Mark at the time, CRI is led by °”ÍűTV alum and fellow Lambda Chi Alpha brother, Scott Wilderman ’86. Alum Michael Finn ’86, another member of their fraternity, also sits on the organization’s board. 

“I knew it was meant to be,” Mark says of his service to CRI. “It’s an amazing agency in the workforce development area and huge partner to the state of Connecticut. Many of our clients are returning citizens who have been incarcerated and need to get a jumpstart on their lives.” 

Founded in 1995, CRI serves communities across Connecticut with a comprehensive array of workforce development programs to support youth and adults, many with significant barriers to employment, in obtaining the skills needed to enter the workforce and build a career pathway to economic self-sufficiency and to successfully reintegrate into their communities. 

“As an investment banker, I’ve worked with hundreds of entrepreneurial organizations over my career. Scott’s leadership of CRI is one of the most impressive stories I’ve encountered,” says Mark. “He has built a tremendous team, grown annual revenue over 15 times and established one of the most reputable nonprofits in the state. Scott is highly regarded by a wide range of government, corporate and community leaders with whom CRI has built relationships — but it’s his ability to bring true professionalism together with sincere compassion for every individual we employ and serve, which makes him so special and so admired.”

Mark has served as a board member since 2020, so his brother was aware of his work with and dedication to the organization. He established the Thor Tour to raise money for CRI because he knew his trip needed a meaningful purpose. Mark’s initial goal was to raise $25,000 in critical operating funds for CRI through his cross-country bike ride, which he pledged to match. To date, Mark has raised over $150,000. 

“I’ve run a nonprofit for over 25 years and always had board members go the extra mile, but never 4,000 miles,” Wilderman says. “Mark needed to do this trip to fulfill a promise to his brother, and I am glad that he took CRI along for the ride.” 

CRI’s workforce development programs (careerresources.org) help youth and adults reintegrate into society after protracted periods of incarceration. “Funding is always a challenge for nonprofits, especially when you are trying to help ex-offenders, or as we call them, returning citizens,” explains Wilderman. “The funds that Mark raised will support these men and women with clothing, housing, job training, transportation and a variety of support often not covered by grants.” 

Mark and Wilderman marveled at how life has brought them back into each other’s orbits more than 30 years after they were students at °”ÍűTV. Although they were fraternity brothers, both admit they didn’t know each other well as students.

“Connecting with Mark and Mike after so many years and having them serve on my board is a true testament that relationships forged on campus not only endure the tests of time but can also thrive later in life,” Wilderman adds.

The Thorsheim family recently established the Christopher A. Thorsheim ’85 Scholarship to support students seeking a business degree who have exhibited outstanding academic and extracurricular credentials and have a financial need.

Article written by:

Amanda O’Rourke

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Spring Summer 2025

Once Upon a Climate

“Climate change research is critical, but complex science can be hard to communicate, especially to children,…

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Unassessed Waters

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The post Pedaling through Grief appeared first on °”ÍűTV Currents Magazine.

Once Upon a Climate

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Spring Summer 2025

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“Climate change research is critical, but complex science can be hard to communicate, especially to children, which creates a gap that limits public understanding and action,” says Siobhan Fathel ’11, assistant professor of earth & environmental sciences. “We are experiencing a time in which science is under scrutiny, but I think talking about science and being able to make it accessible is what we have to focus on.”

Students in Fathel’s Climate and Global Change course recently tackled this problem when they translated peer-reviewed scientific journal articles into children’s books. Every story focuses on an impact of climate change and cites the research article that inspired it. Each book is also accompanied by a parent and educator guide that explains the science behind the story, directs them to additional information and gives them a list of action items to help the environment.

Coral’s Colors by Rhylee Gangestad ’25, an environmental studies major from Hagerstown, Maryland, follows a coral character and her ocean friends as they experience a bleaching event caused by climate change.

“The theme centers around environmental resilience, human responsibility and hope while the story introduces young readers to coral bleaching in an age-appropriate, emotionally engaging way,” Gangestad explains. “The illustrations are bright and expressive and show the ocean both in distress and in recovery, depending on human action.”

Gangestad’s scholarly inspiration came from her lifelong love of the ocean.

“Growing up, the beach was always a place of beauty and joy during family vacations. I believe many kids see it that way too, which makes the idea of losing it feel personal and real,” Gangestad shares. “That’s why translating such an important topic into a format that could reach children — and inspire them to care about the planet — felt especially meaningful to me.”

After choosing her research article, Gangestad read and annotated the article, pulling out key terms, causes and effects. She then brainstormed how to personify the coral and bring emotion and storytelling into the science. She wrote the story in rhyme to make it fun and readable for young kids, while still keeping the core scientific ideas accurate. For the visuals, Gangestad worked in the graphic design platform Canva.

“One challenge was simplifying the science without oversimplifying or losing accuracy. Coral bleaching involves complex biological and climate systems, so I had to distill that into something a child could understand,” she says. “Another challenge was finding the right tone — balancing the seriousness of climate change with a message of hope and action.”

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From the Chesapeake Bay to the Pinewood Forests

In Oscar the Oyster, the main character lives in the Chesapeake Bay and loves playing soccer. But with rising temperatures exacerbated by a nearby power plant, Oscar and his bivalve buddies can only play soccer for a few minutes before a seagull referee is forced to end the game early.

The book was written by Maryland natives Cate Chodnicki ’25, an environmental studies and international studies double major from Bel Air, and Sean Yamada ’25, an environmental studies major from Brookeville. For background, they used a study that examined the impacts of hypoxia and warming waters on oyster growth and health.

“Oysters are integral to the health of the Chesapeake Bay because they are natural water filters, filtering pollution and sediment as they feed,” Chodnicki says.

Evan Heisler ’26, an ecology major from Camp Hill, Pennsylvania, and Sylvia Kniss ’25, an earth & environmental sciences major from Kempton, Pennsylvania, wrote Sadsquatch about a giant purple sasquatch who is heartbroken when her little bird friends migrate farther north to more suitable habitats with cooler climates.

“The story is about friendship but it is inspired by a highly comprehensive scientific study on bird migration that draws on data from the past 100 years,” Heisler says.

Other students created books that touch on extreme weather, arctic ice melt, drought and more. The storybooks are available to view in °”ÍűTV’s Blough-Weis Library. 

Article written by:

Amanda O’Rourke

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Feature

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Spring Summer 2025

Pedaling through Grief

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A Tale of Two Visionaries

Documentarians delve into discomfort to drive change.

In the realm of visual storytelling, the documentaries of Fernando Ramirez ’82 and Baktash Ahadi ’05 converge, painting a vivid picture of the human experience in times of war and highlighting the transformative power of people and their stories. Both individuals, hailing from immigrant backgrounds and armed with a profound sense of purpose, are driven by a common goal: to effect positive change in the world by amplifying the voices of marginalized communities.

Ramirez created Beyond the Statistics about displaced Ukrainian refugees to focus the narrative on their courage and resilience rather than the statistics about the horrors of the war. For Ahadi, the focus of Retrograde was personal: to document the aftermath of our nation’s withdrawal from the war in Afghanistan, his native homeland. While the contexts of the wars in Ukraine and Afghanistan may differ, both documentaries shed light on the profound impact of conflict on individuals and communities. In Afghanistan, decades of war have left lasting trauma and displacement among its people. Similarly, the invasion of Ukraine has thrust millions into uncertainty, forcing families to flee their homes and navigate the complexities that brings. Through intimate storytelling and firsthand accounts, both documentaries aim to humanize the experiences of those affected by war — highlighting the universal themes of courage, compassion and unwavering determination amidst adversity — and inspire social change.

Pursuit of Social Impact

Fernando Ramirez ’82 spent more than 30 years in the environmental sector, specifically in energy efficiency. He leveraged his business degree to build social impact companies, including numerous entrepreneurial ventures in sustainable energy and water access. In 2021, he founded Bridges 2030, a nonprofit nongovernmental organization dedicated to supporting two groups in particular: forcibly displaced communities and the next generation of changemakers.

“I believe that our passions are shaped by personal experience. My own family has an immigrant journey; we arrived in the U.S. in 1970 from Colombia, so I can relate to the struggles of moving to a foreign land,” he says. “The significant difference is that my family had a choice, but over 110 million forcibly displaced people all over the world do not. Bridges 2030 is my way to support and amplify the voices of people who have been forced to flee.”

The organization’s efforts include creating jobs in the solar industry, bridging the digital divide, and providing direct aid to Ukrainian refugees in Philadelphia; each of these aligns with the United Nations’ 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development. Additionally, the documentary Beyond the Statistics is Bridge 2030’s first foray into film development — but likely not its last.

Bridging Divides, Building Empathy

Ramirez is a lifelong documentary fan, and points to Anthony Bourdain as an inspiration behind his ability to weave together artistic storytelling and cultural engagement. Beyond the Statistics focuses on the human impact of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine beginning in February 2022, and aims to amplify the voices of Ukrainian families forcibly displaced from their home.

“Mainstream media is focused on providing statistics about every global crisis, so the atrocities of this invasion have been well documented. We felt there was another story that needed to be told: courage, determination, and resiliency by the Ukrainian people, as well as the support of the Polish people who have embraced over 1.7 million Ukrainian citizens arriving in Poland,” he says. “We are sharing the perspective of the human spirit, determination for survival and freedom, and the people supporting and protecting human dignity.”

We are sharing the perspective of the human spirit, determination for survival and freedom, and the people supporting and protecting human dignity.

– Fernando Ramirez ’82

Ramirez sees younger generations as partners in this mission, which plays a part in his work to empower young people to build lives and careers on a foundation of purpose and compassion.

“To ensure our mission outlives us and our impact multiplies, we must empower and mobilize the next generation. I know that many young people suffer from compassion fatigue; we’re carrying phones around with us that are constantly updating us with news around the world and there’s always another crisis,” he says. “But I do believe that we have a sense of responsibility in this country. Let’s be clear: we live a privileged life compared to many people in developing countries that struggle every day to meet their basic needs.”

Compassionate Engagement, Cultural Understanding

No matter what purpose someone pursues, Ramirez is emphatic that everyone should develop the skills to sort out inaccurate information online, research the history behind a crisis, and communicate effectively across cultures. He’s hopeful that °”ÍűTV’s Global Opportunities program can contribute to each of these — especially if students are willing to be a little uncomfortable.

“I encourage students to broaden their cultural horizons by making a point to be a traveler and not a tourist. Do some research before you travel, visit places with significant cultural value, meet students from other countries rather than staying within a U.S.-centric friend group,” he says. “Being out of your element helps you learn so much. It can be easy to shy away from being uncomfortable, but I encourage people to embrace it.”

When Ramirez looks back at the path he’s taken, he feels a deep sense of gratitude for every experience. “My life has been an internship that brought me to where I am today,” he says. “All of the lessons that I’ve learned, all of the people that I’ve met, all of the travel that I’ve done, and the unconditional support from my family. That’s why I am where I am today.”

A Legacy of Storytelling

Within moments of speaking with Baktash Ahadi ’05, it’s abundantly clear that he’s a storyteller. He speaks intentionally, visibly conscious of the weight of each word, and self-corrects as he shares, highlighting both his own lived experiences and those he’s been privileged to hear as a part of his intercultural work. This remarkable presence is hard-earned – and over 30 years in the making.

“When I was a kid, I was deeply shy. I didn’t speak until about the age of 10,” Ahadi says. “I didn’t know that I had a voice, that I had to believe in myself first, before the world would believe in me.”

I didn’t know that I had a voice, that I had to believe in myself first, before the world would believe in me.

– Baktash Ahadi ’05

Considering his professional rĂ©sumĂ©, this history may be hard to believe. Since studying sociology at °”ÍűTV, Ahadi’s served two years in the Peace Corps in Mozambique, Africa, and returned to his home country of Afghanistan to dedicate three years to combat interpretation and cultural advising. He created and hosted the Stories of Transformation podcast and founded the Taleem Project, subsequently producing and translating numerous renowned documentaries, including Retrograde, which captured the last nine months of America’s war in Afghanistan — and earned Ahadi three 2023 Emmy Awards.

Shy Beginnings to Global Impact

This dedication to filmmaking can be traced back to Ahadi’s arrival in the United States in 1986. Not long after he was born in Kabul, his family fled Afghanistan and spent years in Pakistani refugee camps before being granted asylum and moving to Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Community members who supported his family’s arrival introduced a young Ahadi to many films.

“Our sponsors would turn on their television and play movies for us: Star Wars, E.T., Indiana Jones. I didn’t know any English, but you don’t have to know English to understand that you are on a safari in a different world,” Ahadi says. “That is why I do this work. Films are a physical, emotional journey to another world. And when films touch us, they stay with us forever.”

While visual storytelling is his primary vehicle of choice to tell the human stories of vulnerable populations, Ahadi sees all forms of storytelling as opportunities to deeply engage with others and, as a result, expand cultural literacy.

“Stories get to the crux of what it means to be human. It does require a radical sense of curiosity about the person in front of you to take off your mask and show who you actually are,” he says. “But I don’t think there’s a better education for a person than going to a far-off land, sitting amongst people who have completely different lived experiences from you, and hearing what they think about family, violence, the nation state, the environment, sports and their relationship to all of these things.”

Fulfillment Through Purpose

Today, Ahadi is busy directing two films, one of which focuses on combat veterans, mental health and equine therapy. Across all of his projects, he continues to rely on the same self-awareness, communication skills and intense sense of gratitude that have contributed to his fulfillment thus far.

“Success is often defined by what society tells you is worthy. But fulfillment, on the other hand, is actually living the life that you were meant for,” he says. “Many of us look externally for answers and we are told that success is a status, salary, house, land, whatever. But I’ve realized that so many of the answers I’ve looked for have actually been inside of me, in my inspirations, flaws, motivations and shame.”

Like so many °”ÍűTV alumni, Ahadi continues to support others — especially those who are interested in elevating their stories, whether in film, leadership or business. He’s hopeful that his work helps others feel more courageous in pursuing their own fulfillment.

“When I’m speaking with people who have lost so much, they’re not asking for a passport to America. They’re not asking for a million dollars. They’re mostly asking to be heard,” he says.

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Literary Legacy

What began in 1964 as an interest, a hobby or a passion among °”ÍűTV students set the wheels in motion for the creation of a degree program now nationally recognized for its excellence.

Two years before the first creative writing course was approved for the curriculum, seven student editors and three faculty advisors published the university’s first student literary magazine, Focus. Described in the course catalog as “a means of communication for the best creative expressions of literary and artistic nature,” the magazine teetered between making new waves and barely staying afloat. When Gary Fincke became advisor to Focus in 1982, its trajectory was reset. And so was his.

A lecturer in English at the time, Fincke had just completed his first year of teaching the lone creative writing course at °”ÍűTV, and by 1986, he was leading four creative writing workshops and welcoming six or more visiting authors to campus each year. His entrepreneurial vision and forward thinking for what should come next is why Fincke’s name has become synonymous with all things writing at °”ÍűTV.

The creative writing major emphasizes literature and writing courses that will be most valuable in preparing students not only for careers in writing, but also for related careers in law, education, publishing and editing. Courses are organized to offer breadth and depth, practical skills and intensive independent writing, presentation and production experiences.

— °”ÍűTV
2023–24 Course Catalog

Fincke’s proposal to establish a writing community was endorsed by then Dean of the School of Arts and Sciences Don Housley, and in 1993, this dream of “what could be” was realized.

“The university and especially Don Housley supported the creation of the Writers Institute and me as director,” Fincke recalls. “My ‘job’ was to find ways to call attention to °”ÍűTV by creating opportunities in creative writing.”

The rest, as they say, is history. Fincke was on his way to building a program that became more than he imagined.

Grant awards from the President’s Fund for Excellence and the 1994 Charles B. Degenstein Foundation fueled rapid growth. By 1996, the creative writing major was approved and, according to Fincke, it had nine “eager volunteers.” Soon after the first two classes (1999, 2000) graduated, the number of faculty expanded to three and the number of creative writing majors surged.

The ushering in of these new writers was marked by new student literary magazines dedicated to the three genres that comprise the creative writing program: Essay, for creative nonfiction; and RiverCraft, for fiction and poetry. Focus was renamed in 1993 as The °”ÍűTV Review, and in 2003 it was launched as a national undergraduate magazine.

Its roots established in the Department of English & Creative Writing, formerly located in the English Cottage on University Avenue and then the lower level of Hassinger Hall, the Writers Institute moved to its own building on University Avenue in 2010. It has permanence, regardless of its location, because the Writers Institute supports and funds the creative writing endeavors at the university — literary magazines, chapbook publications, workshops, the senior reading series, prize-winning and prize-granting journals, a summer workshop for high school students, and the Seavey Visiting Writers Series.

The walls of the building that houses the Writers Institute are covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves containing thousands of student chapbooks, magazines, anthologies, novels, poetry collections, alumni publications, visiting authors’ books and faculty work. Its dedicated space lends itself well to collaboration, peer review and workshops and allows faculty to host a variety of readings, lectures and other events.

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In terms of physical space, the Writers Institute is to a creative writing major what a laboratory is to a science major, a studio to an art major, and a radio station to a broadcasting major.

“The Writers Institute serves as a nucleus for our community,” says Karla Kelsey, professor of English & creative writing. “The space naturally blends the work creative writing majors do in the classroom with the community that the Writers Institute fosters. It represents the function of the Writers Institute to hold space for creative interaction and growth.”

It is a place that is as much a quiet retreat for a student to be introspective and reflective as it is a boisterous hub for workshops and literary club members to brainstorm and collaborate. It houses inspiration — whether through the critique of peers and faculty or within the covers of the books and publications that line the bookshelves.

“I was here for our move into the building on University Avenue,” recalls Glen Retief, associate professor of English & creative writing. “That created a magical space on campus where writing and creativity were celebrated — where students continue to sit all morning or all afternoon, reading quietly or writing in front of books and chapbooks published by alumni who came before them, faculty, visitors and even their peers.”

A must-see stop for aspiring writers while on a tour of °”ÍűTV’s campus, the Writers Institute is a recruitment tool all its own.

“I first visited the Writers Institute the summer before my senior year of high school during the Summer Writers Workshop,” says Nala Washington ’24, a creative writing major with a minor in women and gender studies from Temple Hills, Maryland. “I fell in love with the building, people and professors, and appreciated how every aspect motivated me to become better, to work harder and to be greater.”

Washington will pursue a Master of Fine Arts in poetry from Texas State University. “The Writers Institute has been home to some of the biggest and bravest voices, and I’m proud that it now includes my own,” she adds.

Throughout the past three decades, hundreds of young writers have been inspired by the Writers Institute to foster creative lives.

“Our writing majors who applied to graduate programs had a nearly 100% acceptance rate, and many received funding to continue their education,” boasts Fincke. “Our alumni began to publish or teach, and several became lawyers, librarians, agents and editors.”

Graduate successes include Devon Taylor ’04, who is a senior editor at The New York Times and part of the Gimlet Media team that has been honored with a Pulitzer Prize and Peabody Award for the podcast Stolen: Surviving St. Michael’s; Nick Martell ’16, who secured a three-book publishing deal with Simon & Schuster for his epic fantasy series Legacy of the Mercenary King; and Catherine Pierce ’00, H’23, who was named poet laureate of the state of Mississippi. Pierce, now a professor of English and co-director of the creative writing program at Mississippi State University, was among Fincke’s first cohort of graduates who majored all four years in creative writing.

The connections that writers form at °”ÍűTV support them in their careers and personal lives. “The Writers Institute is based on energy, connection, commitment and vision,” Catherine Zobal Dent, associate professor of English & creative writing and director of the Writers Institute, says. “We train new generations by making space for them to connect to each other as well as to the wider world of creative writing and literature.”

The Writers Institute is based on energy, connection, commitment and vision.

– Catherine Zobal Dent

Sarah Gzemski ’13, business coordinator of the University of Arizona Poetry Center and executive director of Neomi Press, says, “The instruction I received at the Writers Institute exposed me and my peers to a large literary world of which we are still a part. When I entered graduate school and the workforce, I realized I had learned so much in my time at °”ÍűTV, not just about the craft of writing, but also about the publishing world and how to be a contributing member of the community.”

Retief, who in 2015 became Fincke’s first successor as director of the Writers Institute, adds, “Consistently, I have watched the creative writing program help students find their voices on the page and hone the skills they need to be not just great writers but effective communicators as well — attuned to their genre, their audience and their craft.”

Matthew Neill Null, assistant professor of English & creative writing, attributes the success of the institute to its creative programming and the community it fosters. “What makes the Writers Institute unique is the vibrancy of the writing community at °”ÍűTV,” he says, “with so many public readings, literary magazines, visiting writers and other opportunities for engagement. It functions more like a graduate program. It’s rare for an undergraduate creative writing program to have such a large, lively writing community. It’s central to life here.”

Fincke retired in 2017 as Emeritus Charles B. Degenstein Professor of English and Creative Writing. The award-winning poet and author continues to write and publish. Reflecting on his 37-year career at °”ÍűTV, he says, “I couldn’t have been happier coming to work each day. I had a dream job, recruiting and teaching talented students and having excellent writers as colleagues.”

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The post Literary Legacy appeared first on °”ÍűTV Currents Magazine.