University History

Lecturer Rashid Faisal wants you to remember — and see yourself in — Cornelius Henderson

lblouin — Mon, 18 Nov 2024 14:19:21 +0000

Lecturer Rashid Faisal wants you to remember — and see yourself in — Cornelius Henderson lblouin Mon, 11/18/2024 - 09:19

Two years ago, the University of Michigan announced the launch of the Inclusive History Project, an initiative aimed at studying and documenting the history of the university that’s attentive to diversity, equity and inclusion. But ��-Dearborn Education Lecturer and ’20 EdD alum Rashid Faisal has been chasing down the life story of a 1911 African American U-M engineering grad for a lot longer than that. When Faisal first learned of Cornelius Henderson in 2006 during a conversation with one of his wife’s colleagues, Faisal was surprised he’d never heard of Henderson before, given that African American history is a subject he studies pretty intensely. According to the one-pager he was handed, Henderson was an engineer who was pivotal in two of the most groundbreaking early civil engineering projects in Detroit, the Ambassador Bridge and the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel. The other detail that immediately caught Faisal’s attention: Henderson attended one of Faisal’s alma maters — the University of Michigan — at a time when it had very few non-white students. “We knew very little about the Black students at the university who attended well before what we would consider the affirmative action era of the 1960s,” Faisal explains. “I mean, we’re talking about 1906 when Henderson started as a student. What was his life like? What was his experience like? It just opened up this window for me to try to learn more about the early African American students at the university.”

When Faisal began that research, he learned of people like George Jewett, who, in the 1890s, became the first African American varsity football player at U-M. And there was Eddie Tolan, a world-record-setting Olympic sprinter who ran track at the university in the 1930s. But Faisal was continually drawn in by the details of Henderson’s story. The rough existing sketch of Henderson’s life that existed at the time was that he was the only African American student in the engineering college and was a standout student despite being isolated by his white classmates. When Henderson graduated and began looking for work, he was denied by every engineering firm in Detroit — except one, which offered him a janitorial position. Fortunately, a chance encounter with one of his U-M classmates led to a better opportunity: The young man urged Henderson to apply for work at his employer, the Canadian Bridge Company in Windsor. Henderson took the advice and ended up building a career there that spanned 47 years, climbing the company ladder from entry-level draftsman to structural design engineer by the time of the Ambassador Bridge and Detroit-Windsor Tunnel projects.

Education Lecturer Rashid Faisal has been chasing down the story of Cornelius Henderson for nearly two decades. Photo by Annie Barker

That general story alone made Henderson an interesting figure, but Faisal was hungry for more of the textural details of his life. And as he did more research, he often encountered things that complicated the traditional narrative. First and foremost, the young Henderson, the University of Michigan student, was often assumed to be a person who endured isolation as the college’s lone Black student. Faisal says one of his professors even described being particularly impressed by Henderson’s achievements in mathematics and science because he, unlike his white classmates, did his work “without help.” But Faisal says other details of Henderson’s life give us reason to question this assumption. Henderson, Faisal says, would have been part of what W.E.B. Dubois often called the “Talented Tenth” — a term for an influential class of early 20th-century African American leaders who were highly educated and dedicated to bettering circumstances for Black Americans. Henderson’s father was a college president and considered one of the most highly educated men of his era. His mother was a teacher. His older brother also attended U-M, went to medical school at the Detroit College of Medicine and became a prominent Detroit doctor. And though he was likely the only Black student in the college of engineering, he shared a rich social life with other Black students who were members of the Epsilon Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, the oldest Black fraternity at U-M. His fraternity brothers included people like Richard Hill, a U-M law student who later mentored Thurgood Marshall. “Henderson came from a certain kind of Black American cultural capital: the Black church, the Black fraternity system and historically Black colleges and universities,” Faisal says. “So, from an outsider's point of view, it may have appeared he was doing this all on his own. But just because the culture of support was rendered invisible doesn’t mean the culture didn’t exist. In many ways, he was part of the elite of American society at that time.”

Aside from the Ambassador Bridge and Detroit-Windsor Tunnel, Henderson contributed to a wide variety of projects, including serving as architect and engineer for Memorial Park Cemetery, the first Black cemetery in Detroit. Faisal has uncovered evidence that indicates Henderson was also involved in the construction of multiple apartment buildings and hospitals in the city. Photo courtesy of Rashid Faisal

Faisal thinks recognizing that Henderson’s achievement didn’t happen in a vacuum is important for a number of reasons. First, he says casting Henderson as exceptional, or doing what he did “without help,” feeds the so-called “magical Negro” narrative, a racist trope from the era that framed Black intellectual achievement as unusual. Moreover, in erasing the context for Henderson’s admittedly remarkable life and rendering him only as a talented person who overcame obstacles, we make his story less accessible and relatable to contemporary audiences. For example, it’s long been a priority for higher education institutions to increase representation of Black students in STEM disciplines. But Faisal says if we’re erasing or misrepresenting historical examples like Henderson, we’re failing to give today’s students the opportunity to see themselves not as trailblazers in a field where they've historically not “belonged,” but as part of a long story of achievement in which they are simply the latest chapter. “In the absence of historical memory, we ask students to understand what they’re doing as new when we have a blueprint from the past,” Faisal says.

Indeed, over his many years as an educator of both K-12 and college students, Faisal has leveraged Henderson’s story to challenge students’ views of themselves, others and history. He’s used Henderson’s life as a leaping off point for students to do oral histories of their own families, a project that’s led many students to discover unknown family legacies of college attendance, including some first-generation college students who realized they actually aren’t the first. In 2016, Faisal led a team of fourth-, fifth- and sixth-graders, who did their own research on Henderson and created a traveling exhibition, which they presented throughout southeast Michigan, including to a class of ��-Dearborn graduate students, and which was on display at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History for an entire year. Most recently, with support from an Inclusive History Project grant, Faisal asked ��-Dearborn students in his multicultural education course to reckon with the “multiple identity” features of Henderson’s life, especially the sometimes conflicting forces of his race and social class. The results were fascinating. Faisal found it interesting, for example, how easily one Arab American engineering student was able to find herself in Henderson’s story, as she faced similar challenges as a woman in a predominantly male field. For one white male student, it was a revelation that a Black intellectual class even existed at that time. “I had one student who wondered if maybe the discrimination Henderson faced in looking for a job was based on his language,” Faisal recalls. “And I found this so interesting because her comments seemed to be based in certain assumptions of her understanding of the Black vernacular, when in reality, Henderson, because he came from an elite class, probably talked like the rest of the guys in those engineering firms. But I was glad she made that point. It shows that what we see today informs our understanding of the past, and that we often try to understand things that are unfamiliar to us in terms of what is familiar.” Faisal says the hope in doing an exercise like this is that students, when they’re out in the world working as educators, will approach issues of identity in a more nuanced way. “So when that student is out there teaching her unit on Black history, maybe she won’t just reach for Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass,” Faisal explains. “She’ll reach for the lesser-known figures. She’ll make the cross-cultural comparisons. And when you do that, the story becomes alive.”

Along with Howard Lindsay, Lurine Moncrease and Sharon Sexton, members of the Black Historical Sites Committee at the Detroit Historical Museum, Faisial helped create a new historical marker honoring Henderson in Detroit’s Riverside Park. Photo by Annie Barker

Henderson has now been part of Faisal’s life for nearly 20 years, and in some ways, he may be reaching the end of what he can do with the historical record. Unfortunately, many of the details of Henderson’s engineering achievements were likely lost in a fire that destroyed a significant portion of the Canadian Bridge Company’s historical records. But Faisal reckons he’s not quite done with Henderson. He’s thinking his next project might be a book series on Henderson’s life for children and young adults. And he’s hopeful that the next round of Inclusive History Project funding will enable him to create a walking tour of sites connected to the history of U-M’s early Black students, which would include a new historical marker honoring Henderson in Detroit’s Riverside Park near the Ambassador Bridge. “From my perspective, everything U-M is doing with the Inclusive History Project, it’s all positives and no negatives,” Faisal says. “I could see this as a project across all major universities with long histories — and I hope they follow our lead.”

###

Story by Lou Blouin

Faculty and Staff

Inclusion or Diversity

Student Success

University History

College of Education, Health, and Human Services

Education

Off

Mon, 11/18/2024 - 14:17

With an Inclusive History Project grant, the education lecturer is challenging his students to reckon with the nearly forgotten life story of a 1911 African American U-M grad who became an accomplished Detroit civil engineer.

Cornelius Henderson attended U-M at a time when it had very few Black students and went on to contribute to two of the most ambitious early civil engineering projects in Detroit: the Ambassador Bridge and Detroit-Windsor Tunnel. Photo by Annie Barker

The incomparable Bruce Maxim

stuxbury — Mon, 28 Oct 2024 20:56:08 +0000

The incomparable Bruce Maxim stuxbury Mon, 10/28/2024 - 16:56

The day I’m scheduled to talk with Bruce Maxim, the first of two conversations we’re to have about his four-decade-long career at ��-Dearborn, he’s about 15 minutes late. When he does log on to Zoom, he explains that he lost track of time; he was finishing a letter of recommendation for a student. He tells me he does about 30 or 40 of these a year, which, though no one keeps statistics on such things, sounds like a lot. In any case, it feels like a window into the status Maxim holds among his students that so many would put their faith in him for something requiring a personal touch. It perhaps also feels noteworthy because Maxim doesn’t come across as a particularly gushy person. His care vibe is more that of a straight-talking father or grandfather. A little soft around the edges, yes, but mostly someone you love and respect because he’ll always make time for you and you can count on him for useful, life-tested guidance. True to form, Maxim’s own explanation for why close relationships with students have become part of his yearly routine is concise and straightforward. “I think I just listen to them,” he says. “I had a student who came to me early in the semester because she was going to miss some time because she was getting married and was going on her honeymoon. And so a couple weeks later, I asked her how her trip was, and she just lit up and told me all about it. Honestly, I don’t always remember their names. I’m terrible with names. But I remember stuff about them and what’s important to them.”

Even leading his classes, Maxim says his primary mode of teaching these days is listening, though that reflects a personal evolution. He came of age in academia when lectures were pretty much exclusively how university professors handled themselves in front of students and so that’s how he did it for the first two decades of his career. But in-class lectures haven’t been his go-to for at least a decade. They’re almost as extinct as the final exam, which he did away with a number of years ago to make time for student presentations. He does generally ask students to do a before-class reading assignment and maybe watch an essentials-only recorded lecture that rarely exceeds 15 minutes. That leaves class time for groups projects, role-playing exercises, student presentations and feedback — what he still calls “active learning,” an antecedent of project- or practice-based learning, which, today, is one of the major cross-college education initiatives at ��-Dearborn. If it’s one of the early weeks in his popular game design course, for instance, students might present a paper prototype storyboard for their game so they can get feedback from the other students. If it’s his software engineering course, one group might pretend to be a client who needs a new software application, while another group role plays as the developer, the two engaging in a fact-finding back-and-forth that Maxim says any successful developer has to get good at. He says subjects for the projects are always of the students’ choosing, noting he has little interest in hearing 15 students present the same project over and over. Maxim, himself, usually spends class time just walking around the room, eavesdropping on students as they problem solve, “offering a pithy critique” as needed to help them push through an obstacle. To accommodate all the brainstorming, feedback and on-the-fly design, he used to carry eight 2-feet-by-4-feet white boards from his office to class and back. Now, he loves teaching in the new Engineering Lab Building classrooms, where students can literally write on the glass walls. The state-of-the-art architecture has finally caught up with his educational philosophy.

The trust he puts in students to direct their own learning is certainly part of what’s made Maxim one of the most beloved professors at ��-Dearborn. But his ability to connect with his students likely also has something to do with the fact that, had he been born 50 years later, he’d probably be just like a lot of them. At age 72, Maxim is still relatable. For example, he loves video games — he’s been playing them since the 1970s and still plays today, though much less and now he prefers games that don’t feel all-consuming. (He is, however, indulging his granddaughter's desire to teach him Minecraft.) With his interest in technology, it’s also hard not seeing a Gen Z Maxim find his way, as he did as a student in the 1970s, into the computer science field. Today, that’s a pretty straightforward path for students, but it was a lot different back then. He says when he enrolled as an undergraduate at the University of Michigan in 1970, there were just two classes in computer science, which, at that time, was still seen as a branch of mathematics. It certainly wasn’t something you could major in. When I ask him how, then, he ended up in the field, he actually has to take a second to think about exactly how it all happened.

Maxim with students in one of his popular game design courses. Photo by Julianne Lindsey

Indeed, much of what ultimately led Maxim to a career in computer science is a mix of circumstance and curiosity. He figures it likely started when he took a position as a research assistant while he was doing his undergraduate work at U-M. Part of his job there was to do statistical analysis, which involved using the office’s computers. It’s worth noting that computers in the mid-1970s had a limited range of functions. Lacking any of today’s niceties, like graphical user interfaces, Maxim says computers were used almost exclusively for numerical computations that humans would only be able to do much more slowly. As a mathematics student, he found this early form of computing interesting and intuitive, and he soon made a habit of not only doing what he was told, but of figuring out new things the office could use the computers for. The work suited him, so he enrolled in one of the few computer science courses at U-M, a class in basic programming for mathematics graduate students that was taught by a friend of his.

More often, Maxim’s computer science education came from real-world experiences. During his time as a PhD student in mathematics education at U-M, he had a plethora of side jobs, which, because of the expertise he was building, increasingly involved computers. When he was working part-time as a teacher at Greenhills School in Ann Arbor, for example, he started computer literacy and computer programming courses. Around the same time, he worked for a “brilliant statistician” in the U-M epidemiology department, where Maxim did analysis for a community health study and eventually worked the four other statisticians there out of a job because he was so productive. Later, when the dean of curriculum at the U-M Medical School needed someone to run the instructional computing course, Maxim not only took on that role, he expanded the curriculum to include a couple dozen workshops a year that helped doctors, nurses and staff use computers for everything from graphing to complex statistical analysis.

Eventually, Maxim built up enough expertise where he thought about making computer science the focus of an academic career. His own PhD was in mathematics education, but he never enjoyed teaching math as much as he did computer science. In the early 1980s, he started teaching programming at Washtenaw Community College, while keeping an eye out for something more permanent. He applied for an opening at ��-Dearborn and got his foot in the door as a visiting adjunct assistant professor in the mathematics department. But, just like everywhere else he worked, Maxim made an impression that quickly led to more opportunity. “I started off teaching pre-calculus, which I took because I honestly wanted to see if I could still tolerate teaching introductory math,” Maxim remembers. “But then they had an opening for 150, the intro course in computer science, and they offered me that. Then the next semester they moved me up to 200, and then they had me teach two or three computer classes that summer.” Impressed, the department offered him a one-year visiting appointment in the fall. Maxim finally felt confident enough to quit all his side jobs.

The following year, a retirement led to an opening for a tenure track assistant professor position, which Maxim landed, and just a year after that, they made him assistant director of the computer and information science program. In those days, CIS was still such a new discipline, nobody knew quite what to do with it. Maxim says the program was initially housed in something called the Division for Interdisciplinary Studies, which no college really owned. But CIS quickly attracted so many students — about 500 majors by 1990 — that it became a little bit of a “bloodbath” fight over which college would get CIS when it was judged to need a permanent home. It ultimately landed within the College of Engineering in 1992, but the transition was messy. For example, Maxim had to resign his position in mathematics and then have faith that the engineering dean would reappointment him there. There was no department chair and very little funding. As Maxim recalls, money was so short he was instructed to “steal” his furniture and computer from his office in the mathematics department. He loaded the latter onto a dolly and wheeled it over to his new office himself.

In those early days, he says the curriculum was a work in progress too. When Maxim arrived in 1985, he recalls a lot of the courses were in need of an overhaul. But within five years, he and his colleagues had updated courses to the most recent curriculum recommendations and launched several new classes, many of which Maxim created. He launched the first course in artificial intelligence at ��-Dearborn in 1988. He created the first software engineering course in 1995, which seeded the development of the first accredited software engineering bachelor’s program in the state in 2002. (Maxim also co-authored what’s been the leading textbook in software engineering for three decades.) And, of course, many know Maxim as the architect of the game design program — one of the earliest in the country — which attracts students who want to build games, but also grad students in a variety of disciplines who see it as a way to improve their use of simulations.

Gray bobby pins are a Maxim fashion accessory. He started wearing them when he grew out his hair and needed something practical to keep his hair out of his eyes. "I initially tried barrettes, but they were too big," he says. Photo by Annie Barker

Maxim powered a lot of innovation within CIS, but his untraditional credentials, born of a time when official computer science bonafides were more of a rarity, sometimes proved to be a professional stumbling block. “When we created the software engineering class, we taught it as a ‘topics’ class for two years,” Maxim explains. “And when we brought in a department chair, who was a software engineer, he said, ‘Bruce, why the hell isn’t this a regular class?’ And I explained to him that it was because the executive committee in engineering won’t let me teach it then — they think I’m unqualified.” (His department chair went to bat for him and he got to keep the class.) Twice, he used his sabbatical to audit classes at U-M so he’d have a record of coursework in areas he was already well-versed in. Perhaps his most surprising career statistic: It took him six attempts to secure his promotion to full professor. The final time, he almost gave up, until the new dean, Tony England, personally urged him to resubmit the application Maxim had decided to withdraw. Now, Maxim jokes that he at least makes more than the incoming assistant professors, “unless we’re hiring a superstar.”

Some of these professional roadblocks may also have been due to the fact that Maxim wasn’t particularly focused on workplace politics. Early on in his career, during the original battle over CIS, he sided with students on a volatile issue, which he’s pretty sure burned a bridge with the dean. Those who know Maxim know he’s not a combative person, but he is sort of a gadfly, both within his department and at the university. “It’s always been very hard for me to see a problem and not try to do something to fix it,” he says, describing his style of confrontation succinctly as “squeaky wheel.” In the early days, he says, that might have rubbed some people the wrong way. Now, you get the sense he’s respected for it — no doubt in part because Maxim has put in countless hours on dozens of committees, including Faculty Senate, trying to make things better. When he was honored with the most recent of several distinguished service awards he received from the university, he says they told him he’d “been on 110 committees and chaired 70 of them.” Maxim assumes they counted right, downplaying the achievement by saying if he chaired so many committees, that means other people were probably doing a lot of the work.

Maxim has now been at ��-Dearborn for 41 years. That’s saying something for a guy who proclaims, with a hint of pride, a history of quitting jobs when he doesn't like the people he works for. Maybe he’s not always gotten his due, but if there is a chip on his shoulder about that, it doesn’t appear too heavy. Part of that is because teaching — and the relationships he has with his students — has always been the part of his job that brings him the most joy. He says when he does retire — probably in three years — it’s easy to pick out what he’ll miss the most. It’s the “whole teaching thing,” he says, especially the time after class when students are looking for guidance, not on the assignment he just gave them, but on something going on with their lives. Sometimes they’re looking for advice on “big, life changing stuff,” like whether to quit a job, or maybe even quit a relationship. Maxim isn’t one to dole out advice, not directly. “I can’t tell you what to do. I can only tell you what I would do,” he says. “Yeah, I quit three jobs because I couldn’t stand the people I was working for or the situation was ethically incompatible for me. But I can’t tell you if that’s the right thing for you — because I don’t know what your family obligations are or what your financial constraints are.”

What he will do, though, is make time for you. To share his own perspective, but probably mostly to listen and understand. And you can always count on Maxim to give it to you straight.

###

Story by Lou Blouin

Faculty and Staff

University History

College of Engineering and Computer Science

Off

Mon, 10/28/2024 - 20:55

One of the architects of ��-Dearborn’s modern computer science department reflects on his career as a squeaky wheel and why he thinks professors should talk less and listen more.

Professor Bruce Maxim stands in his office among an accumulated 40 years of books, papers, electronics and memories. Photo by Annie Barker

Old, new, maize and blue: The new campus archive plan includes all

rudmehta — Thu, 08 Sep 2022 14:46:00 +0000

Old, new, maize and blue: The new campus archive plan includes all rudmehta Thu, 09/08/2022 - 10:46

This article was originally published on October 7, 2019.

Civil rights activist Rosa Parks, poet Nikki Giovanni, President Bill Clinton and President George H.W. Bush have all walked on the same campus that you do nearly everyday.

Surprised? So was Librarian Julia Daniel Walkuski. While looking through campus archive photos, Walkuski says it’s exciting to see the number of prominent people interacting with students, faculty and staff during ��-Dearborn’s 60 years.

“We have so much history here. I can’t believe how many high-profile people’s photos and papers I’ve seen while looking through the library’s archive. Artists, activists, philanthropists, political figures — we’ve had the majority of presidents from the past 50 years here,” says Walkuski, Mardigian Librarian and newly named archivist. “It’s all in the campus archives.”

As interesting as ��-Dearborn’s history is, Walkuski — and anyone on campus who’s tried to find historic information — says it’s not always the easiest to find what you’re looking for or the circumstances that created some moments in campus history. With that in mind, she has a request to people with long-term ties to campus: “Please reach out to me. I’d like to go through the archives with you and hear what you remember about items we have in our collection.” She says the more information people share, the better the archive will be for everyone.

Besides meeting with people who have experienced campus life for decades, Walkuski has been busy improving the archive in other ways. Earlier this year, she researched how to make the items available for all, working with a U-M School of Information graduate student to develop a strategic plan for the archive.

The takeaway? Instead of grouping items by donation date, group them by subject matter and digitize. The campus archive is now in the reorganization process.

“I understand why the archiving process here was by donation date. Many archives do it that way and it works for them,” says Walkuski, a certified archivist. “But we have so many requests for images tied to a campus anniversary or celebration — for example Homecoming — that it makes sense to group materials by subject instead of going through folders and boxes in an effort to find information about the annual event.” In addition to the reorganization, she’ll create “finding aids,” which are documents that contains details about what materials — for example, speeches, programs, images and years of each — are included in the archive collections.

While looking through the collections, Walkuski has noticed that there’s a bit of a gap with items shared with the archive in the digitized age. So she’d like faculty, staff and retirees to contact her with any materials you have that are tied to campus events, research or experiences. For people to get the most out of the archive, involvement is key.

“Send what you have to me; digital files are fine. There is a bit of a gap in our collection today, and in the recent past, because we keep it on the computer and might not think about it. Or it’s not thought of as history because we are living it now. But it may be important when talking about campus in the future, and we don’t want to lose parts of the university’s story because documents aren’t tangible like they used to be.”

Walkuski says reorganization is only a first step. She’s also working with ��-Dearborn student Maggie VanBuhler to digitize the collection. With the collection size and reorganization, it may take a few years, but Walkuski says it will get done. And, based on suggestions from U-M Information Sciences, the library is also looking into content management systems.

“We want this information shared and the goal is to have the archive available to you right at your fingertips.”

Faculty and Staff

University History

Mardigian Library

Off

Mon, 10/07/2019 - 05:00

Mardigian Library is researching how to increase archive access across campus and looking to learn more about campus’ 60-year history from longtime faculty and staff.

Class of ‘73 classmates look back on their formative years at ��-Dearborn

rudmehta — Thu, 18 Aug 2022 18:09:32 +0000

Class of ‘73 classmates look back on their formative years at ��-Dearborn rudmehta Thu, 08/18/2022 - 14:09

This article was originally published on November 25, 2019.

Mechanical engineering was one of two inaugural programs at ��-Dearborn when it opened in 1959, and a few weeks back, dozens of current students, alumni, professors and professors emeritus gathered on campus to celebrate the department’s 60th anniversary. It was a day filled with both big-picture reflections on how far the university has come and colorful personal anecdotes from the old days. Among those sharing a few of the latter were Tom Demmon and Jim Gingrich — two Grand Rapids natives who have been friends since middle school and who were recruited to ��-Dearborn in 1971. After the anniversary events, we tracked down Tom and Jim to talk about their time here, their experience with campus housing (yes, that was a thing in the ‘70s) and how their college experience shaped their lives.

The Reporter: So even today, the vast majority of our students come from the metro Detroit area. You want to tell us how a couple guys from Grand Rapids ended up here at ��-Dearborn in the early 1970s?

Tom Demmon: So Jim and I have been friends since 7th grade. We went to high school together, and then went to what was, at the time, Grand Rapids Junior College. One day, a representative from ��-Dearborn came to campus to speak with us. I remember it was supposed to be someone else, but Professor George Kurajian was a last-minute substitution. When we met him, he was just the nicest guy in the world, smiled ear-to-ear, and, of course, he was incredibly brilliant. I think he had us convinced right then and there to go to ��-Dearborn.

Reporter: You remember it the same way, Jim?

Jim Gingrich: Absolutely. I remember when George came and spoke with us and told us about all the benefits of ��-Dearborn, it just felt like we could really do this. I had a great family, but we had a limited income. I’d saved up money for school working for two years while I was going to community college, but I knew I probably wouldn’t have enough to get through a place like Michigan. What was unique about ��-Dearborn was its co-op program. That meant I could work and pay for school as I went. Without that, I might have been able to afford one or two terms at Michigan, but there was no way I could graduate; and in those days, student loans weren’t a common thing. So having the opportunity to co-op was what made it possible.

Reporter: Give us a snapshot of what that co-op system looked like.

Tom: Well, when we got there, I think the university was just starting its first four-year programs, and engineering and business were only junior- and senior-level co-op programs. So everybody that was in our mechanical engineering cohort of 12 students had two years of college somewhere else. At that time, you alternated between work and classes every semester. So we did three semesters of work with four semesters of school. And Jim and I were fortunate enough to get co-op assignments right away. I got into Chrysler and Jim got in at Federal Mogul. We felt pretty lucky, because the economy was really bad and jobs weren’t plentiful. I completed three semesters at three different locations within Chrysler, and when I graduated, I got a couple job offers from Chrysler and about three other offers. I think it was because we had the experience. We came out of that program not just knowing the theory, but knowing how to be engineers. Companies really loved that.

One big difference between the student experience today and Tom and Jim’s days at ��-Dearborn: They lived right on the main campus. Here's Tom cooking with his wife in their apartment on the south side of campus.

Reporter: And Jim, how’d you fare right after graduation?

Well, it was tremendous. Even though we graduated six months or so later than the kids who had gone to a non-co-op program, we already had a year of on-the-job experience. So in November, just before graduation, I had a very good job offer from Federal Mogul. And I had another great offer back in Grand Rapids. To have two opportunities, at that time, was really exciting. I had been dating my girlfriend for four years; she was an R.N. in Kalamazoo and going to school and I was down at U-M. We wanted to get married, and I said we could go for it as long as we could make $5,000 in a year. So when she graduated and I was close to graduating, we did the math: We figured out between her job in Detroit and the money I would make during my summer co-op, we would make exactly $5,000 that year. When we got home from our two-day honeymoon on Lake Michigan, we had 39 cents in our checkbook. But we felt like we were going to make it. We had two used cars that both ran. We weren’t going to have any debt. There was so much excitement for the future.

Reporter: Wow, that’s amazing. And so careerwise, did you end up staying in the engineering field?

Tom: So right out of school, I went to work for Chrysler’s Institute of Engineering. That was really attractive to me because you rotated around for two years and got a new assignment every three months in their research and development center. While I was doing that, I also got my master’s at ��-Dearborn. It was a pretty great situation because you only had to work three days a week while you were taking your classes, and I never saw a tuition bill because Chrysler just picked it up. I enjoyed it, but my time overlapped with one of the periodic downturns, and I got laid off for three months. So here you were, a 20-something ready to go in your career and you end up in the unemployment line. It kind of soured me on staying in the automotive industry.

I went back to Grand Rapids after leaving Chrysler and I worked in various roles, including engineering, project management, consulting, teaching and leadership. I worked in material handling for about a decade. Then I went to Steelcase for 17 years. And I worked another 15 years at Grand Valley State University, where I ended up working with students in co-op and career services. In fact now, in my “retirement,” I’m working part-time as a career services advisor in U-M’s College of Engineering. So I guess you could say I’ve returned to my roots. That co-op experience at ��-Dearborn meant so much to me, and I still feel like it’s the best way to teach engineering. It’s an applied science, so you need to blend the theory with real-world experience. I’d love to see more universities return to that model.

Reporter: And where did your career path lead you after ��-Dearborn, Jim?

Jim: Right out of school, my wife and I returned to Grand Rapids, and I took a job at Conveyor Logic. I was actually the first college graduate engineer this company had hired, and I eventually became the VP of engineering and sales. It was exciting because it was a rapidly growing company, and I got to hire my own staff. But I left there after about eight years when I got an opportunity to join Herman Miller. I was so fascinated by their marketing programs, so I did a bit of a career change, and I worked as a technical person in the product marketing area. At that time, there were all these new electronics companies sprouting up in the U.S., like Hewlett Packard and Texas Instruments, and we were designing and building office environments for them. I loved seeing the business side of it. But then about two years in, the engineering group had an opening, so I flipped back. I worked first in new product development and eventually became VP of engineering at Herman Miller. It was very exciting for me to have all those different opportunities, and the company was growing so quickly. I think when I started it was about a $300-million company; when I left it was a $1.2-billion company. And the innovation and the high level of engineering at Herman Miller meant we could build nearly anything the designers could come up with.

I’ll second what Tom says about co-op education. If it were up to me, I’d have everybody do it. It’s the best way to learn, but it’s also a great way to find out if something is what you really want to do. The last thing you want to do is spend all this time in college training for a career that’s not a good match for you, and you want to find that out as early as possible. I was fortunate enough to have a co-op program that allowed me to explore something I loved. You know that saying, If you love what you do, you never work a day in your life? That’s exactly how I feel when I look back at my career. And I really think the University of Michigan prepared me for all of it.

University History

College of Engineering and Computer Science

Mechanical Engineering

Off

Mon, 11/25/2019 - 06:00

Longtime friends Tom Demmon (right) and Jim Gingrich shared a ��-Dearborn experience that, in some ways, looks a lot different than the student experience today. But the impacts of their education are everything we still strive for.

Fifty years of creative expression

stuxbury — Tue, 17 May 2022 01:05:38 +0000

Fifty years of creative expression stuxbury Mon, 05/16/2022 - 21:05

The floppy disk. Atari video game consoles. The VCR. All of these were revolutionary when Lyceum debuted. And the campus’ creative writing journal outlasted them all.

With a history as rich and sophisticated as Lyceum, the 50th-anniversary celebrations at the newly inaugurated Wolverine Commons last month were much more than just a release party. As Lyceum heads into the second half of its first century, the student organization’s key figures spoke at length about what Lyceum strives for.

“Lyceum is a community of people interested in the creative arts from all different walks of life and majors and interests,” said College of Arts, Sciences, and Letters faculty member P.F. Potvin. “The priority is to celebrate the diversity of experiences and voices in our community. This includes students, alumni, faculty and staff. It’s a very nonrestrictive environment, allowing you to explore the many aspects of the human condition.”

Reflecting on the five decades of Lyceum, Potvin says it is significant that the print journal still exists even after 50 years. He was a visiting writer for Lyceum before joining campus as a Composition and Rhetoric lecturer. Fast forward a decade from his first Lyceum experience — he became the faculty adviser in 2015 after Lecturer Tija Spitsberg retired.

The 50th-anniversary publication is a one-of-kind mega edition with multiple years of student creative contributions and a cover that’s a collage of the past Lyceum artwork from 1972 through now. It's much more than just a milestone for Lyceum. It also celebrates the evolution of the creative arts while still staying true to its roots.

“Being physically published year after year shows the investment and value in arts that ��-Dearborn believes in and puts the resources to help us continue doing that. Contributions have increased with more time for students to work on their submissions and think in many ways,” Potvin said.

Ava Abramowicz, a sophomore majoring in Professional Writing and Rhetoric and Journalism and Screen Studies, is the Lyceum publishing editor. She took over the role last August when the opportunity arose. “I was looking through Victor’s Link to gauge the clubs, and I found Lyceum, which aligned with my hobbies and interests in writing and fine arts, photography and poetry. As the publishing editor, my tasks include creating posters, publishing info on social media, and running the website."

Significant changes in the organization have happened over the last two years, the biggest being the transition into Wolverine Media Network (WMN). WMN is the umbrella organization that houses campus’ creative outlets like Lyceum, the Michigan Journal and W��D Radio.

“The change was announced in my freshman year when I didn’t know the magnitude of WMN,” Abramowicz stated. “Funding has been a struggle because publishing is expensive, leaving little room for other events. However, the WMN merger gave us more space to collaborate within and outside the WMN.”

Potvin said Lyceum officers share the roles in putting the publication together and running workshops. Collaboration is key, and the students are competent regardless of their prior experience. Lyceum is open to all majors.

“They do a great job, and I am in awe of their work. In my role, I offer advice and suggestions for the finer workings and help out with the process as much as I can. However, the mentoring program where each member looks out for the other helps bridge any gap quickly, and everyone knows what everyone is up to. The growth is tremendous and always visible no matter what major a student is pursuing.”

No matter what changes, the long-time student organization continues to be a voice and platform for all different people from various backgrounds, helping them express themselves through the written word.

Copies of Lyceum’s 50th Anniversary edition are available in the University Center, room 2128. You can also contact Potvin for a copy.

Text by Rudra Mehta.

College of Arts, Sciences, and Letters

Language, Culture, and the Arts

Student Life

Off

Tue, 05/17/2022 - 01:05

The 50th-anniversary publication of Lyceum is a one-of-kind mega edition with multiple years of student creative contributions and a cover that’s a collage of the past Lyceum artwork from 1972 through now. It's much more than just a milestone for Lyceum — it also celebrates the evolution of the creative arts while still staying true to its roots.

‘Preparing our youngest learners for success in the future’

stuxbury — Sun, 15 Aug 2021 15:13:17 +0000

‘Preparing our youngest learners for success in the future’ stuxbury Sun, 08/15/2021 - 11:13

Photo Early Childhood Education Center student learning about space travel

During the past 50 years, ��-Dearborn’s Early Childhood Education Center has educated nearly 10,000 children — and thousands of teachers.

“It’s incredible to think about the impact that the ECEC has had on the community and beyond in these 50 years,” said Catie Stone, 2005 ��-Dearborn early education alumna. “And it’s not just on the children who were taught here or the teachers who came from the program. It’s the kids who indirectly benefited because they had a great teacher inspired by this really special place.”

Stone would know. Not only did she attend the education lab school as a child in the 1980s, she also did her teaching practicum at the ECEC as a ��-Dearborn student in the early 2000s. And later, after earning her Master’s degree, Stone landed a position as an ECEC lead teacher.

Now teaching at the school for more than a decade, Stone said she enjoys watching her former students return to the center and participate in activities like coming in as guests to read to the younger children or writing letters to share how much the center meant to them.

“The center gave me a strong sense of community at an early age; I kept in touch with my teachers. And now some of my students continue to keep in touch with me. Time has passed, but connections made here remain strong. We are a family.”

The adage says that it takes a village to raise a child. And research shows that the people in our early education systems play an important role in helping raise a child to become a successful adult. Not only does early education increase high school graduation rates by double digits, it also improves the likelihood of having a higher-earning job, owning a home and earning a post-high school education.

“It’s preparing our youngest learners for success in the future. And that’s about more than academics — it’s social and critical thinking skills too,” said ECEC Academic Director Sarah Davey. “Much at the ECEC has changed over the past 50 years. We’ve grown. We’ve changed buildings. But what hasn’t changed is our commitment to educating children through creating lesson plans around their interests and having our highly trained teachers guide a new generation of teachers. We are a family of educators who do this enthusiastically because we know the value of early education.”

And it’s this principle of community and engaged learning that the ECEC was founded on. Started as a childcare and educational co-op in 1971, faculty, staff and students would bring their children to the Henry Ford Estate — which is on the southwest side of campus — and the kids would spend the day at and around Ford’s historic mansion.

Professor Rosalyn Saltz, right, is pictured in this early 1990s photo at the campus’ Henry Ford Estate cottages, the location of the center from the late 1970s until 2008.

Education Professor Emerita Rosalyn Saltz, who taught at ��-Dearborn from 1970 until her retirement in 1996, founded the program after seven returning students asked for her assistance in proposing the idea of on-campus childcare to campus’ leadership.

“The 1970s saw a surge in the number of young mothers who wished to pursue a college education. For many of these women, fulfilling this ambition at ��-Dearborn would have been almost impossible if there were not the opportunity for convenient, quality child care while they were attending classes,” Saltz wrote in a 2009 reflection document. “In addition to providing childcare for students pursuing an education, I saw a child care center on our campus as an opportunity to plant the seeds of a future child study laboratory and teacher training facility.”

At first, the group met in the back of the Henry Ford Estate’s kitchen. However, the space wasn’t ideal for children ages 12 months through five. The following year, in 1972, the group moved to one of the three cottages on the campus, which Henry Ford originally had built as servant’s quarters. At the time, those were used as professor family housing. Several years later, as the center’s enrollment grew, the other two cottages were permitted for use to augment the physical facilities as faculty members moved out. Playground equipment was put in. In 1991, a kindergarten class module building was added.

Saltz noted that by the early 1990s, the center enrolled an average of 140 children per year. And more than 90 practicum students in campus courses earned course credits at the Center each term.

With the continually growing enrollment, age of buildings, and need for a space that resembled a modern classroom for practicum teachers, the Center moved to its current Rotunda Drive location in 2009.

Education Professor Emeritus Mary Trepanier-Street, who worked with Saltz since the 1970s and served as ECEC director from 1995 through her retirement in 2011, said the new building was an important step in ECEC history. It could accommodate more pre-service teachers and up to 300 families (note: this is pre-COVID number). It also gave an opportunity for children with developmental challenges to be integrated into the center’s educational programming because of the partnership made with Oakwood Hospital, now Beaumont, to house their pediatric occupational, speech and physical therapy services — the Center for Exceptional Families — in the same building. “The idea was for children who needed added care to be able to leave their classroom for therapy or a rehabilitation service, and then return to the class or receive therapy in their own classroom.. We wanted to create an inclusive environment.”

Photo of Mary Trepanier-Street at promoting ECEC opportunities at an Education Fair at the Henry Ford Estate in 1978.

Concerned about education access, Trepanier-Street — who understood that not all families could afford the center’s tuition rates — also sought Michigan Department of Education funding to start two Great Start Readiness Program (GSRP) classrooms for economically disadvantaged families.

“Quality education is expensive. And to have low teacher-to-child ratios and highly qualified teachers, it has to be,” Trepanier-Street said. “That’s why it was important for us to find avenues for access. Children who are in low-income families deserve quality education too.”

Early education advocates for decades, Trepanier-Street and her colleagues were ahead of their time. She’s glad that the federal government is now paying attention to its importance with the recent passage of a $3.5 trillion spending blueprint for social programs — like universal preschool for all Americans — in the U.S. Senate.

Although there are more federal hurdles to overcome before this plan can become a reality, College of Education, Health, and Human Services Dean Ann Lampkin-Williams said she’s hopeful. But no matter what is decided at the federal level, the school will continue to contribute to the community through Reggio-Emilia-inspired teaching — that’s a preschool student-centered pedagogy where lessons emerge around child interests — and preparing teachers.

“It is a blessing to have the talent that we have here — and a huge responsibility,” Lampkin-Williams said. “We know the impact our practicum students will have on young lives in the future. So our university professors and ECEC teachers give them the experience needed to learn, grow and excel. Have an idea for a lesson plan? Bounce it off your teacher. Want to lead a class? You will do that too. Our job is two-fold. Help our youngest learners build the foundation they need for success; and pass along our expertise, research and experience so our future teachers are career-ready and positioned to help early childhood students. We’re great at what we do because of the dedication of our talented and professional ECEC team.”

Davey, who is a CEHHS faculty member in addition to her ECEC director role, agrees. She sees this as a supervisor — and as a parent. Her youngest daughter attended the center last year.

“They know how important education is to families. We were open during the majority of the pandemic. We welcomed children into classrooms safely and worked to give them the best experience they could have,” Davey said. “Even when everything else seemed uncertain, we were a constant. Our teachers and staff went above and beyond because they believe in what they do.”

Back in the classroom, Catie Stone is getting ready for a new academic year. To her, it’s another year to welcome both new and familiar faces and leave a positive impression.

But in the history books, it’s a major milestone. For five decades, ��-Dearborn early childhood educators like her have done their part to teach and inspire the generations to come.

Article by Sarah Tuxbury. If you are a member of the media and would like to talk with Director Sarah Davey about the Early Childhood Education Center or the topic of early childhood, please reach out to ��DearbornNews@umich.edu.

Student Success

University History

College of Education, Health, and Human Services

Early Childhood Education Center

Off

Sun, 08/15/2021 - 15:11

��-Dearborn early childhood educators have been inspiring minds for 50 years. And no matter how much the Early Childhood Education Center grows, it continues to stay close to the child-centric mission that it was founded on in the 1970s.

'Was there a place for me in college?'

stuxbury — Tue, 06 Jul 2021 02:29:58 +0000

'Was there a place for me in college?' stuxbury Mon, 07/05/2021 - 22:29

Illustration highlighting Alumna Helen Morrison

In the 1970s, the women’s liberation movement made headlines around the country. Social norms began to shift as more females entered the workforce and the college classroom. And Helen Morrison, a 45-year-old homemaker who had the dream of a college degree, became a local representation of this cultural change.

On a national and regional level, Morrison was highlighted in Michigan Media’s 10-part PBS series Worlds of Women (it can be found in the Bentley Historical Library’s collections), which explored this changing role. Closer to home, people at Morrison’s church and in her friend group questioned why she was putting in the effort for an education.

“I was a woman with a dream — a dream I had since I graduated high school in June 1945. I wasn’t looking for attention when I started at ��-Dearborn in 1973. The timing seemed right with my youngest finishing high school,” says Morrison, now 93. “I hope seeing a middle-aged lady in the classroom inspired others to be up for challenges they faced. I wanted my story to be helpful somehow to someone along the way.”

Decades after graduation, Morrison — who studied sociology and education and started Career Life Planners counseling following her 1978 graduation — continues to help others through giving advice, annually offering financial support toward educational goals at ��-Dearborn, and sharing stories of perseverance.

The Dearborn Wolverine recently wrote down her experiences in a memoir and shared some of the lessons she learned through earning her degree during a time of social change, persevering after personal tragedy and witnessing how advocacy can change hearts and minds.

Change makes some people uncomfortable. Keep refining yourself anyway.

“I enjoyed being a homemaker and raising my kids. Homemaking is a high-value vocation and many of the skills are transferable to a career (scheduling, mediating, organizing, service). But I wanted something more after my children were grown. I see life like a fine piece of art or sculpture — you keep perfecting it.

Going to college changed how people viewed me at the time. I was seen as a liberated woman. It made some people uncomfortable. At my church, the men (clergy) would make statements like, ‘So you don’t like the kitchen?’ They sounded very insecure...I just smiled. I had friends who questioned me on why I took the extra effort when I could have had the so-called easy life. My answers didn’t seem to stop the questions, so I let my actions speak for themselves.

I resurrected the Student Psychology Association and served as president, got an internship I wanted at the ��-Dearborn Counseling Center, graduated and started my Career Life Planners business that I ran for 40 years. Some people may have still been uncomfortable, but they knew I wasn’t going to pay their negativity any mind. And my friends’ confusion over my extra effort turned into awe. Your journey might not be for everyone and that’s ok. Don’t let them stand in your way. Maybe they will come around, maybe they won’t. What matters is that you keep learning and growing.”

Don’t let preconceived notions discourage you.

“Unfortunately, we are socially programmed to think things like 50 or 60 is too old to fulfill a dream. At 93, I know this is untrue. But at 45, I did wonder if I was too old to go back to school. Was there a place for me in college? My doubts disappeared as I kept reading about the women who were 75 and 80 and getting degrees. I thought, ‘They can do it. Why can't I?’

I graduated at age 50. I’m now 93. That’s 40-plus years with a college degree. If I would have viewed 45 as too old for college, I would have missed out on so much.

Your dream might be different from mine. Whatever it is, don’t let age or anything else hold you back. Find people who walked the path before you: how did they do it? Let them guide and inspire. If you can’t find anyone, you may be the one who inspires others. Take one step — something you know you can accomplish. For example, fill out an application or talk to someone who can help. One step taken is one step closer to your goal.”

Keep advocating for the change you want to see.

“In May 1978, the month after I graduated from ��-Dearborn, I was one of the 10 elected commissioners from the Presbytery of Detroit to the General Assembly, which is the annual conference of the Presbyterian Church. One of the issues at that time was the ordination of homosexuals. Unbeknownst to us, there were demonstrations outside of the conference center that were making national news when we were going to vote on this. While I didn’t agree with the vote that took place on that day in 1978 (it was denied), I was determined to keep looking at the big picture. When I got home, I stayed active in my church, told others what happened at the General Assembly meeting, and did my share of talks.

It took 36 more years...but at the 2014 General Assembly the commissioners voted to approve same-sex marriage and for clergy members to perform same-sex marriages. At the same assembly, I was named as a Women of Faith and the theme was ‘Prophetic Women.’ That was among the greatest honors I’ve received in my lifetime. Please keep speaking up — it may take longer than you want, but change will come.”

Surround yourself with people who lift you up.

“When things are good, it is easy to keep going. When I was approaching my ��-Dearborn graduation everything my husband Don and I worked for seemed to be falling into place. Our youngest was getting ready to graduate college, Don was going to take an early retirement, and we were planning to open a career-life mentoring business together. I always enjoyed helping people and I knew it would be a fulfilling path for me. Don was going to handle the finance and administrative side.

But our lives changed in the blink of an eye. Don’s lower back pain that we attributed to pulling old grapevines out of our backyard was cancer — it had spread and was terminal. We learned that two months before I graduated. I was dazed. But my husband did everything for us to live as normally as possible. Whether or not he’d be there to see it, Don wanted me to keep working toward my dream of having a college degree and a business. As a graduation gift, he registered our business idea and put it in my name. That was a traumatizing time and I could have put everything on hold or stopped. But I had someone who believed in my vision and supported me until the end. Surround yourself with motivators and believers. They will help you make it through the most difficult times.”

You can always make a difference.

“After we found out my husband had metastatic prostate cancer, what was ahead of us was pretty scary and final in so many ways. He was given three months to three years to live. I cannot imagine what was going through his mind. But Don kept looking at ways to better the world we live in. He was pleased he could contribute to experimental drug research with the time he had left. I’m so grateful for Don and people like him because two of our three sons have since benefited from prostate cancer research. People today are benefiting from what Don did 40 years ago.

If you are experiencing something difficult, please know what you are doing matters. You might not see the impact you have, but your actions can make a world of difference for someone. Struggles can turn into stories of inspiration. Failures can become valuable lessons. Moments that seem so final can have an everlasting impact. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that it’s never too late to make a difference.”

Interview by Sarah Tuxbury. Helen Morrison’s unpublished memoir is called “Yearn, Learn, Earn.”

Student Success

University History

Alumni Engagement

College of Arts, Sciences, and Letters

Institutional Advancement

Off

Tue, 07/06/2021 - 02:24

Dearborn Wolverine Helen Morrison, ‘78 B.A., shares lessons she learned through earning her degree during a time of social change, persevering after personal tragedy and witnessing how advocacy can change hearts and minds.

��-Dearborn ‘icon’ dies at 91

stuxbury — Wed, 15 Apr 2020 14:34:39 +0000

��-Dearborn ‘icon’ dies at 91 stuxbury Wed, 04/15/2020 - 10:34

Acting Chancellor Bernie Klein talks to UAW President Doug Fraser following Spring 1980's Commencement ceremony.

Bernard “Bernie” Klein was called a “witty Ph.D.” in a 1970 Detroit Free Press article — and his colleagues say that description is about as accurate as it gets.

For Klein’s 90th birthday last year, Political Science Professor Ron Stockton said Klein was as funny and sharp as the day that article was printed. “Bernie was showing signs of age physically, but mentally he had not lost a step. He regaled us with half an hour of uninterrupted entertainment. It was like a standup routine.”

Klein, a legendary member of the ��-Dearborn community who taught political science from 1971 to 1993 and led the campus on three different occasions as interim or acting chancellor, died on April 12 at the age of 91 of COVID-19-related complications. He had a prolific career with a variety of leadership roles in academia and government throughout southeast Michigan.

Klein was a high-profile City of Detroit official during the 1960s until 1970 for then-Mayor Jerome Cavanagh — Klein was Detroit's top financial officer.

When he left his city post for campus life in 1971, it gave political science students an inside look into Detroit during a historic, turbulent, time.

Stockton said Klein was in the mayor’s office during the Detroit riots and shared his bird’s eye view from Woodward. Because of Klein’s experience, he was even quoted in Sidney Fine’s book The Detroit Riot.

“One day... a notorious furniture store was being looted. This place was infamous for offering low prices but at inflated interest rates that exploited the poor,” Stockton recalled from one of Klein’s stories. “The looters were carrying off a sofa. Bernie said, ‘They are still getting ripped off.’”

Faculty and staff liked his frankness and ability to find a compromise in even the toughest situations. When a 1980s recession started rumbling about a potential ��-Dearborn campus closure, Klein went straight to then Michigan Gov. Jim Blanchard — and got a written governmental guarantee that that state viewed ��-Dearborn as an essential college and would continue to support campus’ operations. Students enjoyed Klein’s intellect, stories and humor.

��-Dearborn gave Klein its Distinguished Teaching Award in 1990. His three terms as acting/interim chancellor occurred in a span in 1979 and 1980, from September to December 1992, and — even after he retired in 1993 — between July 1999 and June 2000.

Chancellor Domenico Grasso said he met Klein shortly after Grasso's summer 2018 arrival on campus. Klein traveled to the Chancellor's Office — a familiar place for Klein — to share his ��-Dearborn experiences.

"His vigor and good humor belied his years, and his enthusiasm for our campus was as palpable as a graduating senior. He was truly an inspiration. Bernie was also kind enough to attend my inauguration, I was touched by his support and good wishes," Grasso said. "My wife Susan and I, along with our university community, express our deepest and most sincere condolences to the Klein family. We have lost an icon of our ��-Dearborn community."

Stockton, who was hired by Klein in 1973, said there will never be another Klein.

“Bernie has a record that no one in the annals of universities has ever achieved, and no one will ever achieve again. For three separate times, on three separate occasions, he was chancellor of the same university — when chancellors left for other jobs, he was called into service,” Stockton said. “He knew the university inside out and had connections in Lansing and in Ann Arbor. He was someone everyone knew and everyone trusted...And now he is gone. We will not see his like again.”

Memorial contributions can be made to University of Michigan-Dearborn, Bernie Klein Memorial Fund via the online giving site or by mail to 4901 Evergreen Road, 1040AB, Dearborn, MI 48128. Gifts will be used to support CASL students for tuition, fees, books, research, travel, conference fees, and other student needs identified by the Dean to reflect Klein's fondness for educating students and concern about growing student debt.

Administration & Governance

Faculty and Staff

University History

Chancellor

Off

Wed, 04/15/2020 - 14:32

Bernie Klein, ��-Dearborn professor emeritus, was known for humor, intellect and congeniality.

Student Amanda Saleh dives into 60 years of alumni history

lblouin — Wed, 11 Dec 2019 16:52:17 +0000

Student Amanda Saleh dives into 60 years of alumni history lblouin Wed, 12/11/2019 - 11:52

Student Amanda Saleh smiling in the University Center, wearing a sweatshirt that says "Michigan Arab."

All year long, we’re celebrating the university’s 60th anniversary, and there are few more personal ways to explore the breadth of that history than through the stories of alumni. But how do you go about representing six decades worth of graduates? That was one of the tasks thrown to ��-Dearborn junior Amanda Saleh this past summer as part of her Development Summer Internship Program (D-SIP) stint at the Office of Alumni Engagement. Recently, we chatted with her about the project — and what she’s taking away from the experience.

The Reporter: So 60 years — that’s a big target area for research. Where’d you even start?

Amanda Saleh: So I actually had two specific projects. The first was to put together a timeline of interesting or important events from the past 60 years. And for that, I kind of lucked out because there are these two historical books called, A Gift Renewed and The Gift Matured, that do a good job of covering the history from the start of the university until about 2009. Then, I did my own research about key events from the point where the books leave off all the way up until today.

Reporter: And did you learn anything cool as you dug through all that history?

Amanda: One thing I thought was sort of funny is that enrollment growth is always the goal. Like, I found references to plans about increasing enrollment going all the way back to the 1980s! Another thing I thought was really interesting was just how much more diversity there is now. Diversity — like, in terms of the number of students of color— was around 9.6 percent in the 1970s; now it’s like 27 percent. In fact, it’s probably a lot more, if you include ME/NA data. That’s people of Middle Eastern or North African heritage.

Reporter: And you mentioned there was a second project…

Amanda: Right, so the second project was focused on collecting stories from alumni. The sources for that research were really varied. I went through old issues of the university magazine, Legacy, to see who might be interesting to talk to. I also searched Google and LinkedIn to get more leads. Then, I compiled a list of people who sounded interesting, but I also tried to keep in mind having a diverse list — so varying backgrounds, graduation years, colleges and also races. I ended up with more than 200 alumni, which I narrowed down to 53, and then eventually down to 10, who I did interviews with.

Reporter: Wow, so sixty years, 10 people. Tell us about a few who made your cut.

Amanda: I thought Annette Berry was really interesting. She’s a judge in Wayne County, and she also teaches here. We talked a lot about the emotional intensity of her work, because throughout her career, she has dealt with many cases that involve heavy things like domestic abuse or drugs. She told me how she would intentionally take mental breaks or step away from a case and call her husband, just to get her emotions out. By doing that, she could regroup and stay focused on the work. She also had a really interesting view on the issue of victimization. She had challenges being a woman in the workplace, but she was always really proactive and didn’t take people’s B.S. I think she drew a lot of strength from her family and how she was raised. And that made me think about where that resilience comes from. Like, sometimes when you’re raised in a household that is really supportive, I think you’re more likely to be bulletproof. But if you didn’t have that, it’s going to be a lot harder to take what the world throws at you.

Reporter: That’s a really interesting way of looking at it. How about two more folks who struck you as having interesting stories?

Amanda: Leah Olajide, for sure. We talked about how she was one of the only black students in the journalism program and how she found her place on campus through the Michigan Journal. In fact, she was the first African American editor of the Journal. I think for her, passion for journalism and having that community of writers was what sustained her — despite not having a lot of people around her who looked like her. Still, I tried to put myself in her shoes, and I imagine that must have been really challenging. Like, if you grew up in a community where you got discriminated against for your race, think about how much harder it would be to reach out to people who are different than you. So I found her to be really inspiring.

I also thought Muhi Khwaja was really interesting. He graduated 10 years ago, and he talked about his philanthropic work, which is filling some gaps in the Muslim community. He started his own foundation, and families come to him and he helps connect them with donor opportunities that align with their interests. I found it to be compelling work because in the Muslim community, charity is one of our five pillars, and so we have this obligation to give money every year. And he’s bridging the worlds of philanthropy and religion is this totally new way.

Reporter: And how about you — other than these stories, what are you taking away from the experience?

Amanda: So many things. I would have to say that I've learned how to navigate ambiguity. Like, I had no idea how each interview would turn out, where each conversation would lead, and whether or not I would click with my interviewees. I kind of just did my research, reached out to alumni, and stepped into the unknown. But it was worth every bit of uncertainty. And I think the interviewing has given me a newfound interest in podcast work. For Leah’s interview, I got to produce sort of a pilot of a podcast, and seeing the level of detail that goes into the audio editing was really interesting to me. Even a breath matters, a sigh, a silence. Also, I realized people’s stories are so complex, and you can really only capture a little slice of them from a single interview. But if you are conscious about it, you can still find that little piece that holds a universal meaning. So I think I’d like to find more opportunities to do work like that. Even if it’s just as a hobby.

###

Amanda Saleh was part of the Development Summer Internship Program's (D-SIP) class of 2019. D-SIP is now accepting applications for 2020. You can find more details about the program.

Inclusion or Diversity

University History

Alumni Engagement

Off

Wed, 12/11/2019 - 16:45

Saleh’s recent internship project with the Office of Alumni Engagement reveals how the ��-Dearborn identity is constantly evolving.

University History

Lecturer Rashid Faisal wants you to remember — and see yourself in — Cornelius Henderson

The incomparable Bruce Maxim

Old, new, maize and blue: The new campus archive plan includes all

Class of ‘73 classmates look back on their formative years at ������-Dearborn

Fifty years of creative expression

‘Preparing our youngest learners for success in the future’

'Was there a place for me in college?'

Change makes some people uncomfortable. Keep refining yourself anyway.

Don’t let preconceived notions discourage you.

Keep advocating for the change you want to see.

Surround yourself with people who lift you up.

You can always make a difference.

������-Dearborn ‘icon’ dies at 91

Student Amanda Saleh dives into 60 years of alumni history

Class of ‘73 classmates look back on their formative years at ��-Dearborn

��-Dearborn ‘icon’ dies at 91