Category: Profiles

Leading with rigor, kindness, and care

“We cannot be effective scientists if we are unhappy or unhealthy outside of the lab,” says “Committed to Caring” honoree Sara Prescott.

Leila Hudson | Office of Graduate Education
March 27, 2026

Professor Sara Prescott embodies the kind of mentorship every graduate student hopes to find: grounded in scientific rigor, guided by kindness, and defined by a deep commitment to well-being. Her approach reflects a simple but powerful belief that transformative mentorship is not only about advancing research, but about cultivating confidence, belonging, and resilience in the next generation of scholars.

A member of the 2025–27 Committed to Caring cohort, Prescott exemplifies the program’s spirit, which honors faculty who go above and beyond in nurturing both the intellectual and personal development of MIT’s graduate students.

Prescott is the Pfizer Inc. – Gerald D. Laubach Career Development Professor in the MIT departments of Biology and Brain and Cognitive Sciences, and an investigator at the Picower Institute for Learning and Memory. Her research addresses fundamental questions in body-brain communication, with a focus on lung biology, early-life adversity, women’s health, and the impacts of climate change on respiratory health.

A culture of compassion

Prescott’s mentoring philosophy begins with a focus on professional sustainability. “We cannot be effective scientists if we are unhappy or unhealthy outside of the lab,” she says.

She pushes back against what she sees as an unhelpful narrative in academia. “There’s this idea that you must choose between a successful PhD or having a personal life. This is a false dichotomy, and a problematic attitude.” Instead, she reminds her mentees that “graduate school is a marathon, not a sprint,” encouraging them to place importance not only on their research, but also on their mental and physical well-being.

This set of values shines through within her lab climate as a whole. Students describe support for flexible scheduling and mental health leave, a willingness to reimburse meals during late-night lab sessions, and encouragement during stretches of experimental failure. In addition to these more technical supports, nominators also shared stories of Prescott engaging in the smaller details: prioritizing connection for her students, celebrating their milestones, organizing lab retreats, and fostering a culture where people feel valued beyond their productivity.

Students recognize Prescott as a safe haven within the often complex and challenging world of research. Joining Prescott’s lab was a turning point for one student who was recovering from a damaging prior mentorship experience. They arrived uncertain, struggling to trust faculty and questioning whether they belonged in science at all. Prescott met them with empathy and professionalism, offering patience and trust not just in their work, but in them as a person. They describe steady support that, over time, helped them “fall back in love with science” and envision a future they had nearly abandoned.

Prescott draws inspiration from the mentorship she received early in her career. As a trainee, she had mentors who helped her believe that she could succeed. Now in a mentoring role herself, she does her best to pass this sense of confidence on to her advisees.

She is intentional about creating space where students can grow without fear. From their very first meetings, one nominator wrote, Prescott emphasized that “graduate school is a place for learning and curiosity.” They never felt judged for not knowing something; instead, they were encouraged to ask questions, share ideas, and take intellectual risks. That environment, the student explained, allowed them to grow into their scientific identity with confidence.

Prescott reinforces this message often. Success, she tells students, grows from effort, learning, and persistence, rather than from fixed traits. When working with students, she does her best to reframe failure as part of the process, emphasizing its importance within the scientific journey. Through these avenues, she cultivates a lab culture where nominators are challenged to think boldly while feeling genuinely supported, and where her students are seen not only as researchers, but as whole people.

Advocacy beyond the bench

Prescott’s commitment to caring extends well beyond day-to-day lab work. Her nominators relate that she actively supports her students’ professional development, encouraging them to pursue writing projects, certificates, internships, leadership roles, and community engagement.

Nominators also highlight Prescott’s focus on supporting underserved communities within the field as a whole. Students highlight her involvement with Graduate Women in Biology (GwiBio), where she volunteered as a speaker for the “Glass Shards” series. Her talk “Failure as the Path to Success,” in which she candidly shared pivots and setbacks in her own career, was described as one of the organization’s most impactful sessions.

Her dedication to inclusion is equally evident in her mentorship of scholars whose role in her lab is more temporary.  She welcomes international visiting scholars, temporary lab techs, and undergraduate interns in the MIT Summer Research Program. When one intern encountered barriers at their home institution, Prescott ensured they had a continued research home in her lab at MIT. These additional resources allowed them to complete their undergraduate thesis and graduate on time from their university.

Prescott says that she views mentorship as an evolving practice, regularly soliciting feedback from her students. Effective leadership, in her view, grows from mutual trust and open communication.

For many nominators, Prescott’s impact extends beyond their careers. “She has taught me what positive and supportive mentoring relationships look like,” one student reflected. “When I think about the type of mentor I want to be, I hope I can emulate the ways in which she supports and guides nominators to develop their scientific independence and confidence.”

In lifting up the people behind the science as thoughtfully as the science itself, Sara Prescott demonstrates that the most enduring legacy of a mentor is not only the discoveries from their lab, but the composure and courage their advisees carry forward.

CryoPRISM: A new tool for observing cellular machinery in a more natural environment

The method allows researchers to observe biomolecular complexes in a quick, accurate, and budget-friendly way, providing new insights into bacterial protein synthesis.

Ekaterina Khalizeva | Department of Biology
March 20, 2026

The blobfish, once considered the ugliest animal in the world, has since had quite the redemption arc. Years after it was first discovered, scientists realized that the deep-sea creature appeared so unnervingly blobby only because it went through an extreme change in pressure when it was brought up to the surface. In its natural environment, 4,000 feet underwater, the fish looks perfectly handsome.

Structural biologists, whose goal is to deduce a molecule’s structure and function within a cell, face the risk of making a similar mistake. If biomolecular complexes are extracted from the cell, better-quality images can be obtained, but the molecules may not look natural. On the other hand, studying molecules without disrupting their environment at all is technically challenging, like filming deep underwater.

A new method, called purification-free ribosome imaging from subcellular mixtures (cryoPRISM), offers an appealing compromise. Developed by graduate students Mira May and Gabriela López-Pérez in the Davis lab in the MIT Department of Biology and recently published in PNAS, the technique allows biologists to visualize molecular complexes without taking them too far out of their natural context.

CryoPRISM captures molecular structures in cells that have just been broken open. This comes as close to preserving the natural interactions between molecules as possible, short of the extremely resource-intensive in-cell structural imaging, according to associate professor of biology Joey Davis, the faculty lead of the study.

“We think that the cryoPRISM method is a sweet spot where we preserve much of the native cellular contacts, but still have the resolution that lets us actually see molecular details,” Davis says. “Even in the extremely well-trodden system of translation in E. coli, which people have worked on for over 50 years, we are still finding new states that had just escaped people’s attention.”

A negative control that was not so negative

The development of cryoPRISM, as many discoveries in science, resulted from an unexpected observation that Mira May, the co-first author of the study, made while working on a different project.

Like all living organisms, bacteria rely on a process called translation to manufacture the proteins that carry out essential functions within the cell, from copying DNA to digesting nutrients. A key machine involved in translation is the ribosome — a biomolecular complex that assembles proteins based on instructions encoded by another molecule called mRNA. To regulate its activity, cells employ additional proteins that can change the shape of the ribosome, thus guiding its function.

May sought to identify new players in ribosomal regulation using cryoEM, by rapidly freezing lots of purified molecules and collecting thousands of 2D images to reconstruct their 3D structures. May was trying to pull ribosomes out of cells to visualize them together with their regulators. For her experiments, she designed a negative control containing unpurified bacterial lysate — a mixture of everything spilled from burst cells.

May expected to get noisy, low-quality images from this sample. To her surprise, instead, she saw intact ribosomes together with their natural interacting partners.

In just a few days, this technique experimentally validated data that would have taken months to acquire using other approaches.

“As I found more and more ribosomal states, this project became a method, not just a one-off finding,” May recalls.

Discovering new biology in a saturated field

Once May and her colleagues were confident that cryoPRISM could detect known ribosomal states, they began searching for ones that had previously escaped detection.

“It’s not just that we can recapitulate things that have been previously observed, but we can actually also discover novel ribosomal biology,” May says.

One of the novel states May identified has important implications for our understanding of the evolution of translation regulation.

During active translation, bacterial ribosomes are accompanied by a group of helper proteins called elongation factors. These factors bring in the materials for protein synthesis, like tRNAs and amino acids.

When cells encounter unfavorable conditions, such as colder temperatures, they reduce translation, which means that many ribosomes are out of work. These idle, hibernating ribosomes stop decoding mRNA, and the interface where they usually interact with helper molecules gets blocked by a hibernation factor called RaiA. This protein helps idle ribosomes avoid reactivation, like a sleeping mask that prevents a person from being woken up by light.

May observed the idle ribosomal state in her data, which on its own did not surprise her – this state had been described before. What surprised her was that some inactive ribosomes were interacting not only with RaiA, but also with an elongation factor called EF-G, which in bacteria was previously believed to only interact with active ribosomes.

A similar phenomenon has been seen before in more complex organisms, but observing it in a microbe suggests that its evolutionary origin may be older than previously thought.

“It fits an emerging model in the field, that elongation factors might bind to hibernating ribosomes to protect both the ribosome and themselves from degradation during periods of stress,” May explains. “Think of it like short-term storage.”

An unstressed cell might quickly eliminate unneeded inactive ribosomes, but because any stressor that puts ribosomes to sleep could be temporary, the cell may prefer to hold off on destroying them. That way, the ribosomes can be quickly reactivated if conditions improve.

The future of cryoPRISM

May has already teamed up with other MIT researchers to use cryoPRISM to visualize ribosomes in cells that are notoriously difficult to work with, including pathogenic organisms, which can be challenging to culture at the scale required for particle purification, and red blood cells isolated from patients, which cannot be cultured at all.

Besides its immediate application for translation research, cryoPRISM is a stepping stone toward the broader goal of structural biology: studying biomolecules in their natural environment.

To truly learn about deep-sea fish, scientists need to look at them in the deep sea; and to learn about cellular machines, scientists need to look at them in cells. According to Davis, cryoPRISM perfectly fits into the “theme of structural biology moving closer and closer to cellular context.”

Studying the genetic basis of disease to explore fundamental biological questions

Eliezer Calo’s studies of craniofacial malformations have yielded insight into protein synthesis and embryonic development.

Anne Trafton | MIT News
March 6, 2026

When Associate Professor Eliezer Calo PhD ’11 was applying for faculty positions, he was drawn to MIT not only because it’s his alma mater, but also because the Department of Biology places high value on exploring fundamental questions in biology.

In his own lab, Calo studies how craniofacial malformations arise. One motivation is to seek new treatments for those conditions, but another is to learn more about fundamental biological processes such as protein synthesis and embryonic development.

“We use genes that are mutated in disease to uncover fundamental biology,” Calo says. “Mutations that happen in disease are an experiment of nature, telling us that those are the important genes, and then we follow them up not only to understand the disease, but to fundamentally understand what the genes are doing.”

Calo’s work has led to new insights into how ribosomes form and how they control protein synthesis, as well as how the nucleolus, the birthplace of ribosomes in eukaryotic cells, has evolved over hundreds of millions of years.

In addition to earning his PhD at MIT, Calo is also an alumnus of MIT’s Summer Research Program (MSRP), which helps to prepare undergraduate students to pursue graduate education. Since starting his lab at MIT, Calo has made a point to serve as a research mentor for the program every summer.

“I feel that it’s important to pay back to the program that helped me realize what I wanted to do,” he says.

A nontraditional path

Growing up in a mountainous region of Puerto Rico, Calo was the first person from his family to finish high school. While attending the University of Puerto Rico at Rio Piedras, the largest university in Puerto Rico, he explored a few different majors before settling on chemistry.

One of Calo’s chemistry professors invited him to work in her lab, where he did a research project studying the pharmacokinetics of cell receptors found on the surface of astrocytes, a type of brain cell.

“It was a good mix of biology and chemistry,” he says. “I think that that was the catalyst to my pursuit of a career in the sciences.”

He learned about MSRP from Mandana Sassanfar, a senior lecturer in biology at MIT and director of outreach for several MIT departments, at an event hosted by the University of Puerto Rico for students interested in careers in science. He was accepted into the program, and during the summer after his junior year, he worked in the lab of Stephen Bell, an MIT professor of biology. That experience, he says, was transformative.

“Without that experience, I would have probably chosen another career,” Calo says. In Puerto Rico, “science was fun, but it was a struggle. We had to make everything from scratch, and then you spend more time making reagents than doing the experiments. When I came to MIT, I was always doing experiments.”

During that time, he realized he liked working in biology labs more than chemistry labs, so when he applied to graduate school, he decided to move into biology. He applied to five schools, including MIT. “Once MIT sent me the acceptance, I just had to say yes. There was no saying no.”

At MIT, Calo thought he might study biochemistry, but he ended up focusing on cancer biology instead, working with Jacqueline Lees, an MIT biology professor, to study the role of the tumor suppressor protein Rb.

After finishing his PhD, Calo felt burnt out and wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue along the academic track. His thesis committee advisors encouraged him to do a postdoc just to try it out, and he ended up going to Stanford University, where he fell in love with California and switched to a new research focus. Working with Joanna Wysocka, a professor of developmental biology at Stanford, he began investigating how development is affected by the regulation of proteins that make up cellular ribosomes — a topic his lab still studies today.

Returning to MIT

When searching for faculty jobs, Calo focused mainly on schools in California, but also sent an application to MIT. As he was deciding between offers from MIT and the University of California at Berkeley, a phone call from Angelika Amon, the late MIT professor of biology, convinced him to take the cross-country leap back to MIT.

“She had me on the phone for more than one hour telling me why I should come to MIT,” he recalls. “And that was so heartwarming that I could not say no.”

Since starting his lab in 2017, Calo has been studying how defects in the production of ribosomes give rise to diseases, in particular craniofacial malformations such as cleft palate.

Ribosomes, the organelles where protein synthesis occurs, consist of two subunits made of about 80 proteins. A longstanding question in biology has been why mutations that affect ribosome formation appear to primarily affect the development of the face, but not the rest of the body.

In a 2018 study, Calo discovered that this is because the mutations that affect ribosomes can have secondary effects that influence craniofacial development. In embryonic cells that form the face, a mutation in a gene called TCOF1 activates p53 at a higher level than in other embryonic cells. High levels of p53 cause some of those cells to undergo programmed cell death, leading to Treacher-Collins Syndrome, a disorder that produces underdeveloped bones in the jaw and cheek.

His lab has shown that p53 overactivation is also responsible for craniofacial disorders caused by mutations in RNA splicing factors.

Calo’s work on ribosome formation also led him to explore another cell organelle known as the nucleolus, whose role is to help build ribosomes. In 2023, he found that a gene called TCOF1, which can lead to craniofacial malformations when mutated, is critical for forming the three compartments that make up the nucleolus.

That finding, he says, could help to explain a major evolutionary shift that occurred around 300 million years ago, when the nucleolus transitioned from two to three compartments. This “tripartite” nucleolus is found in all reptiles, birds, and mammals.

“That was quite surprising,” Calo says. “Studying disease-related genes allowed us to understand a very fundamental biological process of how the nucleolus evolved, which has been a question in the field that nobody could figure out the answer for.”

Alumni Spotlight: Pia Banerjee, ’05

Banerjee lost a friend to brain cancer in eighth grade, sparking a lifelong curiosity about the disease and how it affects families.

Pamela Ferdinand | MIT Technology Review
March 3, 2026

Pia Banerjee ’05 traces her path into health care to eighth grade, when the loss of a friend to brain cancer first sparked her curiosity about the disease and how it affects families. Today, she is the inaugural director of cancer innovation and transformation at the American Cancer Society (ACS), which supports over 110 million patients and caregivers each year. Amid seismic shifts in how care is delivered and accessed, she leads initiatives to use technology to improve care and make it more equitable.

“Our goal is clear: to transform the cancer experience from fragmented and burdensome to equitable, connected, and personalized,” says Banerjee, who earned a biology degree from MIT and a PhD in psychology from Washington University in St. Louis before completing a postdoctoral fellowship in clinical neuropsychology at UCLA.

Working with patients and caregivers as a postdoc gave her a close-up view of how overwhelmed patients felt trying to coordinate complex care. Hoping to provide better support, Banerjee created her first digital health tool: a system designed to flag psychosocial and cognitive difficulties such as memory loss and prompt follow-up from the oncology team.

She then joined St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital as a researcher and clinician, helping lead studies on the long-term impacts of cancer treatment in children. Her work resulted in several high-impact publications and changes to clinical care guidelines.

Then the covid-19 pandemic hit, and as telehealth programs and remote patient monitoring soared, she reached a turning point. “I saw how moments of disruption can spark solutions that transform care in lasting ways,” she says.

Seeing the potential for personalized care from home, Banerjee next served as senior VP and founding clinical executive of Neuroglee Therapeutics, where she led the development of digital health solutions and a telehealth clinic. She then founded Synapse Health Partners in 2023 to help organizations create and adopt transformative health tech solutions.

In 2024, she joined the ACS, where her initiatives include an app for patients and caregivers to enhance quality of life and confidence in living with cancer, a unified data ecosystem, and an AI-facilitated service to match and navigate patients to clinical trials.

“MIT taught me to think across boundaries, with a curiosity and boldness that truly defines MIT,” Banerjee says. “That mindset drives me toward creating a future where every person with cancer can have more and better days.”

Richard Hynes, a pioneer in the biology of cellular adhesion, dies at 81

Professor, mentor, and leader at MIT for more than 50 years shaped fundamental understandings of cell adhesion, the extracellular matrix, and molecular mechanisms of metastasis.

Bendta Schroeder | Koch Institute
February 9, 2026

MIT Professor Emeritus Richard O. Hynes PhD ’71, a cancer biologist whose discoveries reshaped modern understandings of how cells interact with each other and their environment, passed away on Jan. 6. He was 81.

Hynes is best known for his discovery of integrins, a family of cell-surface receptors essential to cell–cell and cell–matrix adhesion. He played a critical role in establishing the field of cell adhesion biology, and his continuing research revealed mechanisms central to embryonic development, tissue integrity, and diseases including cancer, fibrosis, thrombosis, and immune disorders.

Hynes was the Daniel K. Ludwig Professor for Cancer Research, Emeritus, an emeritus professor of biology, and a member of the Koch Institute for Integrated Cancer Research at MIT and the Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard. During his more than 50 years on the faculty at MIT, he was deeply respected for his academic leadership at the Institute and internationally, as well as his intellectual rigor and contributions as an educator and mentor.

“Richard had an enormous impact in his career. He was a visionary leader of the MIT Cancer Center, what is now the Koch Institute, during a time when the progress in understanding cancer was just starting to be translated into new therapies,” reflects Matthew Vander Heiden, director of the Koch Institute and the Lester Wolfe (1919) Professor of Molecular Biology. “The research from his laboratory launched an entirely new field by defining the molecules that mediate interactions between cells and between cells and their environment. This laid the groundwork for better understanding the immune system and metastasis.”

Pond skipper

Born in Kenya, Hynes grew up during the 1950s in Liverpool, in the United Kingdom. While he sometimes recounted stories of being schoolmates with two of the Beatles, and in the same Boy Scouts troop as Paul McCartney, his academic interests were quite different, and he specialized in the sciences at a young age. Both of his parents were scientists: His father was a freshwater ecologist, and his mother a physics teacher. Hynes and all three of his siblings followed their parents into scientific fields.

“We talked science at home, and if we asked questions, we got questions back, not answers. So that conditioned me into being a scientist, for sure,” Hynes said of his youth.

He described his time as an undergraduate and master’s student at Cambridge University during the 1960s as “just fantastic,” noting that it was shortly after two 1962 Nobel Prizes were awarded to Cambridge researchers — one to Francis Crick and James Watson for the structure of DNA, the other to John Kendrew and Max Perutz for the structures of proteins — and Cambridge was “the place to be” to study biology.

Newly married, Hynes and his wife traded Cambridge, U.K. for Cambridge, Massachusetts, so that he could conduct doctoral work at MIT under the direction of Paul Gross. He tried (and by his own assessment, failed) to differentiate maternal messages among the three germ layers of sea urchin embryos. However, he did make early successful attempts to isolate the globular protein tubulin, a building block for essential cellular structures, from sea urchins.

Inspired by a course he had taken with Watson in the United States, Hynes began work during his postdoc at the Institute of Cancer Research in the U.K. on the early steps of oncogenic transformation and the role of cell migration and adhesion; it was here that he made his earliest discovery and characterizations of the fibronectin protein.

Recruited back to MIT by Salvador Luria, founding director of the MIT Center for Cancer Research, whom he had met during a summer at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute on Cape Cod, Hynes returned to the Institute in 1975 as a founding faculty member of the center and an assistant professor in the Department of Biology.

Big questions about tiny cells

To his own research, Hynes brought the same spirit of inquiry that had characterized his upbringing, asking fundamental questions: How do cells interact with each other? How do they stick together to form tissues?

His research focused on proteins that allow cells to adhere to each other and to the extracellular matrix — a mesh-like network that surrounds cells, providing structural support, as well as biochemical and mechanical cues from the local microenvironment. These proteins include integrins, a type of cell surface receptor, and fibronectins, a family of extracellular adhesive proteins. Integrins are the major adhesion receptors connecting the extracellular matrix to the intracellular cytoskeleton, or main architectural support within the cell.

Hynes began his career as a developmental biologist, studying how cells move to the correct locations during embryonic development. During this stage of development, proper modulation of cell adhesion is critical for cells to move to the correct locations in the embryo.

Hynes’ work also revealed that dysregulation of cell-to-matrix contact plays an important role in cancer cells’ ability to detach from a tumor and spread to other parts of the body, key steps in metastasis.

As a postdoc, Hynes had begun studying the differences in the surface landscapes of healthy cells and tumor cells. It was this work that led to the discovery of fibronectin, which is often lost when cells become cancerous.

He and others found that fibronectin is an important part of the extracellular matrix. When fibronectin is lost, cancer cells can more easily free themselves from their original location and metastasize to other sites in the body. By studying how fibronectin normally interacts with cells, Hynes and others discovered a family of cell surface receptors known as integrins, which function as important physical links with the extracellular matrix. In humans, 24 integrin proteins have been identified. These proteins help give tissues their structure, enable blood to clot, and are essential for embryonic development.

“Richard’s discoveries, along with others’, of cell surface integrins led to the development of a number of life-altering treatments. Among these are treatment of autoimmune diseases such as multiple sclerosis,” notes longtime colleague Phillip Sharp, MIT Institute professor emeritus.

As research technologies advanced, including proteomic and extracellular matrix isolation methods developed directly in Hynes’ laboratory, he and his group were able to uncover increasingly detailed information about specific cell adhesion proteins, the biological mechanisms by which they operate, and the roles they play in normal biology and disease.

In cancer, their work helped to uncover how cell adhesion (and the loss thereof) and the extracellular matrix contribute not only to fundamental early steps in the metastatic process, but also tumor progression, therapeutic response, and patient prognosis. This included studies that mapped matrix protein signatures associated with cancer and non-cancer cells and tissues, followed by investigations into how differentially expressed matrix proteins can promote or suppress cancer progression.

Hynes and his colleagues also demonstrated how extracellular matrix composition can influence immunotherapy, such as the importance of a family of cell adhesion proteins called selectins for recruiting natural killer cells to tumors. Further, Hynes revealed links between fibronectin, integrins, and other matrix proteins with tumor angiogenesis, or blood vessel development, and also showed how interaction with platelets can stimulate tumor cells to remodel the extracellular matrix to support invasion and metastasis. In pursuing these insights into the oncogenic mechanisms of matrix proteins, Hynes and members of his laboratory have identified useful diagnostic and prognostic biomarkers, as well as therapeutic targets.

Along the way, Hynes shaped not only the research field, but also the careers of generations of trainees.

“There was much to emulate in Richard’s gentle, patient, and generous approach to mentorship. He centered the goals and interests of his trainees, fostered an inclusive and intellectually rigorous environment, and cared deeply about the well-being of his lab members. Richard was a role model for integrity in both personal and professional interactions and set high expectations for intellectual excellence,” recalls Noor Jailkhani, a former Hynes Lab postdoc.

Jailkhani is CEO and co-founder, with Hynes, of Matrisome Bio, a biotech company developing first-in-class targeted therapies for cancer and fibrosis by leveraging the extracellular matrix. “The impact of his long and distinguished scientific career was magnified through the generations of trainees he mentored, whose influence spans academia and the biotechnology industry worldwide. I believe that his dedication to mentorship stands among his most far-reaching and enduring contributions,” she says.

A guiding light

Widely sought for his guidance, Hynes served in a number of key roles at MIT and in the broader scientific community. As head of MIT’s Department of Biology from 1989 to 1991, then a decade as director of the MIT Center for Cancer Research, his leadership has helped shape the Institute’s programs in both areas.

“Words can’t capture what a fabulous human being Richard was. I left every interaction with him with new insights and the warm glow that comes from a good conversation,” says Amy Keating, the Jay A. Stein (1968) Professor, professor of biology and biological engineering, and head of the Department of Biology. “Richard was happy to share stories, perspectives, and advice, always with a twinkle in his eye that conveyed his infinite interest in and delight with science, scientists, and life itself. The calm support that he offered me, during my years as department head, meant a lot and helped me do my job with confidence.”

Hynes served as director of the MIT Center for Cancer Research from 1991 until 2001, positioning the center’s distinguished cancer biology program for expansion into its current, interdisciplinary research model as MIT’s Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research. “He recruited and strongly supported Tyler Jacks to the faculty, who subsequently became director and headed efforts to establish the Koch Institute,” recalls Sharp.

Jacks, a David H. Koch (1962) Professor of Biology and founding director of the Koch Institute, remembers Hynes as a thoughtful, caring, and highly effective leader in the Center for Cancer Research, or CCR, and in the Department of Biology. “I was fortunate to be able to lean on him when I took over as CCR director. He encouraged me to drop in — unannounced — with questions and concerns, which I did regularly. I learned a great deal from Richard, at every level,” he says.

Hynes’ leadership and recognition extended well beyond MIT to national and international contexts, helping to shape policy and strengthen connections between MIT researchers and the wider field. He served as a scientific governor of the Wellcome Trust, a global health research and advocacy foundation based in the United Kingdom, and co-chaired U.S. National Academy committees establishing guidelines for stem cell and genome editing research.

“Richard was an esteemed scientist, a stimulating colleague, a beloved mentor, a role model, and to me a partner in many endeavors both within and beyond MIT,” notes H. Robert Horvitz, a David H. Koch (1962) Professor of Biology. He was a wonderful human being, and a good friend. I am sad beyond words at his passing.”

Awarded Howard Hughes medical investigator status in 1988, Hynes’ research and leadership have since been recognized with a number of other notable honors. Most recently, he received the 2022 Albert Lasker Basic Medical Research Award, which he shared with Erkki Ruoslahti of Sanford Burnham Prebys and Timothy Springer of Harvard University, for his discovery of integrins and pioneering work in cell adhesion.

His other awards include the Canada Gairdner International Award, the Distinguished Investigator Award from the International Society for Matrix Biology, the Robert and Claire Pasarow Medical Research Award, the E.B. Wilson Medal from the American Society for Cell Biology, the David Rall Medal from the National Academy of Medicine and the Paget-Ewing Award from the Metastasis Research Society. Hynes was a member of the National Academy of Sciences, the National Academy of Medicine, the Royal Society of London, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences.

Easily recognized by a commanding stature that belied his soft-spoken nature, Hynes was known around MIT’s campus not only for his acuity, integrity, and wise counsel, but also for his community spirit and service. From serving food at community socials to moderating events and meetings or recognizing the success of colleagues and trainees, his willingness to help spanned roles of every size.

“Richard was a phenomenal friend and colleague. He approached complex problems with a thoughtfulness and clarity that few can achieve,” notes Vander Heiden. “He was also so generous in his willingness to provide help and advice, and did so with a genuine kindness that was appreciated by everyone.”

Hynes is survived by his wife Fleur, their sons Hugh and Colin and their partners, and four grandchildren.

Celebrating worm science

Time and again, an unassuming roundworm has illuminated aspects of biology with major consequences for human health.

Jennifer Michalowski | McGovern Institute
December 12, 2025

For decades, scientists with big questions about biology have found answers in a tiny worm. That worm–a millimeter-long creature called Caenorhabditis elegans–has helped researchers uncover fundamental features of how cells and organisms work. The impact of that work is enormous: Discoveries made using C. elegans have been recognized with four Nobel prizes and have led to the development of new treatments for human disease.

In a perspective piece published in the November 2025 issue of the journal PNAS, eleven biologists including Robert Horvitz, the David H. Koch (1962) Professor of Biology at MIT, celebrate Nobel Prize-winning advances made through research in C. elegans. The authors discuss how that work has led to advances for human health and highlight how a uniquely collaborative community among worm researchers has fueled the field.

MIT scientists are well represented in that community: The prominent worm biologists who coauthored the PNAS paper include former MIT graduate students Andy Fire and Paul Sternberg, now at Stanford University and the California Institute of Technology, and two past postdoctoral researchers in Horvitz’s lab, University of Massachusetts Medical School professor Victor Ambros and Massachusetts General Hospital investigator Gary Ruvkun. Ann Rougvie at the University of Minnesota is the paper’s corresponding author.

Early worm discoveries

“This tiny worm is beautiful—elegant both in its appearance and in its many contributions to our understanding of the biological universe in which we live,” says Horvitz, who in 2002 was awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine along with colleagues Sydney Brenner and John Sulston for discoveries that helped explain how genes regulate programmed cell death and organ development. Horvitz is also a member of MIT’s McGovern Institute for Brain Research and Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research as well as an investigator at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute.

Those discoveries were among the early successes in C. elegans research, made by pioneering scientists who recognized the power of the microscopic roundworm. C. elegans offers many advantages for researchers: The worms are easy to grow and maintain in labs; their transparent bodies make cells and internal processes readily visible under a microscope; they are cellularly very simple (e.g., they have only 302 nerve cells, compared with about 100 billion in a human) and their genomes can be readily manipulated to study gene function.

Most importantly, many of the molecules and processes that operate in C. elegans have been retained throughout evolution, meaning discoveries made using the worm can have direct relevance to other organisms, including humans. “Many aspects of biology are ancient and evolutionarily conserved,” Horvitz explains. “Such shared mechanisms can be most readily revealed by analyzing organisms that are highly tractable in the laboratory.”

In the 1960s, Brenner, a molecular biologist who was curious about how animals’ nervous systems develop and function, recognized that C. elegans offered unique opportunities to study these processes. Once he began developing the worm into a model for laboratory studies, it did not take long for other biologists to join him to take advantage of the new system.

In the 1970s, the unique features of the worm allowed Sulston to track the transformation of a fertilized egg into an adult animal, tracing the origins of each of the adult worm’s 959 cells. His studies revealed that in every developing worm, cells divide and mature in predictable ways. He also learned that some of the cells created during development do not survive into adulthood and are instead eliminated by a process termed programmed cell death.

By seeking mutations that perturbed the process of programmed cell death, Horvitz and his colleagues identified key regulators of that process, which is sometimes referred to as apoptosis. These regulators, which both promote and oppose apoptosis, turned out to be vital for programmed cell death across the animal kingdom.

In humans, apoptosis shapes developing organs, refines brain circuits, and optimizes other tissue structures. It also modulates our immune systems and eliminates cells that are in danger of becoming cancerous. The human version of CED-9, the anti-apoptotic regulator that Horvitz’s team discovered in worms, is BCL-2. Researchers have shown that activating apoptotic cell death by blocking BCL-2 is an effective treatment for certain blood cancers. Today, researchers are also exploring new ways of treating immune disorders and neurodegenerative disease by manipulating apoptosis pathways.

Collaborative worm community

Horvitz and his colleagues’ discoveries about apoptosis helped demonstrate that understanding C. elegans biology has direct relevance to human biology and disease. Since then, a vibrant and closely connected community of worm biologists—including many who trained in Horvitz’s lab—has continued to carry out impactful work. In their PNAS article, Horvitz and his coauthors highlight that early work, as well as the Nobel Prize-winning work of:

  • Andrew Fire and Craig Mello, whose discovery of an RNA-based system of gene silencing led to powerful new tools to manipulate gene activity. The innate process they discovered in worms, known as RNA interference, is now used as the basis of six FDA-approved therapeutics for genetic disorders, silencing faulty genes to stop their harmful effects.
  • Martin Chalfie, who used a fluorescent protein made by jellyfish to visualize and track specific cells in C. elegans, helping launch the development of a set of tools that transformed biologists’ ability to observe molecules and processes that are important for both health and disease.
  • Victor Ambros and Gary Ruvkun, who discovered a class of molecules called microRNAs that regulate gene activity not just in worms, but in all multicellular organisms. This prize-winning work was started when Ambros and Ruvkun were postdoctoral researchers in Horvitz’s lab. Humans rely on more than 1,000 microRNAs to ensure our genes are used at the right times and places. Disruptions to microRNAs have been linked to neurological disorders, cancer, cardiovascular disease, and autoimmune disease, and researchers are now exploring how these small molecules might be used for diagnosis or treatment.

Horvitz and his coauthors stress that while the worm itself made these discoveries possible, so too did a host of resources that facilitate collaboration within the worm community and enable its scientists to build upon the work of others. Scientists who study C. elegans have embraced this open, collaborative spirit since the field’s earliest days, Horvitz says, citing the Worm Breeder’s Gazette, an early newsletter where scientists shared their observations, methods, and ideas.

Today, scientists who study C. elegans—whether the organism is the centerpiece of their lab or they are looking to supplement studies of other systems—contribute to and rely on online resources like WormAtlas and WormBase, as well as the Caenorhabditis Genetics Center, to share data and genetic tools. Horvitz says these resources have been crucial to his own lab’s work; his team uses them every day.

Just as molecules and processes discovered in C. elegans have pointed researchers toward important pathways in human cells, the worm has also been a vital proving ground for developing methods and approaches later deployed to study more complex organisms. For example, C. elegans, with its 302 neurons, was the first animal for which neuroscientists successfully mapped all of the connections of the nervous system. The resulting wiring diagram, or connectome, has guided countless experiments exploring how neurons work together to process information and control behavior. Informed by both the power and limitations of the C. elegans’ connectome, scientists are now mapping more complex circuitry, such as the 139,000-neuron brain of the fruit fly, whose connectome was completed in 2024.

C. elegans remains a mainstay of biological research, including in neuroscience. Scientists worldwide are using the worm to explore new questions about neural circuits, neurodegeneration, development, and disease. Horvitz’s lab continues to turn to C. elegans to investigate the genes that control animal development and behavior. His team is now using the worm to explore how animals develop a sense of time and transmit that information to their offspring.

Also at MIT, Steven Flavell’s team in the Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences and the Picower Institute for Learning and Memory is using the worm to investigate how neural connectivity, activity, and modulation integrate internal states, such as hunger, with sensory information, such as the smell of food, to produce sometimes long-lasting behaviors. Flavell is Horvitz’s academic grandson, as Flavell trained with one of Horvitz’s postdoctoral trainees. As new technologies accelerate the pace of scientific discovery, Horvitz and his colleagues are confident that the humble worm will bring more unexpected insights.

Paper: “From nematode to Nobel: How community-shared resources fueled the rise of Caenorhabditis elegans as a research organism”

Alumni Feature: Carrie Muh, SB ’96, ’97, SM ’97

Muh came to MIT planning to pursue health policy, but ended up majoring in biology and political science, and earned a master's degree in political science before heading to Columbia University for medical school. Now she serves as the chief of pediatric neurosurgery and surgical director of the Pediatric Epilepsy Program at Maria Fareri Children’s Hospital and Westchester Medical Center in Valhalla, New York.

Kara Baskin | MIT Technology Review
December 8, 2025

Carrie Muh ’96, ’97, SM ’97 works in an office surrounded by letters from grateful parents. As the chief of pediatric neurosurgery and surgical director of the Pediatric Epilepsy Program at Maria Fareri Children’s Hospital and Westchester Medical Center in Valhalla, New York, Muh performs life-changing surgeries.

“I see parents who come into my office on their post­operative visit in tears because, for the first time, their child is able to talk or walk. Having a mom come in and say their child said ‘Mama’ for the first time is huge,” she says. Other patients can finally play sports after a lifetime of falls.

About 2% of kids have epilepsy, a neurological condition that can cause seizures, falls, and language issues. About 30% of pediatric epilepsy patients are resistant to the drugs available to treat the condition, but in some cases surgery can help. “Surgery can be such a huge game-changer. Even if it can’t cure them, it can significantly improve quality of life,” she says.

Muh came to MIT planning to pursue health policy. She majored in both biology and political science and then earned a master’s degree in political science. But after a summer interning at the White House, she saw a stronger opportunity for influence as a physician.

As a medical student at Columbia University, Muh got to observe the transplant of a heart from a child who had passed away to another child in need. That sparked her interest in pediatric surgery. “I was able to watch a surgical team save a child’s life,” she remembers.

She took a gap year during medical school to conduct brain tumor research at Columbia, shadowing neurosurgical residents and observing the precise poetry of their surgery. “I absolutely knew that was for me,” she says, adding that the need was also compelling. “There aren’t enough pediatric epilepsy surgery specialists in the country.”

Now patients often travel to Muh for laser ablation, which destroys the part of the brain responsible for seizures without damaging nearby healthy tissue. In other cases, she installs a vagal-nerve stimulator in a child’s chest, which can make seizures less frequent and intense. An additional option is to outfit a child’s brain with EEG electrodes to pinpoint areas of seizure activity; then she can treat those precise areas. For some children, a responsive neurostimulator—“a pacemaker for the brain,” she calls it—can stop a seizure in its tracks.

“Most of my research for the last five years has been on new ways to use technology to help more patients,” she says—younger people and those who have not traditionally been considered candidates for these devices.

Despite her workload, Muh finds time for Yankees games and Broadway plays with her three children. She also travels internationally to care for vulnerable patients. In April 2024, she performed some of the first pediatric epilepsy surgeries with deep brain stimulation in Ukraine. She was also scheduled to head to Kenya for similar work in September of this year.

But wherever she travels, she maintains strong ties to MIT as class secretary and as a former Undergraduate Association president. This reflects her outgoing nature, though she once doubted if she would fit in with the Institute’s intensely engineering-focused culture.

“My dad had gone to MIT and always told me how amazing it was. I loved engineering and science from a young age, so he thought I would obviously love MIT. But I didn’t know if I was ‘techy’ enough to go,” she jokes, even though in high school she did research at NASA’s Student Space and Biology program while juggling sports and theater commitments.

When she toured campus, though, she was hooked.

“I made lifelong friends at MIT and actually met my husband at the wedding of one of my sorority sisters,” she says. “I discovered MIT was a welcoming, open place. I tell my kids now: ‘I’m proud to be a nerd!’ Cool, passionate people are proud of the work they do and the things they love.”

Alumni Spotlight: Michael Franklin ’88

Franklin describes himself as an overachiever, so perhaps it’s not surprising that when he set out to become an educational counselor, one of the MIT alums who volunteers to interview applicants for undergraduate admission, he quickly started racking up record numbers.

Kathryn M. O'Neill | Slice of MIT
December 4, 2025

Michael Franklin ’88 describes himself as an overachiever. So perhaps it’s not surprising that when he set out to become an educational counselor (EC)—an MIT alum who volunteers to interview applicants for undergraduate admission—he quickly started racking up record numbers.

In his first year as an EC, Franklin did 96 interviews—a lot but not quite the most anyone conducted for the 2023–’24 admission cycle. The following year, he redoubled his efforts and earned the top spot. He did it again for students hoping to enter in 2025–’26, interviewing a whopping 160 candidates—nearly twice as many as the No. 2 interviewer.

Interviewing for MIT is a passion he shares with his wife, Debbie Birnby ’91, who conducted 44 interviews herself for students applying for this year. “We started doing this, and it turned out to be just amazing talking to people,” Franklin says. “There’s this glow about students when they talk about what they really like to do, and I enjoy seeing that.”

Birnby agrees. “You hear bad stuff on the news, and then you see young people and you have hope for the future,” she says. “They have so much energy and enthusiasm.”

A Huge Volunteer Corps

Educational counselors form one of the largest groups of MIT volunteers, with more than 7,500 people signed up during the 2024–’25 interview cycle alone. Many—like Franklin and Birnby—love it enough to come back year after year. Currently, MIT has more than 3,500 ECs who have volunteered for over five years and more than 2,000 who have been interviewing for over 10 years. Five ECs have been interviewing for over 50 years.

All play a vital role by helping MIT Admissions get a more holistic view of the candidates, according to Yi Tso ’85, the staff member who runs the EC program as director of the Educational Council. The average EC completes just about six interviews each year. So Franklin and Birnby—who also produce very informative reports on candidates, Tso emphasizes—really stand out: “They are clearly among our super-superstar volunteers.”

The couple’s large interview numbers are, in part, an accident of geography. ECs typically interview candidates who live near them, but when Franklin and Birnby decided to start interviewing in 2022, they were living in an area of Maryland without many MIT applicants. As a result, they took on interviews with “overflow” candidates—those without access to a local EC. They could conduct these interviews easily online, so the pair—who were both newly retired (Franklin was a software developer; Birnby was in lab technical service)—quickly got into a groove and just kept going.

Two years later, they moved back to the Boston area, “partly because we kept telling people how great Boston was, so we started believing it,” Franklin jokes. Since the area has a robust group of ECs, the couple—who by then had been named regional coordinators for the EC program in Boston—continued to interview students from the overflow list.

The Personal Touch

ECs start their work with very little information—just the student’s name, high school, and contact information—and EC guidelines recommend that they spend 30 to 60 minutes with each student. Birnby says she typically spends about an hour and a half. Franklin often takes even more time; he admits he happily spoke for four hours with one enthusiastic candidate. “You meet all these interesting people,” he explains, noting that he and his wife have heard students discuss a full range of interests and ambitions, including everything from competing in the sailing Junior Olympics to launching a national-scale desalination project.

ECs also answer questions from applicants, and both Franklin and Birnby say most students are eager to learn more about campus culture. “A lot of people don’t have a good idea about how weird and wonderful MIT is. It’s a really weird place in a totally good way,” Franklin says. He likes to tell students about the Banana Lounge, the Pirate Certificate, the Baker House piano drop, and other quirky traditions.

Both Franklin and Birnby hope they can help students find out if MIT will be a good fit for them—because that’s at the heart of why they care enough to give back to the Institute themselves. “At MIT I felt I had found my people. I fit there,” says Birnby, who was a biology major while Franklin studied political science. (She says they knew each other when they were both at the Institute but didn’t become a couple until decades later.)

Of course, most candidates ECs interview do not ultimately gain admission. Consider that for the 2025–’26 year, MIT admitted 1,334 undergraduates out of a competitive field of 29,282 applicants. Still, Franklin and Birnby have been able to congratulate several students each year. Today there are MIT students from all over the world—from North Carolina to Kyrgyzstan—who can say they were interviewed by one of them.

Mentors and Friends

Franklin and Birnby have made a point of keeping in touch with many of these students, who now count them as mentors and friends. The pair begin by congratulating students as soon as they can see who has been accepted, which is posted online. “We can’t see results until they see. So we’re like, check already!” Birnby says.

In the fall, they welcome the new students. Then they invite their admitted interviewees from all classes—a group that now numbers 55—to various gatherings throughout the year. In 2024, for example, the pair hosted 10 students for Thanksgiving at their house in Somerville.

“When I came to MIT, it felt so reassuring to know I always had someone to talk to and ask questions of during my MIT journey,” says Yumn Elameer ’28, whom Franklin interviewed. “I’m so grateful to have gotten Mike as an interviewer, to have gained him as a friend and as someone I know will always be there for help, a good laugh, or advice.”

The joy of life (sciences)

Mary Gallagher’s deeply rooted MIT experience and love of all life supports growth at the MIT Department of Biology.

Samantha Edelen | Department of Biology
November 28, 2025

For almost 30 years, Mary Gallagher has supported award-winning faculty members and their labs in the same way she tends the soil beneath her garden. In both, she pairs diligence and experience with a delight in the way that interconnected ecosystems contribute to the growth of a plant, or an idea, seeded in the right place.

Gallagher, a senior administrative assistant in the Department of Biology, has spent much of her career at MIT. Her mastery in navigating the myriad tasks required by administrators, and her ability to build connections, have supported and elevated everyone she interacts with, at the Institute and beyond.

Oh, the people you’ll know

Gallagher didn’t start her career at MIT. Her first role following graduation from the University of Vermont in the early 1980s was at a nearby community arts center, where she worked alongside a man who would become a household name in American politics.

“This guy had just been elected mayor, shockingly, of Burlington, Vermont, by under 100 votes, unseating the incumbent. He went in and created this arts council and youth office,” Gallagher recalls.

That political newcomer was none other than a young Bernie Sanders, now the longest-serving independent senator in U.S. congressional history.

Gallagher arrived at MIT in 1996, becoming an administrative assistant (aka “lab admin”) in what was then called the MIT Energy Laboratory. Shortly after her arrival, Cecil and Ida Green Professor of Physics and Engineering Systems Ernest Moniz transformed the laboratory into the MIT Energy Initiative (MITEI).

Gallagher quickly learned how versatile the work of an administrator can be. As MITEI rapidly grew, she interacted with people across campus and its vast array of disciplines at the Institute, including mechanical engineering, political science, and economics.

“Admin jobs at MIT are really crazy because of the depth of work that we’re willing to do to support the institution. I was hired to do secretarial work, and next thing I know, I was traveling all the time, and planning a five-day, 5,000-person event down in D.C.,” Gallagher says. “I developed crazy computer and event-planner skills.”

Although such tasks may seem daunting to some, Gallagher has been thrilled with the opportunities she’s had to meet so many people and develop so many new skills. As a lab admin in MITEI for 18 years, she mastered navigating MIT administration, lab finances, and technical support. When Moniz left MITEI to lead the U.S. Department of Energy under President Obama, she moved to the Department of Biology at MIT.

Mutual thriving

Over the years, Gallagher has fostered the growth of students and colleagues at MIT, and vice versa.

Friend and former colleague Samantha Farrell recalls her first days at MITEI as a rather nervous and very “green” temp, when Gallagher offered an excellent cappuccino from Gallagher’s new Nespresso coffee machine.

“I treasure her friendship and knowledge,” Farrell says. “She taught me everything I needed to know about being an admin and working in research.”

Gallagher’s experience has also set faculty across the Institute up for success.

According to one principal investigator she currently supports, Novartis Professor of Biology Leonard Guarente, Gallagher is “extremely impactful and, in short, an ideal administrative assistant.”

Similarly, professor of biology Daniel Lew is grateful that her extensive MIT experience was available as he moved his lab to the Institute in recent years. “Mary was invaluable in setting up and running the lab, teaching at MIT, and organizing meetings and workshops,” Lew says. “She is a font of knowledge about MIT.”

A willingness to share knowledge, resources, and sometimes a cappuccino, is just as critical as a willingness to learn, especially at a teaching institution like MIT. So it goes without saying that the students at MIT have left their mark on Gallagher in turn — including teaching her how to format a digital table of contents on her very first day at MIT.

“Working with undergrads and grad students is my favorite part of MIT. Their generosity leaves me breathless,” says Gallagher. “No matter how busy they are, they’re always willing to help another person.”

Campus community

Gallagher cites the decline in community following the Covid-19 pandemic shutdown as one of her most significant challenges.

Prior to Covid, Gallagher says, “MIT had this great sense of community. Everyone had projects, volunteered, and engaged. The campus was buzzing, it was a hoot!”

She nurtured that community, from active participation in the MIT Women’s League to organizing an award-winning relaunch of Artist Behind the Desk. This subgroup of the MIT Working Group for Support Staff Issues hosted lunchtime recitals and visual art shows to bring together staff artists around campus, for which the group received a 2005 MIT Excellence Award for Creating Connections.

Moreover, Gallagher is an integral part of the smaller communities within the labs she supports.

Professor of biology and American Cancer Society Professor Graham Walker, yet another Department of Biology faculty member Gallagher supports, says, “Mary’s personal warmth and constant smile has lit up my lab for many years, and we are all grateful to have her as such a good colleague and friend.”

She strives to restore the sense of community that the campus used to have, but recognizes that striving for bygone days is futile.

“You can never go back in time and make the future what it was in the past,” she says. “You have to reimagine how we can make ourselves special in a new way.”

Spreading her roots

Gallagher’s life has been inextricably shaped by the Institute, and MIT, in turn, would not be what it is if not for Gallagher’s willingness to share her wisdom on the complexities of administration alongside the “joie de vivre” of her garden’s butterflies.

She recently bought a home in rural New Hampshire, trading the buzzing crowds of campus for the buzzing of local honeybees. Her work ethic is reflected in her ongoing commitment to curiosity, through reading about native plant life and documenting pollinating insects as they wander about her flowers.

Just as she can admire each bug and flower for the role it plays in the larger system, Gallagher has participated in and contributed to a culture of appreciating the role of every individual within the whole.

“At MIT’s core, they believe that everybody brings something to the table,” she says. “I wouldn’t be who I am if I didn’t work at MIT and meet all these people.”

Pathology and the Allure of Analytical Thinking

Susan Fuhrman ’75 pursued pathology because she liked providing clear answers to diagnostic questions, and has spent her retirement making complex beaded jewelry, a hobby she started more than 30 years ago as a foil for the stresses of work.

Kathryn M. O'Neill | Slice of MIT
October 7, 2025

Susan Fuhrman ’75 became a pathologist because she likes providing clear answers to diagnostic questions. “As opposed to guessing what people have, you’ve got the lab results, you have reviewed the pathology slides,” she says. “It’s pretty analytical. Your answer is the answer.”

That clarity of focus was never more valuable than in 2020, when Fuhrman was charged with answering the question everyone was asking: Is it Covid?

As the system director for pathology and laboratory services at OhioHealth, a major hospital system based in Columbus, Ohio, Fuhrman led efforts to address the epidemic—through hospital protocols and, of course, testing—all while fielding seemingly endless requests for her expertise in identifying disease.

“Everybody—from hospital vice presidents to the chief medical officer for the system— was calling me late at night and multiple times on weekends. It was incredible,” she says.

Within a year, the system’s labs had performed over half a million Covid tests and Fuhrman had been featured several times in CAP Today, a publication of the College of American Pathologists. She discussed general testing challenges as well as whom to test when and on which testing platform.

As it happened, however, Fuhrman was already famous thanks to work dating back to the 1980s.

Understanding Renal Cancer

The daughter of two chemists, Fuhrman majored in biology at MIT and earned her medical degree from the University of Michigan in 1978. She then went to the University of Minnesota Medical Center for her residency in pathology and laboratory medicine and found herself in need of a research topic. “I remember asking the head of our surgical pathology department, Dr. Juan Rosai, ‘What is a question in pathology that hasn’t been answered?’” she says. “He said, ‘Well, we don’t have a good way of determining which renal cell cancers have a bad prognosis. Currently we go by size, but there must be more than that. No one’s cracked the code. Why don’t you try that?’”

So, Fuhrman teamed up with another doctor at the Minneapolis veterans hospital, Dr. Catherine Limas, and together they developed and proposed a set of parameters to grade kidney cancers that might predict cancer outcomes. Then, Fuhrman did the painstaking work of reviewing and analyzing thousands of tumor slides, as well as cancer registry clinical data and medical charts. Her husband, Larry Lasky ’72—whom she had met at MIT and who also became a pathologist—programmed the analysis and helped her run the data she found through an early computer. “I input everything with computer cards and a teletype, super primitive stuff,” she says.

The data produced clear patterns in the predictive value of the appearance of cell nuclei, and the three published a paper proposing a grading system classifying which renal tumors are most aggressive and likely to spread based on their findings. The system, which is still the standard, is known as the Fuhrman Nuclear Grade for Clear Cell Renal Carcinoma.

American Board of Pathology President

After her residency, Fuhrman taught laboratory medicine to senior medical students as an assistant professor at the University of Minnesota for 12 years before moving to Ohio in 1994. In addition to working at OhioHealth, Fuhrman served for several years as president and CEO of CORPath, a private pathology practice. In 2022, she served a term as president of the American Board of Pathology, which later named her a life trustee in honor of her many years of service.

Fuhrman retired at the end of 2020 and has since spent much of her time making beaded jewelry—a hobby she started 35 years ago as a foil to work. “The job was stressful, and beading uses a totally different part of your brain. The left side can rest,” she says. “I can sit and sort beads by size and color for hours. That’s really weird and mindless, but I love it. I also love bead weaving; it’s like physics and architecture, building beautiful, structurally sound pieces from tiny beads.”

She creates elaborate bracelets and necklaces, often giving them away to friends or donating them to charity. “Jewelry making doesn’t pay very well, but I’m very lucky I don’t need to support myself on my hobby,” she says. “I do this for me.”