Wanting to ensure that former classmates (including their photographer, Marie Foss, BFA ’21) could attend both celebrations, the couple intentionally planned their ceremony to coincide with reunion weekend. 

The wedding was a high point for Wilder and Bitner-Glindzicz in a year full of professional and personal milestones. Word is spreading in public health communities about their company, nCase Technologies, and its flagship product, NALOX-1. An updated version, nCase Light, launches this month — just weeks after Wilder’s graduation from WashU Medicine.

A St. Louis-based startup, nCase Technologies creates cases that securely and discreetly hold naloxone nasal spray, the life-saving drug that can reverse the effects of an opioid overdose. The idea arose from the sobering realization that even among those who already know the importance of naloxone, most frequently sold as Narcan, the vast majority don’t carry it regularly.

Wilder sees this pattern regularly in her work in emergency medicine. Tragically, as a teenager it affected her innermost circle.

“Back in 2018, I lost a close friend to an opioid overdose,” Wilder says. “He owned Narcan, and those he was with also owned Narcan, but none of them had it on them when his life depended on it.

And fast forward, when I got training in medical school, people received Narcan and then didn’t have it when they needed it most. That’s when we started realizing there was a problem. I wondered, ‘how do I get myself to carry Narcan? How do I get people to build it into their everyday lives?’”

“Back in 2018, I lost a close friend to an opioid overdose,” Wilder says. “He owned Narcan, and those he was with also owned Narcan, but none of them had it on them when his life depended on it.

Through research, the couple discovered a set of simple but persistent barriers to carrying naloxone: bulkiness, inconvenience, stigma. Bitner-Glindzicz, who as a WashU McKelvey Engineering student studied space technology, saw an engineering problem. Wilder, who had already conceived of and pitched a different medical device as an undergraduate in Arts & Sciences’ Biotech Explorers Pathway, saw an entrepreneurial opportunity.

Or as Wilder puts it: “We saw a very easy solution to a big problem and decided it was time to act on it.”

The tech behind 40+ lives saved

Another type of match

Just weeks before her wedding, at the WashU Medicine Match Day Ceremony, Wilder learned she will pursue her residency in emergency medicine at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. She and Bitner-Glindzicz plan to keep nCase Technologies based in St. Louis.

The unassuming, keychain-sized NALOX-1 case required a substantial amount of engineering knowledge to envision and manufacture. Bitner-Glindzicz designed the case to be waterproof, UV- and temperature-resistant, comfortable to hold and almost comically durable. In prototype testing, it survived being run over by a car and dropped off a building without damaging the nasal spray inside. (A kitchen blender bested it, the team admits.)

Most crucially, it’s built to be completely fail-safe when needed most.

“From an engineering perspective, having a soft case instead of a hard one allowed me to make this into a single-body design, which is really important,” Bitner-Glindzicz says. “If you come across somebody experiencing an overdose, literally every second counts. All you have to do is just pop it open, and you can immediately take the medication out and administer as quickly as possible.”

Appearance-wise, the case intentionally looks more like “a cute accessory” than a medical device, he says. “We wanted this to be something that was soft to the touch, something people actually want to carry with them.”

Customers are “obsessed,” Bitner-Glindzicz says. In August 2025, thanks to a large order from St. Louis County Public Health, nCase sold all their existing inventory within two weeks. The fledgling company then won an Arch Grant for $75,000, followed by an additional infusion of $100,000 in investments.

The influx of capital meant Bitner-Glindzicz could give up his bartending job, which had supported the couple as they launched the company while Wilder worked through her third year of medical school. Sales have quadrupled since then, growing nearly 100% each quarter, with new clients coming on board throughout the country.

“We’ve had a lot of rural and Native American reservation customers,” Wilder says. “Specifically targeting areas where there aren’t a lot of resources, that seems to be point of impact for us right now.”

Among the many significant figures and milestones from the past year, for Wilder and Bitner-Glindzicz, the most gratifying is 40 — the number of confirmed lives saved from the technology they created. Since so many overdose incidents go unreported, they suspect that number is even higher. And they’re determined to save even more.

The WashU start

StL love

In addition to WashU resources and mentors, the nCase founders credit the city of St. Louis for their early success.

Wilder: “For us, growing our company in St. Louis was our way to give back to the community, because it’s given us so much.”

Bitner-Glindzicz: “The people that choose to be here love this city and are proud to be here. That creates a really interesting incubator as a culture for startups and ventures.”

The couple credits much of their company’s success to WashU, especially the university’s Skandalaris Center for Interdisciplinary Innovation and Entrepreneurship.

“I just have to say, flat out: we definitely would not have gotten this off the ground without the support of WashU and the innovation resources that it has,” Bitner-Glindzicz says.

The couple won the top prize at the Skandalaris Spring Venture Competition in 2024. That early $10,000 award made it possible to move from ideation to creation in less than a year. And Skandalaris mentors, including Cyril Loum, venture development manager, have been by their side ever since.

“Cyril has been such a massive and consistent supporter for us from the very beginning, and continues to be even now,” Bitner-Glindzicz says.

“I think he was just as excited as we were when Matt proposed,” Wilder adds. “The ecosystem is so friendly and personal. It makes it so much easier to approach these problems with people who really seem to care about you.”

The nCase founders credit the Skandalaris Center with helping them build crucial connections in the public health, innovation and medical industries, and they’re expanding that circle of connection by bringing on current WashU students as interns.

“If it wasn’t for those resources, there’s no way we end up even saving a single life,” Bitner-Glindzicz says.

Growing (and shrinking) with purpose

Origin stories

Legacy love: The couple met during their first week of WashU classes — as did Dani’s parents, Susan Shern Wilder, AB ’84, and Robert Wilder, BSBA ’83.

That first business pitch: As an undergraduate, Wilder created a patch to test for skin sensitivities.

An open door: WashU “was not originally on my radar,” Bitner-Glindicz says, but he enthusiastically enrolled after earning a full-tuition engineering scholarship as a Langsdorf Scholar.

While bringing their first case to market, the nCase co-founders had already set their sights on ways to improve the case and make it useful for even more people.

“The early beta testing we did showed the number one thing that keeps people from carrying Narcan is just inconvenience and size and bulkiness,” Bitner-Glindzicz says. “We knew long term that we needed to develop something that was even smaller and lighter.”

Their upcoming product launch, nCase Light, checks both boxes. It’s 37% lighter and 30% smaller than NALOX-1, while still being fully protective. The new version may not survive being run over by a car, Bitner-Glindzicz says, “but you can still drop it off a fifth-story balcony.”

The launch also marks a move beyond opioid harm reduction. In recent years, pharmaceutical companies have begun to turn other emergency medications, including the widely used epinephrine for allergic reactions, into nasal sprays.

“That opens up an entire global market of people that have a serious need for carrying their meds, and we can provide them a better way of doing so — and continue to save even more lives that way,” Bitner-Glindzicz says.  

While keeping an eye toward growth, the couple continues to prioritize public health over profits. An individual case costs less than $9, with bulk orders decreasing the price per unit to as low as $5.

“Ultimately, our goal is to sell this at the cheapest price possible,” Bitner-Glindicz says. “I would never be willing to take on an investor who isn’t OK with us selling these at a lower price, even maybe an unprofitable one, to a group that can truly make a difference and help save lives, because that’s what matters most.

“Ultimately, our goal is to sell this at the cheapest price possible,” Bitner-Glindicz says.

It’s high and lofty, and I don’t regret it for a single moment,” he adds. “Admittedly, it made getting this off the ground a lot harder, but our goal will always be public health first. We want to keep saving lives one day at a time — while exploring married life at the same time.”

The post A life-saving union appeared first on The Source.

The story began when Henry Warshaw, AB ’76, MBA ’79, took two social work electives while working toward his master’s degree at Olin Business School.

“Henry jokes that he chose those courses because there were more women at the Brown School,” Susan Warshaw, MSW ’79, says. “While we never had a class together, we did have a mutual friend who invited both of us to her party. We met that night, and he asked me out. The rest is history.”

After earning their graduate degrees from WashU, the couple remained in St. Louis, where they built thriving careers. At just 29 years old, Henry was appointed president of the Frontenac branch of Mark Twain Bank, which is now part of U.S. Bank. Today, he is a managing member of HW Broadway Shows LLC, which has invested in Broadway productions like Hamilton and Hadestown. Following graduation, Susan worked as a family therapist in the St. Louis County Juvenile Court and then became a supervisor in the family therapy training program at Provident Counseling. She later launched a small private counseling practice and taught a family therapy course at the Brown School.

The Warshaws have spent their lives giving back to WashU because they credit the university with helping them find not only each other but also professional and personal success. They are the parents of two children, including daughter Eleanor, who earned master’s degrees in social work and public health from the Brown School in 2018.

Longtime leaders, both are past chairs of the Alumni Board of Governors. Henry currently sits on the university’s Board of Trustees and the Olin National Council, while Susan serves on the Brown School National Council.

The Warshaws have also made gifts supporting undergraduate scholarships, Arts & Sciences, the Brown School, Olin, athletics and the Women’s Society, among other areas. They established the Warshaw Catalyst Challenge for Brown School Scholarships. And more recently, they sponsored another challenge encouraging 50th reunion celebrants to join the Eliot Society, which recognizes donors who contribute $1,000 or more to the Annual Fund each year. In July, they will become Eliot Society co-presidents.

Over the years, the Warshaws have been honored for their service and philanthropy to WashU. In 2017, they received the Brown School Distinguished Volunteer Award. In addition, Henry, who also served on his 50th reunion committee, is the recipient of the 2013 Founders Day Distinguished Alumni Award and the 2025 Arts & Sciences Distinguished Alumni Award.

What brought you to WashU?

Susan Warshaw: I became interested in family therapy while working as a juvenile probation officer in North Carolina. I was drawn to WashU’s Brown School because it had a very strong program in clinical work, especially family therapy.

Henry Warshaw: When I was in high school in Brooklyn, New York, a friend of mine mentioned WashU. I was very interested, so I got on a plane and flew to St. Louis. When I walked up the steps to Brookings Hall, it was so magnificent. It was a beautiful campus, and everybody was so friendly. I felt very much at home.

How did WashU help prepare you for your careers?

Susan: At the Brown School, I got a lot of hands-on training through practicums that complemented my coursework. Those experiences were really valuable and helpful to me throughout my career. Later, I was able to return to the Brown School as a family therapy instructor for several semesters, which was wonderful.

Henry: During my undergraduate years, I learned a lot from Larry Meyer, who was an extraordinary economics professor. I’ve always been very interested in entrepreneurship, so I decided to pursue a graduate business degree at WashU and was able to take some great entrepreneurship courses. Those courses, combined with my own startup experience – I launched and then sold a newspaper before graduate school – set me on a road toward starting and building companies.

Why do you remain involved with WashU?

Susan: I’ve been impressed by WashU since grad school. To me, the university is a class act. I’m a social worker, and part of what we do is give back to the community. WashU is our community. Henry and I have said yes to every opportunity the university has put in front of us, and we’re always glad to give our time and effort.

Why do you support scholarships at the university?

Henry: We’ve been very fortunate in our lives, and it’s good to help other students who can’t afford a WashU education. We believe education is critical.

Why did you sponsor a 50th reunion giving challenge?

Henry: There are a lot of very generous donors in my class. Some of my classmates would probably like to become part of the Eliot Society but haven’t yet. With this challenge, we want to incentivize them to join. And once you join, one thing usually leads to another. It’s a good way to get alumni started in the whole giving process because what begins as a one-year contribution often turns into an ongoing contribution.

What does your 50th reunion mean to you?

Henry: I’ve gone to all my reunions, and I’ve also chaired many of them. But this one was special. I’ve kept up with a dozen or so of my classmates since graduating, but it’s usually by phone or online. We haven’t been able to get together in person very often. It was great to catch up and hear more about what they’ve been up to for the past 50 years. We had a good turnout.

The post Extraordinary leaders, lasting legacy appeared first on The Source.

Jason Green, AB ’03, an attorney, community organizer, entrepreneur and storyteller, took up such a mantle for more than a decade, beginning with his ailing 95-year-old grandmother and then with nearly 80 elders in his hometown of Gaithersburg, Maryland. He listened to their stories and, along with assistance from historians and student researchers, unearthed unknown family history. His new memoir, Too Precious to Lose: A Memoir of Family, Community, and Possibility (One World, 2026), bears witness to what he learned and shares how a radical embrace of community became the elders’ salvation, and his.

And the book couldn’t come at a more opportune time. “We are living through a particularly chaotic moment today,” Green says. “The book is an argument that the lessons embedded in historic communities like Quince Orchard — especially about how people came together in tumultuous times to build trust, share responsibility, and sustain connection — offer important guidance for how we should move forward.”

“The book is an argument that the lessons embedded in historic communities like Quince Orchard — especially about how people came together in tumultuous times to build trust, share responsibility, and sustain connection — offer important guidance for how we should move forward.”
— Jason Green

Green never planned to write a memoir. He was serving as an associate counsel in the Obama White House in 2013 when he learned of his grandmother’s hospitalization. After his mother encouraged him to visit, Green reflected deeply on all the time he’d lost with his family. He’d been busy studying political science and finance at WashU and then attending law school at Yale University while serving as national voter registration director for Sen. Barack Obama’s presidential campaign — ultimately joining President Obama’s White House staff.

Too Precious to Lose

A Memoir of Family, Community, and Possibility

As he traveled the 30 miles from the White House to Asbury Methodist Village in Gaithersburg — a short distance from D.C., but a world removed — Green thought back to all the times his grandmother had taken him to that same facility when he was a child. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, from the time he was 5, he’d accompany Ida “Pearl” Green on her volunteer visits to the unfamiliar world of a hospital, but he didn’t quite understand how he could help. He would later come to appreciate what she told him before their visits: “We’re not here to save someone,” she’d say. “We’re here to serve someone.”

“It was an introduction to what service can be, to what showing up and sitting witness can be,” Green says. “And so, it turned out that when I got my mother’s call about my grandmother, I said, ‘OK, God, I get it. You want me to come and sit with her in the same manner that I saw her sit with others. Give her that same gift of dignity, right? Hold the ice chips. Read the daily devotional. Whatever it is, be her distraction.’

“I thought that I was going to give a gift, not realizing what I was going to get,” he says.

Green left the White House in the spring of 2013. What he gained by devoting himself to his grandmother and others afterward was precious stories of a small rural community that had been transformed over centuries.

Before these discoveries, for example, Green knew that he’d grown up surrounded by love on Fellowship Lane, a dirt road dotted with houses filled with family, and that he’d attended Quince Orchard High School. But he didn’t know the origins of his school’s name nor the history of the area where he grew up.

“We tell our history in iconic moments,” Green says. “I knew that public schools were desegregated in Little Rock, Arkansas. But I never knew that my dad integrated the elementary school that I had attended for kindergarten.”

Nor did he know the backstory of Fairhaven United Methodist Church, where he’d been baptized. Fairhaven was founded when three other churches — two white and one Black — joined together in the late 1960s. All three had been struggling financially due to falling enrollment. Yet the timing of any merger — in the wake of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. — made the arrangement tenuous.

More from Jason Green

The 2022 WashU Magazine feature “Creating ‘Fellowship’” revealed more about Jason Green’s journey home, including how Green co-produced and directed the 2022 PBS documentary on the history of Quince Orchard and the formation of Fairhaven United Methodist Church called Finding Fellowship. The article also details the pivotal role WashU and the late James McLeod, vice chancellor for students and dean of the College of WashU Arts & Sciences, played in Green’s life. To learn more about the opening of Pleasant View historical site, visit pleasantviewsite.org/events. To learn more on what’s next for Green, visit jasongerardgreen.com.

Green knew that the old Black church, previously known as Pleasant View Methodist Episcopal Church, had been founded, along with the Quince Orchard Colored School and cemetery, by a group of Black men and women, including his great-great-grandparents in the late 1860s. But he didn’t know that many of these men and women had been formerly enslaved. Their stories of enslavement — and the fact that slavery and racial terror had existed at all in the region — had been lost to history. Another shocking revelation was that the land on which Fairhaven sat was the farmland previously owned by those who had enslaved Green’s family.

Too Precious to Lose tells all these stories and more. In it, Green asks: “What were the chances that the descendants of both enslaved and enslaver would one day build a church together? That the very land that once enslaved my family would become the ground where their descendants would build a sanctuary?”

“It seems so improbable when you put it down on paper,” Green says. “That it happened unknowingly, just by trying, stumbling, and praying their way toward something better.”

Green now serves as a trustee of the Pleasant View Historical Site, which after a restoration campaign will reopen on June 20. “At the end of the day, I am better because I sat with my grandmother,” Green says. “I’m better because she kicked me out of her hospital room and told me to go talk to 80 people out in the community. Better because I had to sit and hold a bunch of people’s stories that align with mine … and hold a bunch of people’s stories that don’t align with mine. And I had to figure out how to square those kinds of circles.”

In writing Too Precious to Lose, Green encourages all of us to engage in these types of conversations. “You’ll be better for that experience,” he says. “We’ll all be better.” It’s clear that for Green, the memoir is not simply about looking backward; it’s about recovering the lessons and shared commitments embedded in communities like the one that raised him — lessons he believes still have something to teach us about how we move forward together.

The post The lessons of the elders appeared first on The Source.

Bones and antlers from various mammals line a book shelf.

Taxidermied birds are everywhere in this bunker. There’s a small box of tiny hummingbirds, each one tagged with a different number. Preserved so perfectly, they wouldn’t surprise me if their wings started beating. I also spy a glassy-eyed owl and duck, among others, standing watch atop a filing cabinet. 

A large collection of taxidermied bird specimens were found in the bunker.

Susan Flowers (left), education, outreach and inclusivity coordinator for Tyson Research Center, and Danielle Creech, head of preservation, processing and exhibitions for WashU Libraries, find a preserved gull stored in a cooler.

These birds were teaching specimens created or collected by Richard “Dick” Coles, a WashU professor and ornithologist. From 1970 to 1995, Coles served as the first director of Tyson Research Center, the university’s 2,000-acre environmental field station located in Eureka, Missouri. This bunker — number 46 — is one of many hidden around Tyson’s landscape, a relic of its past as a military site before the university obtained it in 1963.

Originally used for munitions storage during World War II and the Korean War, bunker 46 was subsequently designated as the WashU “library bunker” to hold overflow library materials from the main campus. Later, the structure transitioned in purpose to a “research bunker” where Coles and Tyson volunteers amassed a natural history collection. Coles also used the bunker for some time as his office, but the space has been left largely untouched since the 2000s. It’s been over 10 years since the bunker has had any air handling.

Flowers carries a box out of bunker 46 past “Relationships of the Animal Kingdom,” a 1937 educational wall chart.

The varied uses of bunker 46 — and all the documents and artifacts it now holds — make it a useful “case study in times changing,” Flowers tells me. She’s been working at Tyson since 1994 and is its current education-outreach-inclusivity coordinator. Coles was one of her mentors, and his passing in December 2022, she says, made her realize that “we were losing folks who were holding a piece of Tyson’s history.” 

After months of interdisciplinary planning and coordinating, Flowers has teamed up with several others to rescue materials in bunker 46 that might speak to that history. Her collaborators in this mission include Danielle Creech, head of preservation, processing and exhibitions for WashU Libraries; Sonya Rooney, the university archivist; and Meredith Kelling, assistant director for student research and engagement at the Center for the Humanities. Thanks to an Ignite Interdisciplinary Grant, the team has the means to carry out their project — including the personal protective equipment necessary to brave the moldy conditions of the bunker. 

“I have a great deal of experience dealing with mold [through my work], but I had never felt like I was on the set of The Last of Us before,” Creech tells me later, referencing the post-apocalyptic show set in a world ravaged by a fungal infection. Flowers says she actually tried to document the bunker’s contents about 15 years ago — but the endeavor had to be abandoned because of the bunker’s conditions, even then. “The fumes were so bad we got headaches and had to leave,” she says. “The mouse urine smell and the moth ball smell were already so bad!”

Teaching aids such as a frog skeleton document Tyson’s longstanding emphasis on outreach education.

Flowers looks at an ornithology book.

Coles’ old ornithology books are still crammed on the shelves, too: Life Histories of North American Woodpeckers; Life Histories of North American Birds of Prey; Life Histories of North American Thrushes, Kinglets, and Their Allies. Copies upon copies of National Geographic line yet more shelves, the magazines’ faded yellow spines fuzzy with little white clouds of mold. 

“The 1970s brought out earthy people,” Flowers tells me with a laugh when I ask her how the natural history collections came to be. Rising eco-consciousness coupled with increased autonomy for women led to a local women’s group of self-taught botanists and nature enthusiasts. They became the “Tyson Toilers,” volunteers who tackled plant listings and bird sightings at Tyson. Various collections and catalogs related to natural history at Tyson thus expanded in part because Coles was generous and open, Flowers says: “He didn’t turn away people who had enthusiasm for the natural world, especially if they could donate their time.”

Creech finds old bottles collected by Tyson staff over the years. The bottles and other household items help the project team understand human use of the region in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Sonya Rooney (left), university archivist, and Meredith Kelling, assistant director for student research and engagement at the Center for the Humanities, examine items in the bunker.

The bunker is thus a time capsule in more ways than one. Its contents attest not only to university activities and local history but also to shifts in the nation’s political and cultural currents throughout the 20th century. Moreover, Flowers says the bunker holds traces of even older histories that Tyson must also reckon with. She notes the presence of stone tools that speak to the Indigenous communities who lived on the land and developed quarry pits from about 10,000 BCE until about 1550 CE. Somewhere inside the bunker is also a replica of an atlatl or spear-thrower used by these communities.

Glass bottles and other artifacts found in the woods and stored in the bunker help demonstrate and date colonial westward expansion into the area. Across the 19th century, ownership of plots of Tyson land connects the area to prominent St. Louis business leaders, including many who were enslavers. Extractive practices of logging and limestone quarrying followed, before the U.S. military claimed the area through eminent domain.

Kelling (left) and Rooney sort documents, journals and magazines found in the bunker.

Archival copies of WashU Magazine were among the documents found.

Outside bunker 46, Kelling and Rooney — both of them masked and gloved — sift through rescued documents to identify those that might be relevant for illuminating Tyson’s complex past. Many of these documents are in rough shape, discolored from mold and mice droppings. Mice have even chewed some of the papers into soft and pulpy nests.

Amid these potentially biohazardous records, Rooney explains later, she’s looking for publications from Tyson, correspondence and reports about projects and happenings at Tyson, documentations about animals and plants and more. Once relevant items are identified and selected, however, they’ll need to be aired out and professionally cleaned if the physical records are to be kept in the university archives — a process that will likely involve irradiation to kill the mold, as well as surface cleaning. (Digitization, Flowers says, might be the way to go.)

Over the course of three days of digging through the bunker, the team pulled almost 40 boxes of materials from the bunker. They’ve sent a subset of those boxes to air out at a warehouse. To protect those materials from mice, Creech and Lacey Kirkwood, the preservation supervisor for WashU Libraries, have built a cage around the boxes using mesh found at Tyson.

“The ultimate goal is to make Tyson’s history accessible,” Flowers says as she reflects on the rescue mission. The materials from bunker 46 will support the wider Tyson History Project, a cross-disciplinary initiative to preserve, interpret and communicate Tyson’s history both before and since WashU’s presence on the land. The team recently published a visual timeline that details the site’s history over thousands of years. 

The Tyson History Project is co-led by Flowers, Kelling, and Kelly Schmidt, a reparative public historian who serves as associate director of the WashU & Slavery Project. Schmidt’s work has been crucial to connecting the ownership of Tyson land in the 19th century to prominent St. Louisans, many of whom were enslavers.

Rooney looks at a record of mammals found at Tyson Research Center and the Midwest.

Kelling (left) and Flowers sort documents recovered from bunker 46.

The details of the site’s once-mysterious past are being pieced together by undergraduate research fellows, directed by Kelling during the academic year as part of a Center for the Humanities undergraduate research program, and during the summer as part of the Tyson Undergraduate Fellows program, led by Flowers, where Tyson History Project is the first non-science research project participating in the long-running fellowship.

In both, students get the chance to pore over archival documents and other primary source materials, and consult with local historians, archivists and community members. Bunker 46 itself may eventually serve as an exhibition space to showcase that history.

For Flowers, revisiting all the objects left behind in bunker 46 through this project has also been an opportunity to experience anew her mentor’s dedication to building a field station at Tyson. “It’s cemented my absolute respect for Richard Coles,” she says. “He was an amazing steward of Tyson.”

To learn more about Richard Coles and the long history of the Tyson Research Center, visit a visual timeline created by the Tyson History Project team. The timeline combines maps, images and stories to detail the site’s history over thousands of years. 

Bunker 46 is one of many WWII-era bunkers present at what is now Tyson Research Center.

The post The secrets of bunker 46 appeared first on The Source.

As an ancient studies major on the premed track in Arts & Sciences, she realized immediately after taking the MCAT that she was no longer interested in becoming a doctor.

“I walked out the day I took the test and was like, ‘I don’t think this is what I want to do,’” she recalls.

With help from WashU career coaches and former classmates who knew her strengths, McManus recognized her passion for business operations. Today, as senior manager of people, projects and operations for the global industrial manufacturing company McMaster-Carr, she solves problems, manages teams and helps design efficient, effective business processes.

Based in Philadelphia, McManus routinely returns to campus to interview students from her alma mater. She values doing so in person, and having a dedicated meeting space will improve her ability to reach students and coordinate conversations with them.

Enter the Neil S. Hirsch Center, which is slated to open in winter 2027. Located on the southwest corner at the intersection of Skinker and Forsyth boulevards, the new building is designed for members of the WashU community like McManus. Envisioned as a welcoming gathering place for alumni and a home for WashU’s Center for Career Engagement (CCE), it will help facilitate recruiting and hiring efforts while enhancing alumni relationships with students and the broader university.

Landing place, launchpad

The Hirsch Center creates a win-win for all while sending a message to prospective students and their families about institutional values, according to Norma Guerra Gaier, WashU’s associate vice chancellor for career development and education.

“This innovative space signals that bringing together new, current and prior university community members is important to WashU,” she says. “And we know alumni are some of the CCE’s biggest champions. It’s exciting to deepen our partnership with them through the Hirsch Center.” 

The three-story, roughly 31,800-square-foot building is named in honor of the late entrepreneur in recognition of a pledge from his widow, Laura DeLuca Hirsch, through the Neil S. Hirsch Foundation. The center will contain a variety of multipurpose rooms in which students can prepare for interviews and network with alumni. A tree-lined courtyard will extend those interactions into a beautiful outdoor setting. And a third-floor event space will house career expos, workshops and panels alongside reunion-affiliated events and other alumni activities.

“Symbolically, the building will be a gateway to campus,” Gaier says. “The minute alumni turn onto Forsyth from Skinker, it’s like, ‘Welcome back. We’re glad you’re here. Step into this space that is yours.’”

Multifaceted connections

Like McManus, Meeghan Sheppard, MBA ’24, wears multiple WashU hats as both an alumna and a prospective employer. And her early professional path was likewise rich and varied.

After earning a bachelor’s degree in political science, she spent several years working in public-sector administration. She began graduate studies at Olin Business School, focusing on supply chain management. In her first year at Olin, Sheppard was accepted into the Future Leaders Program at Barry-Wehmiller in St. Louis. She spent the summer interning at the company’s BW Packaging division, which supplies manufacturing equipment across the globe. She excelled in the program and was offered a full-time position at BW Packaging after graduation.

“I love the fact that I get to go back to my alma mater and recruit.”
– Meeghan Sheppard, MBA ’24

Sheppard, now the product manager of horizontal flow wrap, engages current students in a variety of ways on behalf of her employer. She represents the company during the CCE’s annual fall MBA Summit, participates in information sessions and one-on-one coffee chats and seizes other one-off opportunities, such as speaking on panels or visiting classrooms.

“I love the fact that I get to go back to my alma mater and recruit,” she says. “I was once in the students’ shoes, so I fully understand them in ways that others may not. When I walk into conversations with them, I’m not only there as a representative for BW Packaging but also as an alumna. I’m happy to be a resource for current students, however it helps.” 

Interest in mentorship is strong, especially among more recent WashU alumni. As the CCE continues to develop its career communities model — centered around industries versus academic disciplines — Gaier and other university leaders are working to streamline how alumni can best engage with students virtually and in the new building.

Gaier encourages alumni interested in connecting with students to utilize WashU CNX, the university’s official online networking platform. Additionally, students and graduates can find job and internship postings, upcoming events and more on Handshake, WashU’s career management platform.

But for both McManus and Sheppard, in-person conversations are key — as is recruiting future hires from WashU. This makes the Hirsch Center an invaluable asset. “I’m excited to have a dedicated, focused space where we can really get to know students and their interests, needs and desired career trajectories,” Sheppard says. “That face-to-face interaction is so critical.”

As a recruiter, McManus believes WashU students are well suited to the culture at McMaster-Carr. “We’re constantly trying new things and tackling new challenges at the company,” she says. “WashU students tend to have a real variety of experiences and a sense of intellectual curiosity.”

To learn more about the Neil S. Hirsch Center, visit alumni.washu.edu/hirsch.

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Basa arrived at WashU intending to study architecture. A new undergraduate program in public health soon began broadening the way he thought about design.

“I’ve always wanted to design for people,” says Basa, who is majoring in architecture and public health and society.

Public health courses pushed Basa to think more deeply about people with different needs and lived experiences — and how design can either support or limit well-being. Those insights changed the way he thinks about everything from hospital floor plans and walkable cities to community-centered redevelopment.

“There’s such a strong intersection between design and healthcare,” Basa says. “There are so many facets to it.”

That broad, interdisciplinary perspective sits at the center of Public Health & Society, a new, fast-growing undergraduate program housed in Arts & Sciences.

The program was developed in collaboration with WashU Bursky School of Public Health, which confers graduate-level degrees and offers students an accelerated pathway into a master’s in public health. A landmark $200 million gift from the Bursky Family Foundation, announced in May, will support the school’s expanding education and research efforts.

“This program is a major step forward for both Arts & Sciences and WashU,” says Feng Sheng Hu, PhD, the Richard G. Engelsmann Dean of WashU Arts & Sciences. “We are combining our world-class liberal arts curriculum with hands-on internships and field experiences to prepare students not just to learn about public health, but to get out there and make a difference.”

Health beyond the clinic

Since launching its minor in fall 2024 and adding a major in fall 2025, the program has quickly attracted student interest. Less than a year after its debut, the major has enrolled 84 students alongside 72 minors, while more than 650 students have taken related courses.

The rapid growth reflects a broader shift in how students understand health — not simply as medicine or biology, but as a set of social, environmental, economic and structural forces that shape daily life.

“Health outcomes are rarely random,” Lindsay Stark, DrPH, program co-director and professor of public health, says. “They follow patterns of gender, race, poverty and power. This program gives students the frameworks to see those patterns and understand pathways to intervene.”

Unlike many undergraduate public health programs housed entirely within schools of public health, Public Health & Society draws on disciplines spanning anthropology, psychology, business, environmental studies, natural sciences, policy, design and the humanities.

“Public health is ‘health for everybody,’ but that doesn’t mean everyone experiences health equally,” says T.R. Kidder, PhD, program co-director and the Edward S. and Tedi Macias Professor in the Department of Anthropology. “By rooting this program in Arts & Sciences, we give students tools to think critically about ethics, inequality and the broader forces that define well-being.”

Core courses are team-taught by faculty from Arts & Sciences and Bursky Public Health, while electives — more than 180 in total — allow students to customize their paths around specific interests. That flexibility encourages students to approach public health challenges through multiple perspectives, combining coursework across disciplines and exploring how public health intersects with fields such as entrepreneurship, food systems and climate science.

“The world is interdisciplinary,” Basa says. “The way that we approach the world isn’t in one finite direction.”

As a prospective student touring campus, Basa was struck by WashU’s emphasis on accessibility, including the ability to move throughout campus without relying on stairs — a detail that resonated with him.

Basa recently completed a course called “Design and Social Systems” in the Sam Fox School  of Design & Visual Arts. The course partnered with Three Steps Home, a St. Louis medical respite center serving unhoused individuals recovering after hospitalization. Working alongside classmates, Basa helped redesign the organization’s logo, website and promotional materials while studying how design can support healing.

Basa hopes to continue exploring those intersections through an upcoming APEX (Advanced Practical EXperience in Public Health) capstone placement focused on community-based design and health. Public Health & Society requires students to complete 140 hours of field-based work with community organizations and research partners — an opportunity rarely required at the undergraduate level.

“I don’t look at anything now without making sure that it’s contextually aligned,” Basa says. “Making sure whatever you’re doing, you’re thinking about everybody, or you’re thinking about the context of where it is, how you’re doing it, why you’re doing it.”

72

Public Health & Society minors

84

Public Health & Society majors

180

Electives offered

650

Students have taken related courses

Understanding the barriers

That systems-oriented thinking increasingly appeals to students influenced by the COVID-19 pandemic, rising mental health concerns, growing awareness of health inequities and debates surrounding public trust, misinformation and access to care.

“Undergraduate education is a critical entry point for public health,” says Sandro Galea, MD, DrPH, the Margaret C. Ryan Dean of Bursky Public Health, the Eugene S. and Constance Kahn Distinguished Professor in Public Health, and the university’s vice provost for interdisciplinary initiatives. “It’s where students begin to understand how complex the drivers of health are — and how they can contribute to addressing them.”

For many students, those questions become personal.

Growing up in a predominantly Hispanic community, Brianna Ayala, a rising senior, saw firsthand how gaps in access, education and care affected underserved populations. The experience shaped her interest in health disparities and her desire for a broader understanding of health beyond medicine.

“No other major fully aligned with what I was genuinely curious about,” says Ayala, a pre-med student majoring in public health and society. “I was looking for something that didn’t just focus on science or healthcare in isolation, but examined health within the context of diverse populations.”

During her APEX placement at iFM Community Medicine, a St. Louis nonprofit organization serving uninsured and underserved communities, Ayala developed patient surveys and connected patients with educational materials and support services. She also helped expand an after-school program at the Youth and Family Center by incorporating journaling and expressive arts activities designed to support youth mental health and well-being.

As a Spanish speaker, Ayala worked directly with Spanish-speaking community members and also emphasized the importance of creating materials in languages people understand. She expanded outreach efforts by contacting more than 80 community organizations and participating in local events.

“You have to meet individuals and organizations where they are at,” Ayala says.“Treating a patient goes beyond addressing a health condition. It’s fully understanding their situation and the barriers they may face to fully be able to lead a healthy life.”

While Ayala focused on connecting patients with care, other students explored how public health guidance can become more accessible and easier to navigate.

“I was looking for something that didn’t just focus on science or healthcare in isolation, but examined health within the context of diverse populations.”
– Brianna Ayala

At Missouri’s Department of Health and Senior Services, recent graduate Faizan Noorani, AB ‘26, tackled a common public health challenge: helping family caregivers better navigate pain medication and opioid safety after surgery. “Imagine your loved one just came home from surgery with a new pain medication,” Noorani says. “Would you read a 12-page guide on best practices?”

He transformed lengthy materials into clear, readable handouts and infographics — developing a guide that emphasized safe care practices, risk awareness and support resources.

Noorani, who majored in philosophy-neuroscience-psychology and public health and society, says the experience reinforced a lesson central to public health communication. “A resource is only effective if it is clear enough and practical enough to use in day-to-day life,” he says.

Faculty say immersive community experiences are central to the program’s philosophy.

“We require field experience at the undergraduate level, paired with structured reflection, so students can connect classroom learning to real-world practice,” Stark says. “That experience also emphasizes the ethical responsibilities of working in community settings.”

The systems behind care

Mia Kouveliotes, AB ‘26, was drawn to public health through a different set of experiences.

Kouveliotes majored in anthropology, global health and environment, while minoring in psychological and brain sciences and public health and society. Next fall, she will attend the UNC Gillings School of Global Public Health in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, to pursue a master’s degree in public health with a concentration in health policy, and plans to possibly earn a PhD focused on mental health services, law and policy.

Her interest in systems-level mental health care emerged after working in an inpatient psychiatric unit.

“I initially thought I wanted to pursue the clinician side of things,” Kouveliotes says. “But when I worked in the unit, I became more aware of systemic issues in mental health care and ethical concerns that can emerge during crises.”

The experience shifted her focus beyond individual treatment to the policies and systems shaping people’s lives before and after they enter care.

“Many of the reasons people were in care were socially rooted — tied to financial stress, work pressures and broader life circumstances,” she says. “I realized that treating a crisis is only one part of the equation. There’s an entire network of systems and experiences shaping someone’s life long before they enter care and long after they leave it.

“I explore how quality of care is impacted by mental health stigma and institutional policies that perpetuate that stigma,” she says.

Those questions ultimately come down, she says, to how patients are treated during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.

“When you’re in a mental health crisis, it’s probably the worst moment of your life, or one of the worst moments of your life,” Kouveliotes says. “And to be treated like a human in those moments — it can’t even be explained what the benefit of that is.”

When WashU launched Public Health & Society, Kouveliotes immediately saw it as a natural extension of the interdisciplinary education she had already begun building for herself through anthropology and psychological and brain sciences.

As one of the program’s student ambassadors, she helped shape curricular pathways and communicate its mission to prospective students. One of the most common conversations, she says, involves helping students understand that public health extends far beyond medicine.

“A lot of people don’t really understand how broad public health is and how it really applies to everything,” Kouveliotes says. “It could connect to engineering, art, business — nearly any discipline. You really can design your own major.”

Shaping what comes next

Even as public health faces political headwinds, workforce strain and funding uncertainty, several students say those challenges have only reinforced the importance of the work.

“We would not be a functioning society without public health,” Kouveliotes says. “And by admitting defeat or giving up on the path, that would be letting larger forces win.”

For Basa, public health reshaped the questions he brings into design work. “I think the world is a conversation,” he says. “Everything that I do should be a conversation.”

That idea — that health is shaped through systems, relationships, environments and communities — increasingly defines how students in the program think about both public health and their own futures.

“I think public health is valuable as either a primary or secondary major because it influences your perspective in whatever field you’re going into,” Basa says.

Kouveliotes says the work ultimately comes back to recognizing people’s humanity.

“Every human and every story matters,” she says.

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Nicole Spangler, a rising senior studying classics and history in WashU Arts & Sciences, received a prestigious Beinecke Scholarship, becoming the first WashU student to win that honor since 2014.

The Beinecke Scholarship recognizes exceptional college juniors who are studying the arts, humanities or social sciences and plan to continue their education in a graduate or PhD program. Recipients receive $35,000 for their advanced degree.   

Spangler has conducted archaeological field work in Austria and Greece and archival research at the Winter Park History Museum. In 2024, Spangler was selected as a WashU Living History Scholar, completing an independent research project on Deaf history and the politics of Deaf education.  

Spangler hopes to pursue a PhD in history, studying 19^th century social reform movements and their modern-day legacy.

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This mechanism is at the center of a new study by biologists at Washington University in St. Louis, published in Current Biology.

“Corollary discharge is found in every animal, in every system, and that’s because it solves a universal problem, which is: How do animals distinguish sensory inputs coming from the outside world versus sensory inputs caused by their own actions?” said Bruce Carlson, a professor of biology in WashU Arts & Sciences. “That’s a universal problem, and it’s something that our sensory systems can’t solve by themselves.”

This type of neuroscience research can help uncover mechanisms that afflict human sensory processing and prediction. Once scientists understand a brain circuit inside and out, they can better fix broken circuits.

To study the inner workings of corollary discharge, Carlson and his team turned to weakly electric fish. These animals generate brief electrical pulses called electric organ discharges to communicate and sense their surroundings. But this form of communication presents a problem. Every time a fish sends out a pulse, it also “hears” itself. Without some way to filter its own pulse out, the sensory system would be overwhelmed.

That’s the role of corollary discharge. When the fish’s brain sends the command to produce an electric pulse, it also sends a predictive signal to cancel out the expected self-generated input. Thus, the fish remains sensitive to outside signals.

But as with everything else in nature, nothing is fixed. These electrical pulses vary widely from species to species over evolutionary timelines, but also within individual fish. Hormones such as testosterone can fluctuate over the course of days, lengthening the pulse, and signals can grow longer as an animal ages. So the question becomes: How does the corollary discharge system keep up with these timing changes?

For the new study, researchers recorded electrical activity in several brain regions involved in producing electric signals, comparing fish with short and long electric discharges, including hormone-treated fish and different species.

Martin Jarzyna, a graduate student in the Carlson lab and first author on the new paper, recorded the electrical activity at every step of the corollary discharge pathway within multiple individual fish. “It’s a tortuous path from the motor area to the sensory area,” Jarzyna explained. “Never before has anybody recorded from each area within an individual animal. We never had the full picture of activity across the entire circuit.”

By measuring when neural activity occurred relative to the fish’s motor command, they identified the brain region where timing shifts first appeared: a small population of neurons called the mesencephalic command-associated nucleus (MCA). Unexpectedly, they found that all three kinds of change they studied — hormonal, developmental and evolutionary — converged on this same mechanism.

In other words, MCA works as a kind of central timing hub. Rather than recalibrating multiple neural pathways independently, the brain can coordinate changes through a single structure. This is particularly important because the MCA branches into three pathways: one devoted to communication behavior, one involved in sensing behavior and one that regulates the production of electric signals.

These findings suggest evolution repeatedly relied on MCA instead of developing entirely new mechanisms. “A common solution evolved that can maintain these accurate sensory predictions, such that new solutions don’t need to be reinvented,” Jarzyna said.

Although this study was conducted in electric fish, the potential impacts extend beyond aquatic communication. Corollary discharge is essential for sensory processing in many animals, including humans, yet the underlying circuitry remains poorly understood.

“We’ve known about corollary discharge for a long time, but we know very little about the mechanisms operating that pathway,” Carlson said.

He said this new work highlights the broader value of studying animals with unusual sensory abilities: “Studying animals that have unique behaviors can inform general questions in neuroscience. Whatever it is that’s unique about their behavior can make them suited to asking certain sorts of questions that you couldn’t ask in another system.”

Looking ahead, researchers in the Carlson lab plan to investigate what is changing at the cellular and molecular levels within MCA neurons. Future work will involve intracellular recordings from MCA neurons to figure out not just where these events are taking place in the brain, but what is actually happening during them.

Jarzyna noted that this research also could help future researchers better understand disorders in which sensory predictions go wrong, such as schizophrenia. “Our study, while not directly addressing these conditions, is helping us to better understand the normal mechanism by which these sensory predictions operate,” he said.

Jarzyna MW, Carlson BA. Developmental and evolutionary changes in sensorimotor integration to maintain coordination of corollary discharge and afferent input in electric fish, Current Biology, 2026. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cub.2026.04.068

This work was supported by the National Science Foundation (IOS-2203122 to B.A.C.) and the National Institutes of Health (F31NS139904 to M.W.J.)

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The Astronaut Scholarship Foundation offers scholars the opportunity to attend an innovators symposium and gala in Houston; present at the Astronaut Scholar technical conference; and participate in mentoring and professional development programs. Students also receive a scholarship of up to $15,000. The scholarship is open to juniors and seniors interested in pursuing research in science, technology, engineering and math disciplines.  

Coric is an undergraduate researcher in Alexander Knights’ lab at WashU Medicine, where she studies cellular signaling pathways involved in osteoarthritis, a painful and debilitating joint disease. Coric is investigating how extracellular physical forces impact similar signaling logic in musculoskeletal tissue. Coric also conducted an independent research project on mammalian intestinal development at the Yale School of Medicine. Her findings surprised experts in the lab and reminded Coric there is always more to learn. After graduation, she plans to earn an MD/PhD.

“Regardless of expertise or experience, scientists are continuously probing the unknown and discovering new biochemical insights within living systems that are constantly dynamic and evolving,” Coric wrote in her personal statement. “I realized that as a scientist, I will never be ‘finished’ studying any field I enter. There will always be more to find, and that endless frontier has become my motivation to pursue research.”

Coric is a member of the WashU women’s track-and-field team, the Alpha Phi Omega service fraternity and Bear Cubs Running Club.

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By their nature, cancer cells have different nutritional needs than healthy cells. 

“Cancer cells have a distinct metabolism,” said Patti, the Michael and Tana Powell Professor of Chemistry at Washington University in St. Louis and a professor of genetics and medicine at WashU Medicine. 

Understanding those differences could open new possibilities for tracking and ultimately defeating the disease. That’s why Patti and others at Siteman Cancer Center, based at Barnes-Jewish Hospital and WashU Medicine, are turning their attention to a relatively new frontier of research: Cancer metabolomics, the comprehensive study of the small molecules that cancer cells either consume or produce as they attempt to grow and multiply. 

Earlier this year, Patti and co-author Joe Rowles, a postdoctoral researcher in the Department of Chemistry in Arts & Sciences and molecular oncology trainee in Siteman Cancer Center’s Cancer Biology Pathway Program, explored the latest research and most pressing questions in cancer metabolism in Nature Reviews Cancer.

Patti is an internationally recognized leader in mass spectrometry, a technology that makes it possible to identify and quantify specific molecules in a sample. With more than 20 mass spectrometers in his ultra-clean lab, Patti has the power to track even the tiniest of changes in the levels of cancer metabolites — small molecules involved in cellular metabolism. The challenge is determining which of those molecules can be targeted in the fight against cancer.

“The fact that cancer cells run distinct metabolic programs gives us two big opportunities,” Patti said. Metabolites could be used as markers to identify tumors, he explained. More importantly, a deeper understanding of cancer metabolism might lead to new drugs or dietary strategies that slow tumor growth while sparing healthy cells.

Tracking the metabolic needs of cancer cells is no simple task. For one thing, cancerous cells can act very differently depending on the context. “A cancer cell in a lab dish might use completely different nutrients than the same cell that’s growing in a mouse or a human,” Patti said. “One of the defining attributes of cancer cells is that they are very flexible.”

The complexity of tumors also poses a challenge. “A lung tumor, for example, might have dozens of cell types, and they aren’t all malignant,” Patti said. “Some of them, like immune cells, can actually be helpful.” It’s hard to zero in on the metabolites associated with the cancer cells and not with the other parts of the tumor, he explained, and it’s challenging to find a healthy comparison sample for experiments. “There’s no such thing as a healthy tumor.” 

Patti, PhD, and his team are collaborating with WashU Medicine researchers  — including David Mutch, MD, a professor of obstetrics and gynecology, and Yin Cao, ScD, an associate professor of surgery and of medicine — to address these challenges. All three are research members at Siteman Cancer Center.

In ongoing experiments, they’re using isotopically labeled glucose to track the dynamics of tumor metabolism in patients. “WashU is a great place to do this kind of work, because the medical school has been a pioneer in developing innovative clinical tests using isotopes,” Patti said. 

In many cases, it’s a cancer cell’s appetite that really sets it apart from healthy cells. “They generally consume many of the same things that healthy cells consume,” Patti said. “They just do it much faster.”

Still, a closer look at metabolomics data could lead to new dietary strategies to prevent and control cancers. “I’m very enthusiastic about the idea that we can leverage diet to improve the lives of cancer patients,” Patti said. To reach that point, metabolomics studies will have to expand to thousands of people with different diets, genetic profiles and overall lifestyles. “We’ll need tons of data points to try to figure out how all of these different things are connected,” he said. 

In 2024, Patti and co-authors reported in Nature that fructose — a sugar found in high-fructose corn syrup — can indirectly fuel tumor growth in mouse models of melanoma, breast cancer and cervical cancer. Metabolomics studies found that the tumors were especially fond of a fructose product created in the liver.

The finding underscores the importance of close examination of the metabolic and nutritional pathways that allow cancer cells to flourish. “If you take cancer cells and put them in a dish and give them fructose, they won’t use it,” Patti said. “But if you have a tumor and you eat tons of fructose, it makes the tumor grow, in some cases, four or five times faster.”

Patti is especially alarmed by the growing rates of cancer among young people, a surge that has yet to be fully explained. “Cancers are still fairly rare in that age group, but they’re becoming increasingly common,” Patti said. “It’s happening so quickly that it can’t be caused by genetics alone. There must be a lifestyle factor, and it might come down to diet.”

Cancer metabolomics may seem like a niche area of research, but the insights could ultimately tip the fight against cancer to our advantage. “It is not a new idea to fight cancer with dietary modifications, but it’s too complicated to design interventions based on simple studies of cancer cells alone in isolation,” Patti said. “We are excited that metabolomics data from human patients can provide the knowledge needed to sort out the complexity.” 

Above all, Patti noted, cancer cells are greedy. And their greed could ultimately be their undoing. 

Rowles JL Patti GJ. Decoding cancer across scales with metabolomics. Nat Rev Cancer 26, 312–327 (2026). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41568-026-00908-0

This work was delivered as part of the PROSPECT team supported by the Cancer Grand Challenges partnership funded by Cancer Research UK (CGCATF-2023/100037 to G.J.P.), the National Cancer Institute (OT2CA297576 to G.J.P.), the French National Cancer Institute and the Bowelbabe Fund for Cancer Research UK.

Originally published on the Ampersand website

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