Spectrum Volume 2 (2) Spring 2012

SPECTRUM Journal of Student Research at Saint Francis University

Volume 2 (2) Spring 2012

18

SPECTRUM: Journal of Student Research at Saint Francis University Faculty Editors:

Balazs Hargittai Associate Professor of Chemistry bhargittai@francis.edu

Student Editorial Board:

Jenna Bailey Seth Burkert Shannon Coughlan Daniel Hines Helana Jacobs Timothy Keith Jonathan Miller ’08 Darren Petrunak Macy Rupprecht Rachel Sterling

Grant Julin Assistant Professor of Philosophy gjulin@francis.edu

Rachel Blinn Emily Coy ‘11 Kaitlin Hensal ‘11 Eric Horell Lindsay Jerin ‘11 Paul Johns ’07 Aaron Osysko ’10 Aaron Rovan ‘09 Jennifer Sabol ‘11 Colleen Stock

Managing Designer:

Brittany Kovacs

saint francis university FOUNDED 1847

19

SPECTRUM Table of Contents Man’s Struggle.

Latitia S. Lattanzio; Robin L. Cadwallader

20

Measuring Potassium in Muscle Tissue Utilizing an Atomic Absorption Spectrometer Validation of an Adaptation for a Whole-body Potassium Counting Method.

Anthony R. Horner; Rose A. Clark; Stephen M. LoRusso; Edward P. Zovinka

24

Listening with Compassion: The benefits of storytelling in the health care setting.

Lisa M. Moser; Arthur Remillard

30

Door 1, 2, or 3? The Monty Hall Problem.

Ethan L. Hullihen; Timothy W. Bintrim

35

The influence of multiple prolines on the folding of disulfide rich small peptides KaLynn M. Kline; Heather J. Harteis; Lauren E. McConnell; Janel A. Jesberger; Michele R. Hargittai; Balazs Hargittai

38

Call for papers

44

(Student authors’ names underlined.)

20

Man’s Struggle Latitia S. Lattanzio English, Communications Arts and Foreign Languages Department School of Arts and Letters lslst5@francis.edu

Robin L. Cadwallader, Ph. D. English, Communication Arts and Foreign Languages Department School of Arts and Letters rcadwallader@francis.edu

“You said you had had from your earliest time, as the deepest thing within you, the sense of being kept for something rare and strange, possibly prodigious and terrible, that was sooner or later to happen to you, that you had in your bones the foreboding and the conviction of, and that would perhaps overwhelm you.”

– Henry James, The Bea st in the J ungle (18) Man has forever struggled with survival and success in everyday life, but his aim is substantially altered when he enters into a new world where the struggle to be alpha is absolutely essential to staying alive; the loss of integrity and the sacrifice of societal norms are within these efforts to maintain civility in the most trying times. Areas like the jungle in The Hea r t of Da r kness and Lor d of the F lies are what provoke the beast within, luring man by their mystery and tempting him to stay; this leads, then, to the exposure of savage behaviors and, inevitably, the adoption of them. At times, we underestimate the evils humanity is capable of, forgetting we have merely adapted from primitive creatures living during a time when survival of the fittest meant life or death. In saying this, we must recognize that both societal and environmental conditions knowingly test the true character of man. Explorations of unknown lands provoke savage-like qualities when man is in battle with living or dying. It can be argued, that, the animalistic features that emerge are forever embedded within the individual, lying dormant within, or whether the said behaviors are new developments in response to environmental adversaries. Animalistic features seem to be forever embedded in every man, lying dormant within, in need of provocation.

As such, civilization serves as the reference point to civility.

Robert Thurman argues, “Civilization is usually equated with all things

good and decent. People can develop it, lose it, and sometimes even save it” (60).

In Hea r t of Da r kness by Joseph Conrad, Marlow and his crew are “men enough to face the darkness” in their journey into a world void of tamed peoples (69).

Before his departure, Marlow’s doctor warns, “The changes take place inside your head, you know?”

(76). As he grows disillusioned, Marlow does, in fact, find himself and his place in the world: he poses as an onlooker to the natives of the land, seeing them physically as humans, but behaviorally as untamed creatures. According to Anthony Fothergill, at the time Hea r t of Da r kness was written, much attention was being focused on the idea of Africa as “an exotic, mysterious, and challenging landscape which needed taming” (100).

He concluded, “[A]nybody going to Africa for the first time had in a sense already been there” (99).

The African lands were thus equated with both human and animalistic creatures that rejected the taming that civility requires.

Europe, Fothergill continues, was believed to be a place of “self-discovery in a confrontation with the strange and unfamiliar” (101). Marlow enjoyed this idea of working in a new world; he says, “I like what is in the work—the chance to find yourself. Your own reality—for yourself, not for others—what no other man can ever know” (Conrad 99). The jungle, then, is a “civilization” unlike that in which Marlow was living, a place that allowed him to strip himself of everyday

21 composures and, to quote Fothergill, to “embody the freedom that Europeans [at the time] desired in order to find their ‘real’ selves” (101).

Perhaps man’s realization of the savagery within, upon his entrance into the jungle, can be attributed to the stereotypes that were formulated by the Europeans at the time of Hea r t of Da r kness’s publication. For example, throughout the eighteenth century, Fothergill reports, researchers believed the inhabitants of Africa to be “primitive” peoples who were left behind when the rest of us evolved, as per Darwin’s theory of evolution (446).

Thurman supports these assumptions, claiming, “Some observers think that we are on the brink of a relapse into some form of barbarism” (60). So could it be that the idea of man becoming savage is attributed to the influence of landscape and surroundings? Indeed, Conrad believed, “We are savage primitives, too, beneath the skin” (qtd. in Fothergill 102). He questions, “If we came from this, what secret inheritance may be lurking in our character?” (104). Further, in Hea r t of Da r kness the doctor asks Marlow, “Ever any madness in your family?” (Conrad 76). The question implies that the atmosphere of the jungle in Africa must be capable of provoking the madness that is genetically embedded in a man, but that has seemingly been suppressed in order for him to function successfully in society.

The apparentness of the savagery in Marlow, however, changes with proximity. The closer Marlow physically is to the savages, the more apparent his acceptance of these beast-like qualities become. He says, in reference to the savages on the island, Well, you know, that was the worst of it—this suspicion of their not being inhuman. It would come slowly to one. They howled and leaped, and spun, and made horrid faces; but what thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity—like yours—the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly. Yes, it was ugly enough; but if you were man enough you would admit to yourself that there was in you just the faintest trace of a response to the terrible frankness of that noise, a dim suspicion of there being a

meaning in it which you—you so remote from the night of first ages-could comprehend. (Conrad 108)

The idea exists, then, that because we came from this savagery, there is a possibility that it still exists latent within us. The only motivation to keep these primal urges contained is our need to be healthy, functioning members of society.

Lor d of the F lies by William Golding portrays a similar message: savagery is evoked when living within the primitives’ un-developed homelands.

After a group of school boys are dropped on an island amid a war, they find that their new living conditions force them to channel the beast within; they must resort to a primitive nature for survival.

This savagery is used to uphold order within their new “society.” The fire they build to send smoke signals to passing ships incites the beast in them, drawing forth animalism:

At the sight of the flames and the irresistible course of the fire, the boys broke into shrill, excited cheering…. Ralph realized that the boys were falling still and silent, feeling the beginnings of awe at the power set free below them. The knowledge and the awe made him savage….They looked at him with eyes that lacked interest in what they saw, and cocked ears at the drum-roll of the fire. (Golding 44)

The fire is representative of the onset of chaos that will soon be an outbreak among the boys.

Similarly, the wildness of the fire parallels the nature of the destruction that they will soon cause to the island and to one another.

Even more savage than the boys near the fire is Jack, the boy who breaks away to form his own tribe. In order to eat, they must hunt the animals that lurk on the island. As a result, Jack organizes and leads pig hunts. In carrying out Jack’s orders, the boys conduct tribal rituals as they overtly find pleasure in killing and preparing their feast. From a distance, Ralph, the initial leader of the pack of boys, observes the changes in the others:

The chant was audible but at that distance still wordless. Behind Jack walked the twins, carrying a great stake on their shoulders. The gutted carcass of a pig swung from the stake, swinging heavily as the twins toiled over the uneven ground…. At last the words of the chant floated up to them, across the

22 bowl of blackened wood and ashes. Kill the pig. Cut her thr oa t. Spill her blood.“ (Golding 68)

‘There was lashings of blood,’ said Jack [as he recounted the hunt] laughing, and shuddering, ‘you should have seen it’” (69). Eventually, Jack leaves Ralph to form his own camp, and the majority of the boys follow.

At this point in the novel, the idea of living by the rules is abandoned. Ralph, however, sees the danger in this act of abandonment, and yells, “[T]he rules are the only thing we’ve got!”

(Golding 91). The rules are what help keep the boys grounded in civility. Throughout the novel, Golding uses the fight against barbarism as the catalyst for the novel. Even so, acting civilized seems to a lifestyle the boys have upheld only to please their elders. The struggle is most evident when Ralph, the symbol for order, tussles with Jack, the symbol for barbarism. Golding writes, “Jack swung with his fist at Ralph and caught him on the ear. Ralph hit Jack in the stomach and made him grunt. Then they were facing each other again, panting and furious, but unnerved by each other’s ferocity. They became aware of the noise that was the background to this fight, the steady shrill cheering of the tribe behind them” (179). The boys, then, are in a struggle to keep dormant their desires to revert back to barbarism. Because of the cheering, though, readers recognize that Ralph will lose; thus, their desire to kill overpowers their desires to be proper.

The pig’s head on the stake represents the idea that savagery cannot be suppressed. It speaks to Simon, the most quiet of all the boys, saying, “You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?” The sow, as Simon hears it, “[Speaks] in the voice of a schoolmaster” (Golding 143). Like Conrad, Golding hopes for us to realize, that evil exits in all of us. And, perhaps, if our actions are justified by our superiors, we may be more likely to believe we are acting justly.

Our own world has even seemed to consume us as a figurative jungle as did the tangible trees of the jungles in Hea r t of Da r kness and Lor d of the F lies.

In The J ungle, by Upton Sinclair, we are forced to explore the evils that exist, the struggle that born

with man versus man, and how the world becomes a place where only the strongest will survive.

According to Christopher Phelps, The J ungle is said to express to us the “ferocity of dog-eat-dog competition, the barbarity of exploitative work, the wilderness of urban life, the savagery of poverty, the crudity of political corruption, and the primitiveness of the doctrine of survival of the fittest, which led people to slaughter as surely as cattle” (1). The work that was meant to help these people stay alive was also killing them.

Within the novel, the people of Packingtown treat the immigrants as though they are animals, even alien creatures. At one point, the omniscient narrator tells readers of an immigrant woman’s exploitation at work where the conditions were incredibly poor. In The J ungle, Sinclair condemns this behavior: “[S]tern and ruthless economic laws had arranged it that she could only do this [piecework] by working just as she did, with all her soul upon her work, and with never an instant for a glance at the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen who came to stare at her, as at some sort of wild beast in a menagerie” (165). The Lithuanian immigrants, then, are forced to focus on their work, so much so that they lose sight of humanity. Greed from those with power calls forth inhumanity; they ask these immigrants to perform tasks that could be completed by inert machines.

Later in The J ungle, Jurgis, the main character who struggles to support his growing family, is thrown in jail for disobeying his boss in the workplace; he loses his home because he cannot afford rent. Sinclair writes:

All life had turned to rottenness and stench in them—love was a beastliness, joy was a snare, and God was an imprecation…. [W]omen’s bodies and men’s souls, were for sale in the market-place, and human beings writhed and fought and fell upon each other like wolves in a pit; in which lusts were raging, fires, and men were fuel, and humanity was festering and stewing and wallowing in its own corruption. Into this wild-beast tangle these men had been born without their consent, they had taken part in it because they could not help it…. [T]he game had never been fair, the dice were loaded.

(194)

23 These men had a commonality: each of them had been a victim of what the world had made of him.

Their manhood and civility had been stolen by the evils of labor and the cruelties that were forced upon them by the managers who treated them as machines, not as humans.

Today, the world in which young people live has increasingly become a figurative jungle, covertly being portrayed through video games, such as Mor ta l Komba t, a series of fighting games, and Ca ll of Duty, a shooting game that is primarily set in World War II. These “games” call on players to slaughter their opponents in order to prevail.

Being alpha, then, is associated with how slyly and brutally an attack on another is executed. Within the article “Video Games: A Cause of Violence and Aggression,” Grace Shin references a study conducted by psychologists Karen E. Dill and Craig A. Anderson. The study allowed for 210 college students to choose between a violent or non-violent video game and play it for a short period of time. Anderson reported, “Violent video games provide a forum for learning and practicing aggressive solutions to conflict situations. In the short run, playing a violent video game appears to affect aggression by priming aggressive thoughts” (par. 6). The interaction with such games is advertising hostile behaviors. Long-term exposure to manners such as these will eventually lead to the regression of society, essentially causing these somewhat civilized youth to move backward, closer, again, to their primal times.

This modern day pastime, then, is desensitizing today’s youth. Shin writes that more children are suffering and being treated for anger management today than have been in the past (par. 3). The ability to tame these young people is evidently becoming more difficult and the idea that they are being provoked by something that we call a “game” is shocking. Something so interactive must be controlled if we are to expect the up-and-comings to be humane enough to act civilized when dealing with controversial issues in the future. Hostility, just as lawfulness, is learned behavior; in order to make the idea of such barbarism extinct, children’s exposure must be monitored.

Inhumanity, in the end, seems to be a characteristic that is embedded within man, lying dormant, in need of provocation. Man has merely adapted from primitive creatures living during a time when survival of the fittest meant life or death.

It is apparent, through the works of literature noted above, that strange lands make man vulnerable, inadvertently forcing him to resort to his primitive ties in order to survive the struggles. These circumstances force man to abandon his knowledge of civilized behavior and adopt the behaviors that will assist him in reaching his goal. In a sense, the idea of a society has moved on from barbaric times, but today’s society is seemingly returning to them.

In the end, Henry James perhaps said it best in The Bea st in the J ungle, “I don’t think of it as--when it does come--necessarily violent. I only think of it as natural and as of course above all mistakable. I think of it simply as the thing. The thing will of itself appear natural” (20).

Works Cited

Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness; a nd The Secret Sharer.

New York: Signet, 1997.

Fothergill, Anthony. “Cannabalising Traditions.” Under P ostcolonia l Eyes: J oseph Conr a d After Empir e. U of Cape Town P, 1996.

Golding, William. Lor d of the F lies: A Novel. New York: Perigee, 1954.

James, Henry. The Bea st in the J ungle. Np: np, 2006. Google Books. Web. 17 Feb. 2011.

Phelps, Christopher. Introduction. The J ungle By Upton Sinclair. Boston: Bedford/St Martin's, 2005. 1-39.

Shin, Grace. "Video Games: A Cause of Violence and Aggression." Ser endip. Bryn Mawr U, 1 Apr. 2008. Web. Sinclair, Upton. The J ungle. Ed. Christopher Phelps. Boston: Bedford/St Martin's, 2005.

Thurman, Robert. "Back From Barbarism." Civiliza tion Ma ga zine (1999): 60-69.

Latitia Lattanzio (’12) is an English/Literature – Secondary Education major. She plans to continue her education in the fall as a graduate student. She is the President of Theta Phi Alpha, cheerleading captain, and continues to be involved with the Springtime in Italy study abroad program. She is recognized as a member of Sigma Tau Delta: International English Honor Society and Kappa Delta Pi: International Honor Society in Education.

24

Measuring Potassium in Muscle Tissue Utilizing an Atomic Absorption Spectrometer Validation of an Adaptation for a Whole-body Potassium Counting Method Anthony R. Horner Chemistry Department School of Sciences arhst5@francis.edu Stephen M. LoRusso, Ph.D. Physical Therapy Department School of Health Sciences slorusso@francis.edu

Rose A. Clark, Ph.D. Chemistry Department School of Sciences rclark@francis.edu Edward P. Zovinka, Ph.D. Chemistry Department School of Sciences ezovinka@francis.edu

Potassium is a cation important for a properly functioning body. It is especially significant for nerves, kidneys, and muscles. The concentration of potassium ions in muscle tissue was determined using an atomic absorption spectrometer operating in emission mode. The meat samples were flash frozen using liquid nitrogen, further ground using a mortar and pestle and then digested by immersing the processed meat in a hydrochloric acid solution. The potassium concentrations in muscle tissue were found to range from 2.76 – 4.66 g K+/kg of beef sample.

Introduction: Potassium has a number of biochemical functions including being important in cell function in both the brain and nerves, which are directly related to muscular control and movement (Ehrlich). Potassium is essential for a healthy lifestyle and is oftentimes found in high concentrations in many foods including: meats, fish, vegetables, fruits, juices, dairy products, and whole grains (Ehrlich). For these reasons, it is oftentimes beneficial for health care professionals to know the K+ levels in muscle tissue as an indicator of patient health. However, the most common technique of determining these levels involves taking a blood sample from the patient.

The development of a non-invasive scintillation procedure for use on living tissue without chemical destruction could reduce patient stress along with providing a technique for the localized detection of

potassium rather than an overall view of the concentration. A non-invasive detection method could provide a quantitative benchmark into muscle tissue growth and development. To calibrate this non-invasive scintillation based K+ detector, which is under development, the amount of K+ ions present in beef phantoms needed to be determined (samples provided by Dr. LoRusso through a collaboration with PSU faculty). Potassium levels are routinely measured in the chemistry laboratory using atomic absorption. The goal of this project is to develop a sample preparation method for potassium extraction from meat samples to use with the atomic absorption spectrometer.

Preliminary samples used for analyses were apple juice, a commercially available sports drink, and a banana. This initial experimentation was subsequently followed with testing various ground beef samples, and the beef phantoms using two

25 newly developed digestion methods. Literature states that ground beef has a concentration of 1.9 grams of potassium ion per kg of adipose tissue and between 3.1 and 3.5 grams of potassium ion per kilogram of lean muscle tissue (Ridout).

Concentrations of potassium from the currently developed methods are presented and compared to literature values.

Experimental Procedure: Materials: Potassium chloride was used as purchased for standards at 99.0% purity (Sigma Aldrich). The apple juice, sports drink, and banana were purchased from Smithmeyer’s Superette, Loretto, Pa. Ground Beef for preliminary method testing was purchased from local butchers or supermarkets (Pudliner’s Packing, Johnstown, Pa. and Smithmeyer’s Superette, Loretto, Pa.). Beef phantoms tested on the whole-body counting method were purchased from Giant® Grocery Store (State College, Pa.).

Experimental: A Bel-Art, Scienceware LiquidCooled Mortar was used for the digestion of the meat samples. An Orbit Shaker Model 3520 was used for digestion (Labline Instruments, Inc). A DuPont Instruments: Sorvall® RC-5B Refrigerated Superspeed with a DuPont Instruments Sorvall® SS-34 Insert for Nalgene Oak Ridge Centrifuge Tubes Model FEP was used for centrifugation. The Atomic Absorption Spectrometer was a Thermo S Series spectrometer operating under emission conditions (analysis wavelength 766.5 nm). Flame type: air/acetylene with a flow rate of 1.1 L/min.

Initial Testing: Initial testing of the atomic absorption spectrometer for the detection of potassium in the emission mode was carried out through the analysis of apple juice, a commercially available sports drink, and a banana. The apple juice and sports drink were both tested on a 1/1000th dilution and a 1/5000th dilution,

respectively. The banana was tested using a simple digestion method. The method used one third of the banana. The banana was blended with seven times the sample mass of water. From the solution created, 25 mL was combined with 25 mL of 1 M HCl. The banana solution was sonicated for 20 minutes, followed by vacuum filtration, and dilution. The final dilution of the banana solution was 1/1000th.

Potassium in Meat Samples: Method 1: The first method consisted of measuring approximately 5 grams of ground beef.

The samples were then soaked in a beaker containing a hydrochloric acid solution. Half of the samples were tested in a 1 M acid solution, while the other half were tested in a 3 M acid solution.

The solutions were soaked on a ratio of 1 gram of meat to 5 mL of hydrochloric acid. The concentrations of potassium were measured over the course of several days by removing a small 20 μL aliquot of the solution that had been soaking with the meat. This was followed by a dilution with DI water, and aspiration through the atomic absorption spectrometer without further sample preparation.

Method 2: The frozen ground beef was ground to a powder in an insulated stainless steel mortar and large ceramic pestle while utilizing liquid nitrogen for cooling. These ground samples were separated into four fractions, and the masses were recorded. The samples were soaked in both 1 M and 3 M HCl and placed on an orbit shaker table at 2,000 RPM for two days to allow for digestion.

Each sample was then centrifuged at 10,000 g-force for fifteen minutes to remove solids. The supernatant liquid was decanted and the liquid volume was recorded for an accurate analysis of concentration. Centrifuging was then repeated under the same conditions and the supernatant

26 liquid was removed again and combined with the first sample taken. After this, a 10 μL sample was diluted with deionized (DI) water to 50.00 mL for analysis using atomic emission.

Results and Discussion: Immediately after preparation, samples were analyzed using the atomic absorption spectrometer running in emission mode. The emission mode provided a lower limit of detection for potassium ions when compared to the absorption mode. A calibration curve was generated to check linearity from micromolar levels up to millimolar levels (Figure 1A). As seen in Figure 1A, at relatively high concentrations, the absorbance values level off. The selected concentration range for the detection of potassium was from 1 µM to 7 µM as it provided the best linear calibration curve, and had a correlation coefficient of 0.9944 (Figure 1B).

The standard range of 1 μM to 7 μM centered the standard solutions in the linear range.

Initial sample testing was carried out with apple juice, a sports drink, and a banana. The apple juice and sports drink were selected due to the ease of sample preparation. The banana was chosen for pretesting on the basis of beginning the development of a general digestion method prior to starting the muscle tissue method development.

The expected concentrations of the juice and the sport drink were calculated from the nutrition facts as labeled on the bottles. Similarly, in the case of the banana, upper and lower limits were researched, which in turn determined the concentration of the potassium ions present (Decuypere) (Mayo Clinic). In the testing for the sports drink, the average concentration obtained was higher than the expected concentration, whereas the apple juice was a little lower than the expected concentration and the banana was well below the expected amount of potassium ions

Figure 1: KCl Atomic Absorption Spectrometer Calibration Curve [A: Initial Concentration Range Testing; B: Final Concentration Curve]

(Figure 2, Table 1). This may be accounted for due to natural variation in banana and apple growth, and the labels of the bottles being upper or lower tolerances depending on substance.

The experimentation on the apple juice, sports drink, and banana was performed once (with each sample measured three times) as a preliminary trial before running the muscle tissue method and for practice running the instrument.

The concentration of potassium ions determined in ground beef samples for the two methods can be seen in Table 2. Seven beef phantom samples obtained from Dr. LoRusso were tested in this research project. The composition of the meat samples was unknown until all testing was

27

Figure 2: Potassium Ion Concentration in Commercial Products Sample Tested Banana Sports Drink Apple Juice

K+ Concentrations 6.20x10-03 4.70x10-03 2.10x10-02

Expected Concentrations 7.9x10-2 - 8.5x10-2 M 3.2x10-3(eM st.()labeled) 2.7x10-2 M (labeled)

Table 1: Potassium Ion Concentration in Commercial Products

completed. After the testing was completed, the ratio between the percentage of fat in the sample obtained from Dr. LoRusso compared with the percentage of muscle mass was used as a reference to the potassium ion concentrations obtained experimentally. On average, muscle tissue contains between 3.1 and 3.5 grams of potassium ions per kilogram, while fat tissue contains just 1.9 grams of potassium ions per kilogram (Ridout). These values, in conjunction with the labeled percentage of the ground beef, were used to determine a predicted potassium level present in the meat phantom through a simple calculation. The calculation entailed the sum of the fat percentage times 1.9 g K+/kg and the muscle percentage times 3.3 g K+/kg. The value of 3.3 g K+/kg was used for the value for the muscle composition due to being the middle of the range of 3.1 g K+/kg to 3.5 g K+/kg. Phantom testing was completed on Method 1 for the first four samples. The experimentally determined K concentrations were found to be

lower than the expected values. For example, it was expected that Phantom #4 would have approximately 3.26 g K+/kg of beef, but only 2.01 g K+/kg of beef was observed (Table 2). In order to determine if the method was in fact extracting all of the available K+ in the beef, the method was modified. It can be seen in Table 1 that Method 2 provided an increase in the concentration of potassium ions extracted from each phantom. For samples 1 through 4, there was an average increase of 1.54 g K+/kg when switching from Method 1 to Method 2.

Most of the samples provided values that were consistent within one standard deviation of the predicted potassium ion levels. Some of the sample values were outside the predicted range. In the cases of samples 2 through 6, the values were above the theoretical maximum of 3.5 g K+/kg.

Figure 3 shows a relationship between the concentration of potassium ions and the percent muscle composition. The lack of a linear trend as compared with the predicted concentrations (dotted line) may be due to the commercial addition of potassium lactate (KC3H5O3) to the meat samples.

Figure 3: Correlating Muscle Composition to Potassium Ion Concentration for Two Different Digestion Methods

28 Table 2: Comparison of Potassium Ion Concentration in Beef Phantoms (2 day acid digestion)

73:27 unknown 93:7 97:3 97:3 85:15

Predicted g K+/kg 2 .9 2 unknown 3 .2 0 3 .2 6 3 .2 6 3 .0 9

Method 1 g K+/kg 2 .2 7 2 .7 3 2 .7 7 2 .0 1 -

73:27

2 .9 2

-

Phantom

Meat:Fat Ratio

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Large companies add potassium lactate to ground beef to preserve quality during shipping for defending against yeasts and fungi (E326: Potassium Lactate). With the addition of potassium lactate, the potassium in these treated samples may not reflect the true potassium level in the muscle tissue. To explore this possibility, meat samples were obtained from local butchers without potassium lactate for comparison to the beef phantoms tested. In Figure 4 it can be seen that no distinct differences were observed for the “Store� meat (local butchers) and the 4 beef phantoms measured using Method 1. The similarity between the two data sets indicates that potassium lactate addition is most likely not the source of the high potassium levels. Reviewing the method and EPA methods (epa.gov) for soil digestion it was found that addition of alkali salts will enhance the K

Figure 4: Method 1 Comparison of Potassium Lactate Treated Meat with Untreated Meat [Red: Treated with Potassium Lactate; Blue: Untreated]

0 .2 0 0 .0 4 0 .9 4 0 .9 4 -

Method 2 g K+/kg 2 .8 2 4 .6 6 4 .3 4 4 .1 1 3 .9 2 4 .0 6

-

2 .7 6

St. Dev. n=6

St. Dev. n=8 0 .2 5 1 .3 9 0 .6 2 0 .9 7 0 .6 4 1 .3 2 0 .5 0

signal due to decreased ionization. The meat samples will contain additional salts due to the nature of the complex sample. The standards in this case did not contain additional salts so ionization of K would cause signals to be slightly lower than with the electron donating salts. Higher values for the meat samples compared to predicted values would be reasonable with the differences in ionization of K for the standards. Future studies will investigate the ionization issue further.

Another variable was sampling location from the meat, as bovine tissue is not a homogenous tissue.

In removing two samples from the same container of meat, the samples may have a sizeable difference in lean to fat concentration. To counter this problem, multiple samples were tested and the average and standard deviations were calculated. In Method 1, six samples were tested for each meat sample, and in Method 2, eight samples were tested from each meat sample.

The addition of liquid nitrogen to Method 2 allowed for complete freeze fracturing of the cells, which increased the amount of potassium ions extracted from the meat. Additionally, the incorporation of a shaker table in conjunction with sealed centrifuge tubes allowed for a period of agitation throughout the digestion process. The sealed centrifuge tubes were a much better option than beakers sealed with Parafilm. In the first method, the meat tended to stick to the side of the beakers. Agitating the meat phantoms using a

29 shaker table prevented sticking to sidewalls and allowed for the complete digestion of the meat. The use of a centrifuge removed the liquid from the sample and allowed for the specific volume of liquid to be measured precisely. And finally, replacing a ceramic mortar and pestle with a stainless steel mortar and pestle reduced breakage at liquid nitrogen temperatures (-195.79 °C). By using a commercially available liquid nitrogen mortar and pestle, the liquid nitrogen was contained in the base as opposed to being poured over top of the sample, providing a more consistent sample preparation and maintaining a more constant temperature. Stainless steel also is much easier to clean when the concentration of potassium ions present in the test equipment is an issue.

Conclusion: The primary goal of this research project was to define a method for the chemical extraction and analysis of the potassium content in muscle tissue.

Initial methods were developed for spectrometric analysis through the testing of liquids, followed by a digestion of a banana. For the meat testing, the first method of digestion consisted of soaking the meat in acid and produced lower levels for potassium concentration. A better extraction method was developed by freeze fracturing the meat tissue, total digestion, and liquid extraction of potassium from the meat. This second method proved to be more effective at potassium extraction as an average increase of 1.54 g K+/kg was obtained from each meat sample tested.

Acknowledgements:

Pittsburgh Conference Memorial Undergraduate Instrumentation Grant for the Atomic Absorption Spectrometer Saint Francis University Chemistry Department

Works Cited

Decuypere, J.D. Dr . Decuyper e’s nutr ient cha r ts: fr uit cha r ts, Accessed 4 May 2011, Retrieved from http://www.healthalternatives2000.com/fruit-nutrition-chart.html

"E326: Potassium Lactate." Food-Info. 9 Jun 2008, Accessed 3 May 2011, http://www.food-info.net/uk/e/e326.htm.

Ehrlich, S.D. (2009, May 6). P ota ssium. Accessed 3 May 2011, Retrieved from http://www.umm.edu/altmed/articles/potassium-000320.htm

Ellis, Kenneth J. Human Body Composition, 2nd edition Heymsfield SB, Lohman TG, Wang ZM and Going SB, Eds. 2005 Human Kinetics. http://www.epa.gov/region1/info/testmethods/pdfs/testmeth.pdf Accessed 11 September 2011 S.J. Ridout, S.M. LoRusso, P.I. Fitzgerald, J.A. Pelberg, and D.N. Proctor, Inter na tiona l J our na l of Body Composition Resea r ch, Estimation of active cell mass in the human lower leg: feasibility of a regional 40K system, 2007, Vol. 5, Pgs. 131-136 Mayo Clinic, (2010, November 1). Potassium supplement oral route, parenternal route. Accessed 4 May 2011, Retrieved from: http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/druginformation/DR602373

Anthony Horner ('11, B.S., Chemistry) is an Analytical Chemistry Technician at Atrium Medical Corporation, an international medical company, in Hudson, NH. He plans to attend graduate school in the Fall of 2012 to pursue a Ph.D. in Analytical Chemistry.

30

Listening with Compassion: The benefits of storytelling in the health care setting Lisa M. Moser Department of Physician Assistant Sciences School of Health Sciences lmmst12@francis.edu “I have experienced some bumps in the road, but man, this was a pot hole!” exclaimed a hospital patient I visited while volunteering with a club called M.A.P.S (Make a Patient Smile). Through this service, I have heard many different patient stories and have come to reflect on the many different dimensions of disease and how it influences every aspect of life. I have also come to recognize the needs of patients and where medical care can, at times, fail to meet these needs. Stories can provide the link needed to give care to patients beyond medical treatment. Philosopher Hilde Lindemann Nelson recognizes this moral aspect of stories in Da ma ged Identities: Na r r a tive Repa ir .

Nelson explains how disease disrupts a person’s life and sense of self. However, by expressing their story, patients can repair this damage and begin to recover. According to Nelson, allowing patients to share their story is a moral action on behalf of the care giver because it allows patients to fully heal.

This paper will discuss how the framework of stories is important and the four main benefits that can be achieved through storytelling which are, maintaining a sense of identity, establishing good communication, developing empathy, and finding meaning. Also, benefits for health care providers as well as challenges that can hinder the sharing of stories will also be discussed. Before proceeding it is important to define important terms. Storytelling is the act of using words and images to convey a serious of events, or a story (Brendel, 2009). The act of sharing that story can prove to be very beneficial to patients even if it does not seem pertinent to their situation. Another important term that needs defined is illness. An illness narrative is a story told about how one incorporates disease into every aspect of life. According to Arthur Kleinman

Arthur Remillard, Ph.D. Religious Studies Department School of Arts and Letters aremillard@francis.edu (1988), “Illness refers to how the sick person and the members of the family or wider social network perceive, live with, and respond to symptoms and disability” (p.3). Illness is what a patient experiences on a day to day basis and how disease affects every aspect of that person’s life. Illness is different than disease. Kleinman defines disease as, “What practitioners have been trained to see through the theoretical lenses of their particular form of practice” (p.5). Disease is the actual biological process occurring in the patient’s body and the medical treatment of that process. The focus of this paper is on what occurs after the diagnosis of the disease and how that disease becomes an illness.

In order to evaluate the benefits of stories in the health care setting, journal articles and stories about illness were read and analyzed to determine the effects on both patients and health care providers.

Interviews with previous patients and health care providers were also conducted. The patients had a variety of illnesses and had been in the hospital for different reasons. All of the previous patients had been treated in western Pennsylvania. The health care providers interviewed had degrees ranging from, medical doctor, physician assistant, registered nurse, and physical therapist. All of the health care providers were also from western Pennsylvania. Those interviewed were personal acquaintances or were recommended by faculty and staff at Saint Francis University.

“The voices of these interviewees helped me make sense of the complexities of caregiving in the twenty-first century.” In present day, advances in medicine are rapidly occurring and the focus in health care tends to be diagnosing, treating, and curing disease. This focus on the disease process is

31 called the biomedical model and it has been deemed inadequate by physicians such as Rita Charon and Arthur Kleinman (Kleinman, 1988; Charon, 2004). To investigate this further, I used the interviews with current health care providers and previous hospital patients. All eight health care providers interviewed responded yes when asked if there is a problem with a solely biomedical approach to disease. Karen Williams, a family care physician, responded, “They are all connected, mind, body, and spirit, so you are not doing a good job, you are missing out, if you only focus on the body. There is no such thing as a body approach, it’s not adequate and would not suffice” (Interview, September 29, 2010). In order to put the focus back on patient stories Charon proposed a narrativebased approach to medicine. This approach calls care providers to listen to stories for symbols and meaning in order to help patients completely heal (Charon, 2004).

Understanding patients’ narratives begins with the framework of stories. Health care providers need to listen for this structure so they can better comprehend the patient’s story. The framework for a narrative should contain a plot or action, a set of characters, and the storyteller’s point of view (Brendel, 2009). By forming a plot, the patient is able to give structure to their life story and develop plans of action for the future. Plots give the patient a way to organize their experience and a sense of control which helps them find meaning. The characters of an illness narrative are also important because they reflect the people in the patient’s life.

This can help to describe how relationships are affected and make the disease unique to the patient, thus preserving identity. The teller’s point of view is also important for care givers to acknowledge because it helps the patient convey the self-image of their choosing. This causes the teller to become more than just a patient; they become a family member, a spouse, an athlete, or a professional in their career.

In order for the sharing of stories to occur two roles must be filled. One is that of the teller who must take an active role and communicate their story to the health care provider. In turn, the role of

the listener or care provider is to create a setting and atmosphere in which the patient can tell their story freely. Overall, the interviews indicated that in order to provide the best care, a care provider must establish a good rapport with patients. John Kadosky, PA, distinguishes his role as a health care provider. “It is important to treat the individual patient. They are all different and equal. It doesn’t matter if they are a bum or the president; everyone is a son or daughter, sister or brother, or loved one” (Interview, September 14th, 2010).This respect is essential between the teller and listener. When a solid relationship between the patient and health care provider is established, the patient can begin to construct their story.

Once the teller and listener establish the setting and the sharing of the story takes place, there are four main benefits that can arise. The first is allowing the teller to reconstruct and preserve their identity. The second point is that stories allow the teller to communicate the unique experience and specific details of their illness to the care provider which can lead to more accurate diagnoses. Benefit three is that illness narratives help care providers gain a better sense of empathy which in turn can make patient’s feel understood and valued. Lastly, the construction of an illness narrative can help patients find meaning in their life despite disease.

The importance of narratives is conveyed by Arthur Frank (2002) in At The Will of the Body, “Human suffering becomes bearable when we share it” (p.104). When the teller is able to share their story they can work through their illness. All the benefits can help patients find a sense of healing in every aspect of their life beyond physical treatments.

The first benefit of expressing illness narratives is their ability to let patients reconstruct and maintain the identity of their choosing. According to William Brendel (2009), illness narratives allow for the preservation of self because they allow the teller to convey the self-imagine of their choosing.

Disease intrudes upon normal life events and creates chaos causing a need to re-establish a sense of self. When disease takes over a person’s life they can become labeled by their disease or by their new role as a patient. The negative labels disease

32 creates can also create stigma, which, according to Frank, is to mark as unclean or unworthy. If this stigma occurs, it can cause many negative feelings for the patient; therefore, it is important the patient can express their views to regain a sense of control.

The patients interviewed realize that who they are now is related to their illness experience. Dr. John Woznak, a professor of English at Saint Francis University, who experienced a Transient Ischemic Attack, or mini-stroke, and resulting complications of loss of motor control, admitted, “You lose part of your identity in these things. Who you are is different after than who you were” (Interview, October 18th 2010). Andrea Brown, cancer survivor, also explained, “I feel like how I am now is still based off of [the diagnosis] and I don’t realize it” (Interview, September 9th, 2010). These descriptions clearly illustrate that disease affects ones identity.

Stories are universal, thus they also allow one to communicate different cultural perspectives that are part of one’s identity. Culture can greatly influence perceptions of illness, and understanding a person’s unique view of illness is an important part of understanding their story. For example, the Hmong culture found near China have a much different view of the disease epilepsy than Americans. In The Spr it Ca tches You a nd You F a ll Down, author Anne Fadiman explains how the Hmong believe during a seizure a spirit takes the person away temporarily. This is seen as a gift and a portal between the spirits and the humans, not a debilitating disease. In the novel, a small child, Lia, has epilepsy and her American doctors attempt to treat her with medication to prevent the seizures.

Since epileptics are revered in Hmong society, Lia’s family does not comply with the doctors. It becomes important that Lia’s family communicates their beliefs to the doctors and show their identity with the Hmong culture in order to establish a method of treating Lia that is effective and that the family will comply with. When the doctors began to understand the cultural differences they were able to create a more successful treatment plan.

To recognize the unique identity of the patient, including these cultural differences, open

communication is necessary. The second benefit of storytelling is that is allows the teller to convey the specifics of their illness to the listener who then can understand the ‘big picture’ and develop a successful treatment plan. This need for open communication is exemplified by Dr. Fredricks, an English professor at Saint Francis University, “Stories are the essence of conveying information.

If the health care [provider] is not interested in what the person has to say or cannot ask the right questions to illicit what the person has experienced then that person might as well be an inanimate object. Then you are just treating the collection of symptoms and not the human being…we don’t know who we are until we tell our story. The doctors cannot know who we are until we tell them our story” (Interview, October 13, 2010).

The health care providers’ interviews also illustrated the importance of communication.

Kadosky realizes, “The hardest part of my job is talking to people…you have to understand you can learn all the medicine in the world, and that part is rather simple, the harder part is learning your patient” (Interview, September 14th, 2010).

Williams also spoke on communication, “As far as a diagnosis, it is crucial because stories will tell you what is going on. [The patients] know themselves a lot better than you do” (Interview September 29th, 2010). Listening to stories plays a vital role in correct diagnosis and successful treatment because it allows for successful communication.

The development of an empathetic relationship between the teller and listener is the third benefit of expressing illness narratives. This is important because when care givers demonstrate empathy, the patient feels listened to and humanity is restored.

John Scott emphasizes the importance of empathy in the health area setting when he describes Martine Buber’s classification of I/It and I/Thou relationships. According to Buber, I/It relationships occur when the patient is viewed as their disease.

Scott suggests that providers and patients strive for what Buber defines as I/Thou relationships in which both parties are equal (Scott, 2009).

Establishing this type of relationship demonstrates empathy on behalf of the health care provider.

33 Empathy occurs when one recognizes they have not experienced the same event as someone else but they still listen and try to comprehend the situation.

This can help patients feel cared about and appreciated, which can help them heal.

The health care providers’ interviews came to the overall consensus that they have to “put themselves in the patient’s shoes” when providing care and treatment. Elizabeth Claar, PA, and Penne Edgell, MD, recognized that even if they have already seen the same diagnosis four times, it is the first time the patient has experienced it, so you have to remember compassion. They also mentioned that they try to treat every patient like they would want their family members to be treated. (E. Claar, interview, September 12th, 2010; P. Edgell, interview, September 14th, 2010) When asked about the importance of empathy, Alan Hessler, DPT, responded, “It is important if you want to be a good health care provider and really make a difference” (Interview, September 16th, 2010).

This demonstrates the importance of communicating effectively with patients and maintaining respect during treatment.

Once a patient constructs their story, maintains their identity, communicates effectively and receives empathy, they can discover the fourth benefit of illness narratives: finding meaning.

When people can connect events in the form of a story and express the emotions, values and feelings that go with them, they can make sense of their illness. According to Frank, to value something means to “mark it with significance” (Frank, 2002).

An illness narrative can allow the patient to recognize the impact of disease and help them find meaning despite the disease. When this occurs, patients can come to value their illness despite what final the outcome may be.

Once a patient is able to value their illness, they can also prepare for death if that is a possibility.

Accepting the potential losses and coming to value life itself can help one come to terms with their own mortality. This can cause the ill person to change the direction of their life so it can be more fulfilling. An example of this can be seen in Randy Pausch’s work The La st Lectur e. His illness

narrative reflected on the last lecture he gave as a professor at Carnegie Mellon University. Pausch was a young professor and a new Father when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Pausch recognized that he didn’t just want to give the lecture, but he needed to in order to express, “things that desperately needed to come out” (Paush, 2008). His last lecture enabled him to find meaning in life and leave a legacy of remembrance for his young children. Overall, this helped him cope with his own death and still value his life.

When health care providers implement a narrative-based approach to patient care they can provide care beyond the treatment of the disease.

This is demonstrated by the benefits that patients can gain from sharing their story. When care providers recognize the patient’s suffering, the patient can begin to let it go and heal.

As well as having many benefits for patients, illness narratives offer two main benefits for health care providers. First, as mentioned previously, a patient’s story can help both the patient and health care provider communicate effectively. This can lead to accurate diagnosis and successful treatment, which can prevent burn out. When stories allow the patient to heal, the care giver can receive a very rewarding feeling even if physical treatment is not effective. This sense of fulfillment is the second benefit stories can provide to health care providers.

A physician who has written on storytelling in the health care setting is Rachel Naomi Remen (2006). She emphasizes that stories have enabled her to realize that, “…even when there was nothing left to do medically, there were still others things I could say or do that might matter” (p.45). When health care providers do not have any medical treatment to turn to, they can still help the patient through storytelling, and receive a very rewarding feeling, thus preventing burn out.

Storytelling may seem to be an easy activity, it does take effort on behalf of the care provider and patient. Most of the health care providers’ interviews indicated time and insurance were hurdles to providing the desired care. There are also challenges patients may face such as trusting the listener, communicating cultural differences,

34 overcoming I/It relationships, and expressing negative emotions. It is important the listener establishes respect and rapport with patients and encourages the patient to tell their story to reap the benefits of a narrative approach to medicine.

Some suggestions to face the challenges were made by the health care providers and patients during the interviews. Some of the care providers suggested having more interaction with patients during medical school and practicing real- life scenarios. Another suggestion from the care providers is to make the students aware of the role of empathy. As Kadosky explained, “They cannot teach you how to have empathy or respect for yourself and patient, but they can make you aware of it” (Interview, September 14th, 2010). The last suggestion made by both health care providers and patients was to have a third party come into hospitals to talk with the patients. Whether it is trained individuals or volunteers, the interviews indicated the need for someone to be able to talk with patients without a time limit.

After visiting the gentleman in the hospital mentioned at the beginning of the paper and listening to his story, he was very grateful. He thanked us many times and said we were “doing a good thing.” This demonstrates how listening to illness narratives is a moral action which helps the patient heal. Overall, illness narratives have a great potential to fortify patient and health care provider relationships. Illness narratives can bridge the gap between health care providers and patients and facilitate the forming of an alliance, which can play a vital role in the healing process. Illness narratives are the key to forming relationships that promote healing and they have a vital role in the future of the health care field.

Baumen, A. F. (1994). Hairless. Emerson College.

Brendel, W. (2009). A Framework for Narrative-Driven Transformative Learning in Medicine. J our na l of Tr a nsfor ma tive Educa tion, 26-42.

Bury, M. (2001). Illness narratives: fact or fiction? Sociology of Hea lth a nd Illness, 263-285.

Charon, R. (2004). Narrative and Medicine. New Engla nd J our na l of Medicine, 862-864.

Fadiman, A. (1997). The Spir it Ca tches You a nd You F a ll Down. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Fox, M. J. (2002). Lucky Ma n. New York: Hyperion.

Frank, A. W. (1995). The Wounded Stor yteller : Body, Illness, a nd Ethics. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Frank, A. W. (2002). At The Will of the Body: Reflections on Illness. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company.

Frank, A. W. (2004). The Renewa l of Gener osity: Illness, Medicine, a nd How to Live. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Hyden, L.-C. (1997). Illness and Narrative. Sociology of hea lth a nd Illness, 48-69.

John G Scott, R. G. (2009, August 13). Hea ling r ela tionships a nd the existentia l philosophy of Ma r tin Buber . Retrieved February 18, 2011, from Pub Med central: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2733137/pdf/17475341-4-11.pdf

Kleinman, A. (1988). The Illness Na r r a tives: Suffer ing, Hea ling, a nd the Huma n Condition. Washington D.C.: Basic Books.

Kriegel, L. (2008). Imagine What It's Like. In R. Nadelhaft (Ed.), Ima gine Wha t It' s Like (pp. 56-69). Washington D.C.: University of Hawai'i Press.

Nelson, H. L. (2001). Da ma ged Identities: Na r r a tive Repa ir .

Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Oaks, D. D. (1998). Linguistics a t Wor k: A Rea der of Applica itons. New York: Hardcourt Brace and Company.

Pausch, R. (2008). The La st Lectur e. New York: Hyperion.

Remen, R. N. (2006). Kitchen Ta ble Wisdom. New York: Riverhead Books.

Sakalys, J. A. (2003). Restoring the Patient's Voice: The Therapeutics of Illness Narratives. J our na l of Holistic Nur sing, 228-241.

Strand, J. (2002). Health Belief Models. Cultur a l P er spectives, 43-45.

Velpry, L. (2008). The Patient's View: Issues of Theory and Practice. Cultur e, Medicine, a nd P sychia tr y, 238-258.

Works Cited

Armstrong, Karen (2008, February). Karen Armstrong makes her TED Prize wish: the Charter for Compassion [Video file]. Retreived from

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/karen_armstrong_makes_her_ted_pr ize_wish_the_charter_for_compassion.html

Barbara Sharf, M. V. (2003). Illness Narratives and the Social Construction of Health. In T. Thompson, Ha ndbook of Hea lth Communica tion (pp. 9-34). Lawrence Erlbaum Associates: Mahwah.

Lisa Moser (BS ’12; MPAS ’13) is a Physician Assistant Sciences major. She plans to work in an under-served area upon graduation. She is a member of the club M.A.P.S. (Make A Patient Smile), the Physician Assistant Society and Hugs United. She is a peer tutor and a Student Ambassador.

35

Door 1, 2, or 3? The Monty Hall Problem Ethan L. Hullihen Business Administration Department

Timothy W. Bintrim, Ph. D. English, Communication Arts and Foreign Languages Department School of Arts and Letters tbintrim@francis.edu

School of Business elhst6@francis.edu Perspiration is forming on your brow from the heat of the studio lights. A crowded studio audience sits with bated breath, waiting to hear your decision. After choosing Door Number 3, you learn that what waits behind Door Number 1 is nothing more than a goat, chomping on grass. Then the host poses his question, “Would you like to switch to Door Number 2, or test your luck with Number 3?” The difference between a fourwheeled, brand new car and a second four-legged vegetarian rests on your decision. What do you do?

The preceding scenario is one familiar to many game show enthusiasts, with similar variations appearing on shows such as Deal or No Deal; however, the situation is most commonly associated with a 1991 question-and-answer column by Marilyn vos Savant in Parade, a Sunday magazine distributed by more than 530 newspapers with a circulation of 32.2 million, “the most widely read magazine in America” (“A History of Parade”). In this column—entitled “Ask Marilyn”—writers were encouraged to pose questions to vos Savant, who was credited in the Guinness Book of World Records for five years with “Highest IQ” (“About Marilyn”). The following is the original submission by reader Craig F. Whitaker of Columbia, Maryland as it appeared in Parade, titled the “Game Show Problem”: “Suppose you're on a game show, and you're given the choice of three doors. Behind one door is a car, behind the others, goats. You pick a door, say #1, and the host, who knows what's behind the doors, opens another door, say #3, which has a goat. He says to you, ‘Do you want to pick door #2?’ Is it to your advantage to switch your choice of doors?” (qtd. in “Game Show Problem” ). In her response, vos Savant insisted it

was in the contestant’s best interest to switch and explained why this was the case with reference to probability. At the time, the reader’s question and vos Savant’s answer inspired thought and fueled plenty of debate around the country.

The response that vos Savant received from readers was astounding, and subsequent debate took the nation by storm. Such a controversy over a single math problem with no practical applications is astonishing when one takes the time to consider the circumstances. One of the many intriguing subplots of the problem was the general disbelief and even indignation about the problem’s somewhat simple solution—especially from those with advanced degrees in the field of mathematics.

While the question of why the answer is misunderstood and mistrusted remains intriguing, it is an entirely different topic from how the answer works. The following first seeks to explain the reasoning behind the correct answer of the Monty Hall Problem1, why it works mathematically, and then suggests the cultural importance that the problem holds.

Many disgruntled and unbelieving Parade readers criticized vos Savant for her misunderstanding of probability; therefore, it is crucial that the idea of probability be understood before the problem’s answer can be examined, as probability is the crux of the argument. The Oxford Monty Hall was a host of the television game show Let’s Make a Deal, one of the most popular television game shows of the 1960s and 70s. Contestants were able to buy, sell, or trade anything and everything for the chance of money, merchandise, and eventually the Big Deal of the Day (“Show Info”). However, the actual scenario posed in the Monty Hall Problem never faced the contestants on the show. The problem is named after the legendary deal maker based on the similarities between the problem and his game show.

1

36 English Dictionary describes probability in math as being “the extent to which a particular event is likely to occur” (“Probability”). For example, every time a coin is flipped, there are only two possible outcomes—heads or tails. The probability that one of the two possible outcomes occur—fifty percent—can be expressed several ways: 1/2, 50%, or 1 out of 2. Also, logic permits that, in theory, in a trial of 100 flips of a coin, it should land heads up 50 times and tails up 50 times. The following explains the Monty Hall Problem in terms of percentages, and why it is in the contestant’s best interest to switch, as vos Savant suggests.

When first faced with the choice of three doors, the contestant has a 1 out of 3, or 33.3%, chance of winning with his original choice, while there is a 2 out of 3, or 66.7%, chance that the winning door is one that is not chosen. After the host reveals one of the goats2, the contestant is now asked whether he would like to switch doors or stay with his original choice. This is where most of the misconceptions about the answer come from. Many assume that the contestant is now left with a fifty-fifty shot of choosing the correct door because he is now choosing between two doors—his original choice and the remaining unopened door. However, if he stays with his original choice, his odds of winning do not increase to fifty percent just because one of the goats has been revealed. In other words, his chance of winning still stands at 33.3% if he chooses not to switch, not 50% as many tend to believe. If the contestant changes his choice, his chances of winning increase to 2 out of 3, or 66.7%, because the original chance that the winning door was not chosen has become concentrated on the remaining unopened door.

2

In order for the problem to work, certain conditions must be assumed or remain unchanged. In her column, vos Savant states that “the most significant of [conditions] is that the host always opens a losing door on purpose…. [a]nything else is a different question” (“Game Show Problem”). This means that the host always knows which door wins, and will never reveal the winning door.

Thus, the chances of the contestant winning the car immediately double if he switches from his original choice.

In an example that illustrated the six possible solutions of the problem for her skeptics (see Figure 1), vos Savant depicted the contestant picking Door Number 1 in six different games and broke them into two separate groups: one in which the contestant switches all three games (which will be referred to as Group Number 1) and another in which the contestant stays with Door Number 1 all three games (or Group Number 2). In Group Number 1, the contestant wins twice, while only losing once—the game in which Door Number 1 reveals the car. By contrast, in Group Number 2, where the contestant stays with his choice, he wins only once—the game in which Door Number 1 reveals the car. In Group Number 1, the contestant wins 2 out of the 3 games by switching, but only 1 out of 3 times when staying with his initial choice in Group Number 2. This result verifies vos Savant’s hypothesis of the contestant having a 2 out of 3 chance of winning when switching doors, but only a 1 out of 3 chance when staying with his original choice (“Game Show Problem”).

Figure 1: The six game breakdown suggested by vos Savant

While there may not be much practical use for the Monty Hall Problem—aside from being a helpful lesson on probability in a math class—the reaction received to the answer of the problem may be reason enough why it deserves to be remembered. The debate in Parade caused such a stir that it resulted in a story on the topic featured in the New York Times, which included a very telling observation:

37 [vos Savant’s] answer... has been debated in the halls of the C.I.A. and the barracks of fighter pilots in the Persian Gulf. It has been analyzed by mathematicians at M.I.T. and computer programmers at Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico. It has been tested in classes ranging from second grade to graduate level at more than 1,000 schools across the country. (“The Monty Hall Problem”) Along with the discussion, controversy, and experimentation that stemmed from vos Savant’s answer, the fact that it was disputed by so many different people is another aspect of the problem’s allure. The response of vos Savant led to an uproar from the general public and PhDs alike (Krauss and Wang 3). Even such important figures as “the Deputy Director of the Center for Defense Information and a Research Mathematical Statistician from the National Institute of Health” mailed in to let her know they were in disagreement with her assertions (“Game Show Problem”). In one of the originally published articles, vos Savant sampled the kind of responses her answer generated: “[o]f the letters from the general public, 92% are against my answer, and of the letters from universities, 65% are against my answer” (“Game Show Problem”). In her 1997 book, The Power of Logical Thinking—dedicated solely to the Monty Hall Problem—vos Savant credits Piattelli-Palmarini3 with an admiring comment that sums up the problem’s appeal: “no other statistical puzzle comes so close to fooling all the people all the time….[t]he phenomenon is particularly interesting precisely because of its…immunity to higher education” (qtd. in Krauss and Wang 4). A single math problem that had such a cultural impact deserves to be remembered, and it appears that it has.

3

A respected name in the field of cognitive science, Massimo Piatelli-Palamarini was the founder and director of the Department of Cognitive Science at the scientific institute San Raffaele in Milan, Italy. Piatelli-Palamarini is currently the Professor of Cognitive Science at the University of Arizona (Piatelli-Palamarini).

The Monty Hall Problem has remained visible to the public eye after making its 1991 debut in Parade, being featured in the final episode of the 2004-05 season of NUMB3RS—a CBS drama— along with a cameo in the 2008 movie 21 (“The Monty Hall Problem”). Enduring for more than two decades, the Monty Hall Problem has proved to have a lasting legacy, and it is easy to see why. A seemingly simple problem deserves such recognition—and even possibly a spot in American lore—as it caused national uproar, perplexing the simplest of minds and the greatest. The problem and its importance in the field of mathematics cannot be overstated, and this legacy deserves to live on, as it promises to continue to puzzle inquisitive minds for a long time to come.

Works Cited

“A History of Parade.” Parade. Parade Publications, Aug. 2010. Web. 24 Oct. 2011.

“About Marilyn.” Marilyn vos Savant. Marilyn vos Savant, 2006. Web. 21 Oct. 2011.

Krauss, Stefan and X.T. Wang. “The Psychology of the Monty Hall Problem: Discovering Psychology Mechanisms for Solving a Tenacious Brain Teaser.” Journal of Experimental Psychology 132.1 (2003): 3-22. Web. 21 Oct. 2011.

“The Monty Hall Problem.” Let’s Make A Deal. Let’s Make A Deal, 2011. Web. 21 Oct. 2011.

Piattelli-Palmarini, Massimo. "Biographical Profile." Home page. n.d. Web. 21 Oct. 2011.

“Probability.” The Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 2008.

“Show Info.” Let’s Make A Deal. Let’s Make A Deal, 2011.

Web. 21 Oct. 2011.

“Game Show Problem.” Marilyn vos Savant. Marilyn vos Savant, 2006. Web. 21 Oct. 2011.

Ethan Hullihen ('12) is an Accounting major. He plans on interning at Altoona Regional Health System in the Finance Department during the Spring 2012 semester. He is a member of the Saint Francis Women's Basketball Practice Squad and enjoys following sports and spending time with his girlfriend.

38

The influence of multiple prolines on the folding of disulfide rich small peptides KaLynn M. Kline Chemistry Department School of Sciences kmkst3@francis.edu

Heather J. Harteis Chemistry Department School of Sciences hjhst2@francis.edu

Lauren M. McConnell Chemistry Department School of Sciences lemst6@francis.edu

Janel A. Jesberger Biology Department School of Sciences jxj100@francis.edu

Michele R. Hargittai, Ph.D. Chemistry Department School of Sciences mhargittai@francis.edu

Balazs Hargittai, Ph.D. Chemistry Department School of Sciences bhargittai@francis.edu

Evaluation of the role of disulfide bridges is essential in our understanding of protein folding. We are exploring how slight changes in the sequences of small peptides affect folding properties. The peptides under consideration are multiple disulfide bridge-containing -conotoxins, -conotoxins SI and SIA (both found in Conus Striatus), and their analogs. These are all thirteen amino acid-containing peptide amides having four cysteine residues. The four cysteines can form to two disulfide bridges, leading to three possible regioisomers. The amino acid in position 9 of these peptides plays an important role in the biological characteristics of these compounds. In our preliminary studies we have investigated the effects of different amino acids, primarily proline, in this position on the folding of the peptides. In addition, all -conotoxins contain a proline in position 5 of the amino acid sequence. In the present study we report how the presence or absence of proline in either or both of these positions may influence the folding of the peptides. Proline’s cyclic nature may impose steric constraints for the folding of the peptides.

Introduction Part of the challenge of understanding the folding of peptides and proteins is to evaluate the effects of intramolecular disulfide (sulfur – sulfur) bridges between two cysteine amino acids in small disulfide rich peptides [1]. A number of naturally occurring neurotoxic peptides utilize two or more disulfide bridges to achieve a compact, highly stable conformation. This structure is then filled out with amino acids at particular positions to generate a given biological function for the peptide

[2]. To fully understand the effects on folding of specific amino acid residues in different positions in the peptide chain, we set out to study a number of α-conotoxins, peptides that contain two disulfide bridges, exhibiting small, yet significant differences in their sequences [3,4]. Conotoxins, isolated from cone snail venom, represent a large class of peptides having a unique ability to differentiate between various types of ion channels.

They are small, highly stable peptides with multiple disulfide bridges, and that have the potential of

39 being ideal leads for peptide therapeutics due to their high specificity [5].

Folding is a self-assembly process, which occurs spontaneously and most likely proceeds by the formation of secondary structures first. The structures are held together by hydrogen bonds, along with more random structural elements that result from hydrophobic interactions.

This final folding arrangement can be stabilized by disulfide bridges between cysteine residues at different points in the peptide/protein chain [1].

All conotoxins reported in the literature contain multiple disulfide bridges. It has been shown that most reduced forms of native conotoxins are capable of folding predominantly to the natural, bioactive, isomers [5]. Under certain conditions, however, folding yields this natural isomer in a mixture of the other possible, "mispaired", isomers [6-8]. These non-native isomers are different from the natural one and from each other only in the orientation of the disulfide bridges (Figure 1). Preliminary studies [7] have indicated that the folding of these peptides is defined mainly by the placement of the cysteine residues. The sequences also contain a variety of residues that influence the biological activity or selectivity of the peptides rather than the folding characteristics.

S

Natural isomer

H

2

S

Mispaired isomers

H

2

S

S

7

13 NH2

3

S S

S 7

13 NH2

3

S

H

S

S

3

7

2

S

13

NH2

S

Figure 1. α-Conotoxin disulfide regioisomers. In the natural isomer the disulfide bridges are between the cysteines in positions 2 and 7 and in positions 3 and 13.

Materials and Methods Most of the materials, solvents, instrumentation, and general methods relating to the subject have been described and summarized in

our previous publications [8-11]. Protected Fmocamino acids were purchased from Advanced ChemTech (Louisville, Kentucky), Bachem Bioscience (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) or ChemImpex International (Wood Dale, Illinois). FmocPAL-PEG-PS resin was from Chem-Impex International.

N,N-dimethylformamide (DMF), N,N’-diisopropylcarbodiimide (DIPCDI), CH2Cl2, piperidine, trifluoroacetic acid (TFA), and 1hydroxybenzotriazole (HOBt) were purchased from Sigma-Aldrich Chemicals (Milwaukee, Wisconsin).

Manual solid-phase peptide synthesis was carried out in sterile plastic syringes, containing porous polypropylene frits [8]. Peptides were synthesized on PEG-PS supports (0.1 g each synthesis), using base-labile 9-fluorenylmethyloxycarbonyl (Fmoc) Nα-amino protection, acidolyzable tert-butyl (tBu) and trityl (Trt) type side-chain protecting groups [tBu ether for Ser and Tyr, tert-butyloxycarbonyl (Boc) urethane for Lys, Trt for Asn and His, and the acidolyzable tris(alkoxy)benzylamide (PAL) anchoring linkage (0.6 mmol/g loading). Nα-Fmoc groups were removed by treatment with piperidine– DMF (1:4, 8 + 3 min), followed by washes with DMF (5 x 1 min). Fmoc-amino acids (4 equiv) were incorporated by 1 h couplings mediated by DIPCDI–HOBt (4 equiv each) in DMF. Peptide chains were removed from the solid support with concomitant removal of all acid-labile side-chain protecting groups, prior to any orthogonal disulfide bridge formation, by treatment with Reagent K, TFA–phenol–H2O–thioanisole–1,2-ethanedithiol (82.5:5:5:5:2.5), at 25 ˚C for 90 min [12]. The resultant bis(thiol) or tetra(thiol) intermediates were precipitated with ether, and used directly for the first oxidation step in solution.

The various peptide mixtures were characterized by HPLC injections and the relevant

40 regioisomers were verified by HPLC co-injections with standards of each correct isomer. Analytical HPLC was performed using a Waters Symmetry analytical C-18 reverse phased column (5µ particle size; 0.46 x 15.0 cm) on a Waters system configured with Waters 1525 binary pumps and a Waters 2487 dual wavelength absorbance detector controlled from a Pandya computer with Waters Breeze Software.

Peptide samples were chromatographed at 1.2 mL/min using 0.1% aqueous TFA – 0.1% TFA in CH3CN (1:0 to 11:9 over 20 min), detection at 220 nm.

Formation of first disulfide bridge from free bis(thiol) precursor (orthogonal syntheses) The crude bis(thiol), bis(Acm) peptides were dissolved in 0.01 M Na2HPO4 buffer, pH 7.5 (3.0 mL), at a final concentration of 2.5 µM, and DMSO [30 µL, 1% (v/v)] was added [8,13,14]. After continuous and vigorous magnetic stirring at 25 ˚C for 18 h, the oxidation mixtures were lyophilized to provide the monocyclic peptides.

Formation of second disulfide bridge from protected thiol precursors (orthogonal syntheses) The monocyclic, bis(Acm)-intermediates were dissolved in TFA (3 mL) followed by addition of DMSO (3 µL, 10 equiv), Me3SiCl (60 µL, 150 equiv), and anisole (40 µL, 100 equiv) [8,15-17].

Reactions proceeded for 30 min, and were stopped by addition of Bu4NF (1.0 M solution in THF, 1.2 mL, 300 equiv). Crude products were precipitated with a large excess of dry diethyl ether (45 mL), dissolved in 1% aq. HOAc (10 mL), and lyophilized to give the crude bicyclic peptides.

Formation of disulfide bridge under folding conditions (oxidation studies) The crude tetra(thiol) peptides were dissolved in 0.01 M Na2HPO4 buffer, pH 7.5 (1.5 mL), at a final

concentration of 2.5 µM, and DMSO [15 µL, 1% (v/v)] was added [8]. After continuous and vigorous magnetic stirring at 25 ˚C for 15 h, the oxidation mixtures were lyophilized to provide the bicyclic peptides.

Formation of disulfide bridge under denaturing conditions (oxidation studies) The crude tetra(thiol) peptides were dissolved in 0.01 M Na2HPO4 buffer, pH 7.5 (1.5 mL), at a final concentration of 2.5 µM, and DMSO [15 µL, 1% (v/v)] and guanidine hydrochloride (0.860 g, 6 M) was added [7,8]. After continuous and vigorous magnetic stirring at 25 ˚C for 15 h, the oxidation mixtures were lyophilized to provide the bicyclic peptides.

Results and Discussion Disulfide bridges represent important evolutionarily conserved structural motifs in many biologically important peptides and proteins [1].

Intramolecular disulfide bridges covalently crosslink portions of the peptide chain that might be far apart in the linear sequence. Formation of disulfide bridges does not appear to be the stimulus behind protein folding, but has an important role in stabilizing bioactive conformations [18].

The overall plan for this work followed earlier precedents [7-9,19]. The standard peptides were synthesized by forming the large disulfide loop first (Cys in position 13 protected by Trt), and the small loop second. Reagent K cleavage gave the bis(thiol), bis(Acm)-intermediate, which was oxidized further to the monocyclic bis(Acm)-peptide using solution DMSO oxidation at pH 7.5. The monocyclic intermediates were formed using Me3SiCl (150 equiv), DMSO (10 equiv), and anisole (100 equiv) in TFA at 25 ˚C for 30 min.

Tetra(thiol) precursor peptides in the folding studies were oxidized either in the absence

41 (folding conditions) or in the presence (denaturing conditions) of guanidine hydrochloride using DMSO oxidation at pH 7.5.

Earlier work on the folding of α-conotoxin SI indicated that the presence of a proline residue in a strategic position gives the expected natural isomer with good selectivity, regardless of the reaction conditions [8]. In this study, we compare the oxidation results of α-conotoxin SI, a peptide with prolines in position 5 and 9 and of α-conotoxin SIA, a peptide with proline in position 5 and lysine in position 9 (Figure 2) to those of various analogues of the natural sequences, where an alanine residue replaces the proline in position 5 and/or 9 of α-conotoxin SI and and alanine residue replaces proline in position 5 and/or a proline residue replaces lysine in position 9.

S α-Conotoxin SI

S

H-Ile-Cys2-Cys3-Asn-Pro-Ala-Cys7-Gly-Pro-Lys-Tyr-Ser-Cys13-NH2 S

S S

α-Conotoxin SIA

S

H-Tyr-Cys2-Cys3-His-Pro-Ala-Cys7-Gly-Lys-Asn-Phe-Asp-Cys13-NH2 S

S

Figure 2. Sequences of α-conotoxin SI and SIA

Under highly optimized conditions random oxidation can be successful for the formation of the major natural isomer, since the reduced polypeptide chain might fold into the native-like conformation to favor the proper alignment of the disulfide bridges [11]. From the studies using folding conditions it can be seen that all α-conotoxins studied have a preference for one specific orientation, the natural "interlocking" isomer (Tables 1 and 2).

Application of denaturing conditions yields completely different results (Tables 1 and 2). The two peptides having multiple prolines – α-Conotoxin SI and [K9P]- α-conotoxin SIA – gave similar results to the case when folding conditions are applied, with the natural isomer as

the major product with no significant scrambling of disulfide bridges. The other six α-conotoxins studied, show very reduced selectivity for the natural isomer. In the cases of [P9A]-α-conotoxin SI, and [P5A]-α-conotoxin SI, α-conotoxin SIA, and [P5A,K9P]-α-conotoxin SIA, the sequences have one proline. The oxidation yields of the natural isomer are significantly lower than under folding conditions, indicating that the amino acid indeed plays an important role in the folding of these short compact peptides.

The natural "interlocking" isomer is the major product, but not the dominant one. In the cases of [P5A,P9A]α-conotoxin SI, and [P5A]-α-conotoxin SIA, where there are no prolines in the sequences, our results show no observable selectivity for the natural isomer and a complete scrambling of disulfide bridges.

It is noteworthy that in the sequence of these analogues there are conspicuous differences that correspond to their selectivity during oxidation. As mentioned before, α-conotoxin SI has a hydrophobic cyclic residue, Pro, in position 9, while the α-conotoxin SIA has a basic amino acid, lysine (Figure 2). According to the biological activities reported about these compounds, and studies done on sequence effects in these peptides, this position is significant in determining the biological activity of these compounds [20].

Proline, due to its cyclic nature is limited by steric constraints and therefore has a strong structural effect, orienting the C-terminal of the peptide chain in one specific direction and limiting the possible structures. The absence of proline's structural limitations in the sequence of α-conotoxin SIA can give rise to a higher degree of scrambling of disulfide bridges, especially in nonfolding/denaturing conditions.

Taking a closer look at our oxidation results, we find that the absence of proline in position 9 decreases the

42 selectivity of the oxidation process for the natural isomer to a greater extent than the absence of proline in position 5.

Table 1. Oxidation yields of α-conotoxin SI and its analogues.

Table 2. Oxidation yields of α-conotoxin SIA and its analogues.

Studies done on the solution structure of α-conotoxin SI [21] have shown that the lowest energy structure of this peptide is stabilized by six hydrogen bonds. The most significant of these are the ones connecting the side-chain nitrogen of lysine in position 10 to its main chain oxygen, and to the main chain oxygen of cysteine in position 2.

This arrangement has the effect of burying this

side-chain in the core of the molecule. Peptides like α-conotoxin SIA do not have a residue in this position that is able to make such hydrogen bonds [22,23]. Burying the lysine side-chain in the core of the molecule separates the termini of αconotoxin SI more than the termini of the other two conotoxins.

The topology of α-conotoxin SI is different from those of α-conotoxins SIA due to the hydrogen bonds of the side-chain of lysine in position 10, and to the presence of a proline in a position where α-conotoxins SIA and GI have basic amino acid residues. This has an important effect on the biological activity, selectivity, and binding to the nicotinic acetylcholine receptors. The separation of the two chain termini causes an overall expansion of the α-conotoxin SI molecule, and leads to a slightly altered alignment of the sidechains [21]. This difference causes α-conotoxin SI to have a considerably different surface topology and electrostatics for binding to nAChRs compared to the other α-conotoxins discussed in this study.

Earlier studies [24] showed that the sidechain of the amino acid in position 9 has a significant interaction with the binding site and that the addition of a positive charge in this position has a highly important role in determining binding selectivity. It appears that size, charge, and conformational restrictions imposed by side-chain geometries, and hydrogen bonds formed by the residues in positions 9 and 10, are all significant for the affinities and relative selectivities of the different α-conotoxins for various types of nAChRs binding sites [21].

Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank Jason R. Burkett, Amy K. Croskey, Christan M. Mychajlonka, and Heather L. Rust for assistance in the syntheses of various peptide precursors and Dr. Nathan L.

43 Malavolti, T.O.R. for assistance characterization of the peptides.

in

the

Works Cited 1. Creighton, T.E., Bioessays 1992, 14, 195.

2. Olivera, B.M.; Rivier, J.; Scott, J.K.; Hillyard, D.R.; Cruz, L.J., J. Biol. Chem. 1991, 266, 22067.

3. McIntosh, J.M.; Olivera, B.M.; Cruz, L.J., Meth.

Enzymol. 1999, 294, 605.

4. Myers, R.A.; Zafaralla, G.C.; W.R. Gray, Abbott, J.; Cruz, L.J.; Olivera, B.M., Biochemistry 1991, 30, 9370.

5. Adams, D.J.; Alewood, P.F.; Craik, D.J.; Drinkwater, R.D.; Lewis, R.J., Drug Dev. Res. 1999, 46, 219.

6. Nishiuchi, Y.; Sakakibara, S., FEBS Lett. 1982, 148, 260.

7. Zhang, R.; Snyder, G.H., Biochemistry 1991, 30, 11343.

8. Hargittai, B.; Barany, G., J. Peptide Res. 1999, 54, 468.

9. Hargittai, B.; Annis, I.; Barany, G., Lett. Pept. Sci. 2000, 7, 46.

10. Hargittai, B., Solé, N.A.; Groebe, D.R., Abramson, S.N.; Barany, G., J. Med. Chem. 2000, 43, 4787.

11. Annis, I., Hargittai, B.; Barany, G., Meth. Enzymol.

1998, 289, 198.

12. King, D.S., Fields, C.G.; Fields, G.B., Int. J. Peptide Protein Res. 1990, 36, 255.

13. Wallace, T.J., J. Am. Chem. Soc. 86 (1964) 2018.

14. Tam, J.P., Wu, C.R., Liu, W.; Zhang, J.W., J. Am. Chem. Soc. 1991, 113, 6657.

15. Koide, T., Otaka, A., Suzuki, H.; Fujii, N., Synlett 1991, 345.

16. Akaji, K., Tatsumi, T., Yoshida, M., Kimura, T., Fujiwara, Y.; Kiso, Y., J. Am. Chem. Soc. 1992, 114, 4137.

17. Akaji, K., Nishiuchi, H.; Kiso, Y., Tetrahedron Lett.

1995, 36, 1875.

18. Barbar, E.; Barany, G.; Woodward, C., Folding & Design 1996, 1, 65.

19. Hargittai, B.; Barany, G., In Peptides: Frontiers of Peptide Science, Tam, J.P.; Kaumaya, P.T.P., Eds., Kluwer: Dordrecht, The Netherlands, 1999, 271.

20. Groebe, D.R.; Dumm, J.M.; Levitan, E.S.; Abramson, S.N., Mol. Pharmacol. 1995, 48, 105.

21. Whitford, D.; Benie, A.J.; Hargittai, B.; Barany, G.; Janes, R.W., FEBS Lett. 2000, 476, 287.

22. Guddat, L.W.; Martin, J.A.; Shan, L.; Edmundson, A.B.; Gray, W.R., Biochemistry 1996, 35, 11329.

23. Gehrmann, J.; Alewood, P.F.; Craik, D.J., J. Mol. Biol. 1998, 278, 401.

24. Groebe, D.R.; Gray, W.R.; Abramson, S.N., Biochemistry 1997, 36, 6469.

KaLynn Kline (’09, B.S., Chemistry; ’10, B.A., Biology) is working as an Analytical Chemist in pharmaceutical raw materials at Lancaster Laboratories in Lancaster, PA. Heather Harteis (’10, B.S., Chemistry) has received her M.Ed. from the University of Pittsburgh in the field of science education. She is interested in developing high school chemistry and physical science curricula.

Lauren McConnell ('12) is a Chemistry PreProfessional major with minors in Psychology, Neuroscience and Mathematics. She plans to continue her education by earning her Ph.D. in Organic Chemistry.

She was the founding president of the Rho Nu chapter of Gamma Sigma Epsilon: National Chemistry Honor Society.

Janel Jesberger (’13) is a Biology PreProfessional major. She plans to attend medical school after graduation. She was the recipient of the Saint Francis University Wayne Takacs Award for Excellence in Physiology in 2011.

Call for papers Sub m ission G uid elines The purpose of SPECTRUM is not merely to disseminate new results, but also to inform and enlighten.

Our readership is a general and multidisciplinary audience who may not be an expert in your field of study. Consequently, please explain all pertinent concepts essential to understanding your article as well as any concepts that might not be common knowledge. Please submit your file in Microsoft Word format as an attachment to the following email address: spectrum@francis.edu. The text should be single spaced, using 12-point Times New Roman font. Please use italics, rather than underlining, for emphasis.

O r ganiz at ion of M anuscr ip t s SPECTRUM is an interdisciplinary journal accepting submissions from the natural sciences, the humanities as well as the professional schools (health sciences and business), therefore, the structure and style of each manuscript will differ from discipline to discipline. Regardless, all submissions must provide a cover sheet, a thorough introduction of the problem your research addresses, the conclusion(s), result(s) or findings of your research, as well as some form of bibliographic citation. Below are the general guidelines for these requirements, some of which may not apply to your area of research.

C ov er Sheet Title Names and departments of undergraduate researcher(s) and faculty advisor(s) Abstract (200 – 300 words) Six key words Int r od uct ion Include general background of the relevant field and the larger problem your research addresses as well as its relevance within the field. In addition, explain what prompted your investigation, a summary of previous findings related to your research problem and what contributions your project brings (or was expected to bring) to the issue.

M et hod s and M at er ials (If ap p licab le) Summarize important methods and materials used in your research.

R esult s/C onclusions Give detailed report of the results and or conclusions reached through your research.

Discussion Results should be evaluated in the context of general research problem, the implications of which should be explained with conclusions, predictions or suggestions (if applicable) for further study.

T ab les (if ap p licab le) Create tables in Microsoft Word format and insert into general text accompanied by a table legend. Each table needs a number based on its appearance in the paper, where it is referenced.

Figur es (if ap p licab le) Please submit figures at the end of the article, one image per page; we will fit these in as we organize the manuscript. Each figure needs a number (the figures shall be numbered consecutively in the order of their appearance in the paper) and a title. SPECTRUM will be printed black and white, but there will be an online version where figures submitted in color will appear in color.

R efer ences You may use any referencing style you choose so long as it is a standard format or your discipline (IEE, APA, ACS, PubMed) and that you use it consistently and to the appropriate bibliographical standards.