Wednesday, April 10, 2013

'Jurassic Park' tracks and poop, now in 3-D!


Universal Pictures

By Carol Clark

One of my favorite movie scenes of all time is the one with the cups of water in the 1993 science fiction classic “Jurassic Park.” The kids are trapped in an enclosed Jeep. It’s raining and dark. Then a series of faint, low “booms” grows slowly louder as the water in a pair of plastic cups on the dashboard trembles, signaling the approach of a Tyrannosaurus rex.

While most people fixate on the horror of the giant teeth and powerful jaws of an approaching T-rex, Emory paleontologist Anthony Martin is tickled by the thought of all the lovely, deep tracks the dinosaur is leaving in the mud with each booming thud of its triple-toed feet.

Martin is an ichnologist, specializing in the study of life traces like tracks, tooth marks and scat. He was among the first to rush out and see the recently released 3-D version of “Jurassic Park.”

The 3-D version is a chance for a whole new generation to enjoy the cheesy thrills of Steven Spielberg’s masterful tribute to dinosaurs. And just to make sure viewers get a bit of real science along with their popcorn, Martin has written a post called “The Ichnology of Jurassic Park” for his "Life Traces" blog. It’s a must-read before you make tracks for the theater.

Related:
Polar dinosaur tracks open new trail to past
Dinosaur burrows yield clues to climate change

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

He created the ideal learning climate


By Kimber Williams, Emory Report

It's Thursday up on the fifth floor of Emory's Math and Sciences building, and the familiar scent wafting through the hallways can only mean one thing. Waffles, and lots of them — homemade, golden brown and hot off the griddle.

The man behind the waffle iron is Woody Hickcox — geologist and climatologist, self-taught watercolorist/muralist, and resident chef.

Hickcox next to some of his art.
Hickcox is known both for creating the colorful artwork that blooms throughout the walls of the Department of Environmental Studies, and for his weekly waffle feasts that draw students, staff and faculty.

Hickcox explains how the Waffle Thursday tradition started:

"I was talking to a class about climate change, how water from the Gulf Stream flows to the North Atlantic and sinks. So we were talking about how when you have fluids of different densities, they will sink and rise. As an example, I talked about mixing waffle batter and whipped egg whites – if you put the waffle batter on top of the egg whites, it will basically turn over.

"Well, a lot of students have never seen waffles made from scratch. So I brought in the apparatus to make them. Afterward, one of the students, who's now a physician, said, 'Why don't you do waffles every week.' So we started making waffles every Thursday. We'll make up a big batch of waffle batter, and since I go to Vermont, we have a ready supply of real maple syrup.

"One or two people will often step in to help cook the waffles. You'll usually find a dozen people standing here, talking and eating, and a long line. That's what it's really all about, bringing people together. It creates community."

A senior lecturer in environmental studies, Hickcox is set to retire in May after nearly 29 years of teaching at Emory.

Read the whole interview with Hickcox in Emory Report. 

Related:
A geologist paints Darwin

Photos by Emory Photo/Video.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Intersex: A lesson in biology, identity and culture

“It’s fun helping people make connections and think of things in new ways,” says neuroscientist Sara Freeman, who won a Crystal Apple teaching award for her class on intersexuality.

By Carol Clark

As a little girl growing up in Atlanta, Sara Freeman says she was a tomboy, preferring to play in the dirt than with dolls. “I dealt with the psychological issue of not behaving like a feminine ideal,” she recalls, “but I don’t think most people ever feel like a perfect version of their sexual assignment.”

She went on to major in biology at the University of Virginia, where she developed an interest in reproductive endocrinology. Freeman is now on the brink of receiving a PhD in neuroscience from Emory, focused on the evolution of behavior, especially in relation to hormones. Her thesis involves the oxytocin system and the social attachment of mammals, drawing from her work in the lab of behavioral neuroscientist Larry Young.

“I find it fascinating that a chemical like a hormone can have such a big influence on an organism’s social interactions,” says Freeman, who loves teaching as much as research.

Last fall, Freeman taught an undergraduate class that she developed called “Intersex: Biology and Gender.”

The seed for the class was planted in 2010, when Freeman watched a short documentary called “One in 2,000” by Fanlight Productions. The film takes its name from the number of people born in the United States who have a variation in sex characteristics that defies the common biological parameters of male or female. “Intersex” is an umbrella term used to describe the phenomenon.

Click here to watch a documentary called "XXXY" by the Intersex Society of North America.

“One of the most surprising things to me about the movie was learning the prevalence and variety of intersex conditions,” Freeman recalls. “All these different names of different diagnoses floated across the screen, and I only recognized four out of about 25 of them. I thought, ‘This is ridiculous. I’m trained in reproductive biology.’”

In an extreme intersex case, a baby may have such ambiguous genitals that the parents and doctors wonder if the child is a boy or a girl.

Other intersex cases may have no overt features. Someone with complete androgen insensitivity syndrome (CAIS), for instance, may look and feel like a female although she has a male XY chromosome pair instead of the usual female XX. The body of a person with CAIS does not respond to the steroid hormone that stimulates the development of male characteristics, despite functional testes hidden in the abdomen.

A child with Klinefelter’s syndrome also may not exhibit any evidence that he has the standard male XY chromosome pair, plus an extra X chromosome. During puberty, however, he may develop slightly enlarged breasts, or bigger hips than usual for a male.

During the 1950s, some members of the medical community began to “fix” the problem of overt sexual ambiguity in babies by making them appear either fully male or female through surgery or hormonal treatments. Some physicians counseled against telling these children about their birth condition, because it could cause them mental trauma.

“Generations of people who were operated on right after they were born had no idea what happened to them,” Freeman says. “But in recent years, intersex people have started to come out and talk about their experiences.”

Some of them never fully identified with the sex category that had been arbitrarily “assigned” to them. Some also bear scars from repeated surgeries that have reduced their sexual sensation.

A growing movement calls for gender identity to be left up to intersex individuals to decide as they get older. “Today, we have a lot more information and advocacy about intersex,” Freeman says, “but some doctors still have the attitude of, let’s fix it and not talk about it.”

The complexities of intersex issues stuck in Freeman’s mind. Later, she took a course on teaching undergraduate science from Pat Marsteller, director of Emory’s Center for Science Education, and she received a Dean’s Teaching Fellowship, giving her the chance to design a course of her own.

Her resulting class on intersex is geared to upper-level undergraduates and is cross-listed in Biology, Sociology and Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies. “The idea was to bridge science and the humanities, so students from both worlds can come together and learn from each other,” Freeman says.

She also drew from the knowledge of Emory graduate students and faculty from both worlds to develop the course. Eight of these specialists served as guest instructors for the class, giving their perspectives from neuroscience, women’s, gender and sexuality studies, psychology and pediatric endocrinology. And a local intersexed individual came and spoke, to give the class a personal perspective.

The class delved into social and scientific history, questions of ethics and the nuances of semantics. For instance, while the medical community refers to intersex conditions as “disorders of sexual development,” many intersexed individuals do not feel like they have a disorder.

The students discussed theories around the ideas of disability and normalcy. What does normal mean? And what constitutes a normal male and a normal female?

“College is a coming-of-age time,” Freeman says. “I want students to evaluate the social pressures they experience on a day-to-day basis as they form their own identities, and to learn not to judge others.”

Click here to play the "Meiosis Game."
To help teach the complex biology underlying human sexuality, Freeman enlisted the help of Matt Gilbert, an instructor at the Art Institute of Atlanta who is also a web developer and graphic designer. Freeman and Gilbert worked together to develop two online, interactive sites that turn biological processes into a game-like format.

The “Meiosis Game” takes a player through the cellular division process that results in sperm and egg cells. By clicking through the long chain of steps of sex chromosomal sorting involved during meiosis, students see how natural variations in that process can result in an embryo with sex chromosomes other than the expected XX or XY.

The “Steroidogenesis Game” shows how steroid hormones, like estrogen and testosterone, are synthesized from cholesterol by enzymes. Players start with a molecule of cholesterol and instructions to create a target hormone. They then click on different available enzymes to see how applying each one changes the structure of the molecule. As they make their way through the enzymatic pathways, players see how the absence of any one enzyme may prohibit them from reaching the end goal of creating a particular hormone.

Click here to play the "Steroidogenesis Game."
The tactile, visual, step-by-step “games” serve as a good introduction to complicated biological concepts, while also helping students review material and prepare for tests.

“It’s fun helping people make connections and think of things in new ways,” Freeman says. “The varieties of body and mind that the human species is capable of are beautiful and something to be celebrated. The concept of what is male and what is female shouldn’t be expected to fit into narrow categories.”

The entire class of Freeman’s first group of students nominated her for Emory’s coveted Crystal Apple award for excellence in teaching. A Crystal Apple category didn’t exist for graduate students, but the awards committee created one for Freeman, due to popular demand.

“It meant a lot to me, to get that kind of recognition from my students,” Freeman says, adding that she also learned a lot. “Delving into the humanities side helped me become more aware of the biases you sometimes find in science. It also helped me become a better communicator and be more aware of how easy it is to spread misconceptions.”

Related:
Why do we stare at people who are different?
The science of love
An interview with Sara Freeman on Emory's Neuroethics Blog

Friday, April 5, 2013

The 'dirty ecology' of 'Beasts of the Southern Wild'

Hushpuppy (Quvenshane Wallis) and Wink (Dwight Henry) adrift in a half-real, half-mythic world. (Twentieth Century Fox, 2012).

In Southern Spaces, an online interdisciplinary journal produced at Emory, Patricia Yeager of the University of Michigan writes about the "dirty ecology" portrayed in "Beasts of the Southern Wild." The 2012 "epic film about toxic inequality" mixes imagery of nature, man and trash, like a throwaway Styrofoam container filled with gator meat.

Below is an excerpt from Yeager's article, interpreting the underlying themes of the movie:

"This throwaway Styrofoam brings us to Beasts' other mythic register—its quest for a way to represent our species' relation to global warming. Styrofoam is made from oil, and images of acetylene torches, gas stoves, and gas engines remind us that although the film's characters are battered by the forces of global warming and their carbon footprint is small, creating a carbon-free democracy is not their concern.

"The citizens of the Bathtub practice a dirty ecology, making do with what they can salvage from other waste-making classes. When a Katrina-like storm savages their community, the damage is endless. A giant pig-beast knocks over power lines: these are animals who 'eat their own mommas and daddies.' In the Bathtub the carbon apocalypse is already upon us. Early in the movie, Hushpuppy's teacher raises her skirt; she shows a thigh tattooed with prehistoric aurochs—'fierce' creatures who signify that 'any day the fabric of the universe is going to unravel.' ...

"The Bathtub's houses are made from castaway metal and lumber, its people jettisoned by the currents of capitalism. It's too close to the water: cut off by a levy from the thing-creating world. The oil refinery looks at once mechanical and auratic; its white spires hover in the same place in the pictorial frame as the calving glaciers that start to rain down on the audience, and free child-eating aurochs—the mythic equivalents of carbon's rough beasts, their hour come round at last.

"These once-extinct, returning aurochs mark the movie's geologic concern, its interest in eras. Around 1750, humans switched from renewable energy to the large-scale use of fossil fuel—a shift in scale marking the beginning of a new era. Ten thousand years ago the Pleistocene or Ice Age gave way to the warmer Holocene, and civilization began in earnest. But our contemporary era, the Anthropocene, has speeded up our species' access to matter until we now create our own weather events, our own set of fractures. Humans are reborn as geologic agents, as the main cause of change for earth itself."

Read the whole article in "Southern Spaces." 

Related:
Both oil spill and cleanup pose health risks
Oil spill may reshape environmental law
The physics of a philodentrist
Insider's guide to Georgia's barrier islands

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Hydroponic lettuce offers a taste of 'green' food


Video via Quad Talk 

Much of the lettuce sold in the eastern United States comes from California and Arizona. Emory students, however, are getting treated to fresh, campus-grown salads through a hydroponic system developed by Alex Boettcher and Jai Seth, both undergraduates majoring in economics and minoring in sustainability.

Their hydroponic system is currently growing about 50 heads of lettuce in 15-square-feet of the Dobbs University Center (DUC).

California lettuce “has to travel 3,000 miles to get here so it’s about 8 to 10 days before it’s served onto our plates,” Boettcher says. “It’s constantly losing nutrients, plus it takes massive amounts of fossil fuels to get it here.”

Conventional farming needs about three months to produce a crop of lettuce “but here we grow it in about six weeks,” Seth adds. “And because we’re growing it indoors we can have eight different crops cycles as compared to three or four crop cycles at a conventional farm.”

The students aim to promote sustainable, local food and good nutrition through the hydroponic project, which was supported by the Center for the Study of Human Health, the Foundations of Sustainability class and Food Services.

Related:
Local honeybees give back to the food chain