Five Years of SPARCC: Transformative Growth in Teaching, Learning and Research

From the August 18, 2023 issue of the Transformational Times - SPARCC and AIM focus

Five Years of SPARCC: Transformative Growth in Teaching, Learning and Research  

 

 Kristina Kaljo, PhD 

 

Dr. Kaljo reviews some of the surprises and accomplishments of the Student-centered Pipeline to Advance Research in Cancer Careers (SPARCC), a program designed to prepare underrepresented minority students to pursue medicine and biomedical research, and ultimately, pursue careers in clinical cancer research ...

 

Every five years, something unexpected yet pivotal occurs along my professional trajectory, sending me in a direction I could have never imagined. In June 2019, the Student-centered Pipeline to Advance Research in Cancer Careers (SPARCC) program came to fruition. 

 

Now five years later, 71 undergraduate students have graduated from SPARCC. These students, widely known as SPARCC Scholars, have advanced to outstanding opportunities: professional roles, national research fellowships and graduate degree programs. Funded by the National Cancer Institute (NIH/NCI R25 CA 221715), SPARCC was designed to recruit and immerse scholars who identify with groups historically marginalized in medicine and biomedical research to pursue careers in clinical cancer research.  

 

Alongside Janet Rader, MD FACOG, the Jack A. & Elaine D. Klieger Professor and Chair of Obstetrics and Gynecology at the Medical College of Wisconsin, and a robust SPARCC faculty of committed clinicians, researchers and professional staff, SPARCC provided a unique eight-week summer experience for scholars to receive individualized research mentoring, engage in daily workshops and participate in clinical practicum rotations. At the end of these eight rigorous weeks, each scholar presented a research poster and celebrated their accomplishments alongside family, friends and a tremendous network of mentors.  

2023 MCW SPARCC scholars

As I reflect on the past five years, I have had the unbelievable opportunity to learn from and these 71 outstanding Scholars, some of whom are now at the Medical College of Wisconsin in a multitude of professional roles and as first-, second- and third-year medical students. I embrace my time with these scholars because of their fresh perspectives and wealth of knowledge, encouraging my continuous growth as an educator. 

Congratulations to this year’s class of SPARCC scholars! 

I look forward to what the next five years will bring and how the 71 individuals who have been SPARCC scholars will continue to be drivers of change. 

 

 

 

For further reading: 

 

Kaljo, K., Ngui, E. M., Treat, R., & Rader, J. S. (2023). Student-centered pipeline to advance research in cancer careers (SPARCC): diversifying the clinical cancer research workforce.  Journal of Cancer Education, 38(1), 370-377.  

 

Kristina Kaljo, PhD, is an Associate Professor in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at MCW. She serves as SPARCC Co-Director, Director of KINETIC3 Teaching Academy and part of the Faculty Pillar of the Robert D. and Patricia E. Kern Institute for the Transformation of Medical Education.  

Everyone has a Story to Tell: The Universal Appeal of MCW’s MedMoth

From the August 11, 2023 issue of the Transformational Times

Milo proofreading the author

Everyone has a Story to Tell: The Universal Appeal of MCW’s MedMoth

Bruce H. Campbell, MD FACS

Dr. Campbell tells why MCW’s MedMoth has been important to the community. Everyone has a story to tell ...

Life in medicine—from medical school to retirement—is an endless string of tasks, both difficult and mundane. Each task requires some level of attention, an intentional response, and timely documentation. We are not alone; our colleagues in pharmacy, nursing, genetic counseling, social work, chaplaincy, and other patient-facing professions face their own interminable streams of duties. Once the paperwork for each encounter is pushed into someone else’s inbox, we are on to our next assignment. And the next. And the next. We rarely glance up to see the horizon. 

When we do take a moment, though, we can be amazed by what surrounds us. MedMoth offers that opportunity. 


MCW’s MedMoth over the years

MCW medical student Scott Lamm (MD 2022), who has a passion for theater, organized a team of students and staff that launched the first MedMoth in 2019. The team’s work included recruitment, workshops, marketing, and even creation of a logo. Cassie Ferguson, MD was the faculty advisor and Kern Institute Program Director Cassidy Berns provided vision and logistical support. 

The first MedMoth Stage - 10/10/2019

Three workshops helped potential storytellers craft and rehearse their performances. On October 10, 2019, seventy-five attendees celebrated the twelve student, resident, and faculty storytellers as they shared spoken word performances that shared both medical and non-medical moments in their lives. The event created an inclusive and judgement-free experience that fostered new connections.

Each MedMoth since then has included storytelling workshops (some run by Milwaukee’s storytelling organization, Ex Fabula) and has featured five- to seven-minute storytelling performances by students, faculty, and staff. Stories have ranged from cross country trips to relationship disasters to mountain treks to experiences as an EMT to moments of great insight. Some have been humorous and others tragic. All have been well-received and extraordinary. 

Storytelling is one of life’s great equalizers. Stories told by the M1 are equally valid and important as those told by the gray-haired professor. Everyone is heard and celebrated. 

The Kern Institute has provided financial and logistical support since MedMoth’s inception. Recently, MedMoth has also received funding from the Charles E. Kubly Foundation. 


Stories vs. anecdotes

How do stories differ from anecdotes? As Sarah Austin Jenness, executive producer of The Moth, explains, “an anecdote is a funny - this thing happened. It's a moment. A story has an arc. A story has stakes. A story has a beginning, middle and an end.” 

MedMoth enables participants to identify life events that they want to share and helps them discern the elements of their story arc. The workshops build skills. At its most basic level, the participants learn that an anecdote might share the details of a difficult patient encounter. A story, however, explores how that difficult patient encounter changed a student’s view of what they want to do for the rest of their life. 


So, why might storytelling be important in medicine?

As we numbly move through our to-do lists each day, we might fail to see how our interactions are changing us or the people with whom we interact. Pausing to truly attend to someone else’s story might help. More importantly, building skills as storytellers might allow each of us to be more aware of the stories that inhabit our work every day. 

Others need and want to hear the stories of medicine, as well. People outside of healthcare think what we do is amazing. Maybe they are fascinated by our intimacy with suffering and death. Maybe it’s our proximity to bodily fluids. Whatever. People are curious to peek behind the curtain that shields our days from public view. 

MedMoth is a safe place in our community to hear stories and gain insights. With a little practice and support, each of us can build skills and share our own stories. We are part of the journey. 


Bruce H. Campbell, MD FACS, is a retired professor in the Department of Otolaryngology and Communication Sciences at MCW. He is one of the faculty advisors for MedMoth and is on the editorial board of the Transformational Times.

An MCW MedMoth story: The Dangers of Boredom

From the August 11, 2023 issue of the Transformational Times

The Dangers of Boredom

Linda Nwumeh, Class of 2025

Here is a story that Linda Nwumeh shared as part of the MCW MedMoth live stortelling event on November 17, 2022 ...

I was a very mischievous child.

I used to truly revel in wreaking havoc on the peace others enjoyed, but my pranks were usually harmless. As an example, I once hid under my parents’ bed for hours until I heard that they were about to call the police to report me missing. (They did not find this funny.)

I quickly learned that the punishments I’d receive for misbehaving while at home far outweighed the consequences of misbehaving at my preschool, and I took complete advantage of this fact to fit all of the mayhem my soul desired into the school day. I fought with other students over toys, swore, and generally did the things I would never dream of doing at home until the day was over. As a result, I absolutely loved preschool. The only thing I loved at school more than mischief was our kind and loving teacher, Mrs. P. Even as a four-year-old, I could sense that she truly loved children and wanted the best for all of us.

However, there was one thing I absolutely dreaded at school ― naptime. At noon every day, Mrs. P would turn on smooth jazz music, dim the lights, close the blinds, lay out cots in neat and evenly spaced rows, and send us to bed for an hour. She would walk slowly and quietly between these rows for the entire hour ― checking that we were still alive I presume ― and if she saw that you were awake, she would quietly shush you and continue her slow, quiet march between the cots. The problem was that I could never actually fall asleep during naptime, and my four-year-old brain could not handle the boredom. Day after day, I lay down on my right side for the entire hour with my left eye completely closed and my right eye open just a sliver, listening to the sounds of Mrs. P’s quiet footsteps. Mrs. P could never tell that I was awake, and for a while, this touch of visual stimulation was enough to prevent me from going absolutely insane from boredom. But one day, this was simply not enough.

We were about ten minutes into naptime when an aberrant urge entered my four-year-old mind. As I watched Mrs. P make her daily journey between the cots, I wondered if she would notice whether I was awake if I started to slowly move my leg. Excitement gripped my mind ― this was like a game, one that I would lose if she shushed me. I slowly, slowly moved my leg closer and closer to the edge of the cot as she approached, watching her like a hawk with the sliver of my right eye that was still open. She walked past me without skipping a beat. Success!

As she rounded the corner and began to make another lap, the dopamine rush had already started to disappear. It was time to raise the stakes of this game. With my foot already at the very edge of the cot, I wanted to know if she would notice and shush me if I dropped my foot onto the floor as she made her way past me. An ambitious plan, but I felt that I was up to it. What was the worst that could happen?

My nerves were on fire as she approached the cot, but it was then or never. I dropped my foot onto the floor, and almost immediately felt her own foot barrel into mine. There was a surprised yelp and a loud crash as she fell, followed by Mrs. P’s pained wail.

All of the lights came on immediately as a next-door teacher ran into the room, and the rest of my classmates were awake and crying in seconds. I watched in absolute horror as Mrs. P continued to scream in pain from her position on the floor, explaining that she hadn’t seen my leg and that my foot must have fallen off the cot while I was sleeping. Within minutes, the preschool classroom was awash in red lights, and Mrs. P was taken away in an ambulance.

We spent the rest of the afternoon writing “get well soon” letters for Mrs. P.

I didn’t know whether I could feel any more guilty, but after Mrs. P walked in on crutches the next day with her leg in a cast, my heart sunk. She explained that she wouldn’t be able to chase us around the room and playground as usual, but that she would try her best to make class as normal as possible. The nail in my coffin of guilt was when Mrs. P saw over the course of the day that I wasn’t engaging in my usual mischief, pulled me aside, gave me a hug, and assured me that none of this had been my fault, as I had been asleep.

However, the damage to my desire to do mischief had already been done. I had transformed almost overnight from a mischievous child to one that was exceedingly well-behaved and considerate in an attempt to atone for my sins, and this change in behavior was noticed even by my parents. I had diverted my energy into learning at school rather than misbehaving at school, and this change in trajectory was certainly necessary for me to have discovered the love

of learning that drives me today as a third-year medical student. I only wish this hadn’t come at the cost of Mrs. P’s leg.

(P.S. I do not know if Mrs. P ever walked again, as she was still on crutches with her leg in a cast during my preschool graduation ceremony.)

Linda Nwumeh is a third-year medical student at MCW-MKE from the Chicago suburbs. She is part of the student editorial team for the Transformational Times and the MedMoth planning committee. In her free time, she enjoys writing, cooking, and tending to her plants.

The Anatomy of Resilience: Reflections on the Transformative Path of Medical School

From the August 11, 2023 issue of the Transformational Times

The Anatomy of Resilience: Reflections on the Transformative Path of Medical School

Joseph Harter, Class of 2024

A medical student reflects on gaining resilience by overcoming doubt and fear, and the importance of mentorship in becoming a surgeon...

Stepping into an operating room for the first time was like entering another world. The focused atmosphere, the sterile zones, and the masked figures. It was captivating. My heart raced, and my hands certainly trembled. But a focused mindset guided me forward as I unraveled the intricacies of the human body. Each day brought new challenges and revelations, from the delicate art of suturing in Surgical Oncology to the adrenaline-fueled moments of Transplant Surgery.

Medical education is a rigorous journey that tests not only our technical skills, but also our emotional fortitude. Becoming a skilled surgeon requires unwavering resilience and a hunger for knowledge. However, resilience is not readily acquired; it is a skill honed through overcoming adversity, and it becomes a testament to one’s personal growth.

There are periods when I questioned my own capabilities, when the weight of responsibilities felt too heavy. I vividly recall my first liver procurement at 1:30 AM, and the challenging treatment following the transplant. Every decision we made influenced the recipient’s outcome, while also honoring the donor’s legacy.

It is in these situations that resilience becomes a defining trait of a surgeon. We learn to overcome doubt and fear, tapping into newfound strength.

Medical students find solace in the support of our mentors, who guide us through the challenges and unconditionally impart their wisdom gained from years of experience. They teach us not only technical skills but also the art of empathetic communication, the importance of humility, and the significance of collaboration within a surgical team.

Through mentorship and a shared dedication to the art of healing, we inspire future generations to pursue careers in medicine and ensure that patients receive the highest standard of care.

Medical education is a continuously evolving field that requires us to keep informed with the latest advancements. However, amid rapid progress, it is vital that we do not lose sight of fundamental values that shape our identity.

As medical students, we are susceptible to the same doubts and insecurities as anyone else. Take the time to support each other, celebrate the victories, and reflect on our profound impact.

Together, we will continue to push the boundaries of excellence, knowing that the greatest rewards often emerge from our resilience. As we pursue our chosen careers, let us carry the fundamental lessons from what we have learned and the inspiring stories we have witnessed.

Medical school may feel like a journey to another world that challenges our limits, but it is one that molds us into individuals who can withstand the toughest circumstances.

I will embrace the challenges that lie ahead, understanding that each obstacle I overcome will bring me closer to becoming the surgeon I aspire to be.

While the path may be arduous, the reward of making a meaningful impact on the lives of others is a guiding beacon that fills my future with hope and healing.

Joseph Harter is pursuing a Doctor of Medicine degree from MCW and holds a Bachelor of Science in Materials Engineering from University of Wisconsin-Madison. He currently leads a Froedtert quality improvement project, is engaged in a variety of community/school volunteer activities, and enjoys inspiring others through mentorship.