Reconsidering the Summer Internship

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To those who know her, Michelle Bao’s July 13 tweet was both totally expected and a complete bombshell. 

“very excited to announce that i got so burnt out from this year of remote work that today i dropped nearly all of my commitments to visit friends and live out of a minivan for an indefinite amount of time,” she tweeted, attaching a photo of herself sitting next to the small bed in the back of her renovated vehicle.

Bao, a rising junior Computer Science major at Stanford, is one of my best friends from high school. I’ve always known her to be spontaneous and bold — debating those she disagreed with, riding a Ripstik down our school hallways, reaching for the blueberry barbecue sauce at a local burger joint. In 2018, she moved across the country to attend college in California, leaving our North Carolina-based friend group behind. Her 2021 minivan decision was, in this way, a direct spiritual descendent of the past.  

But she is also one of the most professionally ambitious people I know. At the start of the pandemic, she juggled a part-time internship at Uber with spring quarter classes. She worked at Bloomberg over the summer of 2020, then, refusing to partake in another year of remote learning, took a gap year to work for the ACLU and the New York Times. 

“I fell into this mentality of, ‘Oh, since we’re doing remote work, we can be extra productive,’” Bao said. “But I think I definitely sacrificed personal joy and fulfillment.” When she found herself dissatisfied with her summer research position, she quit, commiting to traveling around the East Coast full-time. 

“It’s just something that I’ve been wanting to do for this past year,” she said. “It’s fine that I’m not extracting specific points of value or achieving specific things.”  

After rigging up the back of her family’s old Honda Odyssey with a small bed, rugs, curtains and a water pump, she drove from her home in Greensboro, North Carolina, to New York City. There, she spent weeks couch-surfing with friends before making her way up the Northeast. She hunted for free showers and slept in hotel parking lots. She visited thrift stores and ate good food. In Portland, Maine, she ventured alone to a speakeasy and left with two new friends in their mid-twenties. 

“I feel like this has actually been the most fun summer I’ve had,” Bao said. “I’m free of commitments, feeling liberated.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Michelle Bao” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”full” ] 

I spent my own summer in a medical school lab at Yale, following a distinct routine: the same oatmeal for breakfast, the same walk downtown, the same benches and equipment. I was funded by a Yale research fellowship that, assuming I worked standard hours, paid less than minimum wage. Part of me could not fathom her life, the uncertainty and fearlessness of it all. But another part of me longed for her freedom — regardless of how much I enjoyed or was learning from my work. 

When I connected with friends from Yale also spending their summers in New Haven, Bao’s van life felt even more alien. “What are you doing this summer?” became a popular conversation opener, to which every person, unless they were taking classes, answered with an internship, research role or otherwise career-advancing position. 

For many students at schools like Yale and Stanford, summer has become a key period for career advancement. According to the annual summer activities survey conducted by Yale’s Office of Career Services (OCS), in 2020, 25 percent of Yale students held paid internships, while 18 percent held unpaid internships and a little over 10 percent conducted some form of research. 

What conceptions of productivity stopped me and my peers from giving ourselves a break and following in Bao’s steps? Was the value gained from our own summer experiences — financial compensation, lines on our resume — worth the sacrifice of freedom? And ultimately, how did my ability to ask these questions reflect my own privilege?

MONEY, OR LACK THEREOF

Like Bao, Will (name changed for fear of employer retribution) traveled this summer. His experience, however, came directly from his employer, the financial services company Citadel, which flew its interns out to a retreat in Palm Beach by private jet this June. 

Last year, in a sharp contrast to most other companies, which cancelled their summer 2020 programs or translated them to a virtual format, Citadel rented out five-star resorts in Florida and Wisconsin. For two months, its interns worked in-person in COVID-safe bubbles and were even provided social activities — canoeing, karaoke, golf lessons — for their downtime. This year, though the program returned to offices in New York City and Chicago, the perks remained. In addition to the retreat to Palm Beach, for example, Citadel interns were treated to corporate housing in high-rise buildings, Uber credits for their commutes and covered meals. And, of course, there’s the salary. “I make more in a summer than what my high school English teacher made in a year,” Will said. 

But the luxury resorts and apartments come at a high price. Will noted that a typical Citadel intern works twelve hours a day, five days a week — already more grueling than the standard 9-to-5 one might expect of a job or internship. This summer, Will and some of his peers have at times experienced even worse: workdays that extend beyond thirteen hours, with additional tasks to be completed at night from home or on the weekends. 

“I wake up, get ready as fast as possible, Uber to the office, stay there from eight to eight, Uber straight back to my apartment, work a bit, go to bed, and then rinse and repeat. The only time I step outside during the workweek is going to and from my Ubers,” Will said. 

For Will, the work becomes even more draining when he considers its implications. “At the end of the day, what’s the point?” he asked. “If you’re at a finance firm, then the goal is just to make money for outside investors or the top people at the firm. I would rather work on problems that more directly benefit society, but unfortunately, in the society we live in, there are these perverse incentives to not help other people.” 

[pullquote credit=”Will” align=”full” ]I make more in a summer than what my high school English teacher made in a year.[/pullquote]

Lucrative internships in finance or its sibling field, consulting, have an outsized influence over campus culture, noted Diego Haro ’22, a Global Affairs major at Yale who interned at Boston Consulting Group, or BCG, this summer. “The second you get [to Yale], you learn about investment banking and consulting,” he said. 

Haro aspires for a future career that will include “impactful, meaningful work” in issues like homelessness, poverty and mass incarceration, he told me. This year, he worked for a public sector client and has a more optimistic outlook than Will about the meaning of his employment. “At the end of the day, if your employees don’t want to do a certain type of work, then obviously, [the company] won’t be doing that sort of work,” Haro said. “I think there are very tangible ways that I’ve learned and seen of actually affecting change.”

BCG doesn’t expect interns to work on weekends and has instituted biweekly mental health check-ins. But the job is still grueling. “I would not say you have a good work-life balance,” Haro told me. “But I would say it’s fair given what you signed up for and what they pay you.”

These considerations loom large for Haro, who was raised in Sacramento in a lower to middle income background. “I’m now almost making more than my parents. It’s kind of crazy,” he said. “That’s part of why I’m working there, the financial stability.”  

For Blake Bridge ’23, a Global Affairs major, his State Department internship at the U.S. Embassy in Berlin has had a more direct connection to his future career goals. “[Through studying at Yale] I can learn all I want about international relations. But you can’t learn what it’s like to be a diplomat or to work at an embassy. You have to experience that [in real life],” Bridge said. “I’ve learned a ton, and that’s been vital for me in understanding what I want to do next summer or when I graduate.” 

Though his program is remote, Bridge chose to divide his summer between London and Berlin so that he could work the same hours as the rest of his office. Unlike Will and Haro, he has no complaints about his work-life balance and has enjoyed exploring Europe on his weekends. 

But Bridge’s experience comes with a caveat: internships in the federal government are typically unpaid. Bridge, who navigated several complications due to Yale’s policies on international travel during the pandemic, supported his work through fellowships awarded by the Jackson Institute for Global Affairs. In this way, Yale students are given a key advantage over students at other universities, who must participate in similar opportunities on their own dime. 

[pullquote credit=”Sarah Feng” align=”full” ]I started questioning, was productivity something that was actually making me happy? Or was it the semblance of productivity that was fueling my sense of self-worth?[/pullquote]

Unpaid internships have become flashpoints for discussions over labor exploitation. These conversations date back to 1938, when, following the Great Depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt passed the Fair Labor Standards Act, or FLSA, which established guidelines protecting workers’ rights and wages. A 1947 Supreme Court ruling set a precedent that labor could be uncompensated if it had training purposes, providing legal justification for unpaid internships. This was reinforced in 2011, when two unpaid interns who worked on the set of the film “Black Swan” sued Fox Searchlight Pictures for violation of the FLSA. The Second Circuit ruled against the interns, arguing that they were not obligated to receive compensation because they were the “primary beneficiaries” of the arrangement, learning more from the company than the company gained from their work. 

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Sarah Feng” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”right” ] 

Sarah Feng ’25 observed that unpaid internships also reflect privilege, as only those with a substantial level of financial security can afford to take them over a paid internship or job. Feng deferred enrollment before her first year — cutting her off from Yale fellowships — to work two unpaid internships: one at the San Francisco district attorney’s office where she corresponded with prisoners and one conducting research for the Virtual Student Federal Service at the State Department. “I was living purely off of my parents’ money and our financial situation,” Feng said. “I was spending eight hours a day doing a lot of work that was giving me a cool experience, but I had other friends who were honestly equally as qualified as me [who] couldn’t take on things like that, and instead had to take on other jobs that were less meaningful.” 

Internships often help students explore their interests or provide valuable paths for employment. A 2017 Gallup survey, for example, found that having relevant internship experience more than doubled recent graduates’ chances of having a secure job immediately after leaving school. In this way, the inaccessibility of unpaid internships to some may uphold existing class divides.

Yale and other elite universities have programs to lower these barriers for their students. In 2020, 31 percent of Yale students funded their summer experience with help from the university. Many claim the Summer Experience Award, which provides a stipend for any student on financial aid to pursue an unpaid or underfunded research, arts, government or non-profit position. Students can also access fellowships from a variety of other sources, such as their residential colleges or Dwight Hall.  

Jeanine Dames, director of the Office of Career Strategy, noted that this is a huge equalizer for first-generation, low-income, or FGLI, students. “We have not seen a significant difference between our FGLI students and non-FGLI students in the rate they participate in unpaid internships. In fact, we see a slightly higher percentage of FGLI students accepting unpaid internships,” Dames wrote in an email. Dames cited preliminary results from the 2021 OCS summer activities survey, which has not yet been concluded at the time of writing: 72.3 percent of first-generation respondents held a paid or unpaid internship or research position this year, compared to 67.6 percent of non-first-generation respondents. 

PRIVILEGE, PRODUCTIVITY AND PATTERNS OF HISTORY

Modern-day internships have their roots in tradesmen apprenticeships dating back to the Middle Ages. The medical field first popularized the term “internship” at the turn of the 20th century, in reference to the period where newly graduated doctors gain more practical training before launching their independent careers. Industrialization drove white-collar industries such as business and engineering to professionalize and adopt their own expectations for experience-based internships. Over the coming decades, Census data indicates that the labor market became increasingly saturated with college graduates, with attendance rates more than tripling between 1940 and 1980. During the same period, companies and universities increasingly expanded their internship programs, cementing internships as an unspoken expectation for many college students’ educations by the end of the century. 

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Yale Daily News” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”right” ]

The archives of the Yale Daily News reflect this history. Mentions of the word “internship” appeared in medical contexts in the 1920s before exponentially increasing throughout the 60s and 70s. More intriguing, however, are the clear ways in which Yale students have always had exclusive and unique access to internships, both paid and unpaid. 

The first non-medical reference to an “internship,” for example, came in 1938. That year, United States Representative Frederick Davenport (NY-R) visited New Haven to interview Yale students for unpaid government internships, which were set aside for “Seniors and Graduates from the leading universities in the country.” In the 1950s, the university sponsored its first official internship program, the Yale Summer Intern Program in Government, which placed students in positions throughout the federal government and provided funds of 50 dollars per week for unfunded opportunities. By the 1960s and 1970s, similar programs proliferated — Urban Studies internships, Dwight Hall internships, public policy internships in Washington coordinated by the now-defunct Summer Term Office — helping students to secure and afford government and nonprofit work. In the same period, fellowships also became available to fund students’ research.  

Yale students received special attention from private companies, too. “Who says liberal arts isn’t good preparation for business,” wrote the Connecticut Mutual Life Insurance company in an advertisement in the News for its summer 1968 internship program, which held interviews on campus that February. In 1975, the Summer Term Office facilitated a program to help students find corporate internships, leaning on connections with “alumni in Yale clubs across the country” who specifically “elected chairmen to assist students.” Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, companies such as the New York Times, Goldman Sachs and McKinsey & Company held interviews and information sessions on campus. Other companies, including Procter and Gamble, Grace and Bain and Company, took out ads inviting students to apply to their summer internships. 

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Yale Daily News” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”full” ] 

Yale’s internship culture can, at some points, feel incredibly disconnected from the rest of the labor market. “What’s the difference between a summer job and a summer internship,” read a 1985 ad in the News for a book called “Getting Work Experience.” Yale students, the ad implied, were destined for the latter.  

The numbers reflect this: In the Summer of 2020, while almost 67 percent of returning Yale seniors held an internship or conducted research, just 8 percent spent their summers in another type of paid job such as a camp counselor. 

The entire concept of internships is, after all, paradoxical for students at schools like Yale. We’re beneficiaries of decades-old institutional privileges that give us the information and financial support to pursue opportunities in white collar sectors like government, academia, tech, finance, and consulting. But beneath all summer internships is a capitalistic system, one that forces us to choose between passion and salary, and one that insinuates that productivity — for-profit or nonprofit, paid or unpaid — must persist, even during summer vacation. 

That mentality can be exhausting, Feng observed. “I would sometimes feel unable to move for a while, because I felt I had let myself down the past month, even though I was trying really hard to do what I wanted to do — even though I was already fortunate to have these opportunities,” Feng told me. She, in addition to holding two unpaid internships in her gap year, spent time away from her Bay Area home to live in New York City this summer, working as a creative writing tutor and writing a novel. “I started questioning, was productivity something that was actually making me happy? Or was it the semblance of productivity that was fueling my sense of self-worth?”

Bao, traveling around in her van, unemployed without a clear goal for herself, might seem to be rejecting our capitalistic obsession with productivity altogether. In reality, she was only able to spend a summer unemployed because of multiple layers of financial security. “Ultimately, if my situation was different and I had family members that needed me to take care of them, there’s no way that this would have been a viable path,” Bao said. She emphasized that the various internships she had worked over the past year — internships she accessed in part because “elite institutions give you a huge advantage” — helped her accumulate the necessary savings to pursue her summer travels. 

In this way, she is just like any finance, consulting or government intern, deeply intertwined with the privilege and productivity that saturates our capitalistic internship culture. That, she believes, is exactly the point. 

“It’s very naïve to think that a personal change can wholly reject a capitalistic mindset,” Bao said. “Rejecting capitalistic values requires you to have embodied them in some other form. And that’s a huge part of capitalism in our current system, a huge problem. There’s no consent. There’s no alternative. There’s nothing else.”

UP CLOSE | The future of health care: How the pandemic ushered a new era of innovation at YNHHS

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Physicians have argued that health care in the 21st century will be divided into two separate eras: pre- and post-COVID-19 pandemic. Though experts have reason to believe that the coronavirus might linger for a while, the way its arrival impacted health systems across the globe was dramatic and destructive. At the same time, it also pushed health care professionals to seek pragmatic yet innovative solutions to address the herculean challenges that came with the coronavirus. 

From repurposing masks to building treatment protocols that were used by physicians worldwide, innovation was central to the Yale New Haven Health System’s operations throughout the pandemic.

In the past, the health care industry has been slow to adapt to new technologies. According to a 2017 study commissioned by Virtusa, an information technology company, health care lags approximately a decade behind other industries when it comes to innovation. This is largely due to regulatory barriers, such as extensive safety evaluations and risk assessments, that must be surpassed before new developments can be used in patient care — that is, under normal circumstances.

When the World Health Organization officially declared the pandemic in March of last year, the FDA created special emergency programs, such as the Coronavirus Treatment Acceleration Program, and participated in initiatives meant to speed up the development of new diagnostic methods, such as the COVID-19 Diagnostics Evidence Accelerator. Those changes allowed the American health care industry to innovate quicker in the face of the pandemic.

In more ways than one, the pandemic also catalyzed the digitalization of health care. From telehealth consults to the use of new technology to remotely monitor patients with chronic conditions, the pandemic has pushed the Yale New Haven Health System towards a more technologically advanced model of health care.

“It accelerated our adoption of telehealth like nothing else could have,” L. Scott Sussman, physician executive director for telehealth at YNHHS and Yale Medicine, told the News. “Along with that came the need to scale things and make sure that we had patient-friendly ways for accessing health care, so we went through different iterations of software, we created different workflows, we set up teams. … [Our] goal was to make it easy for patients to access this technology.”

In interviews with the News, biomedical scientists, Yale alumni, YNHHS physicians and administrators said that even though innovation was already a part of the Yale New Haven Health system, the pandemic has expedited its entry into a new era — one that leverages the advantages of technological developments and telehealth modalities to improve patient care.

[pullquote credit=”L. Scott Sussman, physician executive director for telehealth at YNHHS and Yale Medicine” align=”full” ]It accelerated our adoption of telehealth like nothing else could have. Along with that came the need to scale things and make sure that we had patient-friendly ways for accessing health care, so we went through different iterations of software, we created different workflows, we set up teams. … [Our] goal was to make it easy for patients to access this technology.[/pullquote]

Innovating under lockdown

In the beginning of the pandemic, Lisa Lattanza, chief of orthopaedics and rehabilitation at YNHHS, had to cancel her operations. As an orthopedic surgeon, most of her cases were considered elective, which meant that, initially, she would have to hunker down at home and wait out the restrictions on those surgeries. 

But despite not being able to act in the area of her training, she was summoned by the same call to action that doctors from all specialties felt pressed to respond to. The idea of using her experience to contribute to a then-limited, but nevertheless growing, arsenal of COVID-related knowledge and medical strategies made her excited to join the battle against the coronavirus.

Lattanza was part of a multidisciplinary team of physicians, scientists and engineers that were recruited at the beginning of the pandemic to be a part of CHIME — Yale’s Coalition for Health Innovations in Medical Emergencies.

“I wanted to do something to help,” she said. “I’m not in a specialty that is very much help with taking care of COVID patients, as an orthopedic surgeon, but I am and have been in an innovative space within orthopedics and 3D technology for about a decade.”

The CHIME group, Lattanza said, began their pursuits by trying to solve the issue of mask scarcity. From testing whether they could 3D-print masks that were as safe and effective as N95s — the gold standard for viral protection, which filter out up to 95 percent of small molecules that hover in the air — to trying to find urgent solutions to ventilator shortages, the team brought together a wide range of scientific expertise to address what were then the most pressing problems. 

“[The role of health innovation] has been shifting and evolving based on what the pandemic needs were,” Lattanza said. “Initially it was pretty rudimentary, it was getting masks and gowns and ventilators and things like that for patient care, and then I think the technology advancements really evolved.” 

[pullquote credit=”Lisa Lattanza, chief of orthopaedics and rehabilitation at YNHHS” align=”right” ]Some things that have really been hurdles for the health system prior to the pandemic became necessities, and that was telehealth and how we had to transition in seeing patients. Now that’s become a really big part of certain people’s practice.[/pullquote]

Although CHIME’s activities have since slowed down as supply shortages were remedied, the spirit of innovation remains alive within the scientific community and health care industry.

While this spirit of innovation occurred out of necessity, YNHHS later realized that a more long-term investment into the future of patient consultations could be advantageous. Telehealth, which was rarely used within YNHHS in February 2020 according to Sussman, is now widely used for primary care and specialty consultations in the system. 

While in February of last year YNHHS had completed 39 video visits, Sussman said, in February of 2021 alone, 45,224 video visits were completed system-wide. Now, the health system completes in only 10 minutes the same amount of telehealth consults they used to perform in a month.

 “Some things that have really been hurdles for the health system prior to the pandemic became necessities, and that was telehealth and how we had to transition in seeing patients,” Lattanza said. “Now that’s become a really big part of certain people’s practice.”

Telehealth consults

As the outside world had to shut down to curb the spread of the coronavirus, health care workers were forced to find an effective way to see their patients beyond hospital walls. Though there are many components to patient care that are not as adaptable to platforms like Zoom, including hands-on observations that are characteristic of physical exams, physicians circumvented these limitations by getting creative.

“If someone is complaining of abdominal pain, you might ask them to jump up and down, and if they are able to do that and maybe they even laugh, because it’s a silly thing to ask someone to do, they are less likely to have something like acute appendicitis, because if they have acute appendicitis it hurts to move and they will not do it,” Sussman said.

Another procedure that was hard to adapt was that of throat inspections. This type of exam would typically take place during an in-person visit and would involve inserting a 90-degree telescope into a patient’s larynx, upon which a light would be shone to reflect an image of the throat using a small mirror. At home, however, doctors have developed new protocols whereby they instruct patients to do a similar set up using their phone’s flashlight, according to Sussman. 

Other techniques, though less improvisational in nature, are equally as exciting, Sussman said. Digital tools are being sent to patients with chronic illnesses like diabetes and hypertension, and are being used on a more long-term basis to monitor their clinical states remotely.

“Another thing that we’re really excited about that’s newer is we’re using digital stethoscopes for select scheduled cardiology appointments,” Sussman said. “The patient would receive a digital stethoscope that they could put over their heart or lungs, and that information would be transmitted electronically to the physician so that they could have that information as part of the physical exam.”

From an infectious transmission standpoint, YNHHS Medical Director of Infection Prevention Richard Martinello said in an interview with the News that, depending on the gravity of a patient’s symptoms, avoiding in-hospital visits and instead consulting with physicians through telehealth could prevent infections that are acquired in waiting rooms, for example. According to the CDC, one in every 31 patients who enter a hospital, for example, may leave with a “health care-associated” infection.

But, as an infectious disease specialist, Martinello also explained that he worries about how telehealth could affect antimicrobial stewardship — a concerted effort by physicians to avoid unnecessary prescriptions of antibiotics. Without conducting a physical exam, some doctors might not be able to fully ascertain what a patient has and could overshoot antibiotic prescriptions, which could give rise to resistant bacterial strains if it becomes a widespread practice.

Even though telehealth might not be perfect right now, both Martinello and Lattanza pointed out that a change in the mindset of physicians and how they approach patient care through this modality will likely ensue after the pandemic, which could bring important developments to the area that make it even more comprehensive.

Though emergency medical needs should continue to be tended to in an in-person setting, Sussman explained, even after the pandemic, routine consults or periodical checkups could feasibly be transferred to an online format.

“Hospitals may one day be emergency departments, operating rooms and ICUs,” Sussman said.

Significant innovation is also taking place within the realm of remote patient monitoring. Even patients who are seen in an ambulatory setting for an emergency, for example, can leave with devices that enable their physicians to check in on their clinical state, if necessary.

“We can send a patient home with a digitally connected blood pressure cuff, a scale or a glucose monitor, and we’re able to get that information and provide care at a distance,” Sussman said.

For patients who already have chronic diseases, remote monitoring advancements that had already been in the works prior to the pandemic became even more important.

[pullquote credit=”Imran Quraishi, assistant professor of neurology” align=”right” ]Those patients … were actually at a great advantage because we could see everything that was going on remotely and they didn’t have to come in. If they had a question about anything we could go and look at the recordings and tell them what was happening with their brain waves.[/pullquote]

At the Yale Comprehensive Epilepsy Center, epilepsy patients who had responsive neurostimulation devices — which are surgically implanted into the brain to monitor brain waves and respond to activity to prevent seizures — could be remotely monitored by their physicians, Imran Quraishi, assistant professor of neurology, told the News.

“Those patients … were actually at a great advantage because we could see everything that was going on remotely and they didn’t have to come in,” Quraishi said. “If they had a question about anything we could go and look at the recordings and tell them what was happening with their brain waves.”

Other technology, such as Percept PC — a deep-brain stimulation device that is used in the treatment of drug-resistant epilepsy patients — comes with a programmer, which is like an app and can be accessed in Samsung cellphones, Quraishi explained. These programmers allow patients to check in on their devices’ battery lives and, in some cases, even adjust their therapy.

According to a press release issued by YNHHS on Mar. 16, the Yale New Haven Children’s Hospital has also partnered with DreaMed Diabetes, a medical device software company based in Israel, to test a new artificial intelligence device, called Advisor Pro. The tool could be used in the future to treat pediatric diabetes patients by tabulating changes to their blood glucose levels and automatically adjusting how much insulin they need to inject themselves with. 

Though clinical tests will be conducted with 100 diabetes patients at the children’s hospital over the next few months, as described in the press release, this device should also allow for doctors to monitor their patients’ glucose levels virtually, eliminating the need for them to come in for consults every time a checkup should be made. 

“Having our software utilized as a strategy that allows for both virtual and in-person visits is a necessity in the era of COVID-19 and the future of care,” Eran Atlas, co-founder and CEO of DreaMed Diabetes, said in a YNHHS press release.

The lifesaving power of telehealth in medical emergencies

Providing a means for people to request urgent consults at their fingertips is yet another way in which telehealth is contributing to patients’ well-being. In the case of strokes, for example, which are time-sensitive medical emergencies, YNHHS offers a service called TeleStroke.

“With TeleStroke, we have stroke neurologists who are available 24 hours a day for consults, and they perform those at over 15 different locations across Connecticut and into Rhode Island,” Sussman said in an interview with the News. “If someone is suspected of having a stroke, a consult is initiated and within minutes a stroke neurologist is able to get on a video visit and help with diagnosis and also direct treatment.”

According to the American Stroke Association’s guidelines, for patients suffering a stroke, timely treatment can be crucial. It is estimated that approximately 2 million neurons are lost for every minute of delay in restoring blood flow in the brain of someone who has suffered a stroke. “Door to needle” time — or how long it takes to get to a hospital, be correctly diagnosed and undergo proper treatment — can have a decisive impact on whether or not a stroke patient will ever walk, talk or even wake up again.

Though YNHHS’s TeleStroke program has been around for almost a decade, Sussman said, it became particularly important during the pandemic.

“It has literally impacted the lives of thousands of patients,” Sussman said. “Over 1,400 in 2020 alone were able to receive the care from Yale’s stroke neurologists. Otherwise, they might not have had positive outcomes.”

Telehealth in the ICU

Though YNHHS has been using teleICU — real-time audiovisual monitoring of patients in the intensive care unit — for almost five years now, according to Sussman, the advantages of this modality of care have become particularly evident during the pandemic. At Yale New Haven Hospital, for example, patient rooms in the ICU have cutting edge cameras so doctors can check in on their patients, Sussman said. This proved to be crucial with COVID-19 ICU patients, as the health care workers treating them can limit their exposure to the virus.

“They use high-definition cameras so that they can zoom in and even count somebody’s eyelashes, that’s how good the cameras are,” Sussman said.

Thanks to this platform, nurses and doctors also do not need to enter patients’ rooms to check on their vitals — they are registered in real-time and updated minute-to-minute in their monitoring station in the ICU. This allows health care professionals to react quickly to any urgent changes, despite not being present with the patient at first, according to Sussman.

Doctors and nurses thus do not need to re-don their full personal protective equipment every time they need to check on a COVID-19 patient. They can easily keep tabs on all of them at once for as long as they are in the teleICU bunker, which is located inside the hospital.

Critical patients themselves have also benefited from the increased use of technology within the health care system, Fiona Wu, a nurse who works in the YNHH COVID ICU, said. The use of iPads and other video conferencing devices and platforms, although not really prevalent before the pandemic, currently allows many of COVID-19 ICU patients to stay connected with their loved ones outside the hospital.

“We did purchase a whole bunch of iPads, we do Zoom meetings, I often just set it up, kind of prop it on the table,” Wu said. “They’re honestly so grateful and so happy just to be able to see their loved ones, but if we can’t figure out Zoom, I just put them on speaker and I just leave the phone by the bedside. … They call like 24/7.”

Impact of technological equity on health equity

While Leslie Asanga SPH ’20 was studying at the Yale School of Public Health in early 2020, he was also working part time as a pharmacist. When the pandemic first hit, he noticed that the elderly, immunocompromised and members of communities of color were not consistently picking up their medication.

“When the pandemic started, especially in New Haven, the bus system was closed … and a lot of these people don’t have cars, who are the people who rely on bus systems, so it really disproportionately affected them,” Asanga said. 

[pullquote credit=”Leslie Asanga SPH ’20″ align=”full” ]A lot of [this technology] — especially in health, which is sad … is being built for profit … And when they are being built for profit, they are neglecting the people that really need it the most, to be honest like the seniors … [and] minorities that tend to have multiple disease states.[/pullquote]

In response, he founded Pills2Me, a tech startup that made pharmacy services available remotely through on-demand delivery. Part of Pills2Me’s mission involves bringing medication to people who need it but might have difficulty seeking it out in person. For people over the age of 65, their services cost nothing.

The financial and business-oriented motivations behind many health tech companies are concerning to Asanga. According to him, technology has the power to change the world, but if it is wielded selfishly it can end up creating many problems — especially for vulnerable communities.

“A lot of [this technology] — especially in health, which is sad … is being built for profit,” Asanga said. “And when they are being built for profit, they are neglecting the people that really need it the most, to be honest like the seniors … [and] minorities that tend to have multiple disease states.”

In the same way, however, Asanga noted that, if used with noble motives, technology can help break down barriers of access to health for many by eliminating difficulties that inadequate access of transportation, for example, could create.

“Telehealth allows us yet another pathway to interact and help patients, it really lowers that barrier to access,” Martinello said. “But of course, it’s not the end-all be-all.”

Access to technology is known to fall along socioeconomic lines, Martinello said. With that in mind, health care systems including YNHHS need to be mindful about facilitating remote access to their platforms for patients from all segments of society.

To that end, YNHHS has made it so its telehealth services can also be accessed through phone calls, eliminating the need for patients to have access to devices that can support video conferencing platforms such as Zoom in order to receive a consultation, Sussman explained.

“Using digital technology, we’ve been able to connect patients with care,” Sussman said. “In some of our federally qualified health centers, we’ve seen that the number of no-show appointments has gone down, because patients are now able to access care, and they don’t have to worry so much about arranging child care, or transportation, or taking time off of work.”

Early in the pandemic, telephone was an important modality for patients to access care, Sussman said. As video technology improved, telephones started to play a much smaller role, though there are still patients who are not able to access video visits.

Another means through which telehealth has allowed for more equitable care is through the facilitation of interpreter services. Throughout the pandemic, Sussman explained, the system has been able to evolve the services they offer. Currently, YNHHS patients can request simultaneous interpretation for over 100 different languages.

Part of increasing equity in technological access to health care, Sussman said, will also have to include initiatives to increase digital literacy among patient populations, but also in redesigning software and systems to make them more user-friendly.  

Kyle Ballou, YNHHS vice president for community and government relations, told the News that the health system also had to adapt the ways in which it interfaces with local communities during the pandemic.

 Though community health workers would normally visit neighborhoods on foot, much of their outreach efforts had to be moved to virtual platforms such as Zooms or online town halls, Ballou said. According to her, the system has also been able to count on the support of many local community leaders to understand the challenges people were experiencing throughout the pandemic, develop strategies to address them and, most recently, craft events and messaging to increase vaccine uptake.

“Internally we have town halls, where all of our employees can tune in once a week and hear what’s going on around the organization,” Ballou said. “We’re trying to use the technology to its best use for us to talk and interface with the community as well as have them talk and interface with us, but we’re still picking up the phone.”

Using telehealth to promote continuity of care

[pullquote credit=”Richard Martinello, YNHHS Medical Director of Infection Prevention” align=”right” ]Telehealth allows us yet another pathway to interact and help patients, it really lowers that barrier to access. But of course, it’s not the end-all be-all.[/pullquote]

YNHHS also had to contend with an overwhelming backlog of patients who had to forgo care earlier in the pandemic when lockdown measures had to be instituted. This, in addition to a fear of contracting COVID-19 in health care settings, deterred people from seeking care. Studies estimate that the long-term toll of chronic conditions which could otherwise have been more attentively treated, such as cancer and coronary heart disease for example, has increased throughout the pandemic.

To avoid a repeat of this situation in the future, YNHHS administrations have been advocating in the Connecticut General Assembly for legislation that could support the seamless long-term implementation of telehealth services.

“People delayed care, probably longer than they should have, and so what we’d like to do is prevent that from happening,” YNHHS CEO Marna Borgstrom said in a press conference on May 3. “We think that telehealth is one important way to do that.”

According to Borgstrom, the health system is pushing for the Connecticut General Assembly to adopt House Bill 6472 and Senate Bill 1022, which would both provide continuous reimbursement to providers of telehealth services that are either paid for commercially or subsidized through Medicaid. The hope, she said, is for this to give patients greater flexibility regarding where they would like to consult with their physicians — whether it is in person or through telehealth. If patients are supported to seek care in whatever manner is most accessible to them, Borgstrom said, this could prevent delayed care.

“We are continuing to advocate for the use of telehealth and telemedicine to keep people more comfortable in getting appropriate care where it may be safer and more comfortable for them,” Borgstrom said.

Innovation moving forward

After international emergencies such as this pandemic, Martinello explained, it is common for long-term changes to be put into practice. But even though considerable progress is often born of that phenomenon, so too is a loss in the energy that had been propelling that momentum.

“Something I really worry about, we’ve seen this in past pandemics, notably the 2009 pandemic, is that while there is a great deal of attention and resources put toward our current pandemic, there’s also a great deal of fatigue,” Martinello said. “Pandemic fatigue … [and] governmental and organizational fatigue.”

But the lessons learned along the way will help pave the way forward, he noted. Lattanza added that the spirit of collaboration and innovation will stay alive after the pandemic.

According to Martinello, the biggest challenge that health care as a whole faces as it leaps into this new technological age, transitioning from a pandemic-motivated health care model to a universally convenient one, is understanding how to best leverage the benefits of telehealth and understand its potential pitfalls.

The pandemic has proved, though, the boundless potential for innovation that exists within the health sector, Sussman said, as well as more specifically in telehealth. To him, it all boils down to providing the best possible care to patients, wherever they feel more comfortable.

Maria Fernanda Pacheco | maria.pacheco@yale.edu 

UP CLOSE | The administrative tightrope: Inclusion, tradition and discourse at Yale

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Kahlil Greene ’22 used his only meeting with University President Peter Salovey to deliver “leadership lessons” on how the president could improve his handling of racial issues and avoid campus protests.

At the time of the July 7 meeting, Americans had turned out each day for the past two months to protest the police murder of George Floyd — all told, up to 26 million people participated in the U.S. protests for the Black Lives Matter movement.

In their meeting, Greene, then-president of the Yale College Council, urged Salovey to capitalize on the moment to bring about significant change at the University. He advised Salovey to take student activists seriously in their calls for structural changes and to find ways to meet, rather than deflect, their demands. Greene suggested that Salovey had ended up on the “wrong side of history” in past campus controversies, such as renaming Calhoun College. According to Greene, he mostly lectured Salovey, allowing him minimal time to respond. At the close, Salovey thanked him.

Salovey characterized the meeting differently. The two had a “good” conversation and he was grateful for Greene’s input, Salovey told the News. After the meeting, Greene sent a report with key takeaways: that Salovey often rushed to judgment without understanding issues and that Yale’s administrative structure had become “esoteric” and removed from students.

The meeting demonstrates the demand for Yale’s administrators to make headway on increasing diversity, as well as the perception that Yale has reacted, not led, on issues of equity and inclusion.

Many faculty and students have called on Yale to make faster and more extensive changes around racial justice. But five professors noted that Yale’s strides toward diversity are constrained by a business model that relies on donations from alumni, many of whom want to see traditions preserved. Though some disagreement may be inevitable, University administrators’ dilemma is to secure Yale’s academic mission — which includes “the free exchange of ideas” — while preserving its most important traditions and carrying out a vision of diversity, equity, belonging and racial justice. Six professors and three students noted potential outcomes if the administration cannot do so: progress could stop at administrative statements of support, or Yale could lose donations or some free inquiry.

Salovey said he considers efforts to increase equity and inclusion compatible with preserving traditions, and not a tradeoff. The University has to chart a path between the extremes: people who would never change any aspect of Yale and people who want to tear the institution down, he said in an interview with the News. Advocates of faster change still recognize that Yale needs to be Yale and needs to be a leader, he said.

In October, he unveiled Yale’s most comprehensive effort on the issues — the “Belonging at Yale” initiatives. The President’s Committee on Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging put forth six areas of focus for the next five years: scholarship and teaching, diversity of the community, equitable process and responses, professional and personal development of inclusive practice, acknowledgment and respect and communication and accountability. Within these six branches, priorities include adding courses examining race, reimagining public safety and policing, supporting restorative justice, increasing diversity among staff leaders, investing in faculty mentoring, offering education and training to everyone on campus, investing in New Haven partnerships and using surveys and data to internally assess progress.

Some administrators and faculty called the initiatives comprehensive and substantial. But other faculty and students, including Greene, said they do not go far enough.

A fundamental contradiction

Efforts to make Yale more equitable and inclusive encounter a fundamental contradiction, a “great galloping contradiction,” professor of History John Gaddis said. Yale has a $31.2 billion endowment but says it sincerely values equity, and admits a small percentage of applicants while emphasizing inclusion.

This year, Yale rejected 95 percent of undergraduate applicants, and those who do gain admission frequently come from privileged backgrounds. A 2017 study found that more Yale students come from the top one percent of income than from the bottom 60 percent.

All Ivy League universities have to contend with this tension, Gaddis said. In the past, when Yale was all male and “dominated” by secret societies, it was an elite university that made no apologies for being elite.

“We’re still exclusive, but now we seem ashamed of it,” Gaddis said. “That’s what’s puzzling to me.”

Like other elite universities, Yale has introduced initiatives to attract talented and diverse students, bringing more than 100 low-income students to Yale in the last three classes through the QuestBridge college admission and scholarship process, Dean of Undergraduate Admissions Jeremiah Quinlan said. The admissions office also partners with Yale’s cultural centers and sends a targeted mail campaign to high-achieving students in low-income census tracts.

The class of 2024, for example, was Yale’s most diverse class ever, and only 8 percent of students had a legacy affiliation, compared to 12 percent the year before. Additionally, the percentage of first-year students who receive Pell grants for high financial need has increased from 12 percent in 2013 to more than 20 percent in the last three years, Quinlan said.

Still, Yale accepts the “least marginalized of marginalized people,” Greene said. He called on Yale to admit more Black students from public schools in major cities. Fifty percent of the low-income Black students at Ivy League universities and their peers attended private schools, and the average percentage of first years who receive Pell grants for high financial need at historically Black colleges or universities is 71 percent, compared to Yale’s approximately 20 percent.

Greene called for a larger public recruitment plan, including putting more resources about writing essays and standardized testing online so they are accessible to students who do not have college counselors and expensive SAT tutors. Due to the pandemic, Yale became test optional in the most recent admissions cycle. It will continue the policy for another year, after which it will reevaluate, Quinlan said.

But one challenge to adding more low-income students to the undergraduate population is that students must have had some kind of privileged education. “They have to in order to meet the requirements Yale sets for admission,” professor of History Carlos Eire said. “It is exclusive, and it has to exclude.”

Diversity and belonging within Yale’s undergraduate body demonstrates the tension between the University’s stated values and business model. And Yale’s undergraduate admissions office has been more successful at promoting inclusion than the faculty or senior administration has, according to Matthew Jacobson, professor of history, American studies and African American studies and member of the subcommittee on faculty diversity.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”The Belonging initiatives website.” credit=”Amay Tewari, Photo Editor” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/upclose_rh_Amay_Tewari_Photo_Editor-scaled.jpg” ALIGN=”full”]

Demand for greater change

Salovey said that the impetus for the initiatives stretches to 2012, when he was first announced as Yale’s 23rd president. In his first speech as president, he said that Yale needed to be more accessible, with people coming to Yale who never thought it would be open to them and Yale giving more away to the world. But more recent events galvanized the creation of the belonging initiatives.

In January 2020, Salovey set up the President’s Committee on Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging and charged the 18 members with developing a “vision of diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging as part of the university’s climate,” as well as a set of high-level goals and strategies to bring people with different backgrounds to the University and make them feel welcome. The committee created a vision statement in which members of the Yale community encounter broad ideas, are respected and feel welcome to speak up.

At the time, the results of the 2019 Staff Workplace survey had just come in, and it showed that most staff felt a profound sense of not belonging at Yale, which was weighing on the administrators’ minds, said Victoria Nolan, former deputy dean of the Drama School and committee member.

Student leaders were calling for significant overhauls, including the elimination of the student income contribution and the abolition of the Yale Police Department. Since YPD officers shot at Stephanie Washington and Paul Witherspoon in April 2019, leaders of Black Students for Disarmament at Yale have ramped up calls on Yale to dismantle the YPD and implement a differential response system. City officials, New Haven residents and Yalies alike have repeatedly called for Yale to contribute millions more to its home city. Law professor James Forman Jr. added that Yale should invite New Haven activists onto campus, instead of walling off campus.

Greene raised these demands to the Yale Corporation, the University’s highest governing body. He said that board members showed skepticism about “radical change,” including dismantling Yale’s Police Department, taking immediate steps to diversify the faculty and paying more in voluntary contributions to New Haven.

Senior Trustee Catharine Bond Hill said that the Corporation has had so many discussions on belonging at Yale that it is difficult to separate out individual ones. But Yale’s work on diversity, equity and inclusion is “ambitious and impressive” and the Corporation is optimistic, she said.

Committee discussions: Forming the initiatives

Salovey told members not to limit themselves in imagining change, and that they would later figure out how to practically bring it about, Nolan said. He met with the committee twice for only 10 minutes each time — Salovey did not want to influence the outcome, Nolan added.

The full committee met about once a month for about half a year, and a smaller steering committee met nearly weekly. The committee identified areas people wanted to discuss — including the tenure process, faculty retention and mentoring, human resources and student life. They then broke into small groups and then shared a summary of their discussions. Subcommittees for faculty, staff, students and alumni each examined past efforts and wrote up lengthy reports with policy recommendations. The faculty subcommittee report had more than 30 findings and recommendations, Larry Gladney, Dean of Diversity and Faculty Development in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences and a physics professor, said. The subcommittee reports were never made public; they were only shared with Salovey. The resulting full committee report went through eight or 10 different iterations, according to Nolan.

The committee spent hours discussing how to explicitly tie diversity to excellence. Higher education in general presents the two as mutually exclusive, Jacobson said. The committee wanted to present each of the aims as impossible to have without the other, and not as tradeoffs, Frederick said. They also discussed what the incentive is for Yale to change when exclusivity is its business model, Nolan said.

When they finished a draft, Salovey read it and particularly emphasized setting up a working group to examine Yale’s ties to slavery and collaborating with New Haven, Gladney said.

Salovey also emphasized belonging as superseding diversity, equity and inclusion. Diversity in numbers is important, but only touches one part of the problem, Salovey said in an interview. People have to feel that Yale is their place, he added.

The committee members were honest and vulnerable, Nolan said. They never disagreed, she said, and Frederick seconded that it was not a committee marked by different opinions on ideas.

But Jacobson and Gladney cited instances where committee members discussed differences in opinion.

Jacobson said he was impressed at the scope of the initiatives. But he said that couching the initiatives as “belonging” uses softer, more corporate language and misses the depth of the problem. Rather, the issue is about power and equity, Jacobson said, and Yale has a history of exclusion and a structure of inequity that cannot be corrected by merely inviting people in. Without placing equity at the forefront of the initiatives and challenging the power structure, it is challenging to truly address the issues. He raised his concerns to the committee, advocating to place equity and challenging the existing power structure at the forefront of the initiatives, but the committee ultimately decided to go with “Belonging” as its namesake.

[pullquote credit=”Matthew Jacobson, professor of history, American studies and African American studies and member of the subcommittee on faculty diversity” align=”right” ]There are people in the administration who truly believe that their good intentions, and the good intentions of the University at large, will be enough to solve these problems. The historian in me just thinks that’s a shallow way to think about this because the problems are deep, and they are about power, and they are about vested interest and not everyone on campus is a good actor.[/pullquote]

He said that Yale’s anthropologists, sociologists and professors of African American studies, whose scholarship centers on these issues, should be leading the conversations instead of central administrators, and not merely consulted. Gladney said that some suggestions were deemed “too controversial” in the near term, and those suggestions did not make it into the final report. He declined to comment on specifics, saying that administrators must stand behind public decisions.

“There are people in the administration who truly believe that their good intentions, and the good intentions of the University at large, will be enough to solve these problems,” Jacobson said. “The historian in me just thinks that’s a shallow way to think about this because the problems are deep, and they are about power, and they are about vested interest and not everyone on campus is a good actor.”

“Belonging” articulates the hope that everyone at Yale can feel “valued and connected to those around them,” according to Kimberly Goff-Crews ’83 LAW ’86, university secretary and vice president for university life and head of the belonging initiatives. By feeling that they belong, people can be themselves, seek out their full potential and freely participate in and contribute to the community, she said, adding that the initiatives use “equity” to mean fair treatment and accessibility.

Though the co-chairs led drafting, everyone on the committee provided feedback and approved the final recommendations, Goff-Crews said. She and co-chair Gary Desir also spoke individually with everyone on the committee.

Since the report’s release in October, the University has introduced some measures to make Yale a more inclusive campus. In April, Yale provided an update on progress on the initiatives nearly a full academic year since their launch.

Yale is fundraising to support financial aid for students at professional schools that often do not lead to lucrative careers. Additionally, Yale is joining other universities in a pilot program to engage with talented students nominated by nine community colleges. After students pushed for a peer liaison program for students with disabilities, Yale College began a pilot.

Conversations about other structural issues remain ongoing. Salovey and Mayor Justin Elicker are actively discussing Yale’s voluntary contribution to the Elm City, which New Haven residents have long decried as insufficient. Though Salovey has committed to reforming public safety at Yale, he will not abolish the police force in response to students’ and community members’ demands.

And at a February 2021 meeting of the President’s Cabinet — made up of Yale’s provost, deans and vice presidents — Goff-Crews asked the leaders to make individual plans for their departments. Academic units report to Desir and other units report to Goff-Crews. The departments were told to conduct a self study and then form a committee to craft plans specific to their school. The five-year plans are due in September 2021.

The committee wants to embed change in Yale’s existing practices instead of creating dozens of new initiatives that sap time and energy and end up forgotten, said Jennifer Frederick, director of the Poorvu Center for Teaching and Learning and a belonging committee member. The University has an immediate focus on anti-racism, Goff-Crews added.

“Marathons require commitment and endurance across a long duration, with successes marked and plans adjusted along the way,” she wrote in an email to the News.

Differing viewpoints among the Yale community

But efforts to stray from tradition and fundamentally change Yale’s structure often meet resistance. When people hear “change,” it is difficult for them to not also hear “loss,” professor of Divinity Willie Jennings said.

Jacobson said that current students and faculty generally have one view of equity and justice at the University, while the Yale Corporation, alumni and donors likely have a different idea. In general, the donor class is whiter, older, richer and likely more politically conservative, and they wield an influence over Yale’s administrators, Jacobson said. Students, on the other hand, frequently call on the administration to make faster and more radical changes.

[pullquote credit=”Victoria Nolan, former deputy dean of the Drama School and committee member” align=”full” ][Administrators are] going to have to figure that out. Because you are changing and you are going to require us to change. … You finance the University, you’re a paying customer. You can hold the shop of Yale accountable. At the end of the day, if Yale doesn’t change, I think it’s going to become irrelevant.[/pullquote]

Sean O’Brien, head of the Privacy Lab at Yale Law School, agreed, saying that satisfying alumni can mean a “close clinging” to traditions that he said are not beneficial to Yale’s current students. O’Brien cited secret societies, which are not equitable or inclusive but exist as part of longstanding University tradition, as an example. Yale alumni have gone on to powerful roles in the government and corporate world, and the University is rewarded by placating them, he said.

The University also relies on its alumni for donations to support current students. Yale is trying to raise $6 billion over the coming years to keep up with demands for increased student financial aid, science infrastructure and a new theater for the drama school.

By contrast, others have called for modernizing Yale to better serve the current cohort of students and faculty. Many people at Yale do not see a problem, said Enrique De La Cruz, professor and chair of molecular biophysics and biochemistry. But the data on the number of faculty of color is “horrific, terrifying and shameful,” he said. In the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, only 69 out of 683 ladder faculty are from an underrepresented minority. Underrepresented minority refers specifically to African American or Black, Hispanic or Latinx, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander or Indigenous people, per federal categorizations.

“The very first thing we have to do is admit that we have a problem,” De La Cruz added. “Then, diversity needs to be woven into the fabric of admissions, hiring searches, course curriculums and how people educate. The initiatives offer an opportunity to improve, but the follow through will demand more than the gesture of enacting the initiatives did.”

Salovey expressed that the University can chart a course between the opposing viewpoints, and that even “traditionalists” tell him they would love to attend the University today.

“We can enjoy our traditions … [but we] can have a far broader group of people enjoying them,” Salovey said. “We can be a socially responsible university that interacts with our host city in an enlightened way, that creates a pathway for historically discriminated groups to transcend that discrimination.”

Where things stand

In balancing the opposing views, the initiatives have so far have meant little more than administrative pronouncements and anti-racism training, Eire said.

Jaelen King ’22, who has led calls to dismantle Yale’s police force, said he sees potential for good to come from the initiatives, but that the administration’s track record leaves him concerned that efforts will fizzle out over the next few years.

Gladney noted that initiatives with admirable aims can have unintended consequences and need continued monitoring and revision to ensure they are working as they are supposed to. The Graduate School of Arts and Sciences recently surveyed faculty members about whether they supported including a diversity statement on graduate student applications across all departments. For many departments, it is already mandatory. But there is some question as to whether the statements do what they are supposed to. People argue that applicants are savvy and know how to sound committed even if they truly are not, Jacobson said.

Realizing this and seeking to avoid the unintended consequences, Gladney said applicants could include what is important to them. If that is diversity, equity and inclusion, the student will talk about it and the admissions readers can note that.

According to Jeffrey Brock, dean of the School of Engineering and Applied Science, the administrators receive central resources to recruit diverse faculty from the Faculty Excellence and Diversity Initiative. He has not yet been told whether he will receive additional central resources to aggressively recruit diverse faculty. With centrally-supported schools, such as Yale College and the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, people higher up in the hierarchy can veto initiatives that cost money, Brock said. Goff-Crews said that diversity and belonging are top priorities for the University, but schools are strongly encouraged to fund related initiatives within their existing budgets.

Some changes would be relatively inexpensive, Brock said. For instance, chairs of the science and engineering departments have proposed a postdoctoral fellows program to increase diversity, and the central administration could contribute some funds for postdoctoral appointments.

As of now, Brock is working with the Provost’s Office to support diversity with existing postdoctoral resources.

“There’s sort of a tone of frustration around it,” Brock said, as the science chairs cannot take initiative without administrative approval. “And yet I do think we are making progress.”

This year, the Molecular Biophysics and Biochemistry Department enacted reforms in its search for an assistant professor on the tenure track that aimed to bring in a more diverse applicant pool. The search committee, with the support of the department chair, asked candidates to submit application materials without the names of schools they’ve attended or journals they’ve published in. Initial screenings were also conducted anonymously.

Jack Callahan, senior vice president of Operations, said that the administration is currently debating what resources each unit will get, but that he is sure there will be extra money put towards the initiatives. Still, the initiatives should largely be funded by reallocating existing resources, he added. He wants to embed the changes in Yale’s normal operations and fit them into the yearly budget, to make a lasting change to how Yale operates.

Though many people think Yale has been too slow to change, it takes time for people to on their own decide to act, Gladney said. He used the example of hiring more diverse faculty. Yale must account for upwards of $20 million when it decides to guarantee a professor tenure, Gladney said. Though Yale’s resources might seem infinite, there is not enough money to immediately hire a number of diverse faculty, he added. Additionally, faculty searches take significant effort and time for interviews and reading resumes, and Yale needs to commit time to supporting the faculty it does recruit.

Changing the search and tenure processes would likely recruit more talented and diverse faculty than immediately trying to make astronomical offers, he said.

Nolan, who helped draft the initiatives, said people need to “experience” injustice themselves through training and roleplay scenarios, which she said have been helpful for her as she comes from a theater background. Yale should require training on this topic, she said. She recalled a speech the anti-racism scholar Ibram X. Kendi delivered at Yale, in which he recounted experiencing three microaggressions within 15 minutes, including a police officer stopping him on the street and asking for identification.

“To hear something like that and know that in my life that doesn’t happen to me, that helps me to understand,” Nolan said. “It doesn’t necessarily get me to the place where I can do something about it, but to at least viscerally understand it or believe it or, as I think about, have seen it, that is when I start to realize that I too am a racist and I have been complicit.”

Frederick said that mandating antiracism training conveys a strong signal that it is important to the University and gives people a common vocabulary and understanding of the meaning of equity and inclusion.

Gladney said he does not personally support anti-bias training, as people can resist mandatory meetings or think they are “cured” of prejudice by attending.

The committee ultimately required unit plans to have professional anti-racism training and development, but left the form that such training would take to the leaders’ discretion. For example, Frederick’s unit — the global division — has people choosing from a litany of options including independently reading books on justice or attending expert-led workshops.

Another of the belonging initiatives is to diversify Yale’s academic offerings, including adding more courses on race.

Gladney said that a statement on the principles of increasing curriculum diversity gained near-perfect consensus. But people can be hesitant to make those changes themselves, Gladney said. Often, faculty want evidence as to why they, in departments that do not teach about diversity, should be changing their teaching style or content. People particularly fear the term “curricular change,” Gladney said, and he understands the hesitation.

According to Frederick, it will be up to the faculty to decide whether they change their courses. Gaddis, for one, said he has not felt pressure to change his syllabi. But Frederick said that many, including the English Department, have been leaders on spearheading increasingly diverse course offerings.

[pullquote credit=”John Gaddis, professor of history” align=”right” ]Increasing diversity is an admirable objective, but not if the means chosen to do so fragment the University or constrain freedom of inquiry.[/pullquote]

The potential cost of the middle path

“Increasing diversity is an admirable objective,” Gaddis said, “but not if the means chosen to do so fragment the University or constrain freedom of inquiry.”

The University leadership should release a statement on the fundamental values of free speech and inquiry, of diverse identities without constraints, Gaddis added.

David Blight, Sterling Professor of African American studies, American studies and history, said that at a great university, all of America’s “rich pluralism” must come together and study each other. Yale has to expose students to every kind of experience, he said, and people must be concerned with understanding people and places that they do not identify with.

“You don’t have equity and inclusion by just saying it, you don’t have that by moralizing about it, you have it by doing it,” Blight said. “And by teaching about all the experiences of planet Earth… Diversity, equity and inclusion is to make all people feel welcome, that’s for sure. But it’s also to trouble the edges of this, to trouble the waters, to not just teach people what they expect to learn, but what they utterly do not expect to learn.”

Concerns over what constitutes appropriate campus speech are not new. After 2015 racial justice protests that focused in part on a faculty email about Halloween costumes, administrators instructed faculty on what constitutes a microaggression. Eire said that this is a “slippery slope,” as individuals can decide what offends them, and the trigger for the administration to “jump into action” is if students say they feel unsafe, Eire said.

“You don’t have to sign a statement here saying I will never say anything that criticizes diversity, but if you do say something the community itself censors you, shuns you, perhaps even punishes you,” Eire said. “We’ve entered a whole new realm of discourse where it’s so easy to offend in all directions. It’s not just a person who’s easily offended. It’s a whole culture.”

At least three times a week as the committee is continuing work on the Belonging at Yale Initiatives’ unit plans, professors come to Gladney and ask what to do if they disagree with an initiative but fear being perceived as against diversity, he said. Professors worry about seeing their name in newsprint or on social media, but if people are talking about “the issues of the day, some of which have to be controversial, and there isn’t occasionally some blowup somewhere on campus, I would question whether we’re really engaging in things that people are legitimately emotional about,” Gladney said. He would rather have engagement with the issues and occasional mistakes and blowups, than have people think the initiatives do not apply to them.

But in the current culture centered on social media, where any statement can be reported or misreported, “any disagreement starts to seem an impoliteness,” Sterling Professor of English David Bromwich added.

Yale and Slavery Working Group

As Yale tries to move into the future on questions of diversity, a working group is delving into its past. One of the initiatives, the Yale and Slavery Working Group, is examining Yale’s historical ties to slavery and abolition and plans to generate a report next fall. Already, people differ as to how to respond to the findings, which will test the administration’s ability to navigate opposing views.

As the University navigates the endeavor, Salovey said, Yale can learn from the 2017 controversy over renaming Calhoun College. John C. Calhoun was a staunch defender of slavery, yet in 2015, Salovey announced he would ignore student activists’ calls and not rename Calhoun College. Many Yale alumni applauded Salovey for standing ground against encroaching “political correctness,” as two-thirds of 350 respondents to an informal poll in the alumni magazine claimed. But among faculty and students at the time, the decision was condemned with opinion essays, a well-attended renaming ceremony and open letters.

In response, Salovey appointed a committee, chaired by Law professor John Witt, to establish general principles of renaming. The Witt Committee worked from a presumption that renaming on account of values should be an “exceptional event,” but that sometimes it is warranted. Each decision to retain a name or rename demands non-erasure, contextualization and process, according to the Witt report. Based on the committee’s work, Yale renamed the college.

In an interview late last month, Salovey said the single biggest lesson from the Calhoun debate is to articulate core principles in advance of potential controversies. Ahead of the working group’s report, the principles are truth and reconciliation, he said. Yale needs to confront its history accurately, then make it well known to people through conferences, reports and discussion. Only after can the community discuss whether to celebrate, make amends or memorialize it, Salovey said.

The deeper the knowledge one has of a place, the more one can come to understand and even admire it, said Blight, the working group’s chair. The working group is not trying to “find all the pockets of evil in Yale’s past,” he said. “That’s not the goal.”
Its charge is to understand the University’s evolution over nearly 20 generations of students and to write a story about facts, remembered and forgotten people and how the institution conceived of itself, Blight said.

Numerous other universities, including the University of Virginia and Georgetown University, have undertaken studies of their history. In 2019, Georgetown announced that it would raise $400,000 in reparations to benefit the descendants of the 272 enslaved people the school sold to keep the institution solvent. In 2020, Princeton University renamed its school of international affairs to get rid of Woodrow Wilson’s namesake.

Jennings, a member of the working group, added that knowing a complete history — even the painful parts — can inform Yale’s academic mission and leadership. Law professor James Forman Jr., a member of the working group, seconded that the inquiry is fundamental to Yale’s academic mission. Slavery is often taught as a unit in school, but its effects underlie the structure, development and economics of institutions. To talk about the present, particularly about Yale’s relationship with the Black community in New Haven, Yale has to investigate its past.

“It’s one thing to say as a general matter: slavery built America,” Forman Jr. said. “It’s another thing to say this building was built with a donation that came from this person and they made their money selling human beings as chattel.”

The working group is investigating the role settlers played in New Haven’s Black community, whether ministers enrolled at Yale were preaching slavery and the situation of southern families who enrolled their sons at Yale — there were certainly others like Calhoun, said Edward Rugemer, professor of African American Studies and a working group member.

Already, the working group has confirmed that there were slaves on Yale’s campus at different times and performing different functions, Blight said. Nine of Yale’s residential college namesakes owned slaves, and slave labor helped construct Connecticut Hall. Slave terminology stayed on far longer at Yale: The Pierson College newspaper was called the “Weekly Slave” until at least the 1940s, according to Rebecca Amonor ’21. The Pierson mascot was a slave until 1980.

“There are things that we look back on in the past and we’re like how could that have endured for so long?” Amonor said. She encouraged people to “look at our present and think, what are some things that we may be overlooking now that people 30 or 50 years down the line are going to look back on and say how could that have lasted so long.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”The Pierson College Newspaper in 1939.” credit=”Courtesy of Rebecca Amonor, with thanks to Yale Manuscripts and Archives for allowing her to reproduce the image” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/Screen-Shot-2021-05-01-at-2.37.43-PM-1.png” ALIGN=”full”]

Though the investigation is ongoing, people have already formed opinions on how administrators should respond to the findings. O’Brien has called on Yale to change its name, as Elihu Yale had ties to the slave trade. Salovey has said that renaming Yale is not on the table. Greene said he would like to see reparations paid to any descendants of slaves that were on Yale’s campus.

The community will be divided on what to do with the findings, Gladney said. The way to respond is to have discussions on what Yale wants to look like in the coming years, he added.

Jennings said the study is a chance to pause and assess who Yale memorializes as an example for the future. It should not be people without flaws, but people whose flaws can be articulated in ways that make sense for the future, he said.

Blight said that the working group is not trying to predict an outcome to its report. It will be an institutional decision as to whether there are reparations.

“I don’t think you can predict reconciliation,” Blight said. “You expose it, teach and learn about it, memorialize it, and see what new kinds of social memory or collective memory come out of it.”

Taken together, Gladney said the Belonging initiatives are set up so Yale has to assess whether it has made progress each year. They are public, so people know the goals that Yale has set and whether it has reached them. The challenge, Nolan said, is to reconcile the different visions students, professors and alumni hold of Yale.

“[Administrators are] going to have to figure that out,” Nolan said about balancing conflicting interests as the student and alumni bodies change. “Because you are changing and you are going to require us to change. … You finance the University, you’re a paying customer. You can hold the shop of Yale accountable. At the end of the day, if Yale doesn’t change, I think it’s going to become irrelevant.”

UP CLOSE | A look inside Yale’s community college transfer process

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As one admissions cycle characterized by record-high applicant pools and record-low acceptance rates comes to an end, another one is underway — this time, for transfer students.

While some transfer students enroll at Yale after spending part of their undergraduate studies at another four-year institution, a significant portion of Yale’s transfer students come from community colleges. In reporting its admissions statistics, Yale does not differentiate between transfer students and those admitted via the Eli Whitney Students Program, which is meant for non-traditional students who are attending college later in life. In 2019, Yale reported that of the 34 transfer and Eli Whitney students admitted, 14 came from community colleges. In 2020, 29 transfer and Eli Whitney students were admitted, and again, 14 came from community colleges. In 2017 and 2018, 10 and nine students came from community colleges, respectively.

Community college transfers typically arrive at Yale after earning an associate’s degree following two years of community college. According to Risa Sodi, assistant dean of academic affairs at Yale College and the director of the transfer student program, transfer students are admitted to Yale with anywhere between eight and 18 credits, based on an evaluation of their transcript. The school from which one transferred — whether it was a community college or a four-year institution — has no bearing on the number of credits and the class standing with which a transfer student is admitted, Sodi said. Students at Yale College need to have completed a total of 36 credits upon graduation.

“I’ve been delighted by my work with transfer students at Yale and it’s been a privilege to rub shoulders — figuratively, this year — with such a determined and high-achieving group,” Sodi wrote in an email to the News. “Deans and heads of college express the same sentiments, and Undergraduate Admissions does an amazing job of steering qualified students our way. Yale is affirmative for transfer admissions, and our university will continue to work on improving their transition to New Haven and their experience during their two or three years at Yale.”

The News spoke to nine community college transfers, seven of whom are current students and two of whom have graduated, about their experiences adapting to Yale. Most spoke positively about their Yale experience overall, but many also expressed concerns about the process of integrating into the Yale community — especially those who transferred in fall 2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic.

[pullquote credit=”Jeremiah Quinlan, Dean of Undergraduate Admissions and Financial Aid” align=”full” ]We are interested in admitting students from community colleges in particular because there, the academic argument for why you should move from your community college that you are completing to a private four-year research university — that argument is clear and apparent.[/pullquote]

Behind the transfer admissions process

Yale’s transfer application process takes place in the spring of each year, with students submitting applications by March 1 and receiving their decisions in mid-May. The transfer application is similar to a typical first-year application, with emphasis on factors such as grades, personal statements and letters of recommendation from professors.

Dean of Undergraduate Admissions and Financial Aid Jeremiah Quinlan told the News that because so few students are admitted to Yale as transfers, the transfer application process is more competitive than standard first-year admissions, with acceptance rates of 2.2 percent and 1.7 percent in 2019 and 2020, respectively. Yale chooses to admit under 30 transfer students each year, which differs significantly from Yale’s peer institutions. Quinlan pointed to Brown University as an example of a school that admits significantly more transfers; according to the Brown admissions website, they admit “between 100 and 200” transfer students each year.

“A lot of Yale students don’t like to leave Yale College during the academic year, so we don’t have the availability or the opportunity to take a large number of transfer students because there just frankly isn’t the space,” Quinlan said. “But [the low number of admits] is also an acknowledgement of, while admitting transfer students and bringing them to Yale is an important part of our educational mission, there is something valuable to the sort of very residential experience that we can offer at Yale, and the way that we lay out our education and majors over four years.”

Mark Dunn, the director of outreach and communications at the Office of Undergraduate Admissions, told the News that when reading transfer applications, admissions officers look for applicants who have a clear-cut reason for wanting to attend Yale. Because transfer students have such a limited amount of time at Yale, Dunn said, it is important for them to be able to explain what they want to study at Yale and why it is that they feel that Yale will give them opportunities that differ from their previous institution.

Quinlan added that this emphasis on the “Why Yale?” question is an advantage for community college students, who are applying to Yale while in the process of completing their associate’s degree.

“We are interested in admitting students from community colleges in particular because there, the academic argument for why you should move from your community college that you are completing to a private four-year research university — that argument is clear and apparent,” Quinlan said.

Because the transfer process is already so competitive, and Yale is looking to attract transfers who can specifically point to reasons why Yale will fulfill their academic needs, there is far less outreach to prospective transfer students than there is to prospective first-year applicants, Quinlan said. Patricia Wei, the director of admissions for the Eli Whitney Students Program and the coordinator for in-person transfer outreach, told the News that outreach is limited to an annual trip to California to speak to community college students and veterans in group events with peer institutions such as Princeton, Amherst and Pomona. This year, all of these joint events took place virtually, which allowed Yale to connect with more community college students than in a typical year, Dunn said.

On the community college side, the News spoke to Virginia Fuillerat, the director of one of the four campuses of The Honors College at Miami Dade College. The Honors College is a program within the Miami Dade Community College system that emphasizes helping its students transfer to out-of-state schools. Yale has accepted transfer students from The Honors College in each of the last three admissions cycles.

Fuillerat told the News that the Honors College focuses on helping its students transfer from the moment they step on campus. Students develop “two-year plans” in consultation with advisers, based on their transfer goals and their major. The Honors College focuses on making its students “marketable” through classes and extracurricular opportunities and supports students throughout the transfer application process.

But Fuillerat added that it would be helpful for four-year institutions like Yale to interact more with the Honors College, so that their students can have more of an idea of what to expect from the application process, which could help prepare them to eventually transfer.

“I think having a Yale representative come down and speak to our students, whether it’s fertile or not, would be really helpful, because it gives them a little reality check,” Fuillerat said. “It could help students see if Yale is the place where they belong.”

Of the Yale community college transfers who spoke to the News, four attended The Honors College. Of those who did not attend The Honors College, many still participated in honors programs that eventually helped them transfer. Les Welker ’22 and Dante Petruzziello ’23, both of whom attended community colleges in Connecticut, credited honors programs and advisers within those programs for pushing them to apply to four-year colleges outside of the University of Connecticut system.

The highs and lows of transferring to Yale

All of the community college transfers who spoke with the News spoke positively about their experiences at community college. Some, like Mariam Alaverdian ’23, held leadership positions in clubs and were able to travel and do research while at community college. Others appreciated the diversity in backgrounds they were able to encounter while at college.

“I really appreciated community college for letting me meet a variety of people from different backgrounds,” Welker said. “You get a lot of people from different ages coming and seeking a new educational path. You get people who have worked in trades, you get older people, you get people who just took a few years off after high school. There’s a lot of diversity there that you don’t really get at a proper four-year institution like Yale.”

The transition from attending community college — in which most students live at home and commute to classes — to living on Yale’s campus can be stark. Sodi told the News that Yale offers “robust” programming for transfers when they arrive on campus to help them adjust to on-campus life. There is a designated transfer orientation that includes academic and social events. Transfer students are also able to attend pre-orientation programs and first-year orientation events hosted by their residential colleges.

Upon arriving at Yale, transfer students are assigned an academic adviser from the Yale College Dean’s Office who is familiar with the transfer process. Transfers are also assigned a peer transfer counselor, or TroCo, who is meant to serve a similar role as FroCos do for first-year students. Unlike large FroCo groups, TroCos advise only one or two transfer students each year, and they are meant to serve as peer support as students begin their time at Yale.

Gabriel Conte Cortez Martins ’20, who transferred to Yale in 2018 from The Honors College at Miami Dade College and served as a head TroCo during the 2019-20 school year, told the News that the TroCo program varies from year to year based on the students in charge. During his year, he prioritized matching community college transfers with TroCos who had originally attended community college. In other years, students and TroCos have been matched based on academic interest.

Cortez Martins also said that as head TroCo, he tried to host events specific to community college students, as he felt that the experience of transferring from community college to a four-year institution is very unique.

“During my time at Yale, I watched the community college transfer population grow, and being a community college transfer, I just had this motivation to create specific events for this community and try to facilitate relationships within it,” Cortez Martins said.

Simone Koch Costa ’22, who transferred in fall 2019 from The Honors College, told the News that the TroCo program worked well for her because she was paired with a TroCo who had also come to Yale from The Honors College and was able to walk her through the experience.

[pullquote credit=”Brooke Alviar ’21, who transferred from Foothill College in fall 2019″ align=”right” ]The transition resources for transfer students are not as readily available as they are for first years. And because we have less time here — for some of us, our time is literally cut in half — we have fewer opportunities to explore all that Yale has to offer.[/pullquote]

But Brooke Alviar ’21, who transferred from Foothill College in fall 2019, said that she felt the TroCo program did not provide the same level of support as it seemed a FroCo would. She attributed much of this to the fact that unlike FroCos, TroCos are not paid aside from a stipend to cover meals during the orientation period. Without payment, Alviar said, there is less incentive to have large amounts of programming.

Alviar said that in general, the institutional resources to help transfer students transition to Yale could be improved. Even at the surface level, she said, there is a lot of Yale culture that does not get conveyed to new transfers. As an example, she shared that she did not learn that Bass Library and Sterling Library connect underground until a year into her time at Yale — something she imagines she would have learned on a FroCo tour if she had arrived as a first-year student.

“The transition resources for transfer students are not as readily available as they are for first years,” Alviar said. “And because we have less time here — for some of us, our time is literally cut in half — we have fewer opportunities to explore all that Yale has to offer.”

Beyond the logistical challenges of the transition to Yale, the social transition can prove daunting. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic and ensuing housing shifts, transfer students were housed within their residential colleges. Colleges then assign housing accordingly, with some colleges housing transfer students together and other colleges assigning transfer students to preexisting suites or standalone single bedrooms.

Petruzziello, who is in Pierson College, said he “really appreciated” the way in which he was integrated into the Yale community through housing. He was assigned to live with another transfer student and two visiting international students, which Petruzziello said allowed him to balance making friends with other transfers while still feeling integrated into the general Yale community.

On the other hand, Welker, who is in Pauli Murray College, was assigned a standalone single room, which he said made it difficult to transition to Yale socially.

“It wasn’t great, because I didn’t really have anybody or any social group to fall back on,” Welker said. “And I was just really far away from everyone, so I didn’t get super involved in the transfer community or any type of transfer friend group. I sometimes see other transfer students around and I will say ‘hi,’ but there never felt like much of a community.”

All of the community college transfers who spoke to the News said that they had never encountered any type of stigma about community college from non-transfer students at Yale.

Alviar said that at most, some people were surprised to hear that she originally attended community college because they did not know that Yale accepted transfer students.

[pullquote credit=”Brooke Alviar ’21″ align=”full” ]Overall, everyone’s been very warm and accepting, and I think that really just attests to what an amazing student body we have in general.[/pullquote]

Transferring during COVID-19

Transfer students who began at Yale during fall 2020 have only known Yale in a time of pandemic. Upon arriving on campus in the fall, transfer students took part in virtual orientation programming, and like all other Yale students, new transfers have conducted nearly all of their classes and extracurricular activities virtually.

In light of the COVID-19 pandemic, Yale gave all admitted students the option to defer admission until the next year. According to Sodi, “nearly all” incoming transfers chose to enroll in fall 2020 rather than take a gap year. Additionally, Yale allowed all incoming transfer students to live on campus in the fall and spring semester, regardless of their class year. Nearly all new transfer students were housed together on Old Campus this academic year, rather than in their residential colleges.

Alaverdian, who transferred from Los Angeles City College to Yale in fall 2020, told the News that Yale’s decision to house all incoming transfer students together was a “really good thing” and allowed her to connect with people in her first few days at Yale. Still, Alaverdian found it difficult to acclimate socially with all of the COVID-19 restrictions in place.

“The start of the semester was definitely rough because of COVID,” Alaverdian said. “It was difficult to meet up with friends or meet new people because of social distancing. I was able to make some connections, meet some people and make some friends, but not as many as I expected.”

Alaverdian said that having a TroCo was helpful, and she connected with academic advisers in order to help her acclimate to Yale’s curriculum. And even in virtual space, she was able to join extracurricular activities such as TAMID, Scholars of Finance and the Yale Armenian Network.

Still, Alaverdian decided to take a gap semester in the spring in the hope of extending her time at “normal” Yale, once COVID-19 restrictions are lifted.

“I feel like I only have a limited amount of time to spend at Yale,” Alaverdian said. “For me, it’s three more semesters as of today, unless I change my major or something else happens. So I really just wanted to spend that time at Yale with the full Yale experience.”

Daniela Gonzalez Mulet ’23 transferred from The Honors College at Miami Dade College in fall 2020 and spent her first semester at Yale studying remotely from home. She originally chose to study remotely because she felt it would be a good way to ease into Yale, but she told the News that looking back, she feels that the decision might have held her back from acclimating to Yale. At home in Miami, she said, she felt “distant” from the Yale community and had a low level of engagement with Yale.

Upon arriving on campus for the spring semester, Gonzalez Mulet said she had a difficult adjustment period. Although she loved her classes, she said the first month was “harsh,” between dealing with the isolation of quarantine and adjusting to the cold weather.

Gonzalez Mulet said that socially, she has grown close with a few transfer students and a few people in her residential college, but it has been difficult to feel part of a “transfer community” because many transfer students took leaves of absence in the spring.

“Honestly, I expected that once you would come to Yale, you would have this very close community with whom you could go out often,” Gonzalez Mulet said. “But that is not the case. I don’t really know many people from my transfer year, which is really sad, because I only have one year left.”

Heidi Makhlouf ’21, who also transferred from The Honors College and is one of the head TroCos this year, said that she “feels so bad” for the transfers who came in this year, because it seemed very difficult to acclimate to Yale with COVID-19 restrictions in place.

As head TroCo, Makhlouf made adjustments to the TroCo program to engage students with weekly virtual check-ins and virtual academic panels. But she said that the attendance rate fell dramatically quite quickly, as people felt “Zoom fatigue” and did not show up for events.

“It was definitely hard on [new transfers],” Makhlouf said. “Some people just made up their minds after fall, and they took either a gap semester, or they decided to take a gap year and work on other projects. And some people stayed. People just found it really difficult — not just on the transfer community level, but also because if all your classes are online, how can you be expected to meet new people?”

But as restrictions begin to lessen slightly, Makhlouf said she can see the new transfers start to “bounce back,” and she is optimistic that next year, transfer students will have an easier time adjusting to life at Yale.

I feel like I only have a limited amount of time to spend at Yale,” Alaverdian said. “For me, it’s three more semesters as of today, unless I change my major or something else happens. So I really just wanted to spend that time at Yale with the full Yale experience.

Steps moving forward

In October 2020, University President Peter Salovey announced the Belonging at Yale initiative, which is meant to “increase diversity, ensure equity, and enhance a sense of inclusion and belonging for everyone,” according to the Belonging at Yale website. In his announcement, Salovey said that he had called on the Yale College Dean’s Office to consider an expansion in the “approaches to transfer applicants from community colleges who would like to study in Yale College.”

Quinlan told the News that, as of now, the Office of Undergraduate Admissions is looking to expand the applicant pool of community college students, rather than expand the number of community college transfers admitted each year. But he added that should efforts be successful to expand and strengthen the community college applicant pool, it is possible that an expansion in community college transfers could come naturally.

[pullquote credit=”Marisa Kogan, Director of Transfer Admission” align=”right” ][Community college students] might not always have advisers or information about the transfer process. If we can find a way to step in as a point of contact, it allows students to know that we are transfer-friendly; we are a university that has the resources, both financially and also socially, to help support this group.[/pullquote]

In a step to expand that pool, Yale joined the Transfer Scholars Network, an initiative pioneered by the Aspen Institute that looks to connect “high-achieving community college students” with selective four-year colleges. Yale is one of 12 initial member schools of the TSN, which launched its pilot phase in January 2021.

Quinlan likened the TSN to the QuestBridge program, which matches low-income students with over 40 selective colleges and universities, in that both the TSN and QuestBridge serve as third parties that bridge the gap between Yale and a population that might not always know about what Yale has to offer. But unlike QuestBridge, which focuses primarily on matching students with selective colleges, the TSN in this stage is focused on giving community college students the information to learn about and apply to selective colleges, rather than guaranteeing their admission.

“The network is really designed at the pre-application stage currently, with an emphasis on early connections with community college students,” Adam Rabinowitz, communications manager at the Aspen Institute’s College Excellence Program, told the News. “The idea is that if we can build these connections, create that incentive to transfer, provide the resources, provide the support, then the barriers that naturally stand in the way for the students fall away and that impetus to apply is really present. So our role is to urge and ensure that that student has the connections they need to send in the application. We feel that’s half the battle.”

Because the Yale admissions office does little outreach to transfer applicants, Quinlan said that the TSN has the potential to step in to provide outreach to applicants and build and strengthen the community college applicant pool in Yale’s place. Because of lack of outreach, many applicants from community colleges may not know about Yale’s commitment to financial aid or about Yale’s desire to admit community college students at all, Quinlan said, and the TSN can fill in that information gap.

Director of Transfer Admission Marisa Kogan told the News that even though the TSN only launched in January, Yale received seven applications this cycle from transfer students who were nominated and connected to Yale through the TSN.

“[Community college students] might not always have advisers or information about the transfer process,” Kogan said. “If we can find a way to step in as a point of contact, it allows students to know that we are transfer-friendly; we are a university that has the resources, both financially and also socially, to help support this group.”

Although applying as a TSN nominee does not guarantee admission, Kogan said that receiving applicants through the TSN even in its pilot year is indicative of the ways in which the program could prove a success and expand the community college applicant pool in years to come.

Quinlan added that by consciously expanding the community college transfer applicant pool by joining the TSN, the admissions office is demonstrating a commitment to admitting community college transfer applicants.

“We are putting a thumb on the scale in our transfer review process for students from community colleges,” Quinlan said. “That much is clear.”

Losing Track

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It is January 2018, and Emma T.* is at the north end of Yale’s campus for an organic chemistry lab class. She synthesizes a tawny powder of anthraquinone from benzoylbenzoic acid using a chemical procedure known as Friedel-Crafts acylation. After class, she hurries to physics office hours, where she spends the next two hours using Gauss’s Law to solve for the electric field that is a distance r away from an infinitely long rod with a linear charge density λ

Why? Is she training to become a synthetic chemist or an electrical engineer? No — Emma T. wants to be a doctor, and, as she explains, “This is what medical schools want.”

Meanwhile, five miles south, in his first-floor office at the Connecticut Veterans Affairs Medical Center in West Haven, William Becker ’95 dons his white coat and makes the afternoon rounds. Some of his patients present with a low-grade fever, others with joint pain, but all of them seek something similar: to be seen by a doctor who will understand their problems and communicate the fix clearly. “Ninety percent of the job is having the humanistic qualities to talk with people, to comfort people, to communicate with people,” Becker says. “None of this is taught in pre-med.”

If you want to apply to medical school in the U.S., first you need to complete the so-called pre-med requirements, which include two years of chemistry with lab, one year of physics with lab, one year of biology with lab, biochemistry, calculus, statistics and psychology. That’s 20 classes — six more than are needed to major in English, seven more than physics and 20 more than to apply to law or business school, neither of which list a single prerequisite.

Doctors say this laundry list of classes is irrelevant to the reality of what they do. Students, who find the requirements unwieldy, are increasingly turning to other fields. What does this mean for doctors, those the system is meant to train, and for patients, those it is meant to serve? In its effort to cultivate the next generation of doctors, is the system of pre-medical education serving us well, and if not, what can be done to change it?

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Lukas Flippo” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”full” ]

A VESTIGE OF A BYGONE ERA

In 1908, the Council on Medical Education — established four years prior to restructure American medical schools — tapped a then-unknown, 44-year-old educational theorist named Abraham Flexner to lead the reform. Flexner, who had no formal education in medicine, spent the next 18 months traveling across the country to evaluate each of its 155 medical schools.

What he found was a system in disarray. At one medical school, Flexner requested to see the laboratory facilities, and the dean proudly brought out a shoe box. At another school, Flexner noticed the library books were locked in cases. When he asked for them to be unlocked, neither the administrators nor the students knew how. Only the janitor carried the key.

In the early 20th century, American medical schools were churning out poorly trained doctors wholly unprepared for the demands of the profession, according to multiple books by  medical historians. This changed abruptly, in 1910, when Flexner published the results of his study in a 346-page report, which detailed the disorder he had found and mandated a new set of standards for medical schools. Schools that could not adopt them were forced to close. By the end of the decade, 89 medical schools had shut down.

“The Flexner Report was a catalyst for the kinds of changes that transformed medical education by making it much more rigorous,” said John Warner, the chair of Yale School of Medicine’s Section of the History of Medicine. “The central aim was to ground medicine in the experimental laboratory sciences, which had created new ways of understanding the body and promised to transform things.”

The transformation of medical schools was so vigorous and complete that it percolated through the curriculum that preceded medical school, too. In his report, Flexner wrote that a “competent knowledge of chemistry, biology, and physics” was necessary “to establish a reasonable presumption of fitness to undertake the study of medicine.” This is the origin of the pre-med requirements. 

Within 10 years of the Flexner Report, medical school educators began to worry whether the training had become too inflexible and scientific. Even Flexner had doubts, contemplating in a speech in 1929 whether medical schools were producing doctors that were “culturally thin and metallic.” Medical students voiced similar concerns, with one student at the time writing sarcastically in his diary, “When the first frog walks into my office, I will know exactly what is the matter with him.”

As the 20th century progressed, critics condemned the medical profession for failing to deliver better outcomes despite the scientific progress of the previous decades. The traditional model of medical education came under attack in the 1960s by progressive sociologists who condemned medicine as a failing enterprise because increased spending had not generated breakthroughs in the treatment of cancer and neurodegenerative diseases. In response, medical schools established humanities programs that offered new approaches to practicing medicine. 

[pullquote credit=”Anna Reisman, professor at the Yale School of Medicine” align=”full” ]Do I refer to my knowledge of any of those subjects in my day to day life when I’m seeing patients? Not really.[/pullquote]

In the last decade, medical schools have cut the amount of classroom instruction and added more clinical work. However, for all the changes that have swept across medical schools, none have seeped into the pre-med curriculum at the undergraduate level. 

As a result, the system of pre-medical education today remains largely identical to that established by the Flexner Report over a century ago — 11 years before the introduction of insulin, 32 years before the production of penicillin and 43 years before the discovery of DNA — and students are starting to speak up. 

DIAGNOSING THE PROBLEM

Emma T. knew she wanted to become a doctor when she was 12. “When I was little I had a lot of stomach issues,” she recalled. “It was pretty traumatic. Some of my doctors were super nice. Part of my motivation was I wanted to be like them, to be able to help patients and make them feel safe and okay with whatever they were going through.”

In middle school, Emma gravitated toward the sciences. After 10th grade, she enrolled in a summer program at Brown University, where she learned how to handle a cadaver and take a patient’s medical history. “I really enjoyed it, and this is what cemented it for me,” she said. She was to become a doctor.

In 2017, Emma entered Yale College and noticed many of her peers signing up for a diverse spread of courses and activities. But her first-year experience was to be much more focused. “I talked to students who were applying to medical school and figured out what I needed to do,” she explained. “So, my first year I was taking chemistry, biology and math. I started working in a lab.” 

It’s worth pausing here to consider that such is the story of many pre-med students. From the time they set foot on campus, they say they must fully dedicate themselves to a rigid lineup of courses and activities that leaves little room for much else. Jordan Young ’21 said his pre-med experience “has definitely taken away from the number of subjects I’m interested in but haven’t been able to take.” 

The monopolizing coursework is compounded, doctors say, by the blurry and tenuous connection between the requirements themselves and the reality of practicing medicine. “Do you really need those classes to be a doctor? Do I refer to my knowledge of any of those subjects in my day to day life when I’m seeing patients?” asked Anna Reisman ’86, a professor at Yale’s medical school. “Not really.”

Becker is similarly skeptical. “When you first meet a patient, you’re taking a medical history, trying to understand their experiences, and then synthesizing that information into a treatment plan,” he explained. “This involves understanding the medical literature, yes, but there’s not much of a need to understand the foundational basic science.”

Dean of the Yale School of Medicine Nancy Brown ’81 believes otherwise. “Scientific knowledge is critical to the ethical and compassionate care of patients,” she said. “Without adequate scientific knowledge, we cannot provide safe and effective care.”

Here lies the crux of the debate over pre-med: To what extent is the emphasis on the basic sciences — subjects like organic synthesis and electric flux that Emma was learning her sophomore year — important in the daily lives of doctors? Proponents of the current curriculum argue that medicine is primarily a scientific endeavor, that medical advances are rooted in scientific advances, and for doctors to provide good care, they must be trained as scientists. The other side perceives medicine as a broader, more intimate endeavor. They believe there is something in caring for patients that transcends the basic sciences and cannot be learned through balancing double displacement reactions or conserving angular momentum. 

Reisman wonders whether a curriculum that orbits almost exclusively around the basic sciences might be harmful in the way it distills the complexities of caring for people. She offered a timely example. “With COVID-19, and with health care in general, if doctors are not aware of the systems they work in, the biases that they have, the kinds of barriers people face, it’s impossible to provide good and equitable care,” she said.

[pullquote credit=”Ashna Aggarwal ’20” align=”full” ]You look around the room and you know that one in five people are getting an A, regardless of how hard everyone works.[/pullquote]

But Stanley Goldfarb, a former dean at the University of Pennsylvania’s medical school, disagrees. In September 2019, he wrote a controversial op-ed in the Wall Street Journal criticizing medical school curricula for focusing too strongly on social justice issues. “My view is that our job as doctors is to treat illness,” Goldfarb told me. “Our job is not to cure poverty, our job is to cure pneumonia.”

Goldfarb’s adamance about training doctors purely in the basic sciences, it became clear, does not extend to the pre-med curriculum. Is organic chemistry necessary? “It’s a little hard to say,” he explained. “It’s like saying, does Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Caesar’ influence the way you think about contemporary politics? It’s hard to know. If you’re studying it, it becomes ingrained in your thinking in some way.” The benefit of organic chemistry, he argued, is in giving a good sense of the molecular complexity of the body. But does it need to be a whole year? And do you need an additional laboratory course in it, which is also a whole year? “You know,” he said, pausing briefly, “I don’t know.” 

Though perspectives among doctors may vary, the research is unambiguous. Between 1951 and 1977, in the most robust study that has been conducted to date, Harrison Gough, a psychologist at the University of California, Berkeley, followed over a thousand college students as they matriculated to medical school and later became doctors. He wanted to see if success in pre-med courses was a prerequisite for success as a physician. 

He found little evidence. Undergraduate science grades, Gough’s paper concludes, are “almost completely unrelated … to faculty ratings of general and clinical competence.” Then, he followed up the study with a series of psychological tests. He found that students who did better in undergraduate science courses were “narrower in interests, less adaptable, less articulate, and less comfortable in interpersonal relationships.” 

Not only is performance in the pre-medical curriculum unrelated to performance as a doctor, it also appears to be, on an interpersonal level, harmful. As Becker noted based on his experience treating patients, we depend on our doctors when we are weak and vulnerable and need to be treated with humanity. As a result, it’s deeply problematic to rely on a curriculum that, in Becker’s words, “may inculcate a more biomedical view of the human experience as opposed to a humanistic one.”

THE COMPETITION THAT ABANDONS MANY

Students feel another problem acutely — that pre-med is cutthroat and grueling. Ashna Aggarwal ’20, who graduated summa cum laude and is taking a gap year before attending medical school, remembers her pre-med experience with a certain unease. “There’s a very stark difference between pre-med and other courses,” she said. “The workload is harder, it’s harder to get a good grade. It’s like the air is different.”

One student, who requested anonymity, said, “Pre-med feels like a crunch. It’s like a clock — a constant clock. There’s always something to do. There’s always a p-set, there’s always a quiz, there’s always a midterm.” 

Emma agrees. Her sophomore year, when she was taking the organic chemistry lab and physics courses, she would wake up at 6 in the morning to squeeze in several hours of work before class. “I was spending every waking hour doing homework or in office hours or in lab,” she said. “Every aspect of my life became tangled up in pre-med.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Lukas Flippo” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”full” ]

Pre-med student Wasil Ahmed ’21 acknowledges that it’s tough, but it’s for a reason. “Medicine is a super intense field,” he said. “It’s really high stakes, and it requires sacrifice. I don’t see why there wouldn’t be a reason for the training to be challenging sometimes.”

But pre-med students say it’s not the challenge itself that’s problematic — of course we want our heart surgeons to be competent in high-pressure situations — but it’s the culture that emerges from it. It’s no secret that pre-med courses are stressful. In an off-the-cuff survey of students sitting on Cross Campus one Saturday, when asked to describe pre-med in one word, six out of 10 said “cutthroat.” 

“There’s always a cloud hanging over your head that you are competing with other people,” Aggarwal said. This sense of competition, she explained, arises from a curved grading scheme where only a fraction of students receive the best grades. She remembers the first day of her introductory biology class when the professor announced only 20 percent of the class would get an A. “So you look around the room and you know that one in five people are getting an A, regardless of how hard everyone works.”

Two introductory biology professors did not respond to requests for comment. Professor Mark Mooseker, the only one who did, said he does not use a defined curve. He explained that “for a given class we look at the performance range and make decisions about grade cut-offs.” Even so, he eventually admitted that cut-offs, like those Aggarwal mentioned, are “possible depending on the point distributions in a given year.”

According to Ahmed, the grading curves are also detrimental because they stifle collaboration. “In an exaggerated way, it feels like there’s an underlying animosity and tension” between pre-med students, he explained. “You’re less likely to help or ask for help. It’s just not good for learning, and it doesn’t help either party.” It certainly does not help patients either, because medicine at its core is a collaborative endeavor, and “to train every doctor in a non-team environment doesn’t make sense,” Ahmed said. 

For some, the harsh grading schemes, the perception of being surrounded by competitive peers and the never-ending grind of work upon work become so crippling that there’s only one solution — dropping pre-med. 

[pullquote credit=”David Muller, dean for medical education at the Mount Sinai School of Medicine” align=”full” ]The cruel irony of the whole thing is not just that the pre-medical preparation teaches stuff that students don’t need, it’s that a lot of that stuff is used to weed people out.[/pullquote]

In 2002, Stanford professor Donald Barr became interested in quantifying pre-med attrition after noticing that students who dropped it were more likely students of color and women. He conducted a study where he followed the trajectory of freshmen at Stanford who expressed interest in medicine. Of the initial 363 freshmen in the study, 294 applied to medical school. And of those who dropped, he saw that a disproportionate number were indeed women and students of color.

The student who requested anonymity, who is Black, said, “Every day on this campus, I walk into any space, and I instantly feel like I don’t belong. Pre-med just emphasizes that, because for so long, it’s somewhere you feel like you don’t belong.”

In a July 2020 article in Broad Recognition, Mia Arias Tsang ’21 describes how racism  underpins medical education. This includes the content of the curriculum, which leaves out cases of medical abuse like the Tuskegee Syphilis Study and the forced sterilization of Black women, and presents science and medicine as neutral and divorced from their social implications. It also includes inflexible, punitive pedagogical practices — one of Arias Tsang’s professors refused to give her a one-day extension even when she was hospitalized, for instance. 

“Most marginalized students struggle in STEM, and therefore in the science-heavy pre-medical track,” she writes. “They just do so silently. Our pain is only viewed as proof that we aren’t capable of the same things as our privileged peers. If we show any shred of humanity, it’s viewed as weakness, and we will be discarded.” Arias Tsang argues that racist and capitalist practices pit students against each other at the expense of collaboration and care, and overlook student well-being in favor of graded output. These make pre-med an exhausting, dehumanizing experience for all.

In January 2018, when Emma returned to Yale’s campus after a relaxing winter break, she returned with a sense of dread. “I just felt so much pressure,” she remembered. “It felt like I was staring down the barrel of a torturous semester. I don’t know exactly what triggered it. But I just felt like all at once it came crashing down.”

She had her first panic attack, which was followed by several days of intense mental and emotional distress. On most days she could not get out of bed. A week later, she unenrolled from Yale and was on her way home. She spent the ensuing semester reflecting on her choices and larger goals in life. “If I couldn’t do this,” she remembers thinking about her pre-med experience, “how could I possibly do medical school? It was really paralyzing for me because since I was 12, this was the path I had been following, and I was so certain of it for so long.” She paused to take a breath. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

IN SEARCH OF A CURE

Many of the doctors I interviewed thought the requirements could be reduced without compromising students’ scientific proficiency. According to Barr, the Stanford professor who has published several papers in favor of reforming the pre-medical curriculum, the eight semesters of general and organic chemistry with lab could be cut to two. 

“Imagine a Venn diagram of chemistry and biology,” he explained. “There’s an intersecting set, which is the aspect of chemistry you need to understand how biological systems function. This is all you need.” The same applies to physics, math, and the other subjects that in obvious ways are peripheral to the practice of caring for patients. “You don’t need all of physics,” Barr said. “You just need a subset.”

David Muller, the dean for medical education at the Mount Sinai School of Medicine, agrees. Mount Sinai offers a special admissions program for sophomores that lets them matriculate without completing the pre-med requirements. Studies show no difference between the clinical performance of these students and those accepted to Mount Sinai from the regular admissions cycle who complete all the requirements.

“The cruel irony of the whole thing is not just that the pre-medical preparation teaches stuff that students don’t need, it’s that a lot of that stuff is used to weed people out,” Muller said. Aggarwal agrees: “If you can’t pour two chemicals in a beaker, are you gonna make a bad doctor? That shouldn’t be the message.”

This is not the message that the Yale School of Medicine admissions office advertises, Laura Ment, the associate dean for admissions and financial aid, said. “There is no simple formula for admission,” she explained. “Our process is holistic and contextual and carefully considers every part of the application” beyond performance in science classes. This includes the “interest and ability to work respectfully and collaboratively in diverse teams,” “sustained excellence across a broad range of activities” and other phrases such as “personal initiative” and “a commitment to … lifelong learning.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Wikimedia Commons” src=”<img src=”” />=”” ALIGN=”full” ]

Even if what Ment says is true, and academic performance in science classes is not the bottom line, does it make much of a difference? As online records suggest, the median GPA among accepted Yale medical students is around a 3.9, so academic performance must play an outsized role in admissions. But Yale is one of the best medical schools, so it’s entirely sensible that admissions is competitive. What’s more important and troubling is this: holistic admissions or not, the requirements persist. And as long as they remain in their current, bloated form, students like Emma are dropping out, so admissions offices are selecting from a smaller, less diverse pool of students than is possible.

But reforming the requirements is difficult. The first barrier is one of authority — there is no governing body that oversees medical schools and sets the requirements for entry. The closest thing to this is the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC), which in 2015 began advising medical schools to reconsider how they evaluate applicants by taking into account “core competencies,” such as teamwork, oral communication and ethical responsibility. 

“The AAMC doesn’t mandate prerequisites,” Muller says. “They don’t have the primary responsibility of determining the requirements.” Instead, as Geoffrey Young, the director of student affairs and programs at the AAMC, explained, “Each medical school sets its own prerequisites.” So, Muller said, although most medical schools have the same requirements, “It’s kind of a Wild Wild West in that it is not overseen or governed in a way that one would think is necessary.”

In this system where the primary overseer has no power and the constituents shirk their own, there’s another difficulty: surmounting vested interests. As Muller explained, “When you create a system where chemistry and physics are the courses that everyone has to excel in if they want any hope of becoming a doctor, who’s got influence on campus now?” It’s undeniable that introductory chemistry and physics courses are as popular as they are not because 300 students will major in chemistry and physics each year, but because 300 pre-meds have to take them. As course enrollment balloons, these departments are given, according to Muller, “enormous resources because people are hammering their door down to get into their courses.”

But the biggest problem, it becomes clear, is a cultural one. Because for a reason that is difficult to articulate or impossible to find, performance in undergraduate science courses remains tethered to performance as a physician in the public imagination. Reputable studies show we are misguided. Doctors say so as well. There is no evidence that the cumbersome course load so deeply rooted in the sciences is producing better doctors. Instead, what it seems to be doing is keeping out good people — people from diverse backgrounds who are greatly underrepresented in the profession, people we need as this country sees an ever-growing shortage of primary care doctors. As students like Emma decide to drop the pre-med track, society loses future phenomenal, big-hearted, devoted doctors.

During her semester at home, Emma took a job at a local bakery. Her responsibilities included baking and frosting cupcakes each morning, staffing the front desk and helping couples design their wedding cakes. “That experience helped me recognize what was important for me in life and what things really mattered,” she said, pausing briefly to reveal a smile. “It helped me realize that there were ways other than medicine or status or how much people respected your resume that could make me happy.” 

 

*The student requested a pseudonym to protect her privacy.

UP CLOSE | ‘It’s hard to sustain your love for Yale when you feel like Yale doesn’t love you back’: Yale’s ‘second-class citizens’

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On Oct. 23, 2020, Faculty of Arts and Sciences administrators sent an email to faculty in preparation for the spring semester that, among other resources offered, noted that faculty could request audio-visual kits, tablets, cameras, microphones, external monitors and more in order to complement their remote teaching. But not all faculty were eligible. Rather, the ability to obtain these materials was initially only extended to just ladder faculty and full-time, multi-year instructional faculty and not to single-year instructional faculty.

Instructional faculty, or faculty who are not eligible for tenure, comprise approximately 30 percent of professors in Yale’s FAS and are known by the titles lecturer, senior lecturer and senior lecturer II or, for language faculty, lector and senior lector I/II. Instructional faculty often teach introductory courses, such as English 114, and comprise a large portion of language departments. To students, the title might be the extent of the difference. But, like the October email demonstrates, the discrepancies can run much deeper.

[pullquote credit=”An anonymous former humanities lecturer who was hired on a semester contract and paid per course.” align=”right” ][People would] say, ‘You made it, you teach at Yale.’ Well, even though I teach at Yale, I haven’t made it. I’m still working semester to semester, with no benefits, no health insurance, no job security. They pay you much better than they do at other universities, but teaching a course at Yale is still not a living. In my position, I very rarely got to teach more than one course at a time. I was scrounging for other opportunities at other places.[/pullquote]

Beyond the number of instructional faculty — which, according to Yale’s Office of Institutional Research, totals 352 for 2020-21 if excluding visiting faculty — Yale does not publicly break down that number to differentiate between instructional faculty on multi-year versus single-year contracts. Kathryn Lofton, FAS dean of humanities, estimates that, of the approximately 200 instructional faculty members in the humanities according to OIR, around half of them are on yearly contracts — making them initially ineligible for the additional technological assistance.

On October 28, a revised version of the email was sent out, this time with a specific section dedicated to instructional faculty with single-year appointments. But their initial exclusion was never addressed, which, faculty told the News, points to a pattern of larger neglect by the University. In this case, instructional faculty on multi-year contracts were placed on the same level as ladder faculty. But when it comes to benefits, department support, job security, salaries and more, that is often not the case, faculty also said.

Interviews with 61 instructional faculty members, administrators and ladder faculty — ranging from lecturers working part time to senior lecturers and lectors II on five-year contracts — demonstrated an almost unanimous recognition that, when it comes to its treatment of instructional faculty, Yale is better than most other universities.

But instructional faculty members still described their position in comparison to tenured faculty as “second-class” — with four faculty using that specific phrasing — and raised concerns regarding arbitrary and opaque renewal processes, lack of a true promotion path, pervasive job insecurity, salary inequities across departments and against tenured counterparts, lack of respect from tenured faculty, lack of universal standard of inclusion across departments and lack of support from both departments and the larger university. Faculty also noted that, when progress in relation to instructional faculty is made, it is often uneven, benefitting multi-year instructional faculty much more than those on single-year or part-time contracts. Sixteen instructional faculty members requested anonymity due to fear of professional retaliation. Some are currently undergoing appointment renewals at the moment and others have previously felt as though their job security was threatened for speaking out.

“[People would] say, ‘You made it, you teach at Yale.’ Well, even though I teach at Yale, I haven’t made it,” said one anonymous former humanities lecturer who was hired on a semester contract and paid per course. “I’m still working semester to semester, with no benefits, no health insurance, no job security. They pay you much better than they do at other universities, but teaching a course at Yale is still not a living. In my position, I very rarely got to teach more than one course at a time. I was scrounging for other opportunities at other places.”

‘Nationally, it’s bleak.’

According to the American Association of University Professors 2020 report, the percentage of contingent faculty at universities increased by 25 percent from 1975 to the 2008 recession, ultimately comprising over two-thirds of total faculty.

Contingent faculty members — who are generally not eligible for tenure — allow universities to respond to shifting enrollment demands without making long-term commitments to the same faculty member for 40-plus years of their academic career, as tenure often requires.

Now, full-time tenured and tenure-track faculty make up less than one-third of the national academic labor force — the rest are part-time and full-time non-tenure track faculty.

But while this arrangement can be appealing to universities, allowing them to save money and resources while still delivering a quality education to students, it takes a toll on the instructors hired for the work — a toll that can also affect the students they teach, as some faculty noted.

“Nationally, it’s bleak,” one anonymous lector said.

Yale is, in many ways, better than its peers.

At Yale, according to statistics from the OIR, non-ladder faculty, which consists of both instructional and research faculty, comprise approximately 40 percent of the faculty in the FAS, much lower than the approximately 70 percent estimated nationally.

According to the AAUP report, the average per course salary for part-time instructors at private and independent schools is $4,217 — at Yale, part-time is considered less than three courses a semester — and, for full-time lecturers the average salary is around $77,000.

During the 2019-20 year, full-time lecturers at Yale received on average a salary of $89,043 according to OIR statistics across all Yale schools, which is tens of thousands of dollars better than the national average, but well below the tenure-track Yale average of $120,310 or tenured professor salary of, on average, $242,198. Gendler told the News that the minimum per course salary was recently raised to $11,000 from $9,000.

“Instructional faculty salaries are not publicly shared through the same sorts of formal systems that ladder faculty salaries are,” Tamar Gendler, dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, told the News. “So it’s difficult to ascertain specifically, but I do know that when we look at the per course, instructional salaries at many of our peer institutions in Connecticut, ours are double or triple those per course fees.”

Yale’s per-course salary is almost triple the national private school average, according to Gendler.

“You can do okay with two courses [a semester],” an anonymous lector told the News. “Barely okay.”

Adjunct, non-ladder, instructional, contingent, oh my!

The term “instructional faculty” itself is the product of a 2017 FAS Senate report on “the Status, Pay and Conditions of Non-Ladder Faculty in FAS.” Previously, instructional faculty were called “non-ladder faculty,” a term that the report called “inimical to inclusion” due to its identification of instructional faculty by what they are not. Although the specific term “instructional faculty” was not proposed — they instead recommended that all Yale faculty be referred to as “faculty” — the committee did advise against the usage of the terms “non-ladder faculty,” “contingent faculty” and “adjunct faculty” to refer to faculty who are not eligible for tenure and therefore on contracts with a set expiration date.

Beyond a nomenclature change, the report also recommended better record-keeping on information related to instructional faculty, review of instructional faculty compensation, parental leave, better connections to Yale after retirement, teaching prizes for instructional faculty, conference funding, clear standards for voting in departmental faculty meetings, lunch privileges for all instructional faculty in the residential colleges, involvement in university governance and more.

In the past four or so years, some of those changes have been implemented. Additional teaching prizes for instructional faculty were added and, just this year, full-time instructional faculty became eligible for parental leave. Review of compensation and salary scales is also happening — though “not as fast as many would hope,” according to Shiri Goren, senior lector II and director of the Modern Hebrew Program.

Other changes have been implemented, but not for all instructional faculty.

Multi-year instructional faculty across departments are, for example, able to eat without paying out of pocket in the residential dining halls, allowing for another avenue of meeting with students and building community. Before the 2017 report was released, multi-year instructional faculty in the sciences were not eligible for the lunches like their humanities counterparts, a disparity that was rectified following the report’s release. Currently, though, the same privilege is not extended to those on a single-year or semester contracts.

“In the grand scheme of things, maybe it’s not so important, but it does sort of remind you who you are,” Terence Renaud, lecturer in history and the humanities program on a single-year renewable contract, told the News. “Especially back in in-person days when you would plan to have lunch with one of your tenured colleagues. And they would walk into the dining hall and they’d swipe through for their free lunch. And then they’re asking why you’ve got your credit card.”

Ruth Koizim, senior lector in French, has been a long-time advocate for the rights of instructional faculty since she began teaching at Yale over 35 years ago. Lunchtime benefits was just one of many issues that she personally fought for on behalf of instructional faculty; others include parental leave, membership on University committees and voting privileges at Yale College faculty meetings.

On the issue of lunches in the residential college, she said that she’s “looking forward” to being able to partake in dining hall interactions again, a victory that she called “fairly new.” But she also noted her frustration with how long it took for multi-year instructional faculty to become eligible.

“Now when you’re earning close to $150,000 a year, I’m going to go out on a limb and say maybe you don’t need the free lunch quite as much as somebody who’s making 50,” Koizim said.

[pullquote credit=”Terence Renaud, lecturer in history and the humanities program on a single-year renewable contract” align=”full” ]In the grand scheme of things, maybe it’s not so important, but it does sort of remind you who you are. Especially back in in-person days when you would plan to have lunch with one of your tenured colleagues. And they would walk into the dining hall and they’d swipe through for their free lunch. And then they’re asking why you’ve got your credit card.[/pullquote]

Varying levels of departmental inclusion

Other recommended changes have not been implemented at all. For one, faculty gave wildly differing accounts of departmental inclusion.

In Goren’s department, the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations, for example, there is a large number of instructional faculty. Since joining Yale in 2006, she has been invited and able to participate in departmental meetings.

“I wasn’t aware that there was any other option,” she said. “I was amazed to find out that other departments are not as inclusive.”

Benjamin Foster, professor of Assyriology and Babylonian literature, told the News that, in his department, language faculty are considered on the same level as those who are ladder faculty and, though they were not required to attend faculty meetings, “NELC department chairs, like me, welcomed their attendance, input and friendship.”

According to computer science lecturer Scott Petersen, his department recently began holding all-faculty meetings. Though the English Department does not have all-faculty meetings, there are now regular meetings with instructional faculty and the department chair and, according to Jessica Brantley, department chair of English, instructional faculty are able to vote on appointments at their own rank or below.

But Renaud said that he has never been invited to a Humanities Department faculty meeting and, though he is sometimes invited to history meetings, he is not allowed to vote. Math instructional faculty are “mostly” not able to attend and vote, according to an anonymous lecturer, unless the topic explicitly pertains to issues regarding them.

And, because departments still have wide latitude in how they choose to include instructional faculty and integrate them into the larger academic community, responses to the question of whether or not instructional faculty felt supported by their department varied wildly.

And some faculty, like an anonymous senior lecturer, told the News that inclusion of instructional faculty can only go so far.

Their inclusion in faculty meetings, while appearing “open or democratic,” cannot actually foster a healthy debate culture, she said.

“If a whole bunch of people are afraid to speak up, that’s a disservice,” she added. “Self-governance only works if everyone has the same voice.”

Road to nowhere

Beyond varying departmental levels of inclusion, instructional faculty also told the News that the lack of job security is a constant source of stress, particularly for those on single-year contracts. Some suggested that, although they are not on the tenure track, the University should still implement a method of permanent employment.

Instructional faculty can be hired on a number of contracts, ranging from one semester to five years — the latter one is “less common,” according to John Mangan, dean of faculty affairs. Unlike Harvard University, where most instructional faculty can only be hired for a maximum of eight years, Yale has no cap on the renewal of contracts. Timothy Robinson, lecturer in English, for example, has had a combination of semester and single-year contracts that have been continually renewed since he began teaching at Yale over 25 years ago.

Mangan wrote to the News in an email that “the duration of an instructional faculty appointment is typically determined by the FAS Dean’s Office in consultation with the relevant department chair, with curricular need being the main point of consideration.”

Instructional faculty are not on the “ladder,” and therefore not afforded the job security given to their tenured and tenure-track colleagues. While their contracts are, for the most part, renewable — though this is not always the case, as evidenced by the three-year, nonrenewable position in math as a Gibbs assistant professor — Yale is under no obligation to renew.

“The single greatest detractor to being a lecturer at Yale is the uncertainty of not knowing if you’d have a contract in however many years,” computer science lecturer Petersen told the News.

Petersen was one of a few instructional faculty who was up for contract renewal when Yale instituted their initial hiring freeze at the beginning of the pandemic and, as a result, ended up receiving a one-year contract when his department voted for him to receive a multi-year one. Petersen did, however, fare better than some instructional faculty, whose contracts were not renewed at all.

[pullquote credit=”Scott Petersen, computer science lecturer” align=”full” ]The single greatest detractor to being a lecturer at Yale is the uncertainty of not knowing if you’d have a contract in however many years. [/pullquote]

But even so, the initial hiring at the single-year level left Petersen ineligible for some benefits that he was expecting to receive with a multi-year contract, such as the ability to apply for a professional development leave, which is a semester-long leave for instructional faculty unavailable to those on a single-year contract.

Ultimately, Petersen received both the one-year contract and an additional contract renewal for three years. But he still found it “upsetting” that he was initially considered expendable.

“Flexibility shouldn’t come at the expense of teaching faculty, who make up an infinitesimal proportion of the overall budget,” Petersen said.

Gendler told the News that the FAS offered a position to everyone whose contract would have been renewed “under ordinary circumstances.” In some cases, she said, those contracts were originally renewed only for a single year.

However, Gendler added that those faculty were ultimately provided with the multi-year renewal contract that they had expected.

“We were in a situation of uncertainty, and we operated on that basis,” Gendler said.

[pullquote credit=”An anonymous senior lecturer” align=”right” ]It’s hard to sustain your love for Yale when you feel like Yale doesn’t love you back, and you cannot count on the institution for having the same level of commitment to you that you bring to your work.[/pullquote]

Petersen was not alone in expressing frustration with a general feeling of devaluement by the University — more than three-fourths of the faculty interviewed for this story also indicated that job insecurity was a large concern for them.

While there are some faculty such as Walter Shapiro, lecturer in political science, who is a full-time journalist outside of his teaching at Yale, there are others for whom teaching is their main job and are especially vulnerable to the lack of a stable position. While this is to an extent relevant to all instructional faculty, it is especially “precarious” for those on single-year contracts, an anonymous senior lecturer told the News.

“A lot of teaching rests on their shoulders,” she said. “Instructional faculty are no less committed to their students or their craft than ladder faculty. But feeling like a casual employee chronically vulnerable to microaggressions from tenured colleagues and the fear of not being reappointed wears you out, gets in the way of how you feel about the institution. It’s hard to sustain your love for Yale when you feel like Yale doesn’t love you back, and you cannot count on the institution for having the same level of commitment to you that you bring to your work.”

To combat that precariousness, she suggested increased resources for career and professional development for instructional faculty, such as pathways for promotion and support for research and publication. For instructional faculty who have taught at Yale for decades, she added that there should be a pathway to permanent employment and options for continuing intellectual work after retirement.

There are some faculty who, by nature of their work — such as playwrights or creative writers — will never be eligible for tenure, which focuses on research output.

Deborah Margolin, a professor in the practice of theater and performance studies, told the News that “it’s disappointing that the kind of work we do in teaching artistic practice is not valued in the same way that criticism is. That those who critique art are valued above those who make it.” Professors in the practice such as Margolin, are “distinguished practitioners” in their field, according to the Yale Faculty Handbook.

An anonymous lecturer in English echoed those sentiments, saying that “there has been an ongoing conversation” regarding the employment of creative writers at Yale which, she added, was not currently “commensurate with the way writers of stature are employed elsewhere.”

“I published five books, but without a Ph.D., I’m not eligible to even be an associate or assistant professor,” she said. “And it’s the same for my colleagues who are extremely well-known creative writers.”

Brantley, chair of the English Department, told the News that she is aware of concerns from artist-faculty regarding a lack of recognition and value of their “extraordinary work.”

Instructional faculty without the artist designation felt similarly.

“Anyone with a Ph.D. should be hired into a minimum two-year position with some kind of possibility for longer-term employment,” Renaud told the News. He added that, because of the state of the job market — at the same time that the amount of tenure track positions is decreasing, the number of doctoral students searching for jobs often dwarfs the positions available — there is “no guarantee” that instructional faculty whose contracts are not renewed would be able to find another job.

“Some universities tried a teaching assistant professor rank on a tenure track,” Renaud said. “I would love to have something like that.”

Gendler told the News that the category of instructional faculty is separate from those of tenure-track faculty. While instructional faculty are often “extraordinary instructors who teach extraordinary courses,” Gendler noted that hiring people as instructional faculty lets the University hire teachers even if they have not published research that “significantly extends the horizons of their discipline,” which is the requirement for being hired as a member of the FAS tenure-track faculty.

A path to promotion — in name only

There are currently three ranks within the lecturer and lector category of instructional faculty. Lecturer, senior lecturer, and senior lecturer II — the same exists for lectors. The third one was added recently to address concerns regarding a lack of a true path to promotion, but faculty told the News that, unlike any of the promotions that happen to those on the tenure-track, there is not a substantial difference from one title to another.

“There is a promotion to senior lecturer, but it has very few practical consequences,” one anonymous lecturer in STEM told the News. “There is a standard raise that is pretty small. Your contract might go from three to five years, or not. As far as what actually happens, I would say it’s not much.”

Karen von Kunes, added that, as a senior lector in Slavic languages and literatures, she has “no possibility of promotion, despite having published books and articles in linguistic and literary criticism.”

And, even though the promotion process and metrics are outlined online — the committees responsible for the process expect teaching experience, work in committees, high academic degrees and more — faculty still found the process to be “veiled,” as described by one anonymous lecturer, and highly variable by department.

The lecturer who called the promotion process “veiled” added that it was also a “labyrinth” that every individual instructor is left to their own devices to figure out, “in the face of real sort of institutional resistance to being transparent.”

“I was never told why or how these decisions were made,” she said. “Like I felt that there was a system in place that was only ever being revealed on a very, very limited need to know basis.”

Renaud echoed these sentiments, similarly telling the News that the evaluation process is “opaque” and that he cannot tell if his peers are evaluated in the same way as he is.

“There’s just that general feeling of really not knowing the situation of my peers and not knowing what I can do to get hired again,” Renaud said. “It’s kind of just completely up to the arbitrary personal whims of who your chair is and … the teaching needs of various academic units. And that’s frustrating. It makes it difficult to plan for the future.”

Gendler told the News that the senior lecturer position was intended to act as a path for promotion in response to the concern that instructional faculty “excellence wasn’t being fully recognized by the existing titles.” The senior lecturer II position, she said, is “for our most distinguished instructional faculty.”

She also reiterated that the appointment and promotion procedures for each rank can be found in the Faculty Handbook.

[pullquote credit=”An anonymous lecturer” align=”full” ]I’m a fairly late career writer with a national profile. Not to like blow my own horn, but I’ve often thought, ‘Wow, if I feel this way, how does the instructional faculty member just starting out who maybe hasn’t had their first major publication feel?’[/pullquote]

A pervasive lack of respect

Even those who reach the top of Yale’s instructional faculty promotion path told the News that they can be treated as inferior to their tenured and tenure-track counterparts.

Due to her title and rank, von Kunes was deprived of some professional opportunities, such as being hired as a tenure-track professor at another university. She also told the News that, at Yale, it is rare that the faculty and graduate students would seek her advice because, “like all other lectors,” she is viewed as a language instructor without having higher qualifications and accomplishments.

“Everyone in our rank has experienced humiliating situations,” she said.

In feeling undervalued by academic colleagues due to her rank, von Kunes is not alone. Faculty told the News that they feel a pervasive lack of respect from either the ladder faculty around them or the University as a whole — sometimes both.

One anonymous lector told the News that this lack of value often manifests itself quantitatively, through the lack of support to do research, lack of funding to travel for conferences, inability to sit on various committees and salary inequities between them and ladder faculty.

“To be quite honest, as instructional faculty you are often made to feel like less valuable, worth less,” she added.

Another anonymous lecturer agreed, saying in an interview with the News that Yale fails to convey to instructional faculty that they are valued.

She added, “I’m a fairly late career writer with a national profile. Not to like blow my own horn, but I’ve often thought, ‘Wow, if I feel this way, how does the instructional faculty member just starting out who maybe hasn’t had their first major publication feel?’”

Yale to the rescue (kind of)

These issues are not new, as the FAS Senate report and long-time instructional faculty advocates such as Koizim demonstrate. Although substantial progress has been made, other solutions have been slow to arrive.

An instructional faculty working group founded in October 2020, co-chaired by Lofton and Mangan, seeks to rectify some of these longstanding issues and “make Yale a place where the quality and circumstances of instructional faculty are a model for other universities to follow,” said Lofton and Mangan in an email to the group announcing its mission.

The committee is working to issue a report, ideally by the end of the 2021 fall semester, with actions and recommendations. One goal, Lofton said, was to reduce the number of one-year contracts, so that the majority of instructional faculty held multi-year appointments.

Because Yale does not publicly document the breakdown of types of contracts for instructional faculty, either by division or FAS-wide, the committee is also working to compile those statistics, as well as information on the race and ethnicity and gender of instructional faculty. There is currently no public data related to the genders and races and ethnicities of solely instructional faculty — the only available data combines all non-ladder faculty, which includes research faculty.

“Because there are so many different kinds of instructional faculty, organizing data about them is much harder than it is for ladder faculty or Yale College students,” Lofton wrote in an email to the News. “My hope is our report will give an update on these precise data questions … so that we can begin to establish more public benchmarking about instructional faculty.”

Goren, who is also on the committee, added that, while they will ultimately produce a set of recommendations to encourage Yale to carry out, what is more important is “the articulation of values and principles on how our institution should understand and work with instructional faculty” which would “hopefully” provide a more long-term set of ethics and a road map to serve the University for “years to come.”

And, although the committee will not release its report until around half a year in the future, some changes regarding contractual concerns have already been made.

Brantley, chair of the English Department, told the News that the English Department — which houses the largest FAS concentration of instructional faculty, in part due to the instructional English courses — has converted “a number” of short-term contracts into multi-year contracts and is also making a concerted effort to involve instructional faculty in department governance so that they can be more involved with the department’s community.

“While we are trying to find some common ground to set benchmarks for best practices, I think it’s important also to recognize how valuably different their appointments can be, and to respect the differences in the work they do,” she added of her membership in the working group.

[pullquote credit=”Sybil Alexandrov, senior lector II of Spanish” align=”full” ]And if there’s not a strong foundation … things crumble.[/pullquote]

Better than most … but not good enough

Though most instructional faculty expressed concern or frustration with their position, it was almost universally acknowledged that, in comparison to other universities, their conditions are much better.

“In spite of all the disadvantages within the lector rank, Yale provides an exciting and intellectually stimulating academic environment with excellent students and a variety of opportunities of contributing to Yale and its residential colleges, and that fact alone is important to me,” von Kunes wrote in a follow-up email to the News.

But faculty also told the News that Yale should — and, as Kim Shirkhani, lecturer in English, said, “can afford to” — do more.

An anonymous English lecturer added that Yale tends to “cherry pick” when they choose to be innovative. For tenured faculty, he said, Yale wants to be the best. But when it comes to how they treat instructional faculty, Yale is often content being part of the pack.

“I feel like Yale does better than most institutions but … the bar is pretty low and Yale almost never compares itself to every other university. Except in this kind of situation.”

And Sybil Alexandrov, senior lector II of Spanish, told the News that this lack of attention towards instructional faculty can have major consequences.

Instructional faculty, she said, often teach the courses that lay the foundation for ladder faculty’s classes, which people can forget.

“And if there’s not a strong foundation,” she added, “things crumble.”

UP CLOSE | Formerly incarcerated individuals reenter society in a pandemic

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In 2016, Orlando native Imani Pennant was living the typical college life. He was studying civil engineering at the University of Connecticut with a minor in architectural design, had a good group of friends, was studying for his classes and said he was just being “productive.”

But in January 2018, Pennant’s life was flipped upside down. He was charged with second-degree forgery of court documents and for the next year, his life was defined by constant visits to court about his case.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”Imani Pennant speaking on behalf of the PROTECT Act.” credit=”Courtesy of Imani Pennant” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/image1-3.png” ALIGN=”right”]

When the state of Connecticut prosecuted and a judge then sentenced Pennant to prison in May 2019, he could not have predicted the changes in the prison system and broader society that were to come in the coming months after the COVID-19 pandemic hit the United States last spring. Upon his release from MacDougall-Walker Correctional Institution on March 20, 2020, Pennant said he felt like a “Martian.”

“I went in into a perfectly normal world and came out to realize that no one is being outside at all, everything is closed and there wasn’t anything given to me — any tools or anything like that — to reenter society,” Pennant told the News in an interview.

The coronavirus pandemic has exacerbated many of the existing difficulties formerly incarcerated individuals face when reentering society. Often because of their criminal records and a lack of resources granted to them upon release, they face substantial barriers to find employment, housing and access to treatment centers.

In recent months, legislators and organizing groups have pushed for reforms to help those who have left Connecticut Department of Correction institutions. Policy proposals have included increased investment in reentry centers and placing more incarcerated persons near their end of sentence into parole.

However, many activists and formerly incarcerated individuals say that more has to be done and are pushing for change to the structure and aims of the Connecticut DOC itself.

The Connecticut DOC did not respond to multiple requests for comment from the News for this story.

Who is being released?

According to former state of Connecticut Undersecretary for Criminal Justice Policy and University of New Haven criminal justice professor Mike Lawlor, a common misconception is that most individuals being released from incarceration have been in a correctional institution for years. The reality is that individuals with many different statuses are being released at any one time.

“As a matter of fact, a very big proportion, if not the majority, of the people who are being released on any given day by the DOC have been locked up for a matter of days and months,” Lawlor said.

Lawlor says that before the pandemic, around 33 percent of releasees generally fell under the category of “did not return from court.” Those are people who were held pre-trial but were released directly from the courthouse after the trial — for example, if the charges against them were dropped.

The second-largest group of releasees consists of those who are released from incarceration but not placed on parole, according to Lawlor. Only about 10 percent of releasees in Connecticut are released on parole under surveillance of a parole officer employed by the DOC. A larger portion are left in a “transitional” state, such as going to a halfway house — an institution that supervises formerly incarcerated individuals under the purported goal of giving them the skills to reenter society.

Pennant had been sentenced for just one year, a term so short that he was not eligible for parole.

[pullquote credit=”Imani Pennant” align=”full” ]I went in into a perfectly normal world and came out to realize that no one is being outside at all, everything is closed and there wasn’t anything given to me — any tools or anything like that — to reenter society.[/pullquote]

But Jason Gulino, who was sentenced to 23 years in prison for a series of criminal offenses that he says resulted from his drug addiction, was released on parole after serving 19 years in various Connecticut correctional institutions. His sentence was only modified after a habeas trial, when he learned that the prosecutor of his case had engaged in sexual relations with his ex-girlfriend.

Gulino first entered the Connecticut DOC in 1995, when he was sentenced to five years for a burglary, a decision he says he took to support his cocaine addiction. In his last 90 days at the Carl Robinson Correctional Institution, he said in an interview with the News, a fellow incarcerated individual had been “shooting up” with heroin and Gulino started using as well. As a result, he was released to the streets of Hartford with a $1.25 bus fare — but this time, he had a heroin addiction.

About 14 months later, Gulino said he tried to treat his addiction by entering a detox clinic. Gulino said he sincerely regrets the crimes he subsequently committed — including the theft of a police cruiser and a civilian car, and an assault on a 76-year-old woman.

Gulino pointed to his initial introduction to heroin in prison as one reason that he had reentered prison. According to a 2012 Connecticut DOC study, the recidivism rate — when a formerly incarcerated individual is incarcerated again after being released — was about 80 percent.

“I know that my recidivation was based on my exposure within the correctional facilities,” Gulino said. “Had I not been sitting in a dorm 23 hours a day with 116 other offenders that are all trying to scam, connive, live and get high all day long — I would’ve never left with an addiction.”

[pullquote credit=”Jason Gulino” ]I was belly-chained and shackled at 5:00 in the morning, I sat in a bullpen until 8:00 in the morning, then I was transferred upstairs by a correctional officer to a computer room — [but] I have never touched a computer before[/pullquote]

Skills taught in prison

Though some correctional institutions claim to prepare individuals for life after their incarceration, formerly incarcerated individuals like Gulino said that correctional facilities have not given them the appropriate skills to reenter society.

Miriam Gohara, a professor of law at Yale Law School who has worked at the NAACP, said that a “common denominator” for many in the criminal justice system is that they come from under-resourced schools. Many of these formerly incarcerated people are either facing trauma or do not have the resources to pay for good schooling and end up incarcerated. As such, those with low education levels are overly represented in Connecticut prisons.

To get ahead, Gulino attempted to attain an education while in prison but described the process as difficult. He mentioned that he sent multiple letters to the DOC asking for GED courses, but he said that many of his requests were rejected. Gulino stressed that the vast majority of prison residents he knew did not have beyond a fourth-grade reading level. Gulino added that part of the reason why many others did not seek an education in prisons is that there was no well-funded system that encouraged prisoners to attain a GED.

When Gulino was finally able to take the GED test, he said, he failed by just two points.

“I was belly-chained and shackled at 5:00 in the morning, I sat in a bullpen until 8:00 in the morning, then I was transferred upstairs by a correctional officer to a computer room — [but] I have never touched a computer before,” Gulino said.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”Gulino doing woodwork.” credit=”Courtesy of Jason Gulino” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/image2.png” ALIGN=”right”]

Zelda Roland, director of the Yale Prison Education Initiative, spoke to the News about YPEI’s work in correctional institutions. YPEI offers incarcerated students access to higher education resources similar to what a university would provide.

Roland stressed that YPEI students are treated no differently than students on a college campus such as Yale’s, and that instructors interact with incarcerated students with the same dignity and respect as they would with their campus college students.

Still, much of YPEI’s educational programming is limited by funding and classroom space. Roland said that limits to YPEI’s activities have especially been exacerbated by the pandemic.

“[Incarcerated persons] have been tremendously isolated, they have gone through great emotional trauma in prisons, they have been disconnected from their support systems and their loved ones,” Roland said. “Unlike students on a college campus, many of our students are not in a place where they want to feel that they must be productive.”

Matt Post, direct service coordinator and former president of the Yale Undergraduate Prison Project, now serves as the Manson Prison coordinator. YUPP mentors male prison residents close to being released about taking the GED.

But because of the pandemic, the group’s work has been halted, as they are not allowed to enter the prisons.

“A lot of the folks we worked with said that [the program] was their favorite part of the week,” Post said. “It was a place where, in an environment where you are constantly silenced and told what to do, we tried to create a space where folks could speak their mind and argue and be creative.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Yale News” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/prison_education_initiative_img_0543-cc.jpg” ALIGN=”full”]

Release during the pandemic

Both Pennant and Gulino shared what they called “traumatic experiences” in the days leading up to their release from prison.

In his short time at MacDougall-Walker Correctional Institution, Pennant penned a letter to the warden with signatures from 115 other prison residents complaining about black mold. He claims that in response, he was placed in solitary confinement.

“I was quote-unquote ‘inciting a riot,’” Pennant said.

Gulino’s wife, Lisa, expressed fear over her husband’s susceptibility to COVID-19 in prisons toward the end of his sentence. Upon hearing stories of the impediments to social distancing in prisons, she penned a letter to the CT Mirror, calling on Lamont to release many prison residents — including her husband — early.

Additionally, Gulino said that though he knew he would be released soon, the date was continuously delayed and unclear. His wife did not know about his release date until the morning of May 18, when Gulino’s lawyer contacted her.

“I didn’t see him from March 12 to May 18,” Ms. Gulino told the News. “The people that are in there haven’t seen their families since March 12. Now they’re offering video visits, but it’s very limited and it’s $20 a visit.”

Parole reform

Under the leadership of former DOC commissioner Scott Semple, the Connecticut DOC has increasingly released more incarcerated people before their end of sentence onto parole. The goal of this initiative is to integrate individuals into society and prevent recidivism.

Semple told the News that he looked beyond simply keeping people incarcerated as a punitive measure. Instead, he focused on sentence reform as a “smart approach” to apply justice and help incarcerated people reconnect with their communities.

“I truly believe that society has to reevaluate its perception of incarcerated people and that people who enter the justice system and end up incarcerated get tagged with this stigma that impacts their ability to move forward in their lives,” Semple said. “Sometimes in order to survive they go back to what got them incarcerated in the first place.”

Not enough time has yet passed since Connecticut began releasing more formerly incarcerated people early to see if changes in recidivism rates indicate the policy’s success.

Semple explained that, though he has not seen concrete numbers, the need for social distancing in the age of COVID-19 has led the DOC to release many prison residents early in what are called discretionary releases. Many of these releases began occurring after #FreeThemAll campaign work done by activist groups like the Connecticut Bail Fund, as well as demands from the ACLU of Connecticut to release individuals.

Today, there are about 3,500 fewer residents in Connecticut DOC institutions than in March 2020. But the decline in the incarcerated population is not necessarily due to an increase in discretionary releases. Much of the decrease is due to the courts being closed because of the pandemic.

[pullquote credit=”Miriam Gohara, a professor of law at Yale Law School who has worked at the NAACP” align=”right” ]They’re going to have to be competing with a lot of people who also have lost jobs that may have been of that nature and may now be looking for these jobs just to get a paycheck. Also, you can’t do as much work to apply to jobs in person because a lot of times people want everything done online.[/pullquote]

Resources for people once they are released onto the street

For releasees who have reached their end of sentence, many are released onto the street with nothing more than the belongings they had while in prison.

Community organizations that support formerly incarcerated people and prison reform activists said that the lack of resources given to releasees results in many facing homelessness, a lack of access to treatment for mental and drug issues and, ultimately, recidivism.

Gohara told the News that a challenge that has been exacerbated by the pandemic is finding jobs. She explained that many formerly incarcerated people try to find jobs in the service industry — at establishments like restaurants, construction companies, delivery services and retail stores. These happen to be many of the industries severely hurt by the pandemic.

“They’re going to have to be competing with a lot of people who also have lost jobs that may have been of that nature and may now be looking for these jobs just to get a paycheck,” Gohara said. “Also, you can’t do as much work to apply to jobs in person because a lot of times people want everything done online.”

Additionally, the criminal records of formerly incarcerated people impact their employment options. Some groups, like the ACLU of Connecticut, have fought for a “clean slate” policy that would erase the records for certain individuals with criminal records.

“[The clean slate policy] would erase the records of people that have paid their debts to their society, people that have completed their sentences and have had no interaction with the system for some period of time,” Gus Marks-Hamilton, campaign manager for the ACLU of Connecticut Smart Justice Campaign, said in an interview with the News.

One solution that has been pioneered in various Connecticut cities is “reentry centers,” which provide employment resources and social support for individuals reentering society. Importantly, workers at reentry centers sign up individuals for public benefits and help them access identification and social security cards.

Virginia Lewis, program manager of the Hartford Reentry Welcome Center, spoke to the News about the Hartford reentry program. She said that since the center’s founding in 2018, it has seen over 700 people, of which half were eligible for the center’s services.

Lewis said that those who have been released at the end of their sentences are most vulnerable. Unlike those who are on probation and parole, end of sentence releasees are given no resources and are not put under supervision.

But there is one resource that Lewis ranked in importance above all: housing.

“Without housing, you cannot do anything,” Lewis said. “In the pandemic, we know that shelters are closed out. We’ve seen the difference in the hope that people have.”

New Haven Interim Director of Special Projects Carlos Sosa-Lombardo similarly spoke on the work of the newly formed New Haven Reentry Center — a joint project between the city government’s Fresh Start program and local nonprofit Project M.O.R.E.

According to Sosa-Lombardo, during the pandemic the Elm City’s reentry center has been running virtual pardon workshops. He also said they have supported 50 formerly incarcerated people in finding jobs, in addition to signing up individuals for identification cards, ensuring that those with medical conditions get access to medicine and using CARES Act money to provide housing.

For those who have been suffering from trauma and drug addiction, the reentry center has also been able to match individuals with counselors and peer specialists.

Sosa-Lombardo, in addition to individuals from Community Partners in Action and the ACLU of Connecticut, has been advocating for S.B. 572, a state bill that would provide funds for the creation of reentry centers across the state.

“I think that this will result in savings for the state, we’ll be able to provide more social services for the people and they’ll be recidivating at a lower rate,” Sosa-Lombardo said.

What lies ahead

Both Pennant and Gulino have indicated that their stories are atypical in comparison to most prison residents who have been released, in that they have been able to find stability with regard to housing and employment after release. As Gohara explained, many are released without even knowing how to operate a smartphone.

Post described what he sees is a lack of consideration for incarcerated people from the state in the midst of an economic crisis for millions of Americans. He said that stimulus checks from the CARES Act were not initially available for incarcerated people, even though many were about to be released.

“The systems that we have set up do not make it easy for folks,” Post said. “They are intentionally cruel, or unintentional and careless.”

Other policy solutions are also on the table. Pennant spoke about the prospective state PROTECT Act, which would prohibit isolated confinement, end abusive restraints and increase correctional officer oversight and accountability. The bill currently sits in the Connecticut General Assembly’s Judiciary Committee.

“For me, the PROTECT Act is important because it changes the etiquette and fabric of how prisons operate,” Pennant said. “Things like the subpar nature of how they treat inmates, solitary confinement, etc.”

Still, both Gulino and Pennant are optimistic about the future. Though they said they did not feel that the DOC had equipped them for life on the outside, they both are happy with their current jobs.

Gulino, who comes from a union family, relies on his skills in manual labor and carpentry in his program All Deserve a Place to Start, or A.D.A.P.T.S. The project aims to address recidivism and homelessness by teaching currently incarcerated people framing, electrical and plumbing skills.

Pennant runs his own LLC called House of Wraith, which stands for We Rise All In Through Heaven. It is a product management company that advertises clothing and finds the best fabrics and models for different types of clothing. He relies on much of the knowledge he has learned while at UConn for this work.

“The sky is the limit. A year ago today I was in solitary confinement looking at a wall,” Pennant said. “Now, I have acquired financial freedom and I can help my family out and other people. There’s definitely a lot more work and giving back to my community.”

Talat Aman | talat.aman@yale.edu

UP CLOSE | Stranded, stuck and sensitive: Upheaval in the world of art loans

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Instead of traveling to St. Louis, Missouri to examine Jean-François Millet’s “Starry Night” in person, Yale University Art Gallery registrar L.Lynne Addison inspected portions of the painting in as much detail as was possible on an iPad. Addison zoomed in to look at Millet’s depiction of the earth, trees and the night sky, appearing on the small screen as expanses of cracked oil paint and vague shadows. Typically, Addison would have conducted this routine condition check — intended to verify that the artwork was being returned to the YUAG in the same condition in which it had been loaned out — in person at the Saint Louis Museum of Art. But due to the pandemic, she conducted the check remotely, from New Haven.

“Starry Night” is one of many loaned art objects whose trajectories were thrown off course due to the pandemic. Addison’s condition check came months after schedule, and “Starry Night” returned home to the YUAG similarly late.

Art institutions typically rely on object loans from their peer institutions to build their exhibitions and, in turn, loan items from their collections to other museums. At the start of the pandemic, building closures and lockdowns halted loans that had been organized years in advance. Now, though institutions have begun to reopen, social distancing measures and travel restrictions continue to complicate the process, at Yale-affiliated institutions and across the country.

For the YUAG and the Beinecke Library — which lend more artworks than they borrow — the cancellation and postponement of scheduled loans resulting from the pandemic have created a logistical nightmare for registrars. At the YCBA, an institution that borrows more frequently than the YUAG or Beinecke, these delays have interfered with loans and, as a result, the planned exhibitions. 

“What people don’t realize when they visit an art museum is how many people it takes to make it work,” said Laurence Kanter, chief curator and the Lionel Goldfrank III Curator of European Art at the YUAG. “It just seems like an open-and-shut experience. But when you get to the point of an exhibition where you’re having phenomenally fragile and valuable things moving all around the globe all the time, it’s amazing the machinery that’s involved in keeping it afloat. And when something like a pandemic hits and stops it all cold, the effects can be really quite remarkable.”

[pullquote credit=”Laurence Kanter, chief curator and the Lionel Goldfrank III Curator of European Art at the YUAG” align=”right” ]What people don’t realize when they visit an art museum is how many people it takes to make it work. It just seems like an open-and-shut experience. But when you get to the point of an exhibition where you’re having phenomenally fragile and valuable things moving all around the globe all the time, it’s amazing the machinery that’s involved in keeping it afloat. And when something like a pandemic hits and stops it all cold, the effects can be really quite remarkable.[/pullquote]

Immediate effects of the pandemic: Stranded artworks, suspended loans

In March 2020, when the pandemic first hit, objects belonging to the Beinecke, YUAG and YCBA were scattered across the world. This is typical, since museums in the United States and Europe frequently request objects from these collections. However, none of these institutions anticipated navigating the retrieval or return of borrowed objects amid museum closures.

“We have a very very robust loans program at the museum because the collection is so incredible,” Addison said. “Almost immediately, we had loans that were postponed, cancelled, rescheduled. Anything and everything that changed did. And it has pretty much continued to change since then.”

Museums typically request loans years in advance — often as far as four years ahead of time. According to Kanter, this is due to both the scholarship needed to organize an exhibition and the time it takes to prepare loan requests. Many of these artworks are in high demand, so museums must reach out in advance to ensure works’ availability during a given period.

“If I’m going to plan an exhibition on a major European artist — for the sake of argument — or on a topic with Asian art, and I know that I want to schedule it for the year 2025, I need to start thinking now about what my exhibition object list is going to look like so I can contact the owners of objects to see if their thing might be available in 2025,” Kanter said.

Once an object’s availability is established, the borrowing institution then has to convince the lender that it is a good idea to let a fragile object travel. The prospective borrower must also provide cost estimates of preparing and transporting these objects. These arrangements are often expensive and logistically complicated — Kanter said they typically involve packaging an object, conservation work, glazing and framing. Additionally, couriers are designated to accompany objects and ensure nothing goes awry, he said.

At the onset of the pandemic last year, most of these processes were halted. Of the Beinecke’s collection, a diary of military officer, aviator and writer Charles Lindbergh was at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in D.C., while a collection of papers about Victorian Era art critic John Ruskin was at the Watts Gallery near London. The Beinecke also had a variety of materials loaned out to the YUAG, as part of an exhibition called “Place, Nations, Generations, Beings: 200 Years of Indigenous North American Art.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”A John Ruskin sketch of the Aiguilles Ranges.” credit=”Courtesy of the Yale University Library” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/16685589.jpg” ALIGN=”full”]

A number of works belonging to the YCBA were left at other institutions, including prints and illustrated books that were at the Toledo Museum of Art when the pandemic began.

Due to the pandemic, the YUAG’s “Starry Night” was left stranded in St. Louis. 

Due to the YUAG’s closure, the museum’s staff was not allowed into the gallery for months. As a result, the gallery canceled a number of scheduled loans. Even now, with travel restrictions still in place, gallery staff is unsure about whether it can send couriers along with fragile objects that cannot be transported without accompaniment.

Kanter said, though small on their own, many of these logistical problems can “become insurmountable” when taken together.

Prior to the pandemic, the YUAG had scheduled to loan out 15 paintings by Josef Albers, works from its American Decorative Arts Collection and from its Société Anonyme Collection, which features work by prominent American and European modernist artists, according to Kanter and Addison.

The YUAG was initially happy to comply with an art museum in Paris’ request for Albers’ paintings, but the loan became complicated due to the pandemic, according to Addison and Kanter.

In order to safely transport these works, Kanter said the gallery would have to first reframe them with glass. But since a borrowing institution might cancel its upcoming exhibition, the YUAG risks facing a financial loss by reframing the pieces. On the other hand, Kanter said that if the gallery waits too long to see whether the exhibition will take place, it may run out of time to complete the reframing process before the works need to be transported.

According to Addison, the loan with works from the American Decorative Arts Collection has been difficult to reschedule, as it is meant for an exhibition that was planned to travel to four different locations. As a result of the pandemic, all four borrowing institutions had to change their exhibition dates as well as the order of venues.

“Every time you change the date of one venue, you have to shuffle all the other dates of the other institutions,” Addison said.

Unlike the YUAG, the Beinecke did not have to cancel any loan requests. However, the library has declined loan requests made after the onset of the pandemic due to understaffing and continues to turn away requests even now, according to Hatcher and Mulroney.

“We just don’t want to commit to doing something that we don’t have time to do or which would keep us from supporting the on campus programs,” said Rebecca Hatcher, preservation coordination librarian at the Beinecke. “That’s our highest priority, and we don’t want to have that suffer for a loan.”

According to Lucy Mulroney, the Beinecke’s associate director for collections, the pandemic also came at a time when the library was already preparing to halt its regular loaning program in order to discuss an expansion of their current loan program. This meant the pandemic interrupted less loans than it otherwise would have, Mulroney said.

Martina Droth, the YCBA’s deputy director and chief curator, said the YCBA has faced similar challenges. “We have continued to receive loan requests, but we have found that many museums have moved their exhibitions, and in some cases canceled them because of museum closures and the difficulty of traveling art objects during a pandemic,” Droth said.

Droth added that the YCBA has shown other institutions as much flexibility as possible, and in turn has benefitted from the flexibility of other museums as their own exhibitions were postponed.

[pullquote credit=”L.Lynne Addison, Yale University Art Gallery registrar” align=”full” ]We have a very very robust loans program at the museum because the collection is so incredible. Almost immediately, we had loans that were postponed, canceled, rescheduled. Anything and everything that changed did. And it has pretty much continued to change since then.[/pullquote]

Museums since the pandemic: Safety and security for artworks

For institutions like the Beinecke and YUAG — whose objects out on loan were stranded across different locations — it was necessary to negotiate the secure storage of objects as well as their eventual transportation.

The Beinecke elected to leave several materials in place rather than transport them. For instance, it allowed its materials from the exhibition “Place, Nations, Generations, Beings” to remain on display at the YUAG due to the museum’s location in New Haven for an extended period of time due to its closure. The exhibit was originally scheduled to close in June 2020 but remained on view until February 2021 despite the fact that the gallery was closed during most of that period.

The Beinecke also chose to leave the Ruskin materials — which included pages from Ruskin’s sketchbooks, drafts of books, photographs and a mailbag he once carried — at the Watts Gallery in England for longer than planned. 

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”Ruskin’s mailbag.” credit=”Courtesy of Yale University Library” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/16653072.jpg” ALIGN=”full”]

The Watts Gallery, which plans to reopen in May, received permission to keep the materials longer than originally scheduled to give the public an opportunity to view them.

When it was time for the materials to be installed, rather than ask a conservator to travel during the pandemic, the Beinecke instead arranged for a YCBA courier, who had just landed in the area, to oversee the installation process.

When the Watts Gallery shut to the public, Hatcher said they emailed Beinecke staff members about precautions they were taking to ensure the safety of the borrowed materials. These precautions included covering display cases, shutting books and switching off the lights.

“It’s not good for materials to be exposed to light,” Hatcher said. “You don’t want to waste that exposure on time when no one can see them because no one is there.”

On the other hand, the YUAG used technology to aid in the retrieval of their items. After conducting her condition check for “Starry Night,” Addison supervised the piece’s deinstallation over Microsoft Teams. The YUAG then arranged for a security car to follow the piece back to New Haven and placed a tracking device on the crate containing the painting, she said.

Other materials, including Lindburgh’s diary, remain stranded across the world. Lindbergh’s diary is secured in a vault in the Holocaust Memorial Museum. The Beinecke has also held onto an object it was borrowing from The Elizabethan Club and is storing it in a secure space, Mulroney said.

The future of art loans

Building on the last year of experience, art institutions have adapted to managing loans during a pandemic in various ways, including enlisting virtual couriers’ like Addison for “Starry Night” and using digital tracking devices. Addison and other conservators think some of these strategies might persist.

“It’s a new world, and it will be really interesting to see what patterns and what new techniques we’ve developed creatively to make all this work might just stick,” said director of preservation and conservation services for the Yale University Library System Christine McCarthy. The library system loans to museums all over the world from its collections, in addition to curating exhibits at the Beinecke and other campus libraries.

McCarthy described new alternatives to the Library system’s operations. The library is considering implementing a new database and collection management system that would allow loan condition checks — typically conducted on paper — to be monitored on tablets or smartphones instead. Modules on the system would allow conservators to enter information about an object’s loan history, and even produce an estimate of the object’s cumulative light exposure.

McCarthy said that having this information at hand might reveal overestimations in an object’s cumulative light exposure, and thus allow the library to loan it more frequently than previously thought possible. McCarthy’s department keeps “medical histories” for art objects, and technology can make a “patient’s” record much easier to access, according to McCarthy.

Virtual couriering has had mixed results. Addison, for example, was amazed by the clarity of “Starry Night” on her iPad screen. Yet in other cases, conservators have reported trouble viewing paintings and found it difficult to fill out a condition report, Hatcher said.

[pullquote credit=”Christine McCarthy, director of preservation and conservation services for the Yale University Library System” align=”right” ]It’s a new world, and it will be really interesting to see what patterns and what new techniques we’ve developed creatively to make all this work might just stick.[/pullquote]

Addison thinks virtual couriers, as well as “book-ending couriers” — an alternative form of couriering in which one courier sees an object until it gets on a plane, while a second courier oversees the object upon the plane’s arrival at its destination — will become a permanent institution in the museum world.

The YCBA’s registrar staff — Chief Registrar Corey Myers and associate registrar Nancy MacGregor — agreed, saying that though in-person couriers are the ideal, virtual couriering will likely remain as “an additional tool in certain circumstances by many museums and institutions going forward.”

The transition to virtual couriers has been hastened by museums’ financial struggles due to canceled exhibitions during the pandemic. According to Addison, museums, including the Museum of Modern Art and the Art Institute of Chicago, are announcing that they will no longer pay for in-person couriers. 

Addison called these measures “black and white statements in a very gray world,” adding that she thinks institutions should determine what kind of courier to send on a case-by-case basis. For example, some objects might be fragile or valuable enough to warrant an in-person courier. 

Further, Addison is unsure if virtual couriers will actually save institutions money in the long run, as the required security measures used in lieu of couriers — such as escorts and contract registrars — are also expensive.

McCarthy, who is more optimistic about virtual couriering’s ability to cut costs, said this alternative approach might make loans more accessible.

“Couriers are actually a pretty big expense to the loan, and we ask those institutions to carry that burden for us a lot of the time,” McCarthy said. “So it could be that with these kinds of techniques, maybe smaller institutions who can’t afford to pay for one of us to go with an object might have an option — something we could do to even the playing field a little bit.”

Still, despite art institutions’ adaptations to the pandemic, the staff members at the YUAG, YCBA and Beinecke remain unsure how and when the institutions will be able to retrieve certain works — some of which are too fragile to travel without a person to accompany them — that remain scattered across the globe or reschedule canceled loans. 

“Some of these arrangements are still in the air, even at the 23rd hour,” Kanter said.

 

Annie Radillo | annie.radillo@yale.edu

UP CLOSE | Fighting for faster water: The long wait for Yale’s new pool

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Long gone are the glory days of the Robert J. H. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool. The space longingly referred to as the “Ex Pool” by alumni now more closely resembles a “Roman ruin” than the swimming mecca that it once was, said alumni interviewed by the News. The broken brown seats in the upper rows of the bleachers give off an aura of a program clinging onto past fortunes, rather than one looking ahead to the future.

But it has not always been this way. Upon its completion in 1932, the Exhibition Pool was the crown jewel of American swimming, drawing spectators and athletes from around the world to New Haven to marvel in the swimming prowess of the Blue and White.

Under then-head coach Robert Kiphuth, the Bulldogs raced ahead to a record of 201 straight undefeated dual-meets from 1945 to 1961, earning Kiphuth a reputation as the winningest coach in swimming history. A total of 24 Olympians have called the Exhibition Pool their home, winning a combined 27 Olympic medals. It was in New Haven that records were broken, technique was developed and Yale swimmers became some of the fastest in the world. The Exhibition Pool helped chart the course of modern swimming and diving. 

89 years on, the program risks drowning in the rising tide of technological advancement.

“The Exhibition Pool does not compare to other Division I facilities in the Pac-12 or really in any other conference,” Caitlin Tycz ’21, who spent two years racing at nationally ranked USC before transferring to Yale, said. “Without a doubt, the Exhibition Pool limits the recruiting capabilities of the team, the training of both the swimmers and divers and our ability to host championship meets. On one hand, the history and tradition of the Exhibition Pool is irreplaceable and beautiful, but on the other, it inhibits the Yale swimming and diving team from reaching our potential both in the Ivy League and nationally.”

Through a Yale Athletics spokesperson, swimming and diving head coach Jim Henry declined to comment on the state of the pool today or his opinion on the potential advantages a new pool could bring to his Yale program and the wider New Haven community.

Murmurs about a new pool first emerged more than four decades ago. Excluded from hosting anything more than dual-meets due to changing regulations on competition pools, sentiment began to lean towards either the construction of a new pool or renovation of the existing facility. Despite the efforts of alumni from the swimming and diving community, however, little tangible progress has been made, and donations towards a new pool remain tens of millions of dollars away from the University’s most modest targets. 

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”The Robert J. H. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool is located in Payne Whitney Gymnasium” credit=”Yale Daily News” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/inline1.png” ALIGN=”full”]

Last in the Ivy League 

Yale’s competition pool is the oldest natatorium in the Ivy League. The second oldest is Cornell’s Teagle Pool, which was built in 1951 — almost two decades after the Exhibition Pool.

The newest pool in the Ancient Eight, Brown’s Katherine Moran Coleman Aquatics Center, was completed in 2012 and has two moveable bulkheads which can separate the 56-meter pool into three different sections, providing the team with up to 22 lanes of space for practice when configured for short-course yards.

Yale’s Exhibition Pool, on the other hand, has only six 25-yard lanes. With more than 40 swimmers, the team makes use of Payne Whitney Gymnasium’s third floor 50-meter pool for extra practice space. Without a separate diving well and only three diving boards, the team’s divers can only practice outside of their swimming teammates’ scheduled pool time, which has previously forced divers to practice in the afternoons, according to current diver Christian DeVol ’21. The Exhibition Pool’s lack of a separate warm-up and warm-down pool also complicates swimmers’ plans during meets, with some choosing to forgo an elevator ride up to the third floor pool to warm-down out of fear of missing their event.

According to Carl Nylander, principal at aquatic design firm Counsilman-Hunsaker, an aquatic design firm that performed an audit of the old Brown facility in 2007 and helped to design Brown’s new aquatics center, modern pools benefit from updated technology such as perimeter gutter troughs to absorb waves generated by swimmers, more environmentally sustainable filtration systems, deeper pool depths for diving and starting blocks and different strategies for recirculating pool water.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Louie Lu, Production and Design Editor” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/inline2.png” ALIGN=”full”]

For Brown men’s swimming and diving head coach Kevin Norman, who spent nine years as a recruiting coordinator and assistant coach for Yale, the Bears’ state-of-the-art facility is “advantageous for [his] athletes.”

Being a newer and bigger facility, I have the ability to spread my athletes out and give them more space in practices,” Norman said. “That combined with all of the natural light we get here and how well the facility is kept up certainly plays a positive role in our daily workouts, both physically and mentally. From a performance perspective, our racing course is deep with wide lanes and flow-through bulkheads, which are all key contributors to fast swimming.”

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”Completed in 2012, Brown’s Katherine Moran Coleman Aquatics Center is the newest competition pool in the Ivy League.” credit=”Courtesy of Counsilman-Hunsaker” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/inline3.jpg” ALIGN=”right”]

Yale’s comparably outdated facilities affect more than just the development of its swimmers, however. Potential recruits may favor other more modern facilities over the Exhibition Pool and turn their backs on the Blue and White. 

According to Karl Ortegon, senior reporter at SwimSwam and former swimmer at Wesleyan University, “A bad pool is no fun.” 

“For recruits, it’s definitely easier to dazzle them with a nice new facility,” Ortegon said. ”If a pool is really bad, that could be a deciding factor if a swimmer is choosing between two or three schools that are very similar.”

While Ortegon believes that other factors, such as the program’s coaching staff and reputation, are more important in a swimmer’s college selection process, “A bad pool ruled out a couple of schools [for] myself.” 

As NCAA and Ivy League championship specifications require pools to have at least eight 50-meter lanes, there are currently only three programs in the Ivy League — Harvard, Princeton and Brown — who are able to host championship meets. According to alumni and current swimmers, if Yale were to build a new championship specification facility, it not only would be able to attract top talent from around the nation, but would also again be able to draw the fastest of the Ancient Eight to New Haven. 

Benefits to New Haven

A new natatorium has the potential to not only change the fortunes of Yale swimmers and divers, but also those of the surrounding New Haven community. 

According to the USA Swimming Foundation, 10 people drown each day in the United States, while 64 percent of African American, 45 percent of Hispanic/Latino and 40 percent of Caucasian children have little to no swimming ability. 

Twice a year, alumni and swimming and diving team members volunteer their time to teach local children aged 4 to 18 how to swim. The Diekmann/Green Swim New Haven program works with the Boys and Girls Club of New Haven, Saint Martin de Porres Academy, New Haven Age Group Track Club and the University community to help children overcome their fear of water and teach them how to move safely through the water.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”The Swim New Haven program is a biannual workshop run by students and alumni which helps to introduce local New Haven children to water safety.” credit=”Courtesy of Bebe Thompson” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/inline4.jpeg” ALIGN=”full”]

Though classes are hosted in the Exhibition Pool, the facility was not designed with introductory teaching in mind. The pool’s depth varies from 7 feet at its most shallow to 12 feet at its deepest, making it almost impossible for teachers and students to stand. According to Bebe Thompson ’20, student leader of Swim New Haven from 2018 to 2020, new students often physically latch on to instructors when uncomfortable.

“This would be fine if the instructor could stand for support, but the instructors instead must tread water,” Thompson said. “A more shallow pool would make an instructor’s job easier, both physically and in terms of the comfort of the child they are teaching.” 

While the program was only offered biannually in previous years, the swimming and diving team, through the Swim New Haven program, plans to expand its offerings to weekly classes, according to swimming and diving association president Matt Meade ’87. 

Though this will allow the program to increase the number of students taught from its current number of approximately 40, it also presents the organizing team with new scheduling challenges to overcome.

“Between varsity athletics and recreational swimming, pool time and space is limited and community programs unfortunately do not currently take priority,” Thompson said. “A new pool could facilitate an increased ability to offer swim and water safety lessons to the New Haven community.”

A lack of direction

For more than two decades, swimming and diving alumni have pushed the University to replace the aging Exhibition Pool facilities for the Yale team and other users.

Formal fundraising for a new pool first began back in 1997, when a small group of swimming and diving alumni, led by former swimmer Thurston Twigg-Smith ’42, gathered between $5 million and $6 million in pledges, of which $2.2 million was actually donated. The initial flurry of donations and pledges quickly lost momentum, however, and it was not until an alumni steering committee — independent of the swimming and diving association — joined forces in 2010 took up the pool project.

The committee, made up of former Yale swimmers Timothy Garton ’64, Greg Lawler ’69, Todd Kaplan ’86, Lisa Rapuano ’88 and three-time Olympic gold medalist Steve Clark ’65, focused on providing a vision and technical guidance to the University to encourage it to commit to the construction of a new 50-meter pool. The committee visited pools around the country, spoke to experts on natatorium design and calculated construction cost estimates for different sites on Yale’s campus. Detailed requirements for a first-class pool were drafted up. In 2013, the committee began discussions with Yale Facilities about the new natatorium.

“We were totally agnostic, and intentionally so, about where Yale should build a new pool — we weren’t capable of having an opinion on that,” Lawler said. “So we just said, look, we’re not telling you anything about [where you should build it]; we’re just telling you here are the elements you need for a modern pool.”

According to Lawler, at the time, the University discussed two different options: a renovation of the existing Exhibition Pool in Payne Whitney Gymnasium or a new facility located further away in the vicinity of Yale Bowl.

Early designs by Pelli Clarke Pelli architects, commissioned by the University in 2013 and recently obtained by the News, indicate that such a renovation would increase the size of the 25-yard, six lane pool to 50-meters and nine lanes. A separate diving well with 5-meter, 7.5-meter and 10-meter diving platforms would be constructed, and sections of the existing bleachers and pool would remain in place. This expansion would allow the facility to gain championship-level specification.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”First two graphics by Louie Lu, Production and Design Editor. Third graphic by Zully Arias, Production and Design Editor.” credit=”” src=”” ALIGN=”right”]

An article in the winter 2015 issue of ELI made available on the Yale Athletics website and a 2015 press release on the Giving to Yale website suggested that a renovation of the Exhibition Pool would likely cost $47 million.

According to members of the steering committee, a separate Yale Bowl facility would likely only cost less than half that sum — around $20 million.

The committee looked to the $19 million Greensboro Aquatic Center in North Carolina as an example that a new championship-specification three-pool facility could be built at a relatively low cost.

“Greensboro is not an architectural masterpiece, but it’s a great swimming facility,” Lawler said. “We were as clear as we could be with the University: You can decide where to put a new facility, but if your decision is a first class pool and out by the Bowl, we will get you to $20 million.”

According to a 2014 News article, following protests from the steering committee over the administration’s unresponsiveness, members of the committee, alongside their swimming and diving association counterparts, sat down with University President Peter Salovey in March 2014 to discuss the pool project. According to the same 2014 News article, during the meeting, Salovey expressed both the University’s commitment to the project and its desire to renovate Payne Whitney, rather than construct a separate facility near Yale Bowl. 

“As I mentioned in our [March] discussion, it is clear that we all want a pool with fast water, a facility that allows us to host Ivy Championships again and that allows our coaches to recruit against our peers,” Salovey said in an April 17, 2014, letter to Lawler obtained by the News. “We also want to support the broader athletic needs of Yale, and building a new pool at Payne Whitney is the best location for us to achieve these goals.”

Shortly after the March meeting, the pool renovation was added to the University’s list of approved capital projects, according to steering committee member Clark.

In the early 2000s, Brown University, prior to the construction of the Katherine Moran Coleman Aquatic Center, similarly considered a renovation of the old Smith Swim Center, rather than a total replacement.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”The Smith Swimming Center was built in 1973 and was Brown’s main competition pool up until its demolition in 2008.” credit=”Courtesy of Counsilman-Hunsaker” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/inline5.jpg” ALIGN=”right”]

“The Smith Swim Center was built in 1973 and was in fair condition given its age at the time of the assessment,” Nylander, principal at aquatic design firm Counsilman-Hunsaker, said. “There were components that didn’t meet current code standards, such as the deep end floor slope, or NCAA regulations, such as the overhead lighting which was approximately 20 percent of the recommended levels. A major renovation would have required the aquatic center to be brought up to current regulatory requirements and necessitated nearly 90 percent removal of the old pool shell.”

The new Brown natatorium cost approximately $27 million 10 years ago — almost $31 million when adjusted for inflation.

Since the March 2014 meeting with Salovey, the stance on renovation versus reconstruction seems to have shifted.  

According to swimming and diving association president Meade, the University’s focus has moved away from a renovation of the Exhibition Pool towards the construction of a new natatorium in the vicinity of Ingalls Rink and the Yale Health Center. Meade said that the swimming and diving association has been scouting out the area as a potential location and that the association continues to meet regularly with the Yale administration about the plans. This would help to alleviate concerns of inadequate structural integrity in Payne Whitney for a renovation of the scale necessary, minimize disruptions to the season during construction and keep the pool in walking distance from most of campus. 

“The Exhibition Pool is like a sports car. That 1932 car, you can do as much as you want to, but it’s not going to ever be a 2021 sports car,” Meade said. “I think a new facility is in the best interest of the program.”

That facility would likely cost at least $50 million, according to Meade, putting it in the same range as the Exhibition Pool renovation and making it one of the most expensive natatoriums in the nation.  

Administration and delays

In February 2018, Vicky Chun became Yale’s director of athletics, replacing Tom Beckett, who served in the role for more than 24 years. With a new director at the helm, some alumni began to feel more hopeful about the eventual completion of the project. 

According to Meade, Chun “made it very clear from the day she started that building a new pool was her number one priority.”

Director of Athletics Vicky Chun did not respond to questions from the News on where exactly the pool stands in her list of capital priorities, whether a site had been selected or whether a projected timeline exists for the project. She also did not provide an answer to whether the current Exhibition Pool is a liability or asset to the swimming and diving program. 

“Capital projects and fundraising have been at the forefront of our goals for Yale Athletics,” Chun wrote in an email to the News. “In less than three years, we have made tremendous progress on those fronts which includes donor funding for new video boards, playing surfaces, locker rooms and training venues. While we continue to create new spaces and facilities, we also continue to identify areas of need for our historic athletics program and develop sound strategies on how to address them; including a competition pool.”

Former swimmer Todd Kaplan ’86 pledged $1 million to the pool project several years ago. Growing up in North Haven, he first swam at the Exhibition Pool at the age of 11. Two years later, he began training there and continued to do so through college. Like many other alumni, his pledge was motivated by a desire to expand water access and education to the New Haven community and to update the University’s obsolete aquatic facility.

“I believe that the many people at Yale focused on this project have done a fine job — and I know that the athletic department and the development office are both working hard to bring this together,” Kaplan wrote in an email to the News. “This effort is expensive and complex — there are many other needs at Yale — and I believe that everyone involved wants this project to become a reality soon.”

However, not everyone shares in Kaplan’s appreciation of the University’s handling of the pool project. 

Three-time Olympic gold medalist Steve Clark ’65 feels that the University’s lack of communication and coordination with swimming alumni and its “insistence on gold plating cost estimates for every option — despite reasonably priced two and three pool aquatic facilities already constructed elsewhere in the country — has seriously deterred potential donors.

“As far as I know, there is no fixed plan. I don’t know how you can raise money when there’s no official plan and drawings to persuade people to put their money toward,” Clark said.

Former swimmer and water polo player Ted Jones ’64 has been “squarely behind the new pool and [has been] angry with the University for a decade or more on their foot-dragging.” And for former swimmer Alex Righi ’09, the pool development plans are being implemented “far too slowly.”

“It’s been frustrating to see Yale let actual development of a new pool flounder for so long and, despite its many billions in endowment, put much of the onus on the swimming team alumni and/or beneficent university donors to fund the multiple millions required for a new pool,” Righi said. “My hope is that the athletic administration continues its efforts to finalize plans for a new competition pool and that the broader Yale university administration prioritizes funding the project, at least in significant part, and constructing it as soon as possible — I fear that anything less will be a major impediment to Yale’s ability to truly compete athletically with its peer institutions.”

Some alumni have also voiced concerns about the administration’s handling of early donations.

[pullquote credit=”A 2014 letter from alumni donors” align=”full” ]Several of us were explicitly promised by Yale at the time that our donations would be invested into the Yale endowment and grow until they were used for a new pool. We have heard different explanations for this from your office, and frankly, none of them make any sense.[/pullquote]

In an Oct. 20, 2014, letter obtained by the News, a group of seven alumni who donated several million dollars in the late 1990s towards a new pool reached out in protest to University Vice President for Development Joan E. O’Neill over the University’s failure to invest pool donations into the endowment. 

This group, which included the late former swimming and diving coach Phil Moriarty, suggested that the value of the donations in 1997 could have appreciated to nearly $15 million. Instead, the development office told them that “they are worth their cash value when donated.”

“Several of us were explicitly promised by Yale at the time that our donations would be invested into the Yale endowment and grow until they were used for a new pool,” the seven alumni wrote in the letter. “We have heard different explanations for this from your office, and frankly, none of them make any sense.”

According to University spokesperson Karen Peart, gifts that are restricted by the donor to cover the cost of a new building or renovation projects are not put into the endowment, because the endowment is “invested for long-term returns and its value may go down over the short term.” Instead, they are placed in a special account known as a plant fund, with the expectation that the funds will be spent in a relatively short period of time.

Former Director of Athletics Tom Beckett told the News in 2017 that the money was held in a plant fund because it was “assumed [it would] be used in a timely manner,” despite the relatively slow pace of fundraising and the absence of a lead donor for the project.

According to the same News article published in 2017, Yale Athletics, along with the provost and vice president of finance, created a University Fund Functioning as Endowment in 2013 with the funding obtained for the pool project. The spendable yield from that fund helped fund the swimming and diving program — a decision made without approval from donors.

“On occasion, a donor makes a gift to create a new endowed fund but includes the explicit instruction that the fund be de-capitalized and applied toward the cost of a specific capital project when that project moves forward,” Peart wrote in an email to the News. “In the meantime, the income from the endowment is restricted to a designated purpose. There are three such endowed funds with a current market value of about $5 million that will be de-capitalized and spent on a new pool at the appropriate time. In the meantime, the income from these funds supports the swimming and diving programs. Without instructions from the donor, the University would not consider de-capitalizing other endowed funds to construct a new pool.”

Looking to the future

Decades after money was first donated to replace the Exhibition Pool and despite both verbal and written commitments supporting the project from members of the Yale administration, there is little tangible progress to show.

As of October 2015, $9.1 million had been pledged towards the pool project, according to a November 2015 News article. Chun did not respond to requests for clarity on the total amount currently pledged and donated as of April 2021.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Ryan Chiao, Photo Editor” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/inline6.jpg” ALIGN=”right”]

The COVID-19 pandemic has not made reaching the $50 million fundraising target any easier, with no new donors having been secured since last spring, according to Meade. Still, he has received emails and calls from interested parties and has, as per standard practice, passed along their information to Yale Athletics. 

Despite years of alumni-led fundraising and seven years of official University guidance, the project has also failed in its efforts to attract an eight-figure lead donor. 

“I know it’s been a source of frustration; we have a very passionate group of alumni, who, you know, want to see this pool built more than anything, and I certainly understand their frustration and their desire to turn this program, turn this facility into the best possible opportunity for Yale to succeed in the pool — in diving, swimming and water polo,” Meade said.

According to Kristin Krebs-Dick ’93, former president of the swimming and diving association, the University is continuing to work with “Fast Water” — a subcommittee of the association currently consisting of herself, Kaplan, Rapuano, Melanie Ginter ’78 and Casey Whalen ’96 — to work out the best solution for a new aquatic facility. 

Still, it remains unclear how many more years the program, the University and the greater New Haven community will wait for a new pool. With every passing year the Exhibition Pool only grows older, becoming more expensive to maintain and increasingly outdated in the ever-changing landscape of competitive swimming and diving. 

“I’d like to see [a new Yale pool] in my lifetime, hopefully,” Meade said.  

Ryan Chiao | ryan.chiao@yale.edu

Correction, Apr. 22: An earlier version of this story said that O’Neill did not respond to a request for comment. In fact, the News did not reach out to her for comment. The News regrets the error.

UP CLOSE | Let’s talk about it: The triumphs and failures of public health messaging during COVID-19

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What is the most effective method to communicate health guidance so that it prompts substantive behavioral change among the population? 

This question has vexed researchers in the field of public health for decades and became increasingly relevant in March 2020, as SARS-CoV-2 began proliferating across the United States, transforming epidemiological maps of the nation from monochromatic diagrams to multicolor mosaics with emerging hotspots. As the pandemic’s spread intensified, epidemiologists at the Yale School of Public Health grappled with how to effectively communicate health messages to combat COVID-19 and keep people healthy.

For associate professor of public health Marney White who has taught courses in epidemiology and the science of behavior change this question became personal when she was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder in December 2019 and began treatments in February 2020, causing her to be at high risk for severe COVID-19 infection when the pandemic started soon after.

“There was a member of our local board of health who posted a public Facebook post saying that she was tired of all of these people trying to control everyone else and if people are sick or immunocompromised they should just stay home, let the rest of us live our lives,” White said. White wrote in an article published by the American Journal of Public Health in October of last year that it was messages like these that made her feel like “one of the vulnerable few that some seem willing to sacrifice.”

White disagreed with the approach outlined by other academics such as David Katz SPH ’93 that came early on in the pandemic. The approach espoused by Katz called for a risk stratified plan that later became known as “focused protection.” This approach placed an emphasis on “preferentially protecting the medically frail” through methods such as building “firewalls” of protection around facilities housing the elderly or those especially vulnerable to infection while reopening the economy and permitting healthy, low-risk individuals to go back to school, work and gatherings. 

White’s experience underscores the critical importance of consistent, clear and convincing health messaging to save lives and slow viral spread during a pandemic. The News spoke to five scientists at the School of Public Health, as well as other leaders and epidemiology experts, about how they crafted effective public health narratives during the pandemic and how such communication fell short — including through conflicting messaging, such as the coexisting narratives of focused protection and broad containment early on in the pandemic.

At that point, there was not yet a consensus among public health experts on how best to communicate to the public about the pandemic.

In addition to White, Dean of the Yale School of Public Health Sten Vermund, assistant professor of epidemiology Gregg Gonsalves and Director of the Yale Institute for Global Health Saad Omer, took issue with the strategies outlined in Katz’s article. White said that articles like Katz’s sent hurtful messages to people with chronic illnesses.

“It basically said, you know we’re going to slow down the economy, just to save some people who are already sick and so we shouldn’t do that,” White said. “We should just wall those people off and not have them in society. The message is basically … if you’re already weak or have an illness, to hell with you, we can’t slow down the rest of the world.”

In a response letter to Katz’s New York Times op-ed signed by Yale epidemiologists including Vermund, Gonsalves and Omer, University faculty expressed their disagreement with the “focused protection” approach outlined in Katz’s piece, titularly claiming Katz’s plan was “The Wrong Way to Fight Coronavirus.”

In an email to the News, Vermund clarified that he agreed with Katz that nursing homes were poorly managed, serving as one of the primary sources of early COVID-19 mortality when the pandemic hit the United States. Still, Vermund stated that in his view, the epidemiological flaw of the “focused protection” approach was its assumption that herd immunity could be achieved by allowing SARS-CoV-2 to infect “less vulnerable members of society.”

Katz wrote in an email to the News that regardless of how he and Vermund may differ in opinion about strategies to curb the spread of COVID-19, he agrees on the importance of protecting those most vulnerable to infection.

“We needed more [protection], not less,” Katz wrote. In an article about the “focused protection” approach, Katz stated that this plan was “not intended to discount the significance of mortality from coronavirus at any age” and aimed instead to “shelter and serve the vulnerable.”  

Despite conflicting views among academics in early 2020 about how to best protect the population from COVID-19, Vermund described that public health messages about healthy behaviors, especially those coming from the government, should be consistently reinforced to promote the best pandemic response.

[pullquote credit=”Sten Vermund, Dean of the School of Public Health” align=”full” ]When you go on safari you want to see the rhino, elephant, giraffe, hippo, lion. Those are the big five. So, I had my big five for COVID: masks, physical distancing, small groups … air quality … [and] hand hygiene.[/pullquote]

Simple, honest and clear: Strategies for effective health messaging 

Vermund emphasized that there are effective strategies for public health messaging that the government should continue to employ. Scientists and public officials should use tactics from the broader marketing and behavioral sciences fields that balance comprehensibility and detail while placing a focus on transparency.

He explained that principles of health communication are merely a subset of principles for communication in general. Thus, strategies like “social marketing” — using techniques like slogans or advertisements to design and implement programs promoting socially beneficial behavior change — are particularly important when attempting to “sell” an idea or behavior to an audience.  

“Inherently you may not care about potato chips,” Vermund explained. “But if you have a slogan, ‘I bet you can’t just eat one’ or something catchy, a jingle that you can’t get out of your head, [you might start to care]. So, we like to borrow from the broader field of marketing.” 

Vermund described that the most effective messages are those that are logical, easy to remember, use mnemonics and are consistently reinforced. He said that there is a fine line between overly simplistic messages that can insult the public’s intelligence versus complex jargon incapable of captivating or motivating an audience to adopt healthy behaviors.

As a result, Vermund decided at the beginning of the pandemic that to encourage people to make healthy decisions regarding COVID-19, he would use a play on words of the “big five” animals that tourists often hope to see on safari. 

“When you go on safari you want to see the rhino, elephant, giraffe, hippo, lion. Those are the big five,” Vermund said, high-fiving the Zoom screen. “So, I had my big five for COVID: masks, physical distancing, small groups … air quality … [and] hand hygiene.” 

Gonsalves agreed with using similar approaches to social marketing as a means to motivate behavioral change. He said that those in the field of public health could pull from lessons in the world of advertising, entertainment and pop culture.  

“When we [use] messaging, our messages need to be fact-based, tailored to specific audiences and widely disseminated,” Gonsalves wrote in an email to the News. “Think of the world of advertising … how we influence each other in the broader world, we could learn a thing from those industries.” 

President of the Greater New Haven NAACP Dori Dumas also championed the use of simple, memorable messages as a way to inspire people to continue to abide by public health guidelines, even if they are growing tired of following restrictive physical distancing and mask-wearing measures.

She additionally brought up the concepts of transparency from the government and open forums where community members can ask epidemiologists and virologists questions about the pandemic, vaccines or related information. She said these are invaluable methods that can bridge trust among communities that might be skeptical of vaccines.

“Speak facts. Keep it simple. But be very honest and clear.” Dumas said. “Of course … have information available for people who want to research more.” 

[pullquote credit=”Dori Dumas, President of the Greater New Haven NAACP” align=”right” ]Speak facts. Keep it simple. But be very honest and clear.[/pullquote]

White explained that the science of behavior change may also afford important insights into strategies for health messaging. 

She described that humans and animals tend to engage in behaviors when there is a perceived benefit to themselves. Thus, when behavioral incentives are tied immediately to the desired action, which in the context of COVID-19 might include a reward for hand washing, physical distancing or receiving the vaccine, behavior change will be more likely.

“When it comes to … trying to extend [the science of behavior change] to health messaging, instead of just saying ‘hey you should wash your hands,’ you want to frame it into some perceived benefit for the individual.” White explained. For example, “if you wash your hands, you will spare yourself the undesirable consequence of getting sick.”

Professor of marketing at the School of Management and professor of psychology Nathan Novemsky studies behavioral economics specifically the best methods to nudge people to change their behaviors despite irrational beliefs or suboptimal habits.

Novemsky described that messages appealing to people’s altruistic or “pro-social” tendencies as well as a desire to conform to social norms can have a large impact on behavior, especially in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I don’t have hard data, but what strikes me as effective are some things like pointing to the social good,” Novemsky said. “You’re … for example wearing masks … not just to protect yourself. It’s about protecting those around you or it’s about being considerate to people and it’s rude not to wear a mask.”

When health messaging falls short  

Despite the potential of health messaging to inspire behavioral change, there are examples of where the United States faltered in this effort over the course of the past year, explained Vermund. According to Vermund and Gonsalves, the inconsistent messaging and lack of a clear focus on what needed to be done to keep people healthy undermined the United States’ response to the coronavirus. 

Vermund pointed specifically to inconsistencies in public health messaging from the Trump administration last year.

“Consistency of public health messaging we didn’t do well at all,” Vermund said. “If Donald Trump says, well, ‘maybe we can swallow bleach and kill the virus from the inside,’ and Debbie Birx doesn’t say anything to the contrary, I mean, that’s not consistent messaging.”

Vermund was referring to a White House coronavirus task force briefing on April 23 of last year, where the former White House Coronavirus Coordinator Deborah Birx, journalists and other members of the Trump administration were in attendance. During the press conference, former President Donald Trump suggested that further research should examine whether COVID-19 could be treated by injecting disinfectant into the body, an idea immediately debunked and lambasted by medical experts.

Vermund explained that distracting public health messages that focus on largely irrelevant details can also undermine successful public health campaigns and draw attention away from the issues that matter.

 “It’s really not important if the virus jumped out of a lab or the virus jumped out of an animal,” Vermund said. “[The virus’ origin] is not a public health interest because it doesn’t matter … If you then focus attention on something like that, you’re distracting people from what’s really important. The pandemic has swept across the world.” 

Gonsalves added that “deliberate misinformation” disseminated by the Trump administration contributed to the ineffectiveness of the government’s pandemic response in 2020.

[pullquote credit=”Gregg Gonsalves, assistant professor of epidemiology” align=”full” ]We need an autopsy, a thorough investigation of how facts were twisted in 2020. How did our nation’s prized health agencies get silenced, how did officials get driven to repeat falsehoods they knew to be untrue, how did data get suppressed and manipulated? We need to know in detail how this all went wrong, how it happened, who was involved and when.[/pullquote]

Gonsalves contrasted this to the current administration, saying that the Biden Administration has “re-centered public health messaging around science, expertise and evidence,” although there remain “missteps here and there.”

Still, Gonsalves emphasized that historically, promoting healthy behavioral changes has been challenging in nearly all realms of public health, including campaigns focused on healthy eating, smoking cessation or limiting substance use. 

He said that relying on health communications alone is not sufficient to promote significant behavioral change and that the government should focus on providing people with tools — such as masks and universal paid sick leave — to make healthy decisions.

“We need to incentivize better choices, by making it easier for people to do the right thing … so that people don’t have to choose between their livelihoods and safety,” Gonsalves said.

Lessons from a past health crisis

“We don’t have to always reinvent the wheel in public health messaging,” Vermund said, citing the “tried-and-true” strategies of consistent messaging driven by science, interpretable by the general public and tailored for select sub-audiences. To develop public health messaging for the coronavirus pandemic and other future pandemics, scientists drew on lessons learned from the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1980s and 1990s: the needs for clarity, depolarization and removal of stigma around a sickness, as well as the role of popular spokespeople in promoting behavioral change.

During the HIV/AIDS epidemic, Vermund remembered observing “abysmal” and ineffective communications coming from the CDC as well as other administrative agencies of the United States government.

“The messaging that came out of CDC and other government sources for HIV was embarrassing,” Vermund said. “It was hard to understand, they bent over backwards never to talk about sex, never to talk about injecting a needle in your arm. It was so constrained by the political points of view of the government at the time, the Reagan administration, that it was just awful.”

Vermund related the examples of the politicization of health messages during the Reagan administration to similar politicization surrounding COVID-19 public health messaging that he observed during 2020.

An August 2020 study published in the SAGE Public Health Emergency Collection suggested “that the high degree of politicization and polarization in initial COVID-19 coverage may have contributed to polarization in U.S. COVID-19 attitudes.”

Specifically, Vermund pointed to how Dan Patrick, the lieutenant governor of Texas, told Fox News in March of last year that senior citizens should “take a chance on your survival” to reopen the economy. Vermund classified this as a troubling example of how talk of letting the virus run rampant, as well as politicization of health messages, could be damaging to public health campaigns.

Vermund explained that a similar approach of “letting the virus run its course” was adopted in Sweden, a nation that never implemented a full lockdown, allowed restaurants and bars to remain open in 2020, refused to institute legal sanctions or mask mandates and instead appealed to its citizens’ sense of civic duty to practice healthy behaviors. Sweden had more fatalities from COVID-19 than all of the other Nordic countries combined by the end of 2020.

“The point is that you can lead people astray with false promises that may look convenient, because, conveniently we are not going to shut schools, conveniently we are going to keep businesses open, conveniently we’re going to just thrive in our society,” Vermund said. “[The United States] would have had over a million deaths from COVID if that point of view had been embraced.”

The United States should also reflect on the forms of stigma and discrimination displayed during the HIV/AIDS epidemic when working to craft better public health campaigns going forward, Gonsalves said. He is one of the co-founders of Treatment Action Group, an organization established in 1992 to advocate for better treatment and a cure for AIDS.

“Last year, we saw a rise in violence and harassment of Asian-Americans due to President Trump’s insistence on calling SARS-CoV-2, not by its proper name, but as the ‘China virus,” Gonsalves wrote. “This was a deliberate attempt to scapegoat a set of Americans for the pandemic. It is reminiscent of the scapegoating of gay men, people who use drugs, Haitians and others in the early years of the AIDS epidemic.” 

Vermund added that one of the most poignant lessons for public health messaging to be learned from the HIV/AIDS epidemic is the role that celebrity and popular spokespeople can play in influencing the public to adopt healthy behaviors.

Vermund explained that when Magic Johnson — an NBA superstar who led the Los Angeles Lakers to five championships over the course of his career — tested positive for HIV, it had a huge impact on the general public’s perception of HIV/AIDS testing and alleviating the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS.

 “When I was working in HIV, back years ago when Magic Johnson got an HIV test, he tested positive, turned out he had HIV, and he told everybody,” Vermund said. “We saw an uptick in testing in minority communities after his testing and his going public which was very dramatic. Everybody knows it’s the ‘Magic Johnson’ effect.”

Vermund added that more research should be conducted on the effectiveness of using popular spokespersons to pivot perspectives, but he remains optimistic that continued celebrity endorsement of COVID-19 vaccines will help to improve vaccine uptake in the months to come. Vermund cited Dolly Parton’s twitter video of herself receiving the first dose of the Moderna vaccine as an example of powerful messaging.

Vermund is currently working with the Creative Coalition — a Hollywood nonprofit that has collaborated with celebrities including Morgan Freeman — to transmit messages of COVID-19 health and hygiene to the greater public.

Novemsky added that spokesperson endorsements, particularly when these figures are some sort of expert, doctor or celebrity, are often quite powerful, particularly in the context of changing health behaviors and countering false or misinformed beliefs.

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[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”Data from the KFF COVID-19 Vaccine Monitor” credit=”Zully Arias, Production and Design Editor” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/MicrosoftTeams-image-22.png” ALIGN=”right”]

‘Four phenotypes’ of attitudes toward COVID-19 vaccines

Vermund explained that academics and public health officials engaging in health communications are contending with “four phenotypes” of people when it comes to vaccine uptake, ranging from those who closely follow public health guidelines to those who will not take the vaccine under any condition. 

The first group of individuals consists of doctors, nurses and members of the general public who largely heed the advice of public health experts to get the COVID-19 vaccine.  

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The second group, Vermund described, is composed of people who may be skeptical of the government or of the medical establishment, but do not have a fundamental distrust of vaccines in general — a group that the Kaiser Family Foundation, or KFF, has termed as the “wait and see” cohort.

“Since September until now, [the KFF] surveys of such individuals have shown a halving of the number,” Vermund said. “60 percent were ‘wait and see’ back in September. Now it’s only 30 percent. So there’s been an absolutely consistent shift from the ‘wait and see’ to the ‘I want to get vaccinated group.’ So that’s wonderful. There are many people in communities of color that are in that category.” 

The KFF reported that the two groups with the highest proportion of survey respondents in the “wait and see” category are currently Black people and individuals the ages of 18 to 25.

[photo headline=”” description=”” caption=”” credit=”Zully Arias, Production and Design Editor” src=”https://features.yaledailynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/MicrosoftTeams-image-24.png” ALIGN=”right”]

The third group includes individuals who will only consider getting vaccinated if it is necessary to participate in activities like flying on airplanes, or going to work or school, Vermund said. The fourth and final category includes people who will not get the vaccine, “end of subject,” he explained. 

‘Start with the evidence’: Messaging around vaccine hesitancy 

As the president of the Greater New Haven NAACP, Dumas has been working over the past year to encourage communities of color to get the COVID-19 vaccine. 

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Dumas explained that through collaboration with local clergy members and the use of churches as vaccine pop-up centers, the NAACP has made strides in promoting vaccine uptake in New Haven. Federal Emergency Management Agency mobile clinics as well as Fair Haven Community Health Care have aimed to do the same. 

“There’s still far too many people who have not been vaccinated but more and more are talking about it and more people in their own circle are starting to say you know, it’s not that bad, here’s the facts, here’s some straight information,” Dumas said. “I think those kinds of things have been helpful. I’m hoping that more and more people in the Black and brown communities will get the vaccine and more and more people will share why it’s so important. In order for us to get herd immunity, we need more people to advocate.”

Vermund said that consistent messaging will continue to be the key to counter vaccine hesitancy, bridge trust among skeptical communities and build confidence in what have been “among the safest and most efficacious vaccines ever developed in the history of vaccinology.”   

Dumas said that she is continuing to encourage the city of New Haven, Hamden and other localities, as well as hospitals, to supply communities with basic information on vaccines by spending money on marketing and information campaigns that will provide people with links or phone numbers to call if they have questions about vaccines. 

In an attempt to promote vaccine uptake around the world, Omer has also been collaborating with Facebook on a social media campaign to convey evidence-based messages on the vaccines in low- and middle-income countries. 

“We have learned again and again, start with the evidence,” Omer said. “You start with the evidence and you start with the reassurance that these vaccines are safe.”

Despite efforts to increase vaccine uptake on local, national and international scales, on April 13, 2021, the CDC and U.S. Food and Drug Administration called for a pause in the use of Johnson & Johnson’s Janssen COVID-19 Vaccine in response to six reports of cerebral sinus vein thrombosis — blood clotting in the brain — among women aged 18 to 48, out of more than seven million doses administered. Symptoms were reported by these patients six to 13 days after receiving the shot, and one of the cases was fatal. Following this announcement, Yale New Haven Health System suspended use of the J&J vaccine on April 13. 

When asked about how this pause on the J&J vaccine will impact the public’s trust in vaccines, Novemsky pointed to a principle in psychology called the “availability heuristic.” This idea says that when it is easy to bring examples of a tragedy to mind, people have a tendency to overestimate the actual probability of the threat.

For example, even though more than 7.2 million doses of the J&J vaccine had been administered in the United States, and only six cases of severe blood clotting were reported — constituting less than approximately 0.0009 percent of the population that received the J&J vaccine — Novemsky explained that these few cases might have a “disproportionate impact” on levels of vaccine hesitancy. 

“You know, death by omission, by not getting the vaccine and dying of COVID is something people worry about a lot less than errors of commission, ‘I take the vaccine and that kills me,” Novemsky explained. “Getting people to make a rational calculus is really very hard in these situations because of availability [heuristics] and the omission, commission bias that keep people from doing the right thing.”

Omer said that the argument that the pause on the J&J vaccine may impact vaccine acceptance negatively is a reasonable one. Still, Omer considered an alternative view.

“In the short run, [the pause on the J&J vaccine] may actually increase the confidence of people in vaccine safety” he said. “It’s not guaranteed. But if you have good messaging saying, look the CDC are being prudent about safety, that sends the message that they are not kidding around.”

A year of health messaging in review

When asked to reflect on the successes and failures of public health messaging from the past year of the pandemic, Vermund said that many policies from the last year have been suboptimal and that it is up to the public health community to fix these mistakes.  

“I do feel like all of us in the public health community need to learn how to better communicate to lay audiences and how to better communicate to policy makers,” Vermund said. 

Department chair of epidemiology Albert Ko added that inconsistent information from the CDC in the early days of the pandemic exacerbated already poor public health messaging. 

Gonsalves similarly described that last year’s events caught many public health leaders off-guard.  

“2020 in the U.S. was a lesson, a master class, in how to confuse, mislead the public, pit public health experts and scientists against ordinary Americans,” Gonsalves wrote. “Those of us working in public health need to up our game.” 

Omer noted that public health officials should work harder at communicating information about vaccine safety, especially as the rollout in the United States and abroad hastens. 

He described that the best way to convey messages moving forward is in a manner that is clear cut and rooted in science. He emphasized that the most important point when it comes to vaccines is that nothing is 100 percent safe, but that the vaccines are “incredibly safe” and the benefits on both an individual and collective scale far outweigh the risks. 

Ko acknowledged that unlike nations like Brazil — which has a universal healthcare system — the United States’ fragmented public health system merely compounded failures in public health messaging in the past year.

“We need an autopsy, a thorough investigation of how facts were twisted in 2020,” Gonsalves wrote. “How did our nation’s prized health agencies get silenced, how did officials get driven to repeat falsehoods they knew to be untrue, how did data get suppressed and manipulated? We need to know in detail how this all went wrong, how it happened, who was involved and when.”

The CDC reports 3,484,148 total cases of COVID-19 in the United States, while the World Health Organization reports over 141,057,106 confirmed cases of COVID-19 globally.

Sydney Gray | sydney.gray@yale.edu

Correction, Apr. 21: An earlier version misstated that White “supports the implementation of broad containment policies on the entire population that do not consider the relative risks of severe infection.” That sentence has been removed. The story has been updated.