Pamela King Ginsburg's first day as a law school student turned out to be even tougher than she expected. It was almost as if she had "PICK ME" stamped on her forehead. In class after class that day, professors singled her out as the very first student they called on.

By the time her Civil Procedure class rolled around in mid-afternoon, Ginsburg's nerves were frazzled--but sure enough, the young professor with the wild, curly black hair called on her, too, asking her to state the facts of Pennoyer v. Neff.

"Some people gasped and others snickered," Ginsberg remembers. "I threw up my hands, told him I did not understand the case, and suggested he call on somebody else. He was visibly stunned by the impertinence of the first student he ever called on."

That August day in 1987 was not only Ginsburg's first day as a law student--it was also Nicholas Zeppos' first day as an assis-tant professor. And neither could have known that, because her name just happened to appear at the top of the second column on the student roll, every professor had zeroed in on her as the first victim.

Ginsburg's law school career could have been off to a rocky start, but Zeppos, she remembers, "did not hold it against me. Months later, we had a good laugh when he told me he had learned of my plight that day and was sympathetic."

Ginsburg, JD'90, is now an attorney with the Cincinnati firm Ulmer & Berne. "I think his gifts as a professor," she says, "were his ability to accept students as humans with both strengths and foibles, his genuine interest in our development as lawyers, and his sense of humor and knack of never taking himself too seriously."

Zeppos, age 2, with older brothers Evan (left) and Jon (right). Their grandfather immigrated to Wisconsin from Greece around the time of World War I.

Zeppos at center with his brothers and cousin Joel.

 Zeppos in his early days as a lawyer

Eloping with Lydia Howarth at age 31.

Story time with sons Benjamin (right) and Nicholas.

Zeppos, with Benjamin (left) and Nicholas, says he likes Nashville both for its creative vibe and its long golf season.

Zeppos and Lydia Howarth attend the Symphony Ball in Nashville.

Howarth is flanked by sons Benjamin and Nicholas.

"I always tell students, work for something bigger and more important than you," says Zeppos, shown here at a Vanderbilt Visions event.

With Vanderbilt students volunteering with Habitat for Humanity.

Leading a freshman Vanderbilt Visions seminar.

At a fundraising event with Monroe Carell Jr., chair of Vanderbilt's Shape the Future campaign.

Nicholas Zeppos has matured and evolved during his 21 years at Vanderbilt, but he has not lost the attributes that characterized him that first day teaching law school. He has climbed the academic ladder from assistant professor to associate dean for research and faculty development at the Law School, to associate provost to provost and vice chancellor for academic affairs. He has served as Vanderbilt's first vice chancellor for institutional planning and advancement, as interim chancellor and now chancellor.

That's just the condensed version. He has written widely about legislation, administrative law and professional responsibility; earned national renown as a scholar; won multiple teaching awards; and shaken the trees for scholarship money.

Universities like Vanderbilt do not often choose their top leader from within their own ranks. Vanderbilt has done it only once before: 71 years ago, when Oliver Carmichael ascended from dean of the graduate school to chancellor.

Yet Zeppos has been so much at the center of every major initiative at Vanderbilt in the last decade, it's difficult to imagine Vanderbilt having made any other choice. He has spearheaded innovative efforts in undergraduate admissions and financial aid, the planning process for The Commons and College Halls of Vanderbilt, the Strategic Academic Planning Group, and development of new programs in neuroscience, law and economics; Jewish studies; and medicine, health and society. He has overseen the university's Shape the Future fundraising campaign, helping raise more than $1.5 billion more than two years ahead of schedule. New plans are on the drawing board for initiatives in the environment, religion, health care, and life sciences and engineering.

"In my time at Vanderbilt, I've known professors who are brilliant intellectuals. And I've known administrators who possess a gift for making complex institutions run well," says John C.P. Goldberg, now associate dean for research at Vanderbilt Law School and one of the faculty members to whom Zeppos has been both a mentor and friend.

"What makes Nick almost unique is that he is exceptionally able on both scores. He is a first-class academic and a masterful leader."

Zeppos peppers his conversations with phrases like "wouldn't it be great if ... ." He pounds the table frequently as he talks, in a way that reveals enthusiasm rather than anger. His natural exuberance masks a Midwesterner's ingrained modesty, a deftness for turning any conversation around to focus on the other person or on the institution.

"I think I'm a pretty good lawyer, a pretty good professor, and I hope to be a pretty good chancellor," he allows. "But I don't like being the center of attention. I love doing all the work that comes with being chancellor. But there's nothing inherently important about me. Vanderbilt is so much more than the chancellor."

"Anyone who meets Nick will immediately observe two things about him," says Goldberg. "First is his love of knowledge. I've spent my life around academics and have never met anyone who is more widely read and more intellectually curious. Second, there is his love of humanity. Most of us like to tell the people we meet about ourselves. Nick is more interested in learning what is going on in others' lives and minds. Really, these two qualities are the same one--he is insatiably interested in the world around him."

A Lawyer Called to Teach

Now a youthful 53, Zeppos grew up in Milwaukee, the youngest of three brothers in a family just one generation removed from its Greek origins. His grandfather, who was born in Athens, left for America with his four brothers and never returned.

"He and others in our family came through Ellis Island. There was a big migration west to Detroit and Chicago among Greeks," Zeppos says. "I'm sure they knew somebody in Milwaukee and went where the jobs were."

The area was Green Bay Packers and Chicago Cubs country by the time Nicholas Zeppos came on the scene. He developed an early interest in both sports and history. "I love history, and I love the history of civilization," he says. "I thought I would teach history."

At the University of Wisconsin, he graduated Phi Beta Kappa in 1976, with a history major and a growing interest in the law. He enrolled at the University of Wisconsin Law School, served as editor-in-chief of the Wisconsin Law Review, and was outstanding graduate of his class. He thought he would be the kind of lawyer who helps people who most need it.

Zeppos met his future wife, Lydia Howarth, in Madison, where she developed her skills as an academic editor. They married in Washington, D.C., when Zeppos was practicing law and Howarth was working at National Geographic. 

"We lived in Dupont Circle, and I would walk Lydia to work and then get on the subway and head down to the Justice Department," Zeppos remembers. "One of our regular 'romantic dates' was meeting after work at the Washington Monument and then running home together along the mall and through Rock Creek."

Busy with their careers, they decided to elope. "Eloping was one of the best things I've ever done," Zeppos says cheerfully, "especially since it was with Lydia. I got married relatively late. I was 31. By then we had both lived away from our families for some time and were working all the time. We thought, why spend a lot of money and a lot of time?" Zeppos remembers filing a brief in the Second Circuit that day and meeting Lydia and her "bridesmaids" at the Gallery Place Metro station. They headed off to get married and were back at work the next day.

Zeppos discusses the practice of law with passion, crediting great mentors along the way. He first practiced in Washington, D.C., at Wilmer, Cutler & Pickering, and then worked for more than five years at the Justice Department, taking a substantial cut in pay to go from private practice to the government. "I was in court all the time. Each case was like a challenging law school exam, and when I stood up to argue I was privileged to say, 'I represent the United States of America.' That was an honor and well worth the cut in pay. I learned so much and am grateful for being able to represent our nation in court."

Among his law career highlights: "Arguing before then-Judge Antonin Scalia was an intense and demanding experience. Judge Richard Posner taught a cerebral seminar, and then-Judge Stephen Breyer was the consummate and reflective professor but cared deeply about the real world.

"I'm intellectually drawn to the law and its intersection with politics, history, philosophy, psychology, biology, sociology," he adds. "It is the ultimate multidisciplinary area, yet it has a practical side."

But he still felt called to teach, and in 1987 he headed south to Vanderbilt with Lydia and their 8-month-old son, Benjamin. "I had never been in Nashville. I found that Vanderbilt mirrored the wonderful things about the region: community, civility and warmth. There's something very special about this region of the country and its sense of being nice to each other as opposed to everything being zero-sum and dog-eat-dog.

"People want to be here. Vanderbilt bears a lot of the qualities and characteristics of this region, and I like that. It distinguishes us," he says, speaking like someone who has just gone on the local chamber of commerce board. 

"It's one of the most entrepreneurial, creative cities, and it's a lot more interesting than cities where other universities are located. Faculty love it."

His first year at Vanderbilt, Zeppos claims, his students gave him teaching evaluations that were "brutal." But, he adds, "Student evaluations are pretty reliable indicators. There's a myth that they're not good predictors, or that you can inflate grades and get your evaluations up. That doesn't work. Where you really get evaluated is when you read your students' examinations. The ultimate feedback is when you read a great set of examinations."

By the time John Goldberg joined Vanderbilt's law faculty in 1995 as an entry-level professor, he says, "Nick was already one of the school's leading lights. Although he was incredibly busy with his own work and with the life of the law school, he was a generous, constructive and inspiring mentor. I have vivid and fond memories of the hours I spent as Nick listened patiently to my half-baked ideas, then steered me--sometimes gently, sometimes not so gently--toward a better way of thinking through a problem."

Zeppos is proud to have raised his children in Nashville. "This is a wonderful community for families. My only disappointment was that our second son, Nicholas, could not be born at Vanderbilt. They were on diversion and had no room for us."

Now, he says, "We'll have at least two freshmen beginning at Vanderbilt this fall who were with my younger son at Vanderbilt's preschool since age 1."

What Happens Next

What can those students expect with Zeppos as their chancellor? Student debt is clearly a top priority, and the university is stepping up efforts to make Vanderbilt accessible.
What parents care about for their college-bound children, Zeppos believes, is not only the intellectual and academic challenge of academia, but the kind of adults they will become--ethically, emotionally and socially. "That's what Vanderbilt has always cared about, and that's what our strategy and mission are."

Beginning this fall all first-year students will live in The Commons, Vanderbilt's first step in making residential life at the heart of the Vanderbilt experience. "We have small classes and great teachers who are committed to the undergraduate experience," Zeppos says. "Why not build on that? 

"My hope is that all these great youngsters in America--rich, poor, black, white, north, south, east, west--will say, 'I've been blessed with the ability to achieve in school. I want to be a leader. I'm a hard worker. I should look at that place called Vanderbilt.' And we work with them to develop their human potential."

He believes the university needs to examine its role in educating the next generation of scholars, scientists and researchers and how Vanderbilt's undergraduate, graduate and professional schools can feed into each other, and that graduate studies deserve more emphasis and more resources.

"It goes back to our core mission and aspirations: research, discovery, teaching and healing," he says. "We are a research university, and we want to take a more prominent place in training the future leaders in research, policy, and at the great educational institutions of the world."

Ever the optimist, Zeppos publicly tells audiences that Vanderbilt will go to a bowl game this year "absolutely. I don't make predictions--I make promises."

He embraces wholeheartedly the integration of athletics into student life begun under his predecessor, Gordon Gee. "An important part of leadership in America is athletics," he says. "Some years a third of our freshmen are athletic-team captains. Part of what distinguishes Vanderbilt is our sense of balance. The kids have multiple interests--they are interesting intellectually and also service-oriented community leaders. Athletics is a critical part of our culture and our balance."

His ability to step out of a scholar's comfort zone and look at the university's needs as a whole is part of what has elevated the former professor to the halls of Kirkland. In 2001, Gordon Gee appointed Zeppos as Vanderbilt's first vice chancellor for institutional planning and advancement. Up to that point, Zeppos says, "I had not been involved with fundraising at all. I think the reason some provosts don't become president is that they don't enjoy it.

"I always emphasize that the word philanthropy doesn't mean 'give me money.' It means 'love of humanity.' I've had wonderful training, from the most junior development officers at Vanderbilt to our most senior people. 

"I've worked with Martha Ingram and Monroe Carell Jr. and other fabulous philanthropists. What I've learned is that people who have been blessed with resources want to make a difference in somebody else's life and in society."

Ingram is chairman of the Vanderbilt Board of Trust, which unanimously elected Zeppos as Vanderbilt's eighth chancellor in March. "Chancellor Zeppos is both a visionary and a pragmatist," she says. "He is a deeply ethical person whose guiding principle is, 'What's the right thing to do?'"

The University as Utopia

Zeppos refers to universities as a kind of utopia "of intellectuals who don't think it has to be a race to the bottom." His speeches often draw on his love of the ancient classics and of history. "I like to refer to things that I know about, that are important to me, because I think my only value as a speaker is to talk about things that are in my heart and in my mind."
He has a richly textured voice and a sincerity that makes you believe Vanderbilt really can and does change the world. This is important business, he is saying, even though he seems to be incapable of taking himself too seriously.

Vanderbilt is in the final 30 months of its university-wide Shape the Future campaign, stretching toward a goal of $1.75 billion. During a recent address, his first since being named chancellor to a crowd of development and alumni relations staffers at Vanderbilt, the room is hushed as Zeppos outlines the university's ambitious goals and lofty mission.

"There are challenges ahead," he says. "I think we'll meet them, just like my predecessors met them. We're one of the greatest universities in the world, part of a very small group of Research 1 universities that educates undergraduates. It allows us to focus on leadership and educating the whole person. I believe very deeply that it really matters for Vanderbilt to be here, to thrive, and to have the resources to heal and teach and discover."

Somewhere in the crowd a cell phone shatters the quiet with a jaunty tinkle. A crimson-faced staffer scrambles for her purse.

"Is that the ice cream truck?" Zeppos asks gleefully.

In the face of a weak stock market, a housing industry in crisis, and a long list of other economic woes making headlines every day, Vanderbilt is about to bite off a very big obligation in scholarship assistance. The Monroe Carell Jr. Children's Hospital is undertaking a $203 million expansion. The athletics department has just announced a planned $50 million in facilities upgrades. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

"I graduated from law school in 1979," Zeppos says. "I have lived through stagflation and hyperinflation. I've lived through probably the highest unemployment since the Great Depression. I've lived through recession, stock market crash, the insolvency of the American banking system. I've seen the Internet bubble, I've seen 9/11. I've seen wars--popular and unpopular. I've seen the subprime crisis. And I think of Chancellor Kirkland and Chancellor Carmichael dealing with wars and depression and plagues and epidemics. I think of Chancellor Heard during the Civil Rights Era and the Vietnam war, the oil embargo, hyperinflation, the Peabody merger. These great institutions endure and lead."

Nicholas Zeppos is clearly enjoying the challenge. 

"I plan on finishing my career here," he says. One of the perks of being chancellor, he adds, is the option of being buried on the Vanderbilt campus. 

"I'm thinking 50-yard line." 

Thomas Schwartz, professor of history, has received the Faculty Alumni Education Award, presented by the Alumni Association Board of Directors last November. First given in 1982, the award includes a prize of $2,500 and an engraved julep cup.

Since 2003, Schwartz has lectured at nine alumni education events for Vanderbilt Chapters in New York; Boston; Los Angeles; Dallas; Washington, D.C.; Richmond, Va.; and Austin, Texas, on subjects ranging from U.S.-European relations to foreign policy in presidential campaigns. He has made presentations at Reunion Weekend events, and in October will serve as faculty representative for the Vanderbilt Travel Program's trip to Vietnam and Cambodia.

Schwartz teaches courses in the history of American foreign relations, with an emphasis on the 20th century. He is the author of two books: one about alliance politics during the Vietnam War and one about U.S. policy toward Germany after World War II. He is currently writing a short history of the Cold War and a biography of former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.

Outfitters to Wookiees and Warlocks: Paul Bielaczyc, BS'02, MS'04 (standing), and his brother, Michael, only use their special powers for good, helping solve the age-old problem of what to wear to your next Renaissance festival or science fiction convention. The brothers create ogre masks, elf ears, faun pants, fangs, wounds, swords and more. Photo by Chip Talbert

My boyfriend makes elf ears. Long, pointy, flesh-colored things you can slide over the tips of your real ears when you pretend to be a goblin or fairy or your favorite Lord of the Rings character. His name is Paul Bielaczyc, BS'02, MS'04, and he makes these ears with his brother in an East Nashville studio, along with noses and foreheads, masks and scars -- basically, any costume prosthetic you can imagine. And while I always have a good outfit on Halloween because of him, every time I tell people what he does, I am faced with blank stares and confused, sometimes horrified, expressions.

"Elf ears?" someone will say at a cocktail party. "What on earth are those?" I find myself at a lot of cocktail parties these days, talking to people I don't know because I'm supposed to learn how to network. I'm 25 now, four years out of college, and my social life is slowly migrating from two-for-one drink specials to wine-and-cheese night at someone's Pottery Barn-themed apartment.

The small talk at these soirees is always the same: big, friendly smiles, enthusiastic head nods, and superficial discussions about things I don't actually care about. If I mention my boyfriend in conversation, my new acquaintance will ask a few perfunctory questions about our relationship. How long have Paul and I been dating (six years), how did we meet (as undergrads at Vanderbilt), and what does he do for a living? And that's when things get interesting.

No one responds to the mention of elf ears with a nod and a smile, the way they do when the answer is "lawyer" or "accountant" or any other one-word job description. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to explain Paul to everyone I meet. "He makes fake wounds and gashes?" I imagine someone saying at a party. "How interesting--so do I!" But this never happens. Paul has the prosthetic bullet-wound and exposed brain-bits market all to himself.

Over the years I have perfected my description of Paul's job. He owns his own company, I tell people. It's called Aradani Studios. He started it with his brother. First it was ears, but then they moved on to other prosthetics, then costume jewelry and customized weapons like flails and maces. Last summer they hired a seamstress to sew made-to-order costumes. They don't have a storefront, but they do have employees who travel to conventions and festivals for them, and sometimes they travel themselves. Oh, they're also artists who illustrate fantasy books.

The conversation usually ends there, punctuated by an awkward silence that hangs in the air one second too long before someone decides to change the subject. But sometimes I'll see a spark of recognition in a person's face--usually a man's--and he will say, "What kind of fantasy books?" And that's when I throw out the terms Paul has taught me: Dragonlance. White Wolf Publishing. I don't know what these words mean, but I say them cheerfully and forcefully, the way my father taught me to recite "vice president of the financial division" when I was in first grade and had to do a report on what my parents did for a living.

"Dragonlance?" the closeted geek will ask. He will look at me with wide eyes, and suddenly I'll realize that I'm facing a man who wants nothing more than to drop out of business school and play Dungeons and Dragons all day. "I love Dragonlance! What did he do for them?"

"Ominous Night," charcoal by Paul Bielaczyc

"I dunno," I'll reply. "I think he drew a horsey?"

The truth is, I don't really know what Paul does. I see his drawings and look at his latest ear molds, but I don't know which piece of artwork is sold to which company. And because I'm not interested in sci-fi or fantasy--I'm more of the shoe-shopping, America's Next Top Model-watching type of girlfriend--I really have no idea why he's so upset when he comes home from work in a bad mood because 20-sided dice wouldn't glue onto a flail.

"What's a flail?" I will ask, or "Why are you gluing dice onto it?"

That's when Paul will turn to me with a look of mild pity, as if I'd just asked him to explain how to ride a bicycle. "A flail is a type of medieval weapon. I'm gluing dice onto it because then geeks will want to buy it."

"Oh, like a Bedazzler!" I'll reply. "For the type of people who cover their cell phones in pink rhinestones. I get it."

Sometimes when I explain Paul's profession, one of the closeted geeks will be so enthusiastic that he'll get other party guests interested, too. I'll find myself surrounded by people in khaki pants and Old Navy performance-fleece pullovers. They will stare at me like zoo visitors before a baboon exhibit, trying desperately to comprehend a job that allows employees to wear chain mail instead of blue jeans on Casual Friday. "Where does he make his products?" one of them will ask. "What's his job title?" "Who buys them?" "How did he get the idea?" "How many ears have they sold?"

The answer to that last question is 25,000 pairs. Thanks to Aradani Studios, 25,000 people now know the joy of latex prosthetic elf ears. And that's not even counting the customers who buy other products like noses and foreheads and vampire fangs. Paul and his brother even sell furry faun pants to people who want to dress like Mr. Tumnus from the Chronicles of Narnia movie. Of course, those who wish to look like a wardrobe closet are still better off going to Ikea.

Photo by John Russell

When they've satisfactorily investigated the business side of the elf-ear endeavor, the next thing people want to know is how it affects me. I look so nice and normal, they think--am I really dating a man who owns his own set of leather armor?

"Well, he doesn't wear it," I tell them. "It's for decoration."

I do find Paul's profession strange, but it's a familiar kind of strangeness, something that makes sense to me but is hard to explain to others, sort of like telling a foreigner why our democratic political system keeps electing people named Clinton and Bush.

My boyfriend likes his job, so I like it, too. I don't care that he sells costumes to sweaty-palmed World of Warcraft fanatics who smell faintly of microwavable burritos, if he doesn't mind making small talk with someone in chinos who has a strong opinion on shiraz versus pino grigio.

In fact, I try to have as little contact with Paul's customers as possible. I used to attend the occasional convention with him--even I found the prospect of meeting the original Chewbacca interesting--but after a former Star Trek actor hit on me without wearing pants, I decided that the scene was not for me.

Most of my visits to Paul's conventions have gone smoothly, but one particular trip stands out in my mind. My boyfriend is a friendly person, very animated and enthusiastic about his work, and his energy is infectious. One day he talked to another festival worker--a large woman who wore leather gauntlets as part of her everyday outfit--and she decided that she would try to steal him from me. Musketeer-like and clutching a sword, she challenged me to a duel. I'm a fairly wimpy person--I can't play poker because I'm too stingy to make a bet--and there was no way I'd be able to beat a woman who owned her own saber. So I ran away.

Paul (right) with his brother and business partner, Michael Bielaczyc. Photo by John Russell

Other times, I'm the one who looks like an idiot at the conventions. Most attendees are there for one reason--because they are extreme fans. They spend hundreds of dollars on obscure memorabilia, dress up in costumes of their favorite characters, and fawn all over the celebrities who attend the conventions. The celebrity guests expect to be recognized and adored by these fans, but because they're usually B-grade actors from sci-fi or fantasy movies, I have no idea who they are. I once held an entire conversation with the man who voices Space Ghost on the cartoon television show, and when I finally found out who he was, I said, "Oh. That's nice," and wandered away. Only later did Paul tell me that the actor was the convention's guest of honor.

I have similarly embarrassed myself in front of Star Trek actors, Battlestar Gallactica characters, and the guy who played Hercules on that horrible USA television show by the same name. The only convention guest I've ever been excited to meet was LeVar Burton, the blind guy with the visor on Star Trek: The Next Generation. Burton came to the convention because of Star Trek, but I wanted to meet him because he hosted Reading Rainbow. I waited in line for an hour, behind hundreds of people clutching Star Trek DVDs, books and action figures they wanted autographed. When it was my turn to meet him, I shook the actor's hand and said, "Thank you, Mr. Burton. I really admire the way you read Angelina Ballerina."

These are the stories I tell at cocktail parties, and if I'm lucky, I inspire laughter instead of awkward silence. When I moved to New York City last August to attend journalism school at Columbia University, I wasn't sure how to explain my boyfriend to my new acquaintances. On the one hand, New York is full of weirdos, and Paul's career is almost boring compared to the man in my building who makes his living by dressing up like the Statue of Liberty and selling knickknacks to tourists. On the other hand, Columbia is a fancy institution, full of fancy people who wear fancy clothes and do fancy things like win Pulitzer Prizes. Would Pulitzer Prize winners care about the guy who hosted Reading Rainbow?

As it turns out, the answer is yes. Not only do Pulitzer Prize winners like Reading Rainbow, but they love elf ears. I've already hooked up one classmate with a pair of her own ears, and other people have asked to interview Paul and his brother for articles. Even if no one else takes advantage of my Halloween costume connections, at least I'll have something to talk about the next time I find myself at a cocktail party.

When people ask about Paul's educational background and how he developed the skills to follow such a bizarre, unraveled career path, I tell them he learned it at Vanderbilt. He learned about sculpture in his undergraduate studio art classes, and sometimes he crafts 3-D models of his drawings using the Maya animation software he learned in graduate school.

I keep telling Paul he should hang his Vanderbilt diplomas on the walls of his booth, right between the orc mask and the Legend of Zelda shield. When his elf-ear sales finally hit 30,000, he can look up at the diplomas and see how far he's come. At least his master's degree in computer science was good for something.

A childhood fascination with animal behavior led Owen Jones on a path to becoming one of the country's foremost experts in the field of law and behavioral biology. Today he is one among a handful of academics in the country holding faculty appointments in law and biology and conducting significant research in both fields.

"Everything law does depends on some model of human behavior," says Jones, professor of law and professor of biological sciences. "And yet our models of human behavior are fairly incomplete and lack a robustness that could be increased by adding insights about behavior that flow from biology."

A consideration of biological factors does not mean "my brain made me do it" becomes a handy legal defense--any more than the height of a child's parents predicts with absolute certainty how tall that child will be in adulthood. "Biology makes understanding human behavior more complex, rather than more simple," Jones explains. "Behavior doesn't come prepackaged in either environmentally influenced or genetically determined potentiality. These things intersect, and they intersect in complex ways that are biologically and evolutionarily influenced."

The intersection of biology and behavior has been of interest to Jones as long as he can remember. A great collector of books on the subject of animal biology, he was also a keen observer of animals and their behavior.

"As a child I remember a mockingbird that used to jump up and display at larger birds, like crows. But I also noticed that it displayed to distant airplanes, of the same apparent size as the nearer birds," says Jones. "This was a conflict between a behavior that would ordinarily work very well for the bird and a behavior now bumping up against a novel environmental feature--an airplane--that results in a waste of time and energy."

Building on his early interest in biology and behavior, Jones used his undergraduate and law school years to combine a passion for science with an equally intense interest in making the legal system as efficient and effective as possible. As an undergraduate at Amherst College, Jones diversified his interests rather than limiting his focus to animal behavior. The exposure to policy analysis and academic research as well as laboratory work led to his study at the intersection of law and biology and to Yale Law School.

Determined to enter the legal academic market, he completed a judicial clerkship, several years of work with a well-known law firm in Washington, D.C., and published a number of papers in academic journals. His work paid off, and he was offered a position at Arizona State University, home to the oldest program in law, science and technology in the country. Though he was initially appointed to the law school faculty there, his interest and work in biology also earned him a tenured position in biology.

Rather than relying solely on the disciplines traditionally consulted for answers by legal policymakers in the last few decades--psychology, sociology, economics, philosophy--Jones believes the fields of evolutionary biology and neuroscience can provide new, more scientifically sound perspectives.

His research attempts to answer questions related to legal efficiency by asking--through a joint legal and neuroscience lens--how the tools of law could be used to help people behave more like they should and less like they shouldn't. What sort of environmental changes could the legal system encourage, in light of what is becoming known about the brain, that could lead to positive changes in human behaviors? How could law be used to better help people overcome their own evolutionally, neurologically influenced irrational behaviors?

"The more you can understand about how and why the brain prompts us to behave the way we do, the better equipped you are to understand the resulting behavior--and to think about ways to effectively and efficiently guide the behavior towards constructive outcomes," says Jones.

The study of that point where law and science intersect is not particularly new. Forensics testing, expert testimony from psychologists and physicians, and federal regulations regarding genetically modified foods are all examples of ways in which science and its findings are intertwined with the legal system.

Even within behavioral biology, however, neuroscience is a newer addition to the law and science mix. It is within this specific realm that Owen Jones now works and studies. What happens here does not attempt to overlay scientific knowledge onto the existing legal system, but instead calls for a careful examination of how people's biological capacities interact with our current system of laws and punishments.

During the past year this intersection of law and neuroscience has attracted more widespread attention. A New York Times Magazine cover story (March 11, 2007) exploring how neuroscience might transform the legal system prominently featured the work of Jones, his many Vanderbilt colleagues, and the world-class imaging institute led by John Gore. More recently, the field made news when the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation announced a $10 million grant to fund the national Law and Neuroscience Project. Jones was tapped to co-direct one of three areas of study within the project.

Through the Law and Neuroscience Project, more than 30 researchers at nearly two dozen universities around the country are divided into three networks dedicated to exploring topics of addiction, brain abnormalities and decision making as they relate to the law. Jones will help lead the decision-making network, which includes Vanderbilt collaborators René Marois, associate professor of psychology and neuroscience; Jeffrey Schall, E. Bronson Ingram Professor of Neuroscience, director of the Center for Integrative and Cognitive Neuroscience, and director of the Vanderbilt Vision Research Center; and Erin O'Hara, professor of law and director of Vanderbilt Law School's Law and Human Behavior Program.

Jones and colleagues' team will examine how and why choices are made related to breaking laws. They are particularly interested in risk assessment and its role in deciding whether to engage in criminal behavior: What is the chance I'll get caught? What is the chance I'll be punished? What might my punishment be? Is the punishment I might receive worth what I might gain if I commit the crime?

Using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scanners, their work will also examine the neuroscience of decision making as it relates to determining guilt versus innocence and severity of punishment.

Jones' highly collaborative work relies on the availability and interest of colleagues from the Law School, the College of Arts and Science, the Medical School, and the Vanderbilt Institute of Imaging Science. The prospect of working on projects such as the one funded by the MacArthur Foundation brought Jones to Vanderbilt, where he credits a collegial and collaborative atmosphere for making traditional academic boundaries almost arbitrary.

"Disciplines should be linked so that a problem, rather than a subject area, is truly at the forefront," he says. "You can walk into another department at Vanderbilt and talk to colleagues and get them excited about the prospects of collaboration. That's not true everywhere. Being transinstitutional enables the university to be academically nimble in making new discoveries. We are doing exciting theoretical work as well as empirical work here that simply isn't being done elsewhere."

That emphasis on collaboration spills over to Jones' teaching. Last semester he partnered in the classroom with neuroscientist Schall, offering a course in law and neuroscience that enrolled 35 students from graduate programs in law, psychology and neuroscience. Like their teachers, the students worked together on interdisciplinary projects, with the goal of designing new neuroscience research that could be executed at the intersection of law and neuroscience.

"This was an opportunity to get graduate students in neuroscience and psychology in the same room with law students, and it was the first time here we offered a course like this," says Schall. "It was very exciting, and there was tremendous energy and enthusiasm."

The course allowed third-year law student Anna Henderson to gain exposure to the field of neuroscience within the context of her own academic work. "I call Professor Jones a true teacher because he loves engaging with students," says Henderson. "His favorite thing seems to be stimulating young minds--in conversations, in the classroom. He's attuned to detail and quality work from himself and in drawing it out of his students. He makes you do better work."

As to potential effects of his research on decision making, risk assessment and the legal system, Jones takes a long view. "Right now my colleagues and I are mainly trying to generate sufficient momentum in the legal academy so that some of the thinking will roll over into aspects of legal policymaking," he says. "This is ultimately about how we use the tools of law to shape the environments in which people behave."

He is encouraged by what he sees as the growing exploration of the field of law and neuroscience. Ten years ago he founded a scholarly association dedicated to interests in the intersection of law and biology. Today the Society for Evolutionary Analysis in Law (SEAL) has more than 400 members from 24 countries. They include legal thinkers, economists, philosophers and biologists. The number of articles written on the subject of law and behavioral biology grows each year. Articles in other fields citing these papers also have increased in number. All of this--including popular media coverage by such publications as The New York Times and the recognition that comes from securing the MacArthur Foundation grant--contributes to a growing academic and public awareness about the field of study for which Jones is so passionate.

"The brain is not a black box but a highly developed, highly algorithmic, evolved, condition-dependent, environmentally sensitive information processor that is designed to skew the probabilities of certain behavioral outputs given certain kinds of behavioral inputs," says Jones. "Any explicit recognition that all behavior of interest to law comes from the brain, I think, will move us in the direction of increasing the efficiency and effectiveness of certain areas of law." V

Graduate student Karthik Subramanian keeps his eye on the birdie as president and player with the Badminton Club.

Soccer: Three Named to All-SEC Team

Junior Katie Schulz and freshmen Molly Kinsella and Mary Rachel Reynolds were named All-SEC players in the fall. Schulz, a midfielder, was a second-team pick as selected by the conference coaches. That's her third All-SEC honor, after being named to the All-Freshman team in 2005 and being named first-team All-SEC last year. Both Kinsella, a forward, and Reynolds, a defender, were named to the All-Freshman team. The Commodores finished the season with a 6-10-3 overall record and 3-6-2 in league play.

Cross Country: Jorgensen, Williamson Earn Top Honors

Vanderbilt's cross country teams named their most valuable players in December. Rita Jorgensen, a freshman from Memphis, Tenn., earned MVP honors for the women's team as a top finisher in five out of six races. Austin Williamson, a senior from Des Moines, Iowa, earned the MVP honor after leading the men's team in three of five races in 2007.

Golf: Rudolph Cup Established

The Vanderbilt golf programs have established an annual award in honor of Mason Rudolph, the former men's coach and PGA veteran. The Rudolph Cup will be awarded annually to the individual who makes the greatest contribution to Commodore golf. The first recipient of the Rudolph Cup was Mason Rudolph himself, who coached the men's team for five years before serving as director of golf.

Courtney Ulery

Women's Tennis: Finish Fall in Fine Form

At the end of the fall tennis season, the women's team logged solid performances highlighted by singles victories in the Fall SEC Coaches Classic. Junior Courtney Ulery finished with a perfect 13-0 record, defeating senior teammate Taka Bertrand in the finals of the singles B flight. Sophomore Catherine Newman won the singles A flight. "It was a solid tournament for all involved," said Coach Geoff Macdonald. "Everyone had good wins throughout the weekend." Going into the spring season, four players have been ranked in the Intercollegiate Tennis Association's Southeast Region singles poll: Newman at No. 6; senior Amanda Taylor at No. 7; Ulery at No. 10; and Bertrand at No. 19. The double tandem of Newman and Bertrand were ranked at No. 8, and Taylor and Ulery were ranked at No. 12.

Kenny Diehl, BS'75, took to the hardwood courts of Memorial Gymnasium as Mr. Commodore in the days before mute mascots with huge foam heads and comical antics--and was one among a long line of cheerleaders who donned the chivalrous costume as the vocal leader of the Commodore faithful. Kenny was a yell leader, leading cheers over the microphone, and in the '71-'72 season he inherited the uniform. "Brent Blue [BA'72] passed the job to me," he says. "I fit the uniform. We had an old admiral's uniform that was white with yellow ribbons and double breasted. One of the duties of Mr. Commodore during basketball season was to take one of the new cheerleaders and shake hands with the opposing players." Still an avid supporter of Vanderbilt athletics, Kenny is a senior vice president with the Nashville engineering firm of Smith, Seckman and Reid in charge of the civil and environmental engineering groups. Kenny and his wife, Patty Pangle Diehl, MS'76, live in Nashville and have two sons.

Wide receiver Earl Bennett

The 2007 version of Commodore football finished with a 5-7 record, but that was good enough to earn All-SEC honors for four players and attract a suitor for the head coach.

Four Commodores were named to the All-Southeastern Conference team by the league's 12 coaches. Junior wide receiver Earl Bennett and senior offensive tackle Chris Williams were named first-team All-SEC while senior linebacker Jonathan Goff and sophomore defensive back D.J. Moore were named second-team All-SEC.

"I'm extremely pleased for these four young men," commented Coach Bobby Johnson, "and I'm glad that the coaches around our league took notice of their production this season. Chris and Jonathan really blossomed here at Vanderbilt and truly finished off their careers in outstanding fashion. What can I say about Earl--his production during the last three years is unmatched and simply remarkable. And I think the league is just beginning to see how good a player D.J. can be."

This season Bennett became the league's all-time leading receiver finishing with 236 career receptions, 28 more than the previous record holder. He also became the first receiver in Southeastern Conference history to catch at least 75 passes for the third consecutive season. No other player in SEC history has managed even two consecutive seasons of 75 catches.

Williams is the first Commodore offensive lineman elected first-team All-SEC since Will Wolford in 1984. Goff finished his collegiate career with 304 total tackles, third among active SEC players. Moore finished the season tied for second in the SEC with six interceptions and led all SEC cornerbacks with 63 solo tackles and 83 tackles overall.

Head Coach Bobby Johnson and linebacker Jonathan Goff

Bobby Johnson returns as head football coach for his seventh season after putting down an attempted coaching coup by Duke University. Johnson withdrew his name from consideration for the Duke head coaching vacancy in early December. "I have a deep sense of loyalty to Vanderbilt," Johnson said of his decision. "We've enjoyed some successes in recent years, but all of us want to see more success in the future. That's the goal as I go further in this position."

Since the 2005 season began, Johnson's Commodores have notched 14 victories, tying for the most wins in a three-year span since 1982-84.

"We truly believe Bobby and his staff are an ideal fit for our university," says David Williams, vice chancellor for university affairs. "Duke correctly identified our coach as an excellent candidate to turn their program around. They saw what we see every day: a man going about his business in a very professional manner."

Vanderbilt awarded its own team honors at the annual postseason football banquet. Senior Hamilton Holliday, a two-year starter at offensive lineman, received the Dedication Award from Coach Johnson, the only award selected by the coaching staff. Marcus Buggs, a senior outside linebacker, received the Captain's Award from the team's three permanent captains. Broderick Stewart, a sophomore defensive end, won the Commodore Hustle Award by a vote of his teammates.

The three faces of Mr. C are Sam Newman (in gold), Mike Fagan (in black), and a third student who prefers to hide behind the anonymity of the Commodore mask. Photo by John Russell

It was quite the conundrum. Mr. Commodore, the "face" of Vanderbilt athletics, had gone missing. Somewhere between the end of football season and the beginning of SEC basketball play, he vanished. AWOL? Unthinkable. Why, the Commodore had been a fixture in Vanderbilt athletics since 1898 when newspaperman and alumnus William E. Beard first labeled the athletes "the Commodores."

A series of short videos leaked by the Vanderbilt sports marketing group hinted at his whereabouts. He was undergoing a mascot makeover. There was footage of him--always shot from behind--working out under the tutelage of a strength and conditioning coach, and consulting with a Vanderbilt plastic surgeon. And there was the repeated cryptic message: "See the New C 12.1.07."

Sure enough, on Dec. 1, 2007, in a men's basketball game against Georgia Tech, Mr. C (as he is fondly known) made his return. The crowd erupted with a roar as Mr. C burst onto the court, tall, buff and impeccably groomed. He wore a traditional naval uniform and waved a polished sword that glistened in the lights of Memorial Gymnasium.

Yes, that Mr. Commodore is quite a guy. Actually, he's three guys. Mr. C is inhabited on a rotating basis by freshmen Mike Fagan and Sam Newman and a third student who prefers to keep his identity a secret. They were named to the Mr. C squad after going through tryouts.

Photo by John Russell

"I did not come to Vanderbilt knowing that I wanted to be the Commodore," Newman says. "In fact, I had no idea what the mascot was when I picked Vanderbilt. I had zero past experience as a mascot or anything like it. ... Apparently, the shenanigans I pulled during tryouts were slightly less unfunny than the rest of the competition's. A day or two later, I was the mascot at the Alabama game, with no instruction about what to do other than the fact that I couldn't do anything obscene or touch the opposing players."

"When I came to Vanderbilt and saw Mr. C and how he got the crowd going, I knew I wanted to do that," says Fagan. "I love the tradition that comes with wearing that suit."

The Mr. C tradition includes two national titles for mascots: the National Cheerleaders Association championship in 2003 and the Cheerleaders of America championship in 2005.

Today's Mr. Cs attended and worked all home football games, and each got to attend an away game. "My game was South Carolina, which was an incredible experience," Newman says of Vanderbilt's 17-6 road win. "The enjoyment I got from running around all over the USC end zone after each of our touchdowns was absolutely amazing. Flying on a charter plane, eating insane amounts of free and delicious food, and staying in a gorgeous hotel weren't too bad, either."

Two of the Cs usually work the basketball games, alternating between Mr. C and his inflatable sidekick, Big C. They all agree that the new costume looks good, but it's also hot in there. "I wear a fleece muscle suit under the traditional outfit," Newman says. "It is meant to be the kind of suit that a Disney character would wear, to take pictures with little kids."

After honing their skills through regular workouts and practices, the three Cs went into action. "Being Mr. C doesn't entail that many duties other than being at the games and getting the fans pumped," Fagan says. "The latter can be hard, especially if we are losing, but that's what being Mr. C is all about. You have to be pumped all the time, no matter what.

"Interacting with fans is my favorite part. I love the older fans with their usual greeting of 'Mr. Commodore!' They remember and respect Mr. C. I also love the little fans with their greetings of 'Who's that?' or just a blank stare--but once you put out your hand for a high five, they are more than willing to oblige." 

Sevin Awarded Germany's Cross of the Order of Merit

Dieter Sevin, professor of Germanic languages and literatures and chair of the department, has been awarded the Cross of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany. It is the only order awarded by the president of that nation.

"For almost 40 years [Sevin] has taught German language and literature at Vanderbilt," said Lutz H. Görgens, the Atlanta-based consul general of the Federal Republic of Germany, in presenting the award. "His entire career so far has been dedicated to promoting the knowledge of German language and literature and culture in the United States."

Sevin, who arrived in the U.S. as a teenager nearly 50 years ago, has published hundreds of articles and books, including one of the most widely used German college texts, Wie geht's?: An Introductory German Course, co-authored with his wife, Ingrid Sevin.

Cancer Researcher Receives Accolade

Dr. David H. Johnson received the Association of Community Cancer Centers' annual Clinical Research Award last October. Johnson, a professor of medicine, is director of the Division of Hematology/Oncology and deputy director of the Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center. He was honored for his research, leadership, and commitment to individuals with lung and breast cancers. Johnson's clinical research interests focus mainly on management of thoracic malignancies and experimental therapeutics.

Vanderbilt has launched its own channel on YouTube, the wildly popular video-sharing site. The channel features a broad range of offerings, including lectures, concerts and news pieces, and content straight from the classroom. Vanderbilt is one among just a handful of universities nationally with a branded YouTube channel.

Kathryn Edwards works to find a vaccine that would protect everyone from a pandemic flu. Photo by Dana Johnson

Vanderbilt University Medical Center will receive nearly $24 million from the federal government over the next seven years to continue evaluating innovative vaccines for pandemic flu, malaria and other infections. Vanderbilt's Vaccine and Treatment Evaluation Unit is one of eight in the country funded by the National Institutes of Health (NIH).

"Obtaining funding for this contract is remarkable, especially in light of shrinking federal budgets for research," says Dr. Jeff Balser, associate vice chancellor for research. "Vaccine development is a powerful tool to fight disease on a broad public scale."

Over the years Vanderbilt's unit has morphed from a small vaccine clinic serving children to a testing center of national importance, beginning when swine flu hit in 1976. The VTEU was the basis for establishing Vanderbilt's HIV Vaccine Testing Unit in 1988. Its long history of responding quickly to the microbial hot topic of the day has made Vanderbilt an international leader in vaccine research.

"The contract will allow us to address growing challenges in this area of research," says the unit's principal investigator, Dr. Kathryn Edwards, professor of pediatrics and director of the Division of Pediatric Clinical Research. Among the challenges: how to increase the number of participants in these important studies.

"Those folks who have already participated in pandemic flu trials will not be eligible to participate in another round of these trials. We need new volunteers."

Edwards says the VTEU will also work to increase racial and ethnic diversity "so that if there were a pandemic flu, we would have vaccine that would work for all."

Some of the funds will support development of substances that can enhance the strength of the vaccines and thus reduce the amount and number of doses needed.

"That might mean, in the case of pandemic flu, that we can protect our population and others in developing countries that do not have the potential to make vaccines," Edwards says.

Vanderbilt researchers also are working on cytomegalo-virus (CMV) prevention, new types of seasonal influenza vaccines and, in collaboration with colleagues at Stanford University, an innovative malaria vaccine that uses a malaria protein carried in the common cold virus.

"A colleague at another institution told me about a patient who was given a prescription and said to the doctor, 'Are you prescribing this drug because that's what's printed on your pen?' That says how powerful this issue is," says Dr. Steven Gabbe,dean of Vanderbilt University School of Medicine.

Drug representatives may continue to meet with physicians and to supply free samples through the outpatient pharmacy, but they may not attend conferences and continuing medical education classes.

The policy is being phased in over a six-month period, with July 1 as the target date for compliance. It focuses on nonresearch use of industry products and will not affect research relationships or activities.

"This policy is a practical guide for physician interaction with industry," says Gabbe. "It will give the public great assurance to know that our decisions are based on what's best for them."

VUMC's executive leadership is soliciting feedback on the policy, available by clicking here.

The Saturday Academy at Vanderbilt for the Young raises the bar for top students. Photo by Rusty Russell

Not every child would want to spend Saturdays in school. But these aren't your average kids, and SAVY isn't your average school. Beginning in January and continuing through early March, gifted students in kindergarten through eighth grade had the chance to expand their academic horizons in a new program created by Vanderbilt and held at the nearby University School of Nashville.

To qualify for the Saturday Academy at Vanderbilt for the Young--SAVY--students had to test at the 95th percentile and above on either verbal or quantitative reasoning sections of academic achievement tests or IQ tests.

Each class was limited to 12 students, led by teachers trained and experienced in working with the gifted. Classes ranged from "The Deep: The Wonderful, Watery World of the Oceans" for kindergartners to "Going Nuclear: The Solution for Our Energy Needs?" for seventh- and eighth-graders.

Moms and dads also got in on the act. "Parents are among the most important forces in the development of special talents while also fostering balance and healthfulness," says Elizabeth Schoenfeld, director of the Vanderbilt Programs for Talented Youth. "We are offering classes for SAVY parents while their children are in class."

To learn more about Vanderbilt Programs for Talented Youth, including SAVY, Weekend Academy at Vanderbilt University, Vanderbilt Summer Academy, and the new Med School 101, visit www.pty.vanderbilt.edu or call 615/322-8261.

Thumbs Up for Residential Education

I read with great interest Whitney Weeks' piece on the College Halls initiative [Fall 2007 issue, "Common Ground," p. 52]. The article was informative and gave me a good overview of the entire College Halls vision. In particular, the sentence "Disengaged students make less of an academic contribution to Vanderbilt and become un-enthusiastic, disconnected alumni" struck a nerve.

Although somewhat of a loner by nature, I feel that my own experience at Vandy would have been greatly enhanced by the opportunities that seem available with The Commons and subsequent housing/learning facilities. Although the Greek system works well for many students, those outside that system will especially benefit from this new approach. Kudos to all those whose hard work is making this project a reality. 

J. Eric Kindberg, BA'68
Charlotte, N.C.

I've just finished reading the article about The Commons and think the College Halls concept is a great idea by which to foster community among students and faculty.

As a Peabody alumna who lived in Memorial Hall (we called it UDC, of course) from September 1949 through May 1953, I've had special interest in watching the construction webcam as the new buildings took shape practically in my dorm's backyard. I was interested, too, to read that the old dorms (Memorial, East, etc.) have been gutted and refurbished as part of The Commons plan.

I have many happy memories of all my four years at Peabody, including living in the dorm--roommates and friends, impromptu social events, sunbathing on the roof, hamburgers at the Krystal--elements that helped make up my college experience.

Because of Peabody's small enrollment at that time, I felt a sense of community that I hope the College Halls will create for students now and in the future. I send my best wishes to all those involved in this new-old concept--especially the students.

Carolyn Whitaker Crowley, BA'53
Fort Worth, Texas

Government-Run Health Care Isn't the Answer

I found the article "Big Shoulders, Deep Pockets, Tightened Belts" [Fall 2007 issue, p. 30] interesting but misdirected. Heath care in the U.S. is the best in the world thanks to facilities like Vanderbilt. The federal government is the worst place to put money decisions for my health care or anyone else's.

As a small business owner, I offer medical insurance to employees. They choose if they want it. I pay 50 percent of the premium. It is available for families, if they choose. I pay competitive prices for coverage that is better than average. I price my product and services so that I can provide this medical insurance. I also pay worker's compensation, state medical and federal medical taxes.

Nowhere in the article do you discuss the pricing of health-care products or services. Health care is the only U.S. industry I know of that is not controlled or influenced by competitive price technology.

I am sorry for the suffering of individuals injured because of negligence or stupidity or carelessness. To suggest that government should pay for medical services because someone does not have health insurance is wrong. The Hippocratic Oath is clear. Doctors who take that oath are aware of what it says. I do not ask a doctor to pay for my individual judgments. Why should he ask me to pay for his?

As a final point, you buried an item about "uninsurable immigrants" in the middle of the article. Prohibiting illegal immigration would reduce the burden on the health-care system.

Providing health care for less than 15 percent of the population by raising taxes and wages for medical professionals who chose the profession and reducing local control of the health system makes no sense.

Dan DeVore, BA'68
Atlanta

Hatfield Roots

Imagine my surprise when I turned to page 24 of the Fall 2007 issue [The Campus, "Tumors May Have Fueled Hatfield-McCoy Feud"] to see a picture of my husband's grandmother and great-grandfather.

My husband, U. Grant Browning, MDiv'58, is the grandson of Betty Hatfield Caldwell and the great-grandson of [Hatfield clan patriarch] William Anderson "Devil Anse" Hatfield. Our daughter, Barbara Browning, BA'78, is the great-great-granddaughter of "Devil Anse." The feud is an interesting part of our family history, but I never expected to see a connection to Vanderbilt. Thank you for an informative article. 

Elizabeth Meggs Browning, MA'54 
Nashville

Transcendent Teacher

It was a pleasure to read the piece about Sylvia Hyman and her art [Fall 2007 issue, The Mind's Eye, "Stories Told with Fictional Clay," p. 61]. I first learned of the lady in 1967 when she was teaching in the ceramic studio next to my sculpture class. She had a love for clay and teaching that transcended her studio, and I changed my schedule the following term so I could benefit from her.

Her achievements as an artist are impressive, but they pale when compared to the devotion she gave to her teaching and her students. May she live forever! 

James Adams, MA'68 
Mankato, Minn.

The Simple Life

The Fall 2007 issue was the best Vanderbilt Magazine ever. After almost 82 years in this fascinating world, it was refreshing to learn that all of the technical advances made in my lifetime can't bring us happiness.

I was thrilled to read that Logan Ward ["American Rustic," p. 42] chopped a chicken neck, slopped hogs, read by kerosene lamp, and canned the vegetables of his labors. 'Tis true we don't enjoy life's progress until we've been without.

Mary Tom Bass' story on tobacco [Southern Journal, "The Crop That Built Carolina," p. 88] was up my alley, too--bravo to Vandy for teaching us that you don't get it all from books, but rather through life's journey and those whose lives we touch.

I started at Vanderbilt in 1948 (the first experimental year for students going to both Peabody and Vanderbilt), joined American Airlines as a flight attendant, and continued going to the university. I received my degree on the run.

My son and his family are up-to-the-minute innovators--high-speed Internet, e-mail, iPods, you name it--but you will find me in the kitchen fixing chicken and dumplings. Living is an art, and the secret is to learn to live passionately. 

Phila Hach, BS'49 
Joelton, Tenn.

Poor Publishing Decision

I contributed a profile of Marie Wilson to the Spring 2007 edition of Vanderbilt Magazine. The article describes Wilson's long career--in the Civil Rights Movement, community churches, higher education, electoral politics, leadership of the Ms. Foundation, and founding the White House Project.

For some reason, a reader named Daniel Gray used this piece to launch a nasty and false personal attack on me. For some reason, Vanderbilt Magazine Editor GayNelle Doll published the attack.

Gray calls me "a big supporter of the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision." He writes of "an undeclared war that people like she [Ms. Wilson] and Mr. Euchner have waged against boys for several decades." He says I "must not be happy" to learn about positive efforts like a midwifery program or an effort to save Kenyan children for adoption, and that I "must not have been thrilled with" former Chancellor Gordon Gee's praise for a pro-life activist. Gray closes by expressing horror at "how many future Vanderbilt students have been eliminated" because of Roe--clearly implying that I would endorse such "elimination."

In fact, I have never publicly expressed an opinion on Roe, either pro or con. Like most Americans, I am ambivalent about this issue. I respect greatly people on all sides of the issue who honestly and compassionately seek the best answers to abortion and related issues (e.g., sex education, strengthening the family, child care, adoption).

Vanderbilt's decision to publish this nasty attack on me (and Marie Wilson)--false and defamatory in every way--was unconscionable.

I have urged Interim Chancellor Nicholas Zeppos to adopt a formal policy against publishing personal and libelous attacks in university publications. Vanderbilt has long celebrated its policy of open dialogue, which Chancellor Alexander Heard did so much to advance. Now Vanderbilt should embrace basic standards for honesty as well.

Charles Euchner, BA'82
New Haven, Conn.

Teacher Mary Laurens Seely helps Tyler Rowland with his studies at the Vanderbilt Children's Hospital School, where young patients keep up with schoolwork. Photo by Dana Johnson

Like most 4-year-olds, the Monroe Carell Jr. Children's Hospital at Vanderbilt is growing like a weed. Although the free-standing hospital was just completed in 2004, Vanderbilt in January obtained approval from the Tennessee Health Services and Development Agency to move forward with expansion.

"We have seen tremendous growth in the number of children treated at our hospital," says Dr. Kevin Churchwell, CEO of Children's Hospital. "This growth has led to our hospital being at full capacity most of the year."

Since opening its doors the hospital has seen an increase in discharges of 37 percent, patient days of 31 percent, operative procedures of 53 percent, emergency visits of 31 percent, and clinic visits of 45 percent.

The total cost of the eight-story addition is projected to be approximately $203 million, with groundbreaking in 2009 and construction completed in 2012. The expanded building will connect to the existing hospital to the east, including the adjacent block of Medical Center

Drive and the space currently occupied by the Vanderbilt Dayani Center for Health and Wellness, which is slated to relocate to the developing 100 Oaks campus.

The new building will house 190 new and relocated obstetrical, pediatric and neonatal intensive care beds. Obstetrical and NICU beds currently in the main hospital will be relocated to the new building.

The total number of licensed beds for the Medical Center will increase to 1,051.

One of the first friends I made after I began work at Vanderbilt in 1986 was Grace Zibart, then editor of The Vanderbilt Lawyer and associate editor of Vanderbilt Magazine. A native New Yorker, she had been assistant fashion editor at The New York Times before she married a Nashville boy, Carl Zibart, BA'29, at the close of World War II.

Carl and his brother, Alan, BA'31, owned and ran Zibart's Bookstore. Grace was hopeless on a computer or behind the wheel, but she was a peerless writer and a great friend to aspiring writers. She seemed to know everyone on a first-name basis--Allen Tate and Robert "Red" Penn Warren and Al Gore and David Halberstam, sculptors and chefs and nuns.

Being invited to Grace's and Carl's home for dinner was always an event. On one such occasion, I remember Carl declaring over cocktails--there were always cocktails--that he had reached the point in life where, if he got 100 pages into a book and didn't like it, he quit reading without guilt. He was past 80 at the time.

Grace died in 1999 and Carl in 2004. I've been thinking of them lately as my husband and I have been de-cluttering our own home, culling books we've accumulated during 30 years of marriage.

I've no qualms over giving up outdated travel guides, reference books made less essential by the Internet, and how-to books acquired back when I envisioned myself as someone who would make potpourri from my own roses and jam from my own peaches.

But what should I do with that stack in the corner of the loft, books I've started but never finished, a towering testimony to my failings as a reader? There's Don Quixote, started when we were working on a Vanderbilt Magazine profile about Cervantes scholar Edward Friedman (Fall 2005 issue). Holding up a 940-page book in bed gave me reader's cramp. There's Thomas Friedman's From Beirut to Jerusalem, abandoned after three chapters, in that corner longer than our troops have been in Afghanistan and Iraq. There's The Satanic Verses, bought after Salman Rushdie visited Vanderbilt last year. I made it to page 83 before I bogged down; now the characters of Farishta and Chamcha have become a muddle and I need to start over. You'd think a book that created such furor would be more interesting.

There are a dozen more volumes in the corner, too, their covers curled and forlorn, spurned in favor of books I found more readable. I will be married nearly another 30 years before I reach the age Carl Zibart was when he cut himself some slack and stopped reading past page 100. I don't think I have his fortitude. Cervantes and Rushdie are going into the Goodwill box; Friedman stays. The need to understand more about the Mideast isn't going away anytime soon.

SPEAR volunteers turn last year's leaves into next year's compost. Photo by John Russell

Vanderbilt has more trees than undergraduate students--an estimated 7,500 leaf- producing specimens on its 330-acre campus. Until recently, all the leaves collected from autumns past were stockpiled at Natchez Triangle because nobody could figure out what to do with them.

"The Grounds Department wanted to incorporate green principles to compost the leaves for our own use on the grounds," says Judson Newbern, associate vice chancellor for campus planning and construction. "But we had been unsuccessful at transforming the massive pile of leaves into usable compost."

Working with Students Promoting Environmental Awareness and Recycling (SPEAR), Vanderbilt hired Marcus Kerske, who with his family operates Nashville's Gardens of Babylon, a nursery and landscaping center based on sustainable practices.

"Our biggest challenge was getting enough oxygen into the leaves to allow the right decomposition," says Kerske. An enormous single pile of leaves was reconfigured into a 90-foot row about 7 feet high, so that a front-end loader could turn it to expose all layers to oxygen.

The first batch of rich, dark compost was loaded into trucks recently and returned across campus to be spread under the trees that shed those leaves several seasons ago.

"Compost helps rejuvenate plants and trees in urban settings due to the richness of the microorganisms in it," explains Kerske. "This is the first step toward rebuilding the soil structure in these beds." The insulating layer of compost will also be helpful if last summer's drought conditions recur.

"The bigger concept each autumn will be to shred some leaves finely enough to fertilize our lawns without shading out the grass, to shred some onto bed areas under trees, and to haul enough leaves to the Natchez Trace composting operation to keep the cycle going in order to renew the vigor of our campus soil for future generations," says Newbern.

Lisa Robbins

Lisa Robbins earned a master's degree in journalism from the University of Missouri-Columbia and worked as a reporter in Jerusalem and Chicago. When a newspaper editor instructed her to stop conducting interviews in person and to do all her reporting from behind a desk, she decided to give freelancing a try. Though she has dabbled in other work since, she always finds herself back at a keyboard. She lives in Nashville and recently has written for the Travel Channel, Nashville Scene and Peabody Reflector.

Dwayne O'Brien

Dwayne O'Brien, MA'05, is a Grammy-nominated musician and songwriter. After earning a bachelor's degree in chemistry from East Central University, the Oklahoman moved to Nashville to pursue a music career. A founding member of the group Little Texas, he and the band have sold more than 6 million albums and topped the charts with 15 top-10 and three No. 1 hits. O'Brien was the first person to earn a master's degree in the communication of science, engineering and technology at Vanderbilt, where he is a regular contributor to Exploration, Vanderbilt's online research magazine.

Claire Suddath

Claire Suddath, BA'04, worked three years at the Nashville Scene alternative weekly newspaper after leaving Vanderbilt. She currently attends Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism and lives in a tiny apartment in New York City with her dog, Molly. When she's not writing, Suddath spends most of her time taking the wrong subway and getting yelled at by New Yorkers.

Frye Gaillard

Frye Gaillard, BA'68, was born in the Deep South and has been writing about the region for almost 40 years. His latest book, With Music and Justice for All: Some Southerners and Their Passions (Vanderbilt University Press, 2008), is an anthology of some of his most compelling works, including several pieces originally published in Vanderbilt Magazine. Gaillard is writer-in-residence at the University of South Alabama and the author of 17 additional works of nonfiction.

Lisa A. DuBois

Lisa A. DuBois has penned stories for newspapers, magazines, radio and video. She received a bachelor's degree from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a master's degree in biomedical communications from Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas. She recently completed a history of the founding of Vanderbilt Children's Hospital, More Than a Place (Providence House Publishers, 2007).

Additional Contributors:

Carole Bartoo, Joanne L. Beckham, Richard Blackett, Craig Boerner, Bruce Buchanan, Kelly Finan, Angela Fox, Kara Furlong, Rose Mary Gorman, Paul Govern, Rob Heller, John Howser, Lynne Hutchison, Elizabeth Latt, Princine Lewis, Melanie Moran, Ann Marie Owens, Melissa Pankake, Jim Patterson, Emily Pearce, David F. Salisbury, Jason Silvers, Bill Snyder, Cindy Steine, Michelle Miller Sulikowski, Whitney Weeks, Amy Wolf

Enrollment of African American students has more than doubled in the past decade. Photo by Kathleen Smith Barry

The percentage of African Americans in the fall 2007 freshman class increased by 12.3 percent over the previous fall, placing Vanderbilt fourth among the highest-ranking U.S. universities, according to The Journal of Blacks in Higher Education.

"The progress at Vanderbilt University over the past decade has been extraordinary," the journal observed in January. "In 1995 only 4 percent of all freshmen at Vanderbilt were black. This year the figure is 10.3 percent."

Of the highest-ranking universities selected by U.S. News & World Report, Vanderbilt ranks fourth in percentage of black freshmen, behind Columbia University, the University of Virginia, and the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. Meanwhile, overall graduation rates have held steady.

"This is the result of a directed and purposeful approach to recruiting a diverse student body," says Douglas Christiansen, associate provost for enrollment and dean of admissions at Vanderbilt. "We set out to achieve this because it means our students benefit from a cross-section of backgrounds and outlooks, as does everyone on campus."

In the decade between 1997 and 2007, black freshman enrollment at Vanderbilt more than doubled, from 82 to 172.

This year Vanderbilt is also seeing a dramatic increase in applications across the board. Students seeking admission to Vanderbilt's fall 2008 freshman class rose 30 percent in one year. The university saw a comparable increase among diverse populations as well as rises in all geographic regions, with the largest increases coming from outside Vanderbilt's own region.

"This is the most diverse, well-rounded and academically prepared applicant pool in Vanderbilt's history," Christiansen says. "Every measure of academic quality is up--standardized tests, class ranking, high school GPA, and the number taking Advanced Placement, International Baccalaureate and honors courses."

This year a record of approximately 16,800 students applied to Vanderbilt (for 1,550 available freshman positions), compared to 12,911 in 2007--a 30 percent increase. The number of minority applicants increased by 28.7 percent, with the largest increase coming among Hispanics at 34 percent, followed by Asians at 29 percent, African Americans at 24 percent, and American Indians at 17 percent. Applicants from other countries and from U.S. territories rose 76 percent from 653 to 1,168.

Nicholas S. Zeppos was named Vanderbilt's chancellor March 1 following the Board of Trust's winter meeting.

The unanimous election of Zeppos, who had served as Vanderbilt's chief academic officer since 2002 and interim chancellor since last summer, marks the first time in 70 years that Vanderbilt has chosen a chancellor from within the university.

"I always will consider myself a faculty member, a teacher," Zeppos said in accepting the appointment. "A university is the most vital institution in society because it is built on timeless values of truth, knowledge, discovery and healing."

"We wanted a chancellor who was a true scholar," said Dennis C. Bottorff, BE'66, chair of a nine-member committee that undertook a national chancellor search following the resignation of E. Gordon Gee last August.

Since 2002, Zeppos has overseen the university's undergraduate, graduate and professional education programs, as well as research in liberal arts and sciences, engineering, music, education, business, law and divinity. As provost and vice chancellor, he chaired Vanderbilt's budgeting and capital planning council, led fundraising and alumni relations efforts, and oversaw the dean of students and dean of admissions.

Zeppos has led a number of initiatives at Vanderbilt, including the planning process for The Commons; the Strategic Academic Planning Group; innovative efforts in undergraduate admissions and financial aid; and development of programs in Jewish studies, law and economics, and genetics, among others. He has led the university's current Shape the Future fundraising campaign, which exceeded its $1.25 billion goal two years ahead of schedule and set a new target of $1.75 billion by 2010.

Zeppos joined the Vanderbilt faculty in 1987 as an assistant professor in the law school, where he was recognized with five teaching awards. He served as an associate dean and associate provost before becoming provost and vice chancellor for academic affairs in 2002.

From 1982 to 1987, Zeppos practiced law in Washington, D.C., at the U.S. Department of Justice and at Wilmer, Cutler & Pickering. He has written widely on legislation, administrative law and profes-sional responsibility. He served as chair for the Scholars Committee, advising the Senate and the American Bar Association on the confirmation of Justice Stephen Breyer, and as chair of the Rules Advisory Committee of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit.

A magna cum laude graduate of the University of Wisconsin Law School and a Phi Beta Kappa graduate of the University of Wisconsin, Zeppos is married to Lydia Ann Howarth. They have two sons, Benjamin, 21, and Nicholas, 18.

"This great university has come so far, so fast," said Martha Ingram, chairman of the Board of Trust, "and the principal reason is Nick's enormous intellect, his great vision, and his tireless commitment."

Zeppos called his appointment the second best thing that happened that week. "Beating Tennessee was the best thing," he added. The Vanderbilt men's basketball team beat the No. 1-ranked University of Tennessee 72-69 on Feb. 29.

More about Zeppos and his vision for Vanderbilt will appear in the summer issue of Vanderbilt Magazine.

Find out more: www.vanderbilt.edu/chancellor

John D. Rockefeller Sr. (1839-1937) and Jr. (1874-1960)

At the end of the 19th century, vast personal fortunes were created in the United States. Industrial advances made from 1870 to 1900 opened opportunities in railways, oil, banking and manufacturing. Savvy businessmen with names like Carnegie, Vanderbilt, Morgan and Rockefeller accrued enough wealth to ensure a life of ease for generations to come.

With these riches they built "cottages" like The Breakers in Newport, R.I., and country homes like Biltmore in Asheville, N.C. They took their new money into old homes and mingled with the Edith Wharton-esque characters of the Gilded Age. These so-called robber barons spent on a lavish scale--jewels, travel, and Worth gowns from Paris. But they also revolutionized philanthropic giving in the United States.

Hospitals, museums, opera houses and libraries all benefited from their largesse--and so did Vanderbilt University.

In 1873 Cornelius Vanderbilt agreed to donate $1 million to endow the university that bears his name. However, the name of the family that has given the most money over the years isn't found anywhere on campus--not on a building or statue or even a classroom door. When the final accounting is done, the Rockefeller family may have had a far greater impact on Vanderbilt than its namesake.

John D. Rockefeller Sr. founded Standard Oil Co. in 1870 and ran it until he retired in the late 1890s. He is often maligned and charged with the same unscrupulous business practices that ran rampant in the latter years of the 19th century. It is true that he built his fortune by buying out his competitors. Those who were reluctant to sell were often forced into bankruptcy by the larger Standard Oil.

But those who did sell usually found themselves very wealthy--especially when shares of Standard Oil were included in the deal.

Vanderbilt's new medical center, opened in 1925, housed the medical school, hospital and research laboratories under one roof. The building is now part of Medical Center North.

As America's dependence on gasoline grew, Rockefeller's stock value--and wealth--grew accordingly. He was easily the richest person in the world and is regarded by some as the richest person ever. A staunch Northern Baptist, he gave 10 percent of every paycheck to his church from the time he was 16. Over the years Rockefeller and his heirs funneled money to Vanderbilt in three ways--through the General Education Board (GEB), the Rockefeller Foundation and individually.

The GEB was created in 1902 and chartered by Congress in 1903. Its mission was to promote education throughout the United States "without distinction of race, sex or creed." Specifically, the GEB focused on the education of African Americans in the South. The secretary of the new organization was Wallace Buttrick--a name that's familiar to Vanderbilt alumni and friends. Chancellor James Kirkland quickly formed a relationship with Buttrick when he realized the possibilities that existed within the GEB.

Over the years the GEB donated more than $23 million to Vanderbilt--including, in 1928, the funds that built Garland, Buttrick and Calhoun halls, and more than $17 million to the medical school between 1914 and 1960.

In 1910 Abraham Flexner, a Kentucky schoolteacher and principal employed by the Carnegie Foundation to visit and report on medical schools in the United States and Canada, published a document focusing on the sorry state of medical education. The impact of the "Flexner Report" was felt around the country and resulted in the closure of many medical schools.

Nursing school class in Mary Kirkland Hall shortly after the building's 1925 completion, with funding provided by the Rockefeller Foundation.

In 1912 Flexner moved to the GEB to serve as secretary under Buttrick, who had been named president. By 1917 the GEB had committed $50 million to improving medical schools, especially in the South. Together, Flexner, Buttrick and Kirkland envisioned a new Vanderbilt Medical School with a research-oriented faculty attuned to meeting the special needs of the mostly poor, mostly rural South. In 1919 Kirkland secured $4 million to build the new facility--the GEB's largest grant to a university up to that time. In just 10 years the GEB would invest another $10 million in the medical school.

In 1913 John D. Rockefeller Sr. created the Rockefeller Foundation with a mission to "promote the well-being of mankind throughout the world." His son, John D. Rockefeller Jr., was one of the original leaders of the foundation.

One of the foundation's lasting legacies was the funding it provided to the Vanderbilt School of Nursing. The school was created in 1908 but was not considered a part of Vanderbilt's overall educational mission. At that time--especially in the South--nursing sometimes meant little more than housekeeping and was not a career of choice for prominent young women.

By 1925 Canby Robinson, dean of the medical school, envisioned a much-improved nursing school to complement the new medical school. He turned to the Rockefeller Foundation, which gave two grants--one to upgrade the existing school and one (shared with Peabody College) for a joint public health nursing program. The foundation made other significant contributions to the School of Nursing in 1930 and 1937.

Individually, the Rockefellers have also been more than generous when it comes to Vanderbilt. Today's Divinity School benefited greatly from a gift John D. Jr. made to the School of Religion in 1925. Winthrop Rockefeller bequeathed $500,000 to Vanderbilt upon his death. And countless other gifts have impacted the university. From research advances to scholarship support to the physical beauty of the campus, Vanderbilt is much indebted to the Rockefeller family.

John D. Rockefeller Sr. is credited with helping to shape philanthropy in America as we know it today. His systematic approach of identifying targets through various foundations has had a major effect on medicine, education and scientific research. During his lifetime it is estimated that he gave away $550 million. So while Vanderbilt owes its origins and its name to the Commodore, it certainly owes a much larger debt to a man whose statue or portrait is nowhere to be found.

Please send address corrections to Gift Records Office, Vanderbilt University, VU Station B #357727, 2301 Vanderbilt Place, Nashville, TN 37235-7703. Vanderbilt Magazine is printed by Lane Press in Burlington, Vt.

Opinions expressed in Vanderbilt Magazine are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the magazine or the university administration. Vanderbilt University is committed to the principles of equal opportunity and affirmative action.

Copyright 2008 Vanderbilt University

Sandy Besser, BA'58, shares his Santa Fe home with thousands of works of art, including Koi Neng Liew's "One Pretty Flower for Mr. Rabbit Man," shown here. "There's a story behind every single piece in this house, and I don't have favorites," Besser says. "They are all my babies." For more about Besser's collection, click here.

Photo by Jane Phillips.

Give the gift of tradition with the official Vanderbilt class ring for alumni and students.

For more information contact Balfour Rings at www.balfour.com or visit the Vanderbilt Bookstore.

In its ability to learn, the cockroach is a numskull in the morning and a genius in the evening. Dramatic daily variations in the cockroach's learning ability were discovered by a new study performed by Vanderbilt University biologists and published last fall in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

"This is the first example of an insect whose ability to learn is controlled by its biological clock," says Terry L. Page, the professor of biological sciences who directed the project. Undergraduate students Susan Decker and Shannon McCon-naughey also participated in the study.

The few studies that have been done with mammals suggest their ability to learn also varies with the time of day. A recent experiment with humans found that people's ability to acquire new information is reduced when their biological clocks are disrupted, particularly at certain times of day. Similarly, several learning and memory studies with rodents have found that these processes are modulated by their circadian clocks. One experiment with rats found an association between jet lag and retrograde amnesia.

In the current study the researchers taught individual cockroaches to associate peppermint--a scent they normally find slightly distasteful-- with sugar water, causing them to favor it over vanilla, a scent they find universally appealing.

The researchers trained individual cockroaches at different times in the 24-hour day/night cycle and then tested them to see how long they remembered the association. They found that the individuals trained during the evening retained the memory for several days. Those trained at night also had good retention. During the morning, however, when the cockroaches are least active, they were totally incapable of forming a new memory, although they could recall memories learned at other times.

"It is very surprising that the deficit in the morning is so profound," says Page. "An interesting question is why the animal would not want to learn at that particular time of day. We have no idea."

Most previous studies of circadian rhythm have focused on the visual system. "The advantage of eyes becoming more sensitive at night is so obvious that people haven't looked much at other sensory systems," says Page. "The fact that our study involves the olfactory system suggests that the circadian cycle could be influencing a number of senses beyond vision."

In the study the researchers used cockroaches of the species Leucophaea maderae.

The discovery that the cockroach's memory is so strongly modulated by its circadian clock opens up new opportunities to learn more about the molecular basis of the interaction between biological clocks and memory and learning in general. Much of the new information about the molecular basis of memory and learning has come from the study of other invertebrates (animals without backbones) such as the sea slug (Apylsia) and the fruit fly (Drosophila).

"Studies like this suggest that time of day can have a profound impact, at least in certain situations. By studying the way the biological clock modulates learning and memory, we may learn more about how these processes take place and what can influence them," Page says.

The study was supported by a grant from the National Institute of Mental Health.

Middle school students teach a cartoon character and then test her comprehension. Photo by Jason Tan

Anyone who has ever helped children with homework knows how much they resist checking their answers. Now a new animated computer program created by Vanderbilt engineers is showing students that self-checking is an effective--and enjoyable--way to learn.

Teachers in Nashville and California public school classrooms are using a program called "Betty's Brain" to teach fifth- and sixth-grade students about river ecosystems. But Betty's Brain teaches much more than middle school science content. It also teaches students how to learn.

Supported by $2.5 million in joint funding from the National Science Foundation and the U.S. Department of Education, a team of researchers from Vanderbilt and Stanford universities--headed by Gautam Biswas, Vanderbilt professor of electrical engineering and computer science--has demonstrated that students learn science content much better by using "Betty's Brain." Studies at middle schools in Nashville and California show that the students also carry over that learning into new subjects, practice monitoring themselves along the way, and have fun in the process.

Using a simplified visual representation called a concept map, the students teach a cartoon character named Betty about river-ecosystem processes, such as the food chain, photosynthesis and the waste cycle. Then they test her to see if she has learned her lesson. Unless the students periodically check whether Betty understands the concepts and their relations, she will refuse to take the test. In checking her, the students are really checking themselves and discovering that self-monitoring is an important strategy that applies to all learning situations.

"In order to teach, they first have to learn," Biswas says. "Students are much more motivated to monitor someone else, but in the process they are actually monitoring themselves. It's more entertaining for the students, and they feel a sense of responsibility. Because they are teaching her, they want her to do well."

At the bottom of the computer screen is an animated cartoon of Betty. A shared concept map, which represents what Betty and the student have learned, is in the middle of the screen. Using speech and animation processes, Betty can demonstrate how she reasons and answers questions with that information.

"The program's strongest effect is on student reasoning processes," says Rod Roscoe, a research associate in computer science whose field is the psychology of learning. When students are introduced to new science concepts weeks or months after using "Betty's Brain," studies show that they carry over those learning strategies in mastering the new material.

Student tools include Mr. Davis' Library, which contains text explaining the concepts, and simulations that provide animated pictures of what happens to fish in a river if food, sunlight, microorganisms and wastes increase