Empowered

Small Town Big Data

By Marc Ransford, ’83 MA ’07

Emily Wornell seeks remedies for poverty in rural communities.

With her background growing up in a one-stoplight town and her training in rural economics, Emily Wornell conducts research in Selma, Indiana, and other small communities to discover ways to make life better for struggling families.

Photo by Bobby Ellis

mily Wornell knows about small town life. She grew up in Harrisburg, Oregon — a quaint, historic river town of some 1,500 residents. Nights were quiet. People were welcoming.

There wasn’t even a stoplight.

“Towns like Harrisburg are still what is America is all about,” said Wornell, a research assistant professor in the Indiana Communities Institute at Ball State’s Miller College of Business.

“Rural America is an important part of not just our history but our future. It’s where the vast majority of our food is grown and where our natural resources are managed. There’s a lot of important cultural significance to rural places.”

Wornell left Harrisburg but never forgot her small town roots. At Pennsylvania State University, her doctoral studies included rural sociology. With Ball State’s location in the heartland, it seemed the ideal location to continue her work, applying her research expertise to better understand the struggles of low-income rural households.

In recent treks across Indiana, Wornell found that small towns may look the same as they did decades ago, but change has come. The town squares are still there, but many shops have left. People are still welcoming, but their friendly faces are often lined with worry.

“We see a lot of deep and persistent poverty in rural communities,” she said. “In fact, the vast majority of rural communities has a large group of poor residents. These have existed for generations.” Making ends meet Wornell recently received a federal grant to lead a four-year, multiuniversity team that will study how low-income Hoosier families manage to make ends meet in several economically distressed communities — and to come up with policy recommendations to improve their lives.

“We are going to look at how these families manage to subsist and eke out a living in order to know how best to assist them,” she said. “We have to factor in the community programs, such as food banks and similar organizations, which may or may not be of help. We also need to examine how family members assist each other by providing food, employment, and other types of assistance.”

EFor her research, she will embed herself in three small, rural communities in Indiana, writing a case study from one-on-one and group interviews. “There has been a population shift from rural areas to urban communities for over a century now,” Wornell said. “Young people are moving to cities to look for work and opportunities. “But there are good reasons why people don’t leave their hometowns. They have family and friends who assist. Many simply cannot afford to leave those networks behind.” At the same time, Wornell reports that Indiana’s rural communities have become a new immigrant destination. Populations of towns that were once overwhelmingly older and white have become increasingly diversified by younger immigrants from Central America and Asia. Expecting a comeback “We’ve got lots of immigrant agricultural workers who work in rural areas — and who have, in fact, been staples in our agricultural and natural resource extraction industries since the beginnings of our country. Now, immigrants are settling in our smaller Indiana towns such as Albion, DeMotte, and Carthage.” Technology also has potential to transform America’s oft-forgotten rural areas. Broadband will bring health services via the Internet, she predicts. Schools will be able to share resources through technology while accessing programs from universities and colleges around the world, and office workers will increasingly telecommute — gladly surrendering the stress of big city life for the quiet of the country. Despite these changes, small town families that have endured generations of poverty will likely continue to struggle. That’s where Wornell’s research comes in: She hopes it will help guide policy changes and public investments to more effectively help those families and reduce poverty in rural America. At the same time, she’s bullish about small towns’ future and their ability to evolve. She cites her own hometown of Harrisburg, where the population has more than doubled since her childhood and whose residents now have access to the Internet, thanks to broadband. And now, there’s a stoplight.

Photos courtesy of Exhibit Columbus

A Ball State architect challenges norms by combining human creativity with robotic fabrication.

By Nick Werner, ’03

The mood in the Department of Architecture this past summer was a buzz of excitement floating above an undercurrent of jitters. That’s because, after months of planning and development,

Design Innovation Fellow Christopher A. Battaglia had begun fabricating an experimental architecture pavilion on the grounds of St. Peter’s Lutheran Church in the architectural mecca of Columbus, Indiana. Normally, a project wouldn’t generate this much anxiety. But Battaglia’s was part of a high-profile architectural exhibit in a city synonymous with modern design. He earned a spot in the juried exhibition because his submission was especially daring. Battaglia called it “DE|stress.” His plans were to put together a vaulted concrete shell from 110 unique concrete panels he’d fabricated on campus using 3D printing. The design relied on the physics of pure compression. That means the inward force from the weight of the panels is the only thing holding the structure together, like an arch. As optimistic as they were, Battaglia’s colleagues in the

R. Wayne Estopinal College of Architecture and Planning didn’t know what to expect. What if a panel cracked, for example? Some joked that they were thankful the project was on church grounds, because Battaglia was going to need prayers. Still, they agreed that if anyone could pull it off, it was their 20-something colleague with visionary ideas.

Light shines through the experimental structure called “DE|stress” in the architectural mecca of Columbus, Indiana. Chris Battaglia built “DE|stress” using a 3D printing robot.

Pushing boundaries In a white hard hat and black T-shirt, the dark-haired Battaglia sat inside the cab of a rented telehandler with big knobby wheels and a cranelike boom.

Using a joystick, the architect delicately maneuvered the machine’s telescoping arm down, in and out. At the arm’s end, a concrete panel dangled from a nylon strap.

Beneath all this overhead commotion, Battaglia’s structure resembled an avant-garde igloo. Perched on top, Battaglia’s building partners used their hands to guide the panel into place.

This was the scene at St. Peter’s as Battaglia prepared for Exhibit Columbus’ opening weekend, August 23-24.

His project pushed the boundaries of architecture and challenged the status quo. After all, that’s exactly what Ball State hired him to do.

Battaglia’s research interest right now is developing and improving 3D printing techniques, also called additive manufacturing, for precast concrete.

“We’ve been doing precast concrete the same way for 100 years,” he said.

Construction on “DE|stress” started in the basement of the CAP building, where Battaglia fabricated 110 panels using sand casting and a robotic arm. Battaglia transported the panels to the jobsite where he supervised the assembly process with help from students and his architecture colleagues. A wooden framework provided support until all panels were in place and the structure could support itself. “DE|stress” was part of a juried architectural showcase called Exhibit Columbus, which ran from August through December.

By exploring 3D printing, Battaglia is applying cutting-edge automation to an old-school, rather unglamorous building material. The goal is to make precast concrete more versatile, more attractive, more sophisticated, and more efficient.

Traditionally, precast concrete products have come in basic, straightforward forms: wall panels, blocks, pillars, and girders, for example. Making complex forms was theoretically possible but practically and economically unfeasible — especially for oneoff pieces — due to the amount of time, labor, and skill required.

On Battaglia’s project, however, each of the 110 concrete panels is unique. Adding further complexity, each piece curves in two directions. It all fits together like a giant threedimensional puzzle.

“This project,” said Professor of Architecture Timothy Gray, “is an amazing use of innovative technology.”

The process Teaming up with Battaglia’s past thesis advisor, Martin Miller from Cornell University, Battaglia began the design collaboration of “DE|stress” in 2018. He and CAP undergraduate researcher Ethan Jones began fabricating the panels in May 2019. Helping in various critical stages of the project were CAP professors Janice Shimizu, Josh Coggeshall, and James Kerestes as well as several of the college’s undergraduate and graduate students.

Printing concrete requires an industrial robotic arm and — in the case of “DE|stress” — big sandboxes.

Battaglia programmed the robot with digital computer-aided design files of his design. First, the robot used a bit on the end of the arm to rout an impression into the sand, forming the cast. Then, Battaglia placed a hand-welded rebar frame into the impression for added strength.

Finally, he fitted the robot with a printer head, and it squeezed out layer after layer of a special mortar, almost like toothpaste from a tube. The mortar, developed by material scientists at Laticrete, filled the impression and encased the rebar until the panel was complete.

As the name suggests, additive manufacturing lets the fabricator add cement only where it is necessary.

This is how Battaglia’s structure allows natural light and air to move through the project. Those holes represent areas where concrete would have served little structural purpose. As a result, the panels are lighter and easier to handle, material costs are lower, and the structure has a lower carbon footprint. The holes also add ornamentation to structural form, he said.

Will entire buildings be manufactured using 3D printing? Probably not, or at least not in the foreseeable future, Battaglia said. But the technology has the potential to change the way elements of buildings are fabricated.

Europe has begun to embrace 3D printing in architecture, and Battaglia has presented his research in Zurich, Switzerland.

The building industry in North America, on the other hand, has been slower to respond. The industry can be nervous about emerging technologies due to liability concerns, even if the old ways have obvious limitations, Gray said.

Battaglia repeated the fabrication process in the basement of the CAP building until all his panels were complete. Fabricating with help from a robot saves an immense amount of time compared to completing the same design by hand. Even so, the amount of time Battaglia invested supervising the fabrication was almost mind-boggling.

The architect estimated he spent about 80-100 hours a week inside the CAP building from May to August.

Once fabrication was complete, Battaglia moved panels by the truckload to Columbus for final assembly.

“Every piece is numbered,” Battaglia said.

Embracing experimentation During assembly, the panels on “DE|stress” were held in place by temporary wooden scaffolding. The idea was that the wood would bear the weight of the structure until the last keystone panel could be dropped into place.

Then, Battaglia would remove the scaffolding and compression would keep the structure from falling.

The pieces didn’t fit together as perfectly in real life as they did in his design. On several edges, excess concrete that formed during fabrication got in the way of clean, tight joints.

“Something goes from design, and it looks perfect, and then you have to deal with these improvisations,” explained architecture professor Pam Harwood, who teaches with Battaglia. “There’s always reality you have to deal with.”

The architect and his jobsite crew of graduate students and colleagues used old-fashioned muscle to chisel the panels into shape.

“Since the research is so new, we had to work out details we didn’t expect to find,” he said.

Battaglia wrapped up the project in early October. It remained on site until December 1, when Exhibit Columbus ended. Then, Battaglia disassembled “DE|stress” and sent it to the New Haven, Connecticut, headquarters of Laticrete, a material sponsor for the project, where it is on permanent display.

Battaglia’s heartfelt conviction that automation technology can breathe life into our built environment prevailed.

No miracle required.

Chris Battaglia

How research could help journalists prepare for traumatic scenes they witness.

By Melissa Kraman

rriving at the nighttime scene of a drunk-driving wreck, the first thing she saw was a pale, lifeless body slung over a guardrail. Fresh out of college, Natalee Seely was left stupefied. It was her very first day as a newspaper crime reporter.

“I felt totally unprepared for that,” she said. “I had no clue what I got myself into.”

Seely, now an assistant professor of journalism, is leading research inspired by her shocking first day on the job.

The former reporter’s published study reveals the psychological toll on newspaper journalists covering everything from accident scenes and natural disasters to violent crimes and tragic personal struggles.

“Reporters are like first responders. But unlike firefighters, police officers, and EMTs who have required trauma training, journalists have minimal to none,” said Seely, whose doctorate is in mass communication from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

“Journalists are resilient, but they’re not superhuman — they can’t just leave their emotions behind at the office.” Indeed, studies have associated coverage of trauma events with higher rates of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), burnout, and other symptoms among reporters.

After surveying 254 print journalists nationwide, Seely found that PTSD-related symptoms increase with frequency and intensity of exposure to traumatic events they encounter in their jobs. Those symptoms include heightened anxiety, irritability, avoidance, detachment, hopelessness, difficulty sleeping — even guilt. Such symptoms can be worsened by lack of support within a high-stress, demanding newsroom culture that discourages open conversations about traumatic events.

In her study, Seely cited Ball State Professor of Journalism Emeritus Mark Massé, whose 2011 book, Trauma Journalism: On Deadline in Harm’s Way, pioneered this area of research.

“Reporters are like first responders. But unlike firefighters, police officers, and EMTs who have required trauma training, journalists have minimal to none.”

Survey respondents vividly described their feelings to Seely. “I’ve become a different person from what I’ve seen,” said one. “I felt like I was thrown into the deep end,” reported another. “No one ever told me I might see this stuff, and that it could be hard.” Seely resonated with these feelings, having experienced them herself as a crime reporter.

She also examined the extent to which higher-education journalism programs help prepare reporters who go on to cover traumatic story assignments. She found that 53 percent of the 254 respondents from her initial research reported having no trauma- or crisis-reporting education. However, of respondents who did receive at least some education about trauma in journalism courses, nearly all reported higher levels of trauma literacy — including awareness, preparedness, and healthier coping mechanisms.

“These results indicate the power of education to produce more prepared journalists,” she said.

“However, very few journalism programs in the U.S. have dedicated classes or units about trauma journalism or crisis reporting, and that needs to change,” she said. “There’s interest in offering this kind of training, but there’s not a lot of knowledge on how to appropriately teach this.”

Both surprised and motivated by the results of her research, Seely has implemented a weeklong trauma education unit into her journalism classes.

“Trauma education needs to start early so students know how to recognize and handle their reactions when they become professionals,” she said. “I think if we could all just talk about it and make it a part of the conversation in newsrooms, that would go a long way toward humanizing the job.”

She hopes her research — including an article published in Journalism & Mass Communication Educator — will inspire other journalism educators across the country to follow suit by introducing curricula that emotionally prepares future journalists. She also hopes her research motivates newsroom leaders to cultivate a more supportive environment by offering debriefing sessions, open-door policies, and preparation for new reporters.

In the meantime, Seely has broadened her research to explore the psychological toll of everyday trauma reporting among television reporters and anchors.

She cites her scholarship as just one among many examples of how Ball State supports research initiatives that have potential to inspire real-world change. “It’s one of many reasons I chose to join the Ball State faculty.”

Two faculty members studying college students with autism become their advocates.

By Nick Werner, ’03

College overwhelmed Sam Johnson, ’18, and in his sophomore year at Indiana University, he dropped out.

Johnson blamed himself, wondering whether he was too lazy or maybe not smart enough. But a diagnosis that same year shined a light on why Sam struggled more than most of his peers.

He has autism.

“I didn’t realize the disconnect between my neurology and the way the world expected me to act,” he said.

Johnson moved home to Muncie and transferred to Ball State. He hoped being closer to family would provide a support network that he didn’t have in Bloomington. But the most critical support he found was in his junior year through a pioneering research and service project created by Ball State’s Center for Autism Spectrum Disorder (CASD).

Called Cultivating the Academic, Personal and Social Success of Students, or CAPS2, the project was founded in 2017 by Teachers College assistant professors Evette Simmons-Reed and Jennifer Cullen.

“Without it, I would not have graduated, to put it simply,” Johnson said of his CAPS2 experience. Earning a bachelor’s degree in sociology in 2018, he is a second-year master’s student in the University’s Communication Studies program and stays involved in CAPS2 as the group’s student outreach coordinator.

CAPS2 empowers students with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) through individual mentoring and support groups. In addition, the project’s administrators and mentors help students with autism tap a wealth of campus resources such as academic advisers, the Learning Center, the Career Center, and more. CAPS2 also facilitates social interactions, offers leadership opportunities, and promotes wellness.

The need is huge.

More students with autism are attending college, thanks to federal laws passed in 1997 and 2004. Those laws required high schools to do a better job of helping students with autism. As those students’ success improved, more sought to continue their education in college.

For the most part, higher education was caught off guard.

According to Simmons-Reed, an estimated 1 to 2 percent of college students nationwide are on the autism spectrum. Unfortunately, only about 40 percent of college students with autism graduate.

Slow to adapt Colleges and universities have been slow to adapt to the needs of students with autism — in part because their needs vary so much from student to student and because those needs are often hard to detect.

“Just because our barriers are less visible doesn’t mean they’re not real,” Johnson said.

In 2017, Simmons-Reed and Cullen set out to answer a basic question: “What are the needs of college students with autism?”

With past doctoral research in special education and applied behavior analysis, the faculty members are part of the CASD team, which seeks solutions to the biggest challenges facing the austim community.

In addition to student training, CASD founded and operates a nationally renowned summer autism camp (Camp Achieve), provides web-based training to help parents support their children’s needs, and equips educators with knowledge and treatments that have been shown to work for children and students with ASD.

Cullen and Simmons-Reed started with focus groups and invited four to six students with autism at a time. In some instances, only one student appeared. They realized they had scheduled groups to meet in a space that was difficult to find and didn’t provide details on how to get there.

“It was the very type of thing we were trying to address,” Simmons-Reed said. “Much of what is expected of students in college is implicit. You have to figure it out.”

Photo by Don Rogers

Formerly a teacher in a school for the blind, Evette Simmons-Reed is now dedicated to research improving the diversity and inclusion of students with autism in higher education settings. Below, with her service dog, Brady, she meets with graduate student Sam Johnson, whose college journey was assisted through an autism support group co-founded by Simmons-Reed and fellow professor Jennifer Cullen.

Ball State’s Center for Autism Spectrum Disorder is nationally known for its research and outreach efforts, including Camp Achieve, a summer camp for young people with autism.

Many on the autism spectrum, however, need more guidance.

The pair began scheduling focus groups throughout campus at locations convenient to students. Participation improved. The pair witnessed firsthand the need among students in their focus groups and felt compelled to intervene.

“We had a long-range plan where two years down the road we would be in the service phase of our project,” Cullen said. “But we had all these students in front of us. We couldn’t just send them on their way without helping them.”

So, Simmons-Reed and Cullen launched CAPS2 in Spring 2017 to give students with autism more individualized support.

It’s unclear how big the autism community is at Ball State. In 2000, just one student registered as having autism with the Office of Disability Services. By 2018, that number had jumped to 62. That’s likely a very low count of the actual number, however. Only students who need classroom and academic accommodations register with Disability Services. Some on the autism spectrum do not need those accommodations. Others may need them but choose not to seek them out.

“It’s not surprising that people don’t want to disclose,” Sam Johnson said. “There’s a stigma.”

Furthermore, Disability Services’ mission is academicfocused, according to director Courtney Jarrett, ’04 MA ’07 EdD ’12. Groups like CAPS2, Jarrett said, helps meet students’ need for social support.

“I don’t know of any other resources in the community that would provide that to them.”

In the 1980s and 1990s, Ball State made a name for itself as a campus that was accessible to students with physical disabilities. Just this year, College Magazine ranked the University first in the nation for its campus accessibility efforts. Cullen said she hopes CAPS2 can help the University earn a similar reputation for welcoming students with disabilities that aren’t as obvious.

“I would like us to be known for meeting the needs of students with autism, students with mental health needs, students with all sorts of disabilities.”

Building a national model Not all autism support programs are created equal, Johnson said. Some can be dehumanizing. CAPS2 has been successful because it “meets us where we are at.”

Such support can also be expensive. Programs at other universities typically operate through a third-party service provider. In such cases, students with autism pay an additional $10,000 to $50,000 every year, a prohibitive cost for most students and their families.

Cullen and Simmons-Reed hope to continue to keep CAPS2 free to students at Ball State. The two have kept expenses down by leveraging campus resources and focusing on more affordable support efforts such as group meetings and mentorships. Still, they say, the project is in need of additional funding to expand its offerings.

They hope their fine-tuning of the program will lead the way for other universities and colleges to offer affordable programs for their ASD students.

Indeed, gauging the project’s success is now part of Simmons-Reed’s research. She studies student outcomes, including graduation rates and CAPS2 retention. She also conducts satisfaction surveys of students and mentors.

Simmons-Reed and Cullen have spoken about CAPS2 and presented their findings at various conferences. The concept is attracting attention throughout higher education.

“We are trying to develop a support model that any institution can replicate,” Simmons-Reed said.

Her research shows empirically what the pair have observed firsthand. Cullen said she has seen some students struggle just to introduce themselves to professors. Two semesters later, with support from CAPS2, they are scheduling their own office hour appointments and advocating for themselves.

“What makes this job fulfilling is seeing those students achieve their goals,” Cullen said.

For Johnson, those goals include work in a career field where he can continue to empower leadership among young people with disabilities.

“He’s going to be in my seat one day,” Simmons-Reed predicted, her voice filled with pride.

For more information about volunteering and mentorship opportunities, contact CASD@bsu.edu or (765) 285-5260.

ALUMNI

Cardinal Code

Code Red Dancer India Garner, a junior from Lombard, Ill., brought Cardinal spirit to the October 2019 Homecoming Parade. Code Red Dancers later fired up the home crowd as the football team defeated the University of Toledo, 52-14.

Photo by Bobby Ellis

Recognized With Gratitude

This Fall’s annual Homecoming Alumni & Benefactors Recognition Dinner had many memorable moments, including the posthumous awarding of the University Alumni Association’s highest honor to two stellar Ball State supporters. Family of former University trustee R. Wayne Estopinal, ’79, and Edward Shipley, ’68 MA ’71, longtime leader of the Alumni Association, accepted the awards on their behalf.

Distinguished Alumni Awards

The Ball State University Alumni Association’s highest honor was established in 1959 to recognize alumni for their loyalty and significant contributions to their professions, communities, and society.

In Memoriam R. Wayne Estopinal, ’79

From left, President Mearns; Wayne’s daughter, Ashley Estopinal, ’08, and former spouse, Thresa Estopinal; and Debbie Linegar, ’92, of the Alumni Association.

In Memoriam

Edward Shipley, ’68 MA ’71

President Mearns; Edward’s widow, Vicki Shipley, ’69 MAE ’76, and daughter Sharla Shipley Kinsey ’93; and Debbie Linegar.

Corporate Partner of the Year Award

Honoring corporations that have enhanced philanthropy at Ball State University through their dedicated efforts, time, leadership, passion, and generosity.

MutualBank Dave Heeter, ’83, CEO

President Mearns, Dave Heeter, Jane Botts, ’87, Donn Roberts, and Jake Logan, President of the University Foundation and VP for Advancement.

Honorary Alumni Award

Honoring friends of the University who have made significant and long-standing contributions to Ball State’s welfare, reputation, prestige, and pursuit of excellence.

Joe Trimmer, Professor Emeritus of English

Trimmer taught courses in American literature, film, and creative nonfiction for more than 40 years and worked on projects such as Emmy-winning PBS series Middletown.

Benny Awards

Honoring Ball State alumni, faculty and staff, community members, and businesses that contribute outstanding service to the University. Chris Flook, ’03 MA ’07 Stan Sollars, ’78 MA ’80 Chris Taylor, ’96 MA ’98 Rhonda Wilson, ’95 MA ’97 Don Yaeger, ’84

Graduates Of The Last Decade (GOLD) Awards

Recognizing outstanding accomplishments of recent graduates.

Andrew “Drew”

Holloway, ’10 Lily Barker, ’13 Justin Friend, ’13 Terry Fields, ’09 Bryan Beerman, ’13 MA ’15

Robert E. Linson Scholarship

Providing financial assistance to students who contribute their time, energy, and talents to alumni-related programs.

Josie Marcum

Student Philanthropy Awards

Honoring students who strive to promote philanthropy education across campus and lead philanthropy initiatives that benefit the University. Cole Callahan, ’19

Rachel Edwards

Trey Moses, ’19