UPDATE April 7, 2026:听The original version of this story omitted two 91爆料 programs that were included in the rankings: Occupational Therapy (Tied for 20th) and Physical Therapy (Tied for 31st).听

The 91爆料鈥檚 graduate and professional degree programs again were recognized as among the best in the nation, according to .

Topping this year鈥檚 list include programs at the Evans School of Public Policy & Governance, the School of Public Health, the School of Nursing, the Paul G. Allen School of Computer Science & Engineering in the College of Engineering and the College of Education. The College of Arts & Sciences and the College of the Environment also had top-rated programs.

In total, 81 graduate and professional degree programs across the 91爆料 placed in the top 35 in this year鈥檚 U.S. News rankings.

“These rankings highlight the strength and impact of the 91爆料鈥檚 graduate and professional programs,鈥� said 91爆料 President Robert J. Jones. 鈥淭hese programs equip students with the skills and knowledge to meet critical workforce needs and serve society, while demonstrating the power of higher education to advance the public good. We are proud to foster an environment where students and faculty can thrive and have a real impact on the world around them.鈥�

While the 91爆料 celebrates the success and impact of the programs recognized by U.S. News 鈥� and notes that many applicants use these rankings to help them select schools and discover potential areas of study 鈥� the University also recognizes shortcomings inherent in the ranking systems.

The 91爆料 School of Law and the 91爆料 School of Medicine withdrew from the U.S. News rankings in 2022 and 2023, respectively, citing concerns that some of the methodology in the rankings for those specific disciplines incentivize actions and policies that run counter to the schools鈥� public service missions.

91爆料 leaders continue to work with U.S. News and other ranking organizations to improve their methodologies, to the extent that the organizations are open to it. Schools, colleges and departments continually reevaluate the benefits and potential shortfalls of participating in specific rankings.

Excluding the School of Law and the School of Medicine, 29 91爆料 programs placed in the top 10, and 81 are in the top 35.

听The 91爆料 this year placed in the top 10 nationwide in public affairs, biostatistics,听 nursing, computer science, education, psychology, speech and language pathology, statistics and Earth sciences.

The 91爆料鈥檚 Evans School of Public Policy & Governance has maintained its top-10 ranking for more than a decade and tied for fifth in the nation this year. The Evans School鈥檚 environmental policy program was ranked second, while public finance and budgeting as well as leadership both ranked No. 10.

The 91爆料 School of Nursing鈥檚 doctor of nursing practice program tied for No. 1 among public institutions. The School of Public Health has maintained its top-10 ranking for more than a decade, coming in this year at No. 9. The school also had three programs in the top 10: biostatistics, environmental health sciences and epidemiology.听

The 91爆料鈥檚 programs in speech and language pathology tied for No. 6.听 Two programs from the College of Education placed in the top 10. And the Paul G. Allen School of Computer Science & Engineering this year tied for seventh place overall with three programs ranked in the top 10, including artificial intelligence, programming language and systems.

U.S. News ranks biostatistics in two ways. 91爆料 ranked No. 3 as a science discipline that applies statistical theory and mathematical principles to research in medicine, biology, environmental science, public health and related fields. 91爆料鈥檚 School of Public Health ranked No. 7 in biostatistics as an area of study that trains students to apply statistical principles and methods to problems in health sciences, medicine and biology. At the 91爆料, biostatistics is a division of the School of Public Health.

In some cases, such as the College of Arts & Science and the Foster School of Business, U.S. News ranks several professional disciplines housed within academic units. Programs in dentistry are not ranked.听

The rankings below are based on preliminary data and may be updated. relies on both expert opinions and statistical indicators.

TOP 10:

Library and Information Studies (overall): Two-way tie for 1st (ranked in 2025)

Public Affairs (environmental policy): 2nd

Library and information studies (digital librarianship): Two-way for 2nd (ranked in 2022)

Library and Information Studies (information systems): 2nd (ranked in 2022)

Biostatistics: 3rd

Physics (nuclear): Two-way tie for 3rd (ranked in 2024)

Nurse practitioner (doctor of nursing practice): Four-way tie for 4th

Evans School of Public Policy & Governance (overall): Four-way tie for 5th

Library and Information Studies (library services for children and youth): Two-way for 5th (ranked in 2022)

Computer science (systems): Tied for 6th

Education (elementary education): 6th

Psychology (clinical): Three-way tie for 6th

Speech-language pathology: Five-way tie for 6th

Statistics: Four-way tie for 6th

Public Health (biostatistics): 7th

Computer science (overall): Three-way tie for 7th

Computer science (programming language): Tied for 7th

Education (secondary education): 7th

Nursing (midwifery): Five-way tie for 7th

Public Health (environmental health sciences): 7th

School of Social Work (overall): 7th (ranked in 2025)

Public Health (epidemiology): 8th

Computer science (artificial intelligence): 9th

Earth sciences: Tied for 9th听

Geophysics: Three-way tie for 9th (ranked in 2024)

Public Affairs (nonprofit management): 9th

School of Public Health (overall): Tied for 9th

Public Affairs (public finance and budgeting): 10th

Public Affairs (public management and leadership): 10th

TOP 25:

Biological sciences: Five-way tie for 16th

Business (accounting): 10-way tie for 16th

Business (entrepreneurship): Five-way tie for 17th

Business (information systems): Three-way tie for 15th

Business (part-time MBA): Three-way tie for 11th

Business (full-time MBA): 20th

Business (management): Five-way tie for 25th

Business (marketing): Eight-way tie for 25th

Chemistry (analytical): Four-way tie for 16th (ranked in 2024)

Chemistry: Seven-way tie for 22nd

Chemistry (inorganic): Three-way tie for 22nd (ranked in 2024)

Computer science (theory): Tied for 11th

College of Education (overall): Tied for 24th

Education (administration): Tied for 11th

Education (curriculum/instruction): Tied for 12th

Education (policy): Tied for 14th

Education (special education): Tied for 12th

College of Engineering (overall): Three-way tie for 22nd

Engineering (aerospace/aeronautical/astronautical): Tied for 17th

Engineering (biomedical/bioengineering): Five-way tie for 12th

Engineering (civil): Four-way tie for 13th

Engineering (computer): 12th

Engineering (electrical): Three-way tie for 22nd

Engineering (industrial/manufacturing/systems): Seven-way tie for 24th

Engineering (materials engineering): Five-way tie for 25th

Library and Information Studies (school library media): Two-way tie for 11th (ranked in 2022)

Mathematics (applied math): 21st (ranked in 2024)

Nursing master鈥檚 (overall): Tied for 12th

Nurse practitioner (adult gerontology acute care): Tied for 11th

Nurse practitioner (family): Tied for 15th

School of Pharmacy (overall): Tied for 14th

Physics (overall): Tied for 20th听

Public Affairs (public policy analysis): 14th

Public Affairs (social policy): Tied for 13th

Public Affairs (urban policy): Three-way tie for 21st

Public Health (health care management): Three-way tie for 16th听

Public Health (health policy and management): 11th

Public Health (social behavior): 13th

Sociology (overall): Two-way tie for 22nd (ranked in 2025)

Sociology (population): Two-way tie for 15th (ranked in 2022)

TOP 35:

Business (analytics): Seven-way tie for 32nd

Business (executive MBA): Three-way tie for 29th

Business (finance): Nine-way tie for 31st

Business (international MBA): Tie for 32nd

Business (production & operations): Five-way tie for 27th

Engineering (chemical): Tied for 28th

Engineering (mechanical): 34th

English: Two-way tie for 34th (ranked in 2025)

Fine arts: 15-way tie for 34th

History: Three-way tie for 31st (ranked in 2025)

Mathematics: Four-way tie for 26th

Occupational Therapy: Tied for 20th

Physical Therapy: Tied for 31st

Political science: Five-way tie for 33rd (ranked in 2025)

Violent traumatic events 鈥� such as mass shootings and acts of domestic terrorism 鈥� have become increasingly common in the United States. Yet, despite their growing prevalence, little research has examined how these events shape the decisions made within organizations.

A new study from the 91爆料, in the Academy of Management Journal, reveals that traumatic events can significantly dampen organizational risk-taking. The findings challenge the long-standing view that decision-makers 鈥� such as CEOs, executives and team leaders 鈥� are largely rational, emotionless actors. The research instead shows that emotional experiences in the broader community can spill over into the workplace and reshape strategic choices.

鈥淧eople bring their whole selves to work,鈥� said , co-author and professor of management in the 91爆料 Foster School of Business. 鈥淲hatever emotional state that’s being influenced by things happening in their community eventually spills over and bleeds into how organizations conduct themselves.鈥�

The research team found that violent traumatic events in local communities make decision-makers less focused on pursuing lofty objectives. As a result, organizations become less likely to take risky actions to close听 performance gaps or achieve ambitious goals.

To reach these conclusions, the researchers combined two complementary methods: an observational field study and two controlled experiments. The field study analyzed nearly 40,000 fourth-down decisions made by NFL teams between 2008 and 2019 and combined that data with information on local mass shootings and other violent events.

that when NFL teams fall behind in games, they tend to take more risks 鈥� for example, attempting a fourth-down conversion rather than punting or trying for a field goal. In this study, teams that were underperforming were about three times more likely to attempt a conversion. However, following a traumatic event nearby, those same teams were 10% less likely to take that risk.

鈥淚 think it is a sadness effect,鈥� Gupta said. 鈥淲hen people are sad, they can’t focus on pursuing their ambitious goals. They can still continue to avoid negative circumstances, but the pursuit of ambitious goals is driven by a strong positive drive. These traumatic events impair people鈥檚 ability to pursue those goals.鈥�

Researchers also found that when the chief decision maker 鈥� the coach, in this case 鈥� had spent more time embedded in the community, the event鈥檚 impact on risk-taking behavior increased. Distance also mattered: The closer to an organization the event occurred, the stronger the impact.

鈥淚t was striking that distance still matters,鈥� Gupta said. 鈥淵ou think it wouldn鈥檛 matter with the way information spreads now, but even two miles versus 20 miles still really matters. When it’s that close, you can imagine yourself or your kids being the target. Rationally, it shouldn鈥檛 matter, but psychologically, it clearly does.鈥�

The two controlled experiments verified the mechanism behind the behavior changes. In each experiment, one group of participants read a Wikipedia article about a mass shooting while the other group read about a more neutral event 鈥� either a music festival or an accounting conference.

Participants then competed in a three-round game for bonus pay. In line with the field study, those exposed to the traumatic narrative took fewer risks in later rounds and reported a decreased focus on winning, suggesting that sadness diminished their competitive drive.

By demonstrating that emotionally charged events in the broader social environment can alter organizational risk-taking, the study highlights the deep interconnectivity between societal trauma and economic decision-making. It suggests that collective emotional states 鈥� such as sadness, anxiety or fear 鈥� may ripple through firms, industries and local economies, quietly seeping into strategic behaviors.

鈥淓motional states are dynamic, fleeting, and hard to study,鈥� Gupta said. 鈥淗ow they influence important organizational decisions is still an underexplored area. Much of individual-level psychology hasn鈥檛 yet made its way into research on strategic decision-making. Our findings, we hope, will spark a broader rethinking of how emotion and environment jointly shape organizational behavior.鈥�

Other co-authors were of Vienna University of Economics and Business and of the University of Vienna.

For more information, contact Gupta at abhinavg@uw.edu.

Neurodivergent adults, such as those on the autism spectrum, or with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), dyslexia, dyspraxia, dyscalculia, or other cognitive differences, experience significant barriers to inclusion in education and employment due to disabilities that often aren鈥檛 obvious. Research shows听that remain consistently employed over time, and just are employed, compared to 87% employment among adults without ADHD. Studies suggest that is neurodivergent. Accordingly, efforts to improve the neuroinclusivity of academic institutions and workplaces have significant potential for impact on individuals, families and the U.S. economy.

鈥淭he lower education and employment outcomes are largely attributed to education and workplace environments that were designed to reinforce normative expectations,鈥� said , 91爆料 associate professor in the Information School and founding director of the Institute. 鈥淲hen learning and work environments are designed for neurodiversity 鈥� and managers and teachers are trained to be neuroinclusive 鈥� neurodivergent individuals achieve far better outcomes.鈥�

Annabi is a leading scholar on neurodiversity and employment. Her work in this space includes the publication of a series of Neurodiversity @ Work Playbooks that make a case for hiring neurodivergent people and offer concrete instructions for supporting their growth and career development.

鈥淭he Institute for Neurodiversity and Employment is set up to make a significant difference 鈥� not just at the 91爆料, but for communities all over our state,鈥� said , executive director of the Canopy Neurodiversity Foundation. 鈥淭his institute will build on Canopy鈥檚 vision for a truly neuroinclusive workforce, dramatically expanding what鈥檚 possible in our state.鈥�

Housed in the Information School, the Institute will integrate faculty, research and support from the and the , with additional collaboration from 91爆料 Medicine and the School of Social Work.

鈥淭he new institute will build upon the outstanding neurodiversity work of Dr. Annabi at the Information School,鈥� said , dean of the 91爆料 Information School. 鈥淎dding the deep expertise of our cross-campus collaborators, along with Canopy and other community partners, we will create truly multidisciplinary, innovative and impactful solutions that will transform Washington鈥檚 education and employment spaces 鈥� including here at the 91爆料.鈥�

鈥淎t present, research addressing lifespan issues such as employment is happening in silos across various disciplines, limiting our ability to develop comprehensive solutions,鈥� said Annabi. 鈥淏y convening a broad coalition of partners across the neurodiversity, employment and academic communities, we can move beyond isolated efforts toward innovative, systems-level change 鈥� driven by those with lived experience and deep expertise.鈥�

The Institute鈥檚 work will focus on five pillars: translational research on neurodiversity and employment, applied professional education and training, community empowerment across Washington state, advocacy efforts to create and strengthen neuroinclusive policies and practices statewide, and direct engagement with 91爆料 leadership to make the university a premier destination for neurodivergent faculty, staff, clinicians and students.

Annabi is particularly enthusiastic about the 91爆料鈥檚 commitment to 鈥榳alk the talk鈥� by committing, through the Institute, to neuroinclusive employment practices.

“The 91爆料 recognizes that employment is an important component of a person鈥檚 quality of life and the equitable distribution of societal resources and power,鈥� said 91爆料 Provost Tricia Serio.听 “As one of the state鈥檚 largest employers, we have a vital role to play in modeling ways to increase support for neurodivergent people and break down the persistence of barriers in post-secondary education and the workplace that they face. We are thrilled to channel this work through the Institute for Neurodiversity and Employment.鈥�

The 91爆料 Institute for Neurodiversity and Employment will launch activities and programming in 2026.

###

For questions, please contact: neurodiversity@uw.edu.

Recent recognition of the 91爆料 includes an AIS Early Career award, the Tomassoni-Chisesi prize for contributions to theoretical physics and the National Science Foundation CAREER award.

Foster School鈥檚 Mingwen Yang receives AIS early career award

, 91爆料 assistant professor of Information Systems and Operations Management in the Foster School of Business, received the from the Association for Information Systems.

is a leading international organization dedicated to advancing the practice and study of information systems. Established in 2014, the award recognizes exceptional early-career scholars who have made outstanding contributions to research, teaching and service in the field of information systems, both locally and globally.

A 2024 recipient, Yang was honored for her impactful early work and dedication to advancing the discipline through scholarship and education.

鈥淚 am deeply honored and grateful to receive the Association for Information Systems (AIS) Early Career Award, a meaningful milestone in the early stage of my academic journey,鈥� said Yang.

David Kaplan awarded Tomassoni-Chisesi Prize for advances in theoretical physics

, 91爆料 professor of physics, received the for his contributions to theoretical physics. Awarded by Sapienza University of Rome, the prize 鈥� worth approximately $45,000 鈥� was presented on March 18, 2025 by Giorgio Parisi, recipient of the 2021 Nobel Prize in Physics.

Kaplan was recognized for solving a long-standing problem in physics: 鈥� those that exhibit handedness, meaning they behave differently when left- or right-handed 鈥� on a computer. His domain wall approach, which adds a fifth dimension to lattice simulations, has become a foundational tool in particle physics.

Reflecting on the personal significance of the recognition, Kaplan shared that the breakthrough has been decades in the making. 鈥淚 first heard about the problem in 1981 when visiting Princeton,鈥� he said. 鈥淣obel laureate David Gross described it, and I didn鈥檛 really understand it then 鈥� but filed it away in my mind as something interesting.鈥� That early spark led to a 1992 theory involving a five-dimensional model with two surfaces. It wasn鈥檛 until 2019, however, that he saw how a single-surface geometry 鈥� like a doughnut or sphere 鈥� could yield particles with the same interactions observed in nature, including the weak force. 鈥淭he jury is still out 鈥� but I feel that I am on the right path now and it is very exciting.鈥澨� When asked of his plans for the prize money, Kaplan shared his plans to donate to the 91爆料 Department of Physics 鈥� 鈥渨hich made the work possible.”

For such an incredible breakthrough, we asked what keeps him motivated to keep exploring such big, complex questions in physics. Kaplan鈥檚 answer was simple: 鈥淚 don鈥檛 need motivation to think about complex questions in physics,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 do it in the shower, as I walk to work, and in my sleep鈥� I find it all obsessively interesting and fun.鈥�

Marchand Receives $800K NSF award to advance synthetic DNA research

, 91爆料 assistant professor of chemical engineering, received a from the Division of Molecular and Cellular Biosciences, Systems and Synthetic Biology Program.

The is the agency鈥檚 most prestigious honor for early-career faculty, recognizing those with the potential to become academic leaders in both research and education.

With this award, Marchand鈥檚 lab will develop sequencing technologies capable of precisely reading and interpreting semi-synthetic DNA alphabets 鈥� genetic systems that use more than the four natural DNA bases found in all known life. In other words, while natural DNA uses a four-letter code (A, T, C, G), Marchand鈥檚 group is exploring the implications of expanding that alphabet to six letters. Their research aims to understand what happens to biological systems when the genetic code is fundamentally altered.

鈥淟ife evolved to use a four-letter DNA alphabet,鈥� Marchand said. 鈥淗ow much of biology breaks versus works when we change that alphabet to six letters is unknown. New technology is required to investigate these questions, which we will develop with this award.鈥�

Marchand said he鈥檚 proud of the recognition for his lab鈥檚 鈥渂old vision in engineering biology for compatibility with expanded genetic alphabets.鈥�

As public universities across the U.S. face increasing scrutiny over issues such as diversity initiatives and tenure protections, new research from the 91爆料 offers timely lessons on how universities can navigate politically charged issues without abandoning their core commitments.

The study, recently published in , examines how public universities decided whether to offer same-sex domestic partner benefits in the early 1990s and 2000s. Researchers found that universities 鈥� especially those in conservative states 鈥� often strategically adjusted not just whether and when they adopted inclusive policies, but also how they justified those decisions.

鈥淲hen universities face powerful stakeholders who oppose their values, how they frame their decisions can be as important as the decisions themselves,鈥� said , co-author and professor of management in the 91爆料 Foster School of Business.

91爆料 News spoke with Gupta about what universities can learn from this earlier period of cultural and political tension.

Can you tell me about the inspiration for this research?

AG: This project began when I was a doctoral student at The Pennsylvania State University, where my co-authors and I were interested in understanding how institutional change unfolds under ideological pressure. We were especially drawn to the LGBTQ+ rights movement, which has been one of the most successful in recent U.S. history 鈥� not only in shifting cultural values, but also in driving tangible changes in workplace policy and practice.

Among those changes, the adoption of same-sex domestic partner benefits by universities stood out as a concrete, measurable outcome with real resource implications. It offered us a focused way to examine how inclusive policies are implemented within institutions that must navigate competing political and economic demands.

We weren鈥檛 just curious about whether universities adopted these benefits 鈥� we wanted to understand how they managed the politics of those decisions, especially in states where conservative legislatures controlled university budgets. This was an opportunity to study how organizations pursue values-based change pragmatically, often advancing their commitments in ways that are sensitive to the views of key stakeholders.

Over time, we built a comprehensive dataset of top public universities, tracking the progression of this policy between 1990 and 2013. Modeling that process was painstaking, but it allowed us to identify patterns in how universities adopted and framed these decisions 鈥� strategically aligning with trusted actors in their environments, such as major local employers, and adjusting their rhetoric to reduce backlash.

Although history doesn鈥檛 repeat itself exactly, the same underlying dynamics often resurface. This case offers a narrow but revealing window into how change happens 鈥� not through confrontation alone, but through patient, careful work that gradually builds consensus. For anyone interested in advancing equity in complex institutional settings, there are valuable lessons in how the LGBTQ+ movement translated advocacy into durable, systemic shifts.

What patterns did you notice in universities鈥� decision making?

AG: One of the most striking dynamics we observed was in states where public universities relied heavily on funding from conservative legislatures. In these contexts, university administrators were often deeply concerned about potential backlash. They feared that allocating funds to support same-sex domestic partner benefits could be seen as ideologically out of step with legislative priorities.

We analyzed adoption patterns across major public universities 鈥� research powerhouses and flagship institutions throughout the U.S. 鈥� and found a clear and systematic pattern. Universities in more progressive states were often early adopters of these benefits, with some acting as early as 1991. In contrast, their peers in more conservative states often waited nearly a decade longer to adopt the same policies.

But what was particularly telling was how these later adopters framed their decisions. Many universities in red states did not lead with social justice arguments. Instead, they took a 鈥渂usiness case鈥� approach, aligning their decisions with market-based rationales 鈥� emphasizing competitiveness, talent recruitment and employee retention. These institutions typically adopted the policy only after major local employers had done so, effectively using the private sector as cover. This allowed them to present the decision as a practical response to labor market trends rather than an ideologically driven move.

This pattern led us to develop a broader theoretical insight: when organizations anticipate ideological resistance from key stakeholders, they often look to 鈥渆xemplar organizations鈥� 鈥� entities already seen as legitimate by those stakeholders. By emulating the behavior of these exemplars and adopting rhetoric that reflects stakeholder values, they can diffuse opposition and build support without abandoning their goals.

In contrast, universities in more liberal states often cited peer institutions and framed their decisions more explicitly around fairness and inclusion. What this shows is that organizations don鈥檛 simply conform or resist in the face of ideological tension 鈥� they adapt. They make strategic choices about when and how to act, often tailoring their message and reference points to gain legitimacy in diverse political and cultural environments.

What lessons can universities take from this case study, particularly in the current environment?

AG: We鈥檙e living through a time of heightened scrutiny and political tension, and universities increasingly find themselves at the center of it. In many ways, higher education has long enjoyed a degree of autonomy 鈥� but that autonomy rests on relationships with a broad set of external stakeholders whose values may not always align with those of university leadership, faculty or students.

This moment raises a fundamental question: What should universities do when their internal priorities come into conflict with the beliefs or expectations of those who hold influence over their resources 鈥� such as policymakers, donors or community leaders? Some might argue that institutions should stay true to their values no matter the cost. But our research suggests that universities benefit more when they strategically engage their environment, not ignore it.

This doesn’t mean compromising principles. It means understanding the value systems of key stakeholders and learning to speak in ways that resonate. For example, when universities face resistance to inclusive policies, it can be effective to frame those decisions around economic competitiveness, workforce needs or community relevance 鈥� themes that often carry bipartisan appeal. The goal is not to dilute the message, but to translate it into language that expands support rather than provokes opposition.

In our research, we also emphasize the value of 鈥渆xemplar organizations鈥� 鈥� trusted institutions that skeptical stakeholders already view as legitimate. When a university can point to respected peers or private-sector leaders who have adopted a similar course of action, it lowers the perceived risk of following suit and frames the decision as pragmatic rather than ideological.

At their best, universities are extraordinary institutions. They create scientific breakthroughs, train healthcare professionals and business leaders, support local economies and open doors for the next generation. Their work benefits people across political, cultural and socioeconomic divides. To continue delivering that value, especially in contentious times, universities need to build broad-based coalitions 鈥� not by avoiding disagreement, but by finding common ground wherever possible.

Other co-authors were Chad Murphy of Oregon State University and Forrest Briscoe of Cornell University.

For more information, contact Gupta at abhinavg@uw.edu.

The COVID-19 pandemic forced an unprecedented shift to remote work. Now, as organizations transition back to in-person operations, hybrid work has emerged as a popular solution.

Hybrid work claims to offer the best of both worlds 鈥� employees benefit from face-to-face collaboration in the office and can also focus on deep, individual work at home 鈥� but new research from the 91爆料 shows this arrangement might be too good to be true.

More than half of U.S. companies with hybrid work policies now require employees to be in the office three days a week. The study, published in the , shows that moderate office attendance requirements create ideal conditions for the formation of workplace subgroups.

When employees follow a three-day office schedule but choose different days to come in, certain team members naturally work together more often. Researchers found that, over time, these patterns create 鈥渃o-location imbalance,鈥� which divides teams into subgroups听with stronger internal relationships.

, co-author of the study and professor of management in the 91爆料 Foster School of Business, spoke with 91爆料 News about hybrid archetypes and their impact on the workplace.

Can you explain how hybrid work leads to the formation of subgroups?

Subgroup formation has been examined quite a bit when considering demographic fault lines in teams. For example, if you had a team of five people that had three older white males and two younger Latina females, then those demographic characteristics could align and create a fault line in the team, where you have clear subgroups on both sides. The research on subgroups finds it鈥檚 usually bad for teams because people tend to collaborate and cooperate more with people in their subgroup. They will often not do so with people across the fault line.

My co-authors and I started considering ways hybrid work could impact this subgroup formation. That鈥檚 when we started thinking about people’s individual choices of which days they would go to the office. Could the imbalance in who you co-locate with across days impact subgroup formation?

There is a lot of social psychological research that says when we’re face-to-face with people, we tend to form better relationships with them than if we’re remote. Our logic was, if you’re co-locating with some people a lot and others not very much, the people you鈥檙e co-locating with could begin to form subgroups because they鈥檙e sharing contact and all the informal things that are happening together. The people who are remote are not sharing those things. Even if they’re connecting via technology, they miss out on so much by being remote on those days. That was kind of how we started to connect the dots between hybrid work and subgroup formation.

The study discusses how different hybrid archetypes have different effects. Can you explain some of those archetypes and how they differ?

The clearest subgroup archetype that we put in the paper is 鈥渄ivide to conquer,鈥� where on a fictional five-person team, three members are co-locating a lot together. The other two are co-locating a lot together but not with the other three very much. Another archetype that was particularly interesting was 鈥渦s vs. them,鈥� where three people are at the office every day and the other two work fully remote. This is what you see with virtual teams or partially distributed teams, where you might have some people in different geographic locations who can never attend in-person. In the 鈥減ower dyad,鈥� you have two people who are co-locating a lot together while the other team members aren鈥檛 co-locating with each other very much. Here, one strong subgroup is making most of the decisions about the work and then maybe delegating to the periphery, where everybody is alone.

The only archetype that we identify in the paper that seems positive is called 鈥渁ll for one and one for all,鈥� where everybody is co-locating on the same days. If workers are in the office two days a week, they decide they鈥檙e going to be on Tuesdays and Thursdays and remote all the other days.

Many organizations that are adopting hybrid work are choosing three-day in, two-day out policies. With this policy, our analysis shows there are more than 200,000 possible co-location patterns from a team of five that can occur in any given week. While that policy may have benefits in other ways, it鈥檚 also dangerous in terms of teams fracturing into unproductive subgroups.

What happens in the workplace when these subgroups form?

that office workers form tight-knit groups that exclude remote employees without even realizing it. Office workers grab coffee together, chat in hallways and hold impromptu meetings. Remote employees miss all of this. These “two-tier work environments” happen naturally when some people share physical space and others don’t. And the problem compounds over time. In-office teams develop their own communication patterns that remote colleagues never see. Progress made in these casual conversations becomes invisible to remote workers, widening the divide.

The people who are in the same subgroup form a virtuous cycle with more collaboration and more of a sense of identity with their subgroup. But there is also a vicious cycle of less collaboration and less of a sense of identity with the other subgroups, or those who are not in their subgroup. Over time, as these subgroups continue to co-locate together, they can develop a much more rigid pattern of who they want to work with and who they’ll collaborate with most effectively. They can even become very suspicious of the other subgroup, thinking that the other subgroup might be trying to undermine or sabotage their work.

But subgroup formation is not always bad. In time crunches, when workers must produce a product very quickly, there isn鈥檛 time for everybody to co-locate and talk all together. Instead, they need to split the workload: one team takes these two things, another team takes those two things. It鈥檚 possible that organizations could encourage an imbalance in co-location when they have time sensitive kinds of issues.

What can organizations learn from this research when considering their hybrid work policies?

Hybrid work provides real benefits in terms of employee satisfaction and retention. But organizations that require two or three days in office without scheduling coordination create ideal conditions for fracturing teams into unproductive subgroups. Our study suggests successful hybrid models must go beyond simple attendance policies. Organizations need intentional strategies that consider co-location patterns, not just total office days. Companies that ignore these dynamics risk creating permanently divided teams where information, opportunities and relationships develop unequally between in-office and remote colleagues. For hybrid work to succeed, leaders must recognize that workspace isn’t just physical 鈥� it’s social.

Other co-authors are of Friedrich-Alexander-Universit盲t Erlangen-N眉rnberg, of ISCTE Business School, of Universidad de los Andes.

For more information, contact Michael Johnson at mdj3@uw.edu.

UPDATE April 8,2025: An earlier version of this story included outdated rankings that were erroneously posted by U.S. News and have since been removed from the U.S. News ranking site. This story has been updated to reflect most recent rankings.

Many of the 91爆料鈥檚 graduate and professional degree programs were widely recognized as among the best in the nation, according to .

The 91爆料 Information School tied for No. 1 alongside the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign for library and information studies. And, more than 80 91爆料 schools and departments placed prominently in the 2026 rankings.

While the 91爆料 celebrates the success and impact of the programs recognized by U.S. News 鈥� and notes that many applicants use these rankings to help them select schools and discover potential areas of study 鈥� the University also recognizes shortcomings inherent in the ranking systems.

The 91爆料 School of Law and the 91爆料 School of Medicine withdrew from the U.S. News rankings in 2022 and 2023, respectively, citing concerns that some of the methodology in the rankings for those specific disciplines incentivize actions and policies that run counter to the schools鈥� public service missions.

91爆料 leaders continue to work with U.S. News and other ranking organizations to improve their methodologies, to the extent that the organizations are open to it. Schools, colleges and departments continually reevaluate the benefits and potential shortfalls of participating in specific rankings.

鈥淎s these rankings demonstrate, the 91爆料鈥檚 outstanding graduate and professional degree programs are leading the way in training highly skilled people to fill critical workforce needs and advance discovery and innovation in a wide range of fields,鈥� said 91爆料 President Ana Mari Cauce. 鈥淚t has never been more important to recognize how much graduate and professional education benefit our nation and people everywhere, and the 91爆料 is proud to see these exceptional programs be celebrated.鈥�

Excluding the School of Law and the School of Medicine, 32 91爆料 programs placed in the top 10, and more than 80 are in the top 35.

In new rankings released this year, the 91爆料 placed in the top 10 nationwide in library and information studies, public affairs, nursing, speech and language pathology, education, public health, computer science, psychology and civil engineering, according to U.S. News.

The 91爆料鈥檚 Evans School of Public Policy & Governance has maintained its top-10 ranking for more than a decade and placed seventh in the nation. The Evans School鈥檚 environmental policy program was ranked second and nonprofit management and social policy each were ranked at No. 8.

This year鈥檚 rankings highlighted 91爆料鈥檚 leadership in nursing and public health: The 91爆料 School of Nursing held the No. 1 overall ranking for a public school offering a doctor of nursing practice program, and nursing schools at 91爆料 Bothell and 91爆料 Tacoma are among the top 10 public institutions that offer a master鈥檚 degree. The School of Public Health has maintained its top-10 ranking for more than a decade, coming in this year tied for No. 10. The school also had three programs in the top 10: biostatistics, environmental health sciences and epidemiology. And overall, the U.S. News rankings noted 91爆料鈥檚 strength in health sciences: The School of Social Work was ranked No. 7 and the School of Pharmacy tied for 12th 鈥� or third among public institutions on the West Coast 鈥� on last year鈥檚 list, while dentistry programs are not ranked.

The 91爆料鈥檚 programs in speech and language pathology tied for No. 5, topping schools on the West Coast.听 Three programs from the College of Education placed in the top 10. And the Paul G. Allen School of Computer Science & Engineering this year tied for seventh place overall, and four programs ranked in the top 10, including artificial intelligence, programming language, systems and theory.

In some cases, such as the College of Arts & Science and the Foster School of Business, U.S. News ranks several professional disciplines housed within academic units. The rankings below are based on preliminary data and may be updated. relies on both expert opinions and statistical indicators.

TOP 10:

Library and Information Studies (overall): Two-way tie for 1st

Public Affairs (environmental policy): 2nd

Library and information studies (digital librarianship): Two-way for 2nd (ranked in 2022)

Library and Information Studies (information systems): 2nd (ranked in 2022)

Nurse practitioner (doctor of nursing practice): 3rd

Physics (nuclear): Two-way tie for 3rd (ranked in 2024)

Library and Information Studies (library services for children and youth): Two-way for 5th (ranked in 2022)

Nursing (midwifery): 5th

Nurse practitioner (pediatric acute care): Two-way tie for 5th (ranked in 2022)

Speech-language pathology: Six-way tie for 5th

Education (elementary education): 6th

Education (secondary education): 6th

Public Health (biostatistics): 6th

Computer science (overall): Four-way tie for 7th

Computer science (programming language): 7th

Public Health (environmental health sciences): 7th

School of Social Work (overall): 7th (ranked in 2025)

Statistics: Tie for 7th (ranked in 2022)

Computer science (artificial intelligence): 8th

Computer science (systems): 8th

Education (curriculum/instruction): 8th

Evans School of Public Policy & Governance (overall): Two-way tie for 7th

Psychology (clinical): Six-way tie for 8th

Public Affairs (nonprofit management): 8th

Public Affairs (social policy): 8th

Public Health (epidemiology): Two-way tie for 8th

Computer science (theory): Three-way tie for 9th

Earth sciences: Five-way tie for 9th (ranked in 2024)

Geophysics: Three-way tie for 9th (ranked in 2024)

Engineering (civil): Three-way tie for 10th

Public Affairs (public finance and budgeting): 10th

School of Public Health (overall): Two-way tie for 10th

TOP 25:

Biological sciences: Three-way tie for 23rd (ranked in 2022)

Business (part-time MBA): Two-way tie for 17th

Business (information systems): Two-way tie for 12th

Business (international MBA): Three-way tie for 20th

Business (supply chain management): Three-way tie for 21st (ranked in 2025)

Business (full-time MBA): Two-way tie for 22nd

Business (entrepreneurship): Three-way tie for 23rd

Business (executive MBA): Three-way tie for 25th

Chemistry (analytical): Four-way tie for 16th (ranked in 2024)

Chemistry: Three-way tie for 24th (ranked in 2024)

Chemistry (inorganic): Three-way tie for 22nd (ranked in 2024)

College of Education (overall): Two-way tie for 22nd

Education (administration): Two-way tie for 12th

Education (policy): Three-way tie for 16th

Education (psychology): 19th

Education (special education): Two-way tie for 11th

College of Engineering (overall): Three-way tie for 20th

Engineering (aerospace/aeronautical/astronautical): Three-way tie for 15th

Engineering (biomedical/bioengineering): Four-way tie for 12th

Engineering (chemical): Two-way tie for 25th

Engineering (computer): Two-way tie for 13th

Engineering (electrical): Four-way tie for 18th

Engineering (environmental/environmental health): Four-way tie for 18th (ranked in 2025)

Engineering (materials engineering): Three-way tie for 24th

Library and Information Studies (school library media): Two-way tie for 11th (ranked in 2022)

Mathematics (applied math): 21st (ranked in 2024)

Nursing master鈥檚 (overall): Three-way tie for 12th

Nurse practitioner (family): Three-way tie for 11th (ranked in 2025)

College of Pharmacy (overall): Three-way tie for 12th (ranked in 2025)

Physics (overall): 20th (ranked in 2024)

Public Health (healthcare management): Three-way tie for 16th

Public Health (health policy and management): 13th

Public Health (social behavior): Two-way tie for 12th

Public Affairs (global policy and administration): 14th

Public Affairs (public management and leadership): Three-way tie for 11th

Public Affairs (public policy analysis): 13th

Sociology (overall): Two-way tie for 22nd

Sociology (population): Two-way tie for 15th (ranked in 2022)

TOP 35:

Business (accounting): Three-way tie for 27th

Business (management): Three-way tie for 29th

Business (finance): Three-way tie for 31st

Business (marketing): Two-way tie for 32nd

Engineering (industrial/manufacturing/systems): Three-way tie for 30th

Engineering (mechanical): Three-way tie for 30th

English: Two-way tie for 34th

History: Three-way tie for 31st

Mathematics: Three-way tie for 27th (ranked in 2024)

Political science: Five-way tie for 33rd

Psychology: Nine-way way tie for 30th

Recent recognition of the 91爆料 includes the Best Paper Award at NeurIPS Pluralistic Alignment Workshop, Scialog: Early Science with the LSST Collaborative Innovation Award and 2024 AVS Thin Film Young Investigator Award.

Professor wins ‘best paper’ at NeurIPS Pluralistic Alignment Workshop

, assistant professor in the 91爆料 Foster School of Business, received the $1,000 Best Paper Award on Pluralistic Alignment at the NeurIPS 2024 Workshop.

The Conference on Neural Information Processing Systems, or NeurIPS, is one of the most influential conferences in artificial intelligence, machine learning and data science and is known for its rigorous peer-review process.

Kleiman-Weiner co-authored the paper, “,” which introduces the MultiTP dataset 鈥� a collection of moral dilemmas in over 100 languages that enables the assessment of large language models鈥� decision-making in diverse linguistic contexts. The analysis explored the alignment of 19 LLMs with human judgments across six moral dimensions.

鈥淏y examining moral decisions across over 100 languages, we discovered that language models often fail to capture the rich diversity of human moral preferences across cultures,鈥� Kleiman-Weiner said. 鈥淭his reinforces why pluralistic alignment — ensuring AI systems can understand and respect different cultural perspectives — is so crucial as we develop these technologies. I’m excited about this work because it pushes us to think critically about whose values AI systems reflect. 鈥� We hope this research encourages more work on building AI systems that serve all of humanity, not just a select few.”

Nora Shipp receives Collaborative Innovation Award

, 91爆料 assistant professor of astronomy, was part of one of eight interdisciplinary teams awarded the in the first year of Scialog: Early Science with the LSST.

This initiative, launched by the Research Corporation for Science Advancement, is a three-year program designed to support early-career scientists as they prepare to utilize data from the upcoming Legacy Survey of Space and Time, or LSST, at the Vera C. Rubin Observatory in Chile.

“Scialog has been a great opportunity to make connections with scientists across the field of astronomy to brainstorm new ideas for taking advantage of the unprecedented data that will soon be provided by the LSST,” said Shipp.

Shipp鈥檚 proposal brings together researchers to study stars and dark matter — not just in the Milky Way, but also in smaller galaxies. By using the LSST to reveal the faint outer regions of these galaxies, the research will help us to better understand the universe’s creation and the limits of how galaxies form.

, which is short for 鈥渟cience + dialog, “is a collaborative program launched by RCSA in 2010. It鈥檚 designed to accelerate breakthroughs by fostering a network of creative scientists across disciplines and encouraging intensive discussions on scientific themes of global importance.

As part of this initiative, the conference brought together an expert group of scientists and facilitators, including Eric Bellm, research associate professor of astronomy and DiRAC Institute Fellow, to guide the discussions.

Chemical engineering professor wins 2024 AVS Thin Film Young Investigator Award

, 91爆料 assistant professor of chemical engineering, has been named the 2024 recipient of the American Vacuum Society (AVS) . Named in honor of Professor Paul H. Holloway, a distinguished scholar and contributor to AVS, the award recognizes young scientists for significant theoretical and experimental contributions to thin film research.

Bergsman studies how to deposit layers of plastic that are 1/1000 the thickness of a human hair, which he uses to develop better materials for computer processors, clean energy, and water purification.

鈥淭he American Vacuum Society was foundational to my growth as a young scientist,鈥� Bergsman said. 鈥淚 am deeply honored to receive this award from a community which has always been an inspiring and supportive environment. I鈥檓 excited to continue engaging with this network of scientists and pushing the boundaries of research in interfacial engineering, surface science, thin films, and related technologies.”

For Valentine’s Day, 91爆料 News asked 12 91爆料 researchers to share their love stories: What made them decide to pursue their career paths? Scroll down or click on the links below to see their responses.

Lakeya Afolalu | Katya Cherukumilli | Stephen Groening | June Lukuyu | Jennifer Nemhauser | Zoe Pleasure | Kira Schabram | B谩ra 艩af谩艡ov谩 | Adam Summers | Timeka Tounsel | Kendall Valentine | Navid Zobeiry

, Assistant professor of language, literacy and culture, College of Education

What do you study at the 91爆料?听

My research explores how immigration, race, language, literacy and identity intersect in the lives of Nigerian immigrant and transnational youth. Unlike in many West African countries, race is the most salient identifier in the United States, often overlooking the diverse ethnic, cultural and linguistic identities of youth of African origin. This often affects how immigrant youth make sense of their identities in this country. My research examines how Nigerian youth use multilingualism, literacy and digital literacies to construct and negotiate their identities across home, school and digital environments in the U.S.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

My mother is African American. My father is Nigerian. So, growing up, I often felt like I was split between both cultures. There were also so many societal and familial expectations about what it meant to be “Black,” “African American” and “Nigerian.”

Growing up, my family members and friends in Detroit called me by my African American name, “Lakeya.” But when my sisters and I spent summers and holidays in Queens, New York, with our Nigerian family, the moment I crossed over the threshold of the door I was called by my Nigerian name, “Iyore.”

Honestly, I’d say I set out very early in life to define my life’s path and to be intentional about how I wanted to make myself known to the world 鈥� my identity. It was not 鈥� and even as an adult Black woman in America, it still is not always 鈥� comfortable to defy identity expectations. But what other way is there to live? To be a shell of what others, or society, believe we should be? Is that living? It is not.

As a teenager, I had less confidence in being bold and being my true self. I loved reading novels. I鈥檇 go to the bookstore and buy books to read, but I hid this practice from my friends because of some unwritten rule that one can鈥檛 be Black, cool and smart. Adolescent peer pressure was a real issue. That’s also how I fell in love with writing. Often feeling misunderstood, I resorted to the pages of my journals where I could be myself and dream of my future self. I continue to keep a journal.

My Aunt Darcelle says I’ve been asking profound questions since I learned to speak. That hasn’t changed. So, it’s no surprise that I’ve committed to a career in research. My research is not just research, though. It’s the story and lives of so many young people who feel wedged between other people’s and society’s ideas of who they should be and what they should become. Sometimes, these expectations can come from those closest to us who have well-meaning intentions 鈥� parents, family members, close friends. I understand this feeling well.

There are many times when I’m writing a manuscript or analyzing data, and I draw on memories of my own schooling experiences to interpret interview transcripts from the Nigerian youth in my study. Or I remember similar instances from West African seventh-grade students in Harlem, which guided me to draw on theoretical frames that align best with the Nigerian youth experience.

My research is truly about shifting the narrative about what it means to be Black, Nigerian and African. Why? Well, because Blackness is so rich, diverse and multifaceted. So is Nigerianness and Africanness. As I engage in my research to illustrate the rich diversity of Nigerian youth’s languages, literacies and identities, I also aim to contribute to dismantling rigid identity structures, creating greater freedom for all young people who find themselves in environments that are structured by prescribed identities that conflict with how they desire to be known.

My research is a contribution to freedom 鈥� a freedom that transcends into adulthood. My feet may be in the academy, but my heart and hands always have been and always will be in the communities that mirror mine. It鈥檚 truly an honor to do this heart work.

I also want to touch on how I decided to pursue this career path. Growing up, I always wanted to play school and take on the role of the teacher. In fact, I cried whenever my sisters and cousins wouldn鈥檛 play school with me. For Christmas and my birthday, I would ask my mother to buy me dry-erase boards, markers and other office items so that I could set up my “classroom” in the house.

I fell in love with teaching because my early elementary teachers were some of the first people who made me feel seen. For instance, my first-grade teacher, Mrs. Schave, would let me choose and read books to the whole class on Fridays. My second-grade teacher, Mrs. Korn, at Fitzgerald Elementary on the west side of Detroit, would invite me to the writer鈥檚 table in the classroom whenever I finished my work early. At that table, I realized how powerful and freeing the art of writing is.

While I had these great school experiences, they were also starkly different from my cousins’ experiences. They lived and attended public schools in Auburn Hills, in the suburbs outside of Detroit. I often visited them on the weekends and noticed that they read the same books that I read at my elementary school, except that we had the abridged version in basal textbooks while they had the full chapter books. That struck something within me, and I realized very early in life that your ZIP code 鈥� where you lived 鈥� determined the quality of your education. It felt unfair. I didn鈥檛 have the words to describe it then, but I now know that it was an equity issue 鈥� not just educationally but also in terms of economic and social mobility.

So, I decided around the age of 7 that I wanted to become a teacher. I made an internal promise to myself, a commitment, that children who grow up in communities like mine 鈥� the beautiful west side of Detroit 鈥� would have access to a quality education no matter what. Since that commitment, I’ve taught elementary and middle school in Newark, New Jersey, Detroit, and Harlem.

Thinking back to the connection with my research on identity, I had many conversations with my Nigerian father, who wanted me to pursue a career in finance. In Nigerian culture, there’s often the idea that doctor, lawyer and engineer are the only three career choices, but I was less interested in the money and prestige. I was committed to a career in education.

Today, as an assistant professor and the founder of a that supports the identities and well-being of youth of color, I have small moments when I think back to little Lakeya and smile. I鈥檓 doing exactly what she set out to do and more. She would be proud.

What advice would you give to your younger self?听

It鈥檚 okay to be misunderstood. It鈥檚 okay not to fit in. In fact, not fitting in is what makes you beautifully unique. I know that none of your identity and educational experiences may make sense now, but they will later. Trust me, it will make sense 鈥� not just for you but for many youths who find themselves making sense of their identities. In fact, you鈥檒l dedicate your career to speaking, writing and doing community-based work about these topics. Finally, I know you鈥檙e looking for that example like yourself, with your dreams and who lives between multiple cultural worlds, but in time, you will become the example you鈥檙e looking for. Hold on. It鈥檚 going to be a beautiful roller coaster of a ride.

For more information, contact Afolalu at lafolalu@uw.edu.

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, Assistant professor, Department of Human Centered Design & Engineering

What do you study at the 91爆料?

My research group, the Safe Water Equity and Longevity Lab, aims to bridge gaps between scientific discovery, technology design and safe water provision. We integrate methods from human-centered design and environmental engineering to investigate barriers that limit safe water access and to develop usable water quality monitoring and treatment technologies. Specifically, we use data science, experiments, hardware prototyping and community-engaged research methods to design collaborative tools that improve safe water management and mitigate exposure to chemical contaminants in water supplies.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

From a young age, I always felt a deep connection to our planet. I loved spending most of my time outdoors exploring the natural world. I was very curious and talkative as a child, wanting to solve riddles, play games and learn about how everything worked. My curiosity led me down a winding path of research adventures that allowed me to study geology and supercontinents, climate change and alpine plant ecology, fuel-efficient cookstoves, wastewater irrigation and, eventually, safe drinking water.

When I reflect on how I ended up choosing to research access to drinking water, I think about the different places I have lived: south India, Florida, California and Washington. Each region has a uniquely different way of life, cultural traditions and natural environments. A common thread in each of the places I have called home was proximity to the coastline and easy access to fresh springs, rivers and lakes. I have always found myself drawn by an invisible force to the nearest body of water.

I am grateful that my career allows me to address environmental health challenges while also considering the human experience, to reflect on and reconcile inequities and injustices, and to collaboratively solve complex puzzles with brilliant students, colleagues and community partners.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don鈥檛 be scared to do what you love every day, follow your heart and never stop speaking your mind. You’ll eventually find your way and realize it was the journey that mattered in the end.

For more information, contact Cherukumilli at katyach@uw.edu.

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, Associate professor, Department of Cinema & Media Studies

What do you study at the 91爆料?

I am a media historian who specializes in the sociocultural aspects of media technologies. This includes researching and writing about devices themselves, the implications of the introduction and widespread adoption of these devices and how people use them. For example, my first book was . I have also published research on cell phones, , 16 mm training films, and the use of television screens in the family minivan.

What made you fall in love with your research area? 听

I was 7 when I was stuck on a Pan Am 747 for five hours on the tarmac at London Heathrow and boy, was it exciting when they finally played the movie on the big screen at the front of the cabin!

After that, I lived in Poland under a military dictatorship, which profoundly shaped my media experience growing up. For example, we used to watch Hollywood films played on a 16 mm projector in our living room 鈥� both the films and projector were provided through the U.S. Armed Forces. The range of films could be odd. I remember watching “Sophie’s Choice,” “Heartbeeps,” “Terms of Endearment,” “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” “Going Ape!,” “Sleeper,” “Fire and Ice,” “The Towering Inferno,” “City on Fire,” “When Time Ran Out,” “Three Days of the Condor,” “Hannah and Her Sisters” and “Krull” 鈥� not exactly .

At the same time, we were watching Polish television (mostly the animated shows “Pszcz贸艂ka Maja” and “Bolek i Lolek”). Occasionally, a Hollywood film would be aired on TV, over-dubbed in Polish in such a way that the English language dialogue was still audible. I have distinct memories of watching “The Poseidon Adventure” and hearing the first few words of a line in English before the Polish translation came in on top of the dialogue. It wasn’t until a decade or so later that I learned this is not the standard technique for making alternate language versions of films.

We sometimes had access to U.S. television shows from other American diplomats who would return from home leave. They would bring videotape recordings, so I got to watch “Hogan’s Heroes,” “M*A*S*H” and “Gilligan’s Island” months after air date, complete with commercials (which I found both profoundly perplexing and compelling 鈥� As I type right now, I am singing the ). I even got to see “Roots” and “The Day After” on Betamax (we did not have what was then thought of as the inferior VHS format).

I would say that those media experiences 鈥� in-flight film, 16mm home exhibition, watching films on television in multiple languages 鈥� sparked my interest in our mediated mass culture. Until relatively recently, film studies was marked by a bias toward theatrical exhibition of feature films (with the occasional nod to experimental films shown in art galleries) and media studies was concerned with the effective transmission of messages to audiences. The forms of media encounter that are unforeseen and often unintended at the moment of production often get treated as accidental and inconsequential and yet, for many people that is the primary mode of encounter. Because of my experience, I know that all media forms, devices and their contents are contingent on a particular and fortuitous set of circumstances. So I find myself curious about those circumstances and their history.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

If I had known I would become an academic, I might have told my 8-year-old self to take better notes and told my undergraduate self to spend more time in faculty office hours asking about academia. Knowing what I know now, I would have told myself 10 years ago to stop worrying what others might think and just write the damned book.

For more information, contact Groening at groening@uw.edu.

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, Assistant professor, Department of Electrical & Computer Engineering

What do you study at the 91爆料?

My research centers on using transdisciplinary approaches to develop solutions for creating sustainable, inclusive and integrated energy solutions for underserved communities. My expertise supports policymakers and practitioners seeking equitable, community-centered energy transitions that combine technical and socioeconomic perspectives.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

I grew up in a small community outside Nairobi, Kenya. From an early age, I saw firsthand the challenges of unreliable power: frequent outages, power surges and a system that did not always meet the needs of the people it served. When the lights went out, my family, like many in the area, was often left scrambling to preserve our food or finish homework assignments in candlelight. It was not just an inconvenience 鈥� it was a reminder of how something as essential as electricity could hold communities back. I knew from then that I wanted to do something about it, but at the time, I did not quite know how.

When I was in high school, I applied to colleges in the U.S. and was accepted to Smith College on a full scholarship. There, I pursued engineering science, but what really sparked my love for the field was not just the technical challenges 鈥� it was how energy systems intertwined with society. At Smith, I was not just solving equations. I was also exploring how power affects everything from education to health care to human development. My engineering courses were paired with courses in psychology, economics and sociology, and that blend of disciplines opened my eyes to a new way of thinking: Energy wasn鈥檛 just a technical problem to solve, it was a societal one.

The more I learned, the more I realized that fixing energy systems in underserved communities couldn鈥檛 be as simple as just adding more power or building bigger grids. It had to be about understanding the people who needed that power. I wanted to create systems that responded to real needs, that didn鈥檛 just drop in solutions, but considered the community鈥檚 culture, environment and existing infrastructure. After graduating, I had a job developing software to estimate the cost of power systems, but I kept thinking about how we could rethink energy to make it more sustainable, more inclusive and more connected to the social fabric of the places it served.

That thinking led me to pursue a master鈥檚 in renewable energy systems at Loughborough University in the United Kingdom and then a doctorate at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, where my research focused on finding ways to develop energy systems that were as much about community as they were about technology. I didn鈥檛 just want to create another power system that might fail because it didn鈥檛 align with how people lived or how societies worked. Instead, I wanted to design systems that were responsive to local contexts and to the needs of communities they intended to serve, systems that people could rely on for the long haul.

In 2023, I joined the 91爆料 as an assistant professor, where I founded the IDEAS (Interdisciplinary Energy Analytics for Society) research group. Our work is all about creating energy systems that work for the people who use them. It鈥檚 a mix of developing sustainable technology, social understanding and deep collaboration with communities. We鈥檙e working on projects in Africa, Southeast Asia, the Pacific Islands and even here in the U.S., always with the goal of creating solutions that are both sustainable and tailored to the specific needs of each community.

What I love most about my research is that it鈥檚 not just about the science 鈥� it鈥檚 about the people. Every project is a chance to dive into a new community, understand its challenges and design solutions that truly fit. I鈥檓 passionate about making sure that when we think about energy, we鈥檙e thinking about people, not just power. And now, teaching and mentoring the next generation of engineers at 91爆料 gives me a chance to pass on that mindset 鈥� to inspire others to think beyond the technical and ask, “How does this system help the people who need it most?”

It鈥檚 been a winding journey, from a small town outside Nairobi to researching sustainable and inclusive energy solutions at a major university. But the core of it has always been the same: a desire to make a difference, to solve real-world problems with technology and to ensure that everyone, no matter where they are, has access to the energy they need to thrive.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

I鈥檇 tell my younger self not to worry so much about fitting into a mold or following a traditional path. Every experience, even the ones that seem unrelated or uncertain, contributes to your journey. Embrace the uncertainty, because it often leads to the most interesting places.

I鈥檇 also remind myself to be patient and kind with the process. Progress isn鈥檛 always linear. There were times when I felt overwhelmed or unsure of my next step. It鈥檚 okay to feel that way 鈥� it鈥檚 part of learning and growing. The setbacks, the challenges and even the moments of doubt are just as important as the successes. They shape you and teach you valuable lessons.

Finally, I鈥檇 tell myself to take more risks 鈥� to seek out the scary opportunities, the ones that seem daunting or unfamiliar. You never know where a seemingly small decision or unexpected twist in the road might take you. Sometimes, the things that seem out of reach are the ones worth pursuing most. So, trust yourself, stay curious and keep pushing forward, even when the path isn鈥檛 always clear. The journey will be worth it.

For more information, contact Lukuyu at jlukuyu@uw.edu.

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, Professor, Department of Biology

What do you study at the 91爆料?

We use plant, yeast and human cells to understand and engineer the molecular interactions that allow organisms to process information during development and stress responses.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

When I was a little girl, I attended a Montessori school in Los Angeles. This was the 1970s, and the teachers embraced the philosophy of letting a child’s interest direct their learning. I had one teacher that I really bonded with, named Dr. Pillai. He introduced me to the process of science research, rewarding my seemingly insatiable curiosity with thoughtful responses and sharing just the right book or model or experiment to help me dig deeper into any topic that caught my interest. He made me feel like asking a million questions was a wonderful quality (something not everyone agreed with, then or now!).

The pure joy of learning about the natural world through experimentation struck a deep chord. While the road was quite twisty between those early years and my decision to pursue science as a career, I am sure that I would not be here today without that early encouragement.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Be nicer to your dad when he is helping you with your math homework!

For more information, contact Nemhauser at jn7@uw.edu.

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, Doctoral student, Department of Health Systems & Population Health, School of Public Health

What do you study at the 91爆料?

My research focuses on understanding how people make decisions about their sexual and reproductive health care while navigating the multi-level influences that shape our current societal structure. In my research, I use mixed methods to analyze more traditional data sources, such as qualitative interviews and surveys, and newer data sources, such as TikTok videos, Reddit posts and electronic health record notes, to understand what type of information people seek out about sexual and reproductive health, their motivations behind decision-making and their care interactions with providers. I seek to examine how people with different lived experiences (for example: chronic disease, young people, veterans) may have different decision-making motivations and informational needs to make autonomous reproductive health decisions.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

I first became passionate about sexual and reproductive health while taking the class Sex, Gender and the Brain as a neuroscience undergraduate at Emory University. My final project focused on how anti-choice groups attempted to limit reproductive autonomy by promoting erroneous interpretations of neuroscience data to argue that oral contraceptives are dangerous. The class demonstrated to me how scientists could meld science with feminist theory and, more specifically, how the intentional distribution of misinformation online provides another tool to limit bodily autonomy.

Earlier in my educational career, teachers often framed my biology, chemistry and physics classes as apolitical or unbiased by societal structures. I now know that is not true. This class was one of the first classes where we were asked to name the specific orientation or lens of a research paper or study and describe who and what was left out.

I quickly dropped my neuroscience focus after this class and instead focused on policy-relevant, public 鈥揾ealth-informed research that aims to improve access to and the equity and quality of sexual and reproductive health care and information. While earning a master’s of public health, I started working at the Guttmacher Institute, a leading sexual and reproductive health policy and research organization based in New York City. There, I started working on research projects that directly studied ways to improve access to sexual and reproductive health services.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

I would advise my younger self to think critically about the lessons that are available in all academic classes, including English, dance, and history, and to think about how these lessons can be used to become a better public health researcher and writer.

For more information, contact Pleasure at zoep2@uw.edu.

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, Assistant professor of management, Foster School of Business

What do you study at the 91爆料?

My two primary topics of inquiry are meaningful work and employee sustainability. My research examines how to support employees who want to make a positive difference through their work in ways big and small, ranging from employees who view work as a calling 鈥� not just a paycheck but as a source of personal, social or moral significance 鈥� to those engaging in everyday acts of helping, kindness and compassion. I study the challenges that impede these activities to determine how employees can conduct their work more sustainably.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

I fell into academia. In 2007, I was working for the largest animal shelter in North America and I enrolled in a part-time master’s program in business because I had aspirations of one day rising into a leadership position in animal welfare.

In 2008, the Great Recession hit and I lost my job, but I also learned that professors in my master’s program did research (who knew!). At the time, research on meaningful work was in its infancy and focused primarily on the positive aspects (for example: showing that employees doing meaningful work have greater engagement and satisfaction). I saw this among my co-workers in the animal shelter, but I also saw so much frustration, burnout and resignation. Every day, employees who wanted to save animals’ lives were in the corner crying because of their inability to do so.

I applied to 10 doctoral programs and got into one, where I was lucky that my supervisors encouraged me to join the burgeoning wave of research looking at meaningful work as a double-edged sword and what to do about it. The rest is history.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

This is less advice for my younger self and more gratitude to all the people who helped me along the way. Early in your career, you do not yet know how anything works: how research works, what journals are appropriate outlets, how to develop the ability to know where to dedicate our efforts: what research projects are not only novel but important. Until then, senior mentors are invaluable guides. What makes for a successful career is all the people who generously offer their time and guidance along the way. I did many, many things wrong in my early career, but one thing I did right was to seek out and show my appreciation for any and all help. I would not be here if it wasn’t for the thousands of hours invested in me by others in the field and I hope I am paying that forward in a small part.

For more information, contact Schabram at schabram@uw.edu.

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, Assistant professor, School of Urban Studies, 91爆料 Tacoma

What do you study at the 91爆料?

听My research is primarily on housing segregation, but I have also become an expert on the overlap of and its relationship with the greening of cities in times of climate change and rising inequality.

What made you fall in love with this new research area?

听I happened to fall into this area in the middle of the night a couple months into my architecture doctoral program. It was early spring. I had moved to College Station, Texas, and was living in a relatively old timberstick house. It was about 1 a.m. when I jumped into my bed and then yelped out from a sharp pain in my lower back.

My first thought: a snake bite?! I leapt up, squeezed my back as if I could prevent any poison from getting in, turned on the light and scanned the bed for a snake. Nothing. Instead I saw a bug 鈥� a flat dark bug, not even an inch long. I scooped it up in a jar, let go of my “poisoned skin” and sighed in relief.

Then I thought, could this be a risky bug? I had just moved to the U.S. from Europe and I didn’t know the local fauna at all. To resolve this in a rational way, I settled on eliminating worst-case scenarios. I Googled: “most dangerous insects in Texas.” I checked the bug in the jar for unique characteristics and compared it to a ranking of鈥� JESUS! The third bug on the list was exactly the same bug that was staring at me from the jar: A Kissing bug鈥� a bite from which can lead to Chagas disease鈥� Deadly鈥� No cure鈥� Organs disintegrate in several decades.

My heart was pounding. My hand was back on the bite site. I was skimming the internet frantically. It was so late, and I had no one to call at that hour. I thought of calling people in Europe, but what would they know? I forced myself to read slowly and make a plan.

The message became clear: There is no cure for Chagas disease and the only symptom (sometimes) occurs the following morning: the swelling of one eyelid on the side closer to the bite site. Even if I went to the hospital, this seemed to be an under-studied disease and tests were limited. I resolved to just sleep it off and go to the doctor in the morning.

I woke up early. My face was symmetrical. Phew. I took the jar to the clinic right as they opened. Someone in the waiting room told me about getting bit by a brown recluse. “Oh well,” I thought, giving up on life a little.

The doctor took one look at the bug and said “Yes, that is a Kissing bug. There’s no cure. No test. Just move on, sorry!”

Perplexed, but also assured by the lack of urgency, I left the clinic. Over the next few days, my worries slowly faded as there apparently was nothing to do about this. I tossed the bug.

Two weeks later I saw an announcement on the university homepage from , then a doctoral student studying biomedical sciences. She was asking about any Kissing bug sightings and .

I immediately wrote to Rachel and reported what happened. She was super excited and asked me to bring her the bug. I said I threw it out, but had photos and I found a similar one 鈥� I had lots of bugs in my old house. We met over coffee. Rachel informed me that the bug was NOT a Kissing bug and that I should not worry. She could test me, but it was not necessary.

She explained the science of how the parasite behind Chagas disease, Trypanosoma cruzi, . It’s quite the process: After the bug bites you, it poops. The parasites are in infected bugs’ poop, which means that the poop has to get smudged into the bite site for you to get infected.

Then Rachel asked about my doctoral research and I told her I was studying housing in the colonias that line the border of Texas and Mexico. Her eyes lit up because she was looking to get samples from there. Thanks to the bug bite and my coffee with Rachel, a whole team formed and we started a pilot project that combined our research interests. This study became my master’s thesis, and six years later in the prestigious Habitat International journal.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Talk to doctoral students from many more disciplines!

For more information, contact 艩af谩艡ov谩 at bsafar@uw.edu.

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, Professor, Department of Biology and School of Aquatic and Fishery Sciences

What do you study at the 91爆料?

I am a natural historian who applies physics, math and engineering concepts to living systems to understand how they work. My research is driven by both the evolutionary implications of function and the possibility of bio-inspired design.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

From my earliest childhood I spent three seasons in downtown Manhattan and summer in the north woods of Ontario, Canada. The contrast between the most urban environment and a place without utilities or indoor plumbing was formative. Fishes, whether in tanks, on lines, or through my SCUBA mask, were my constant and most interesting companions. No detail was too obscure, and no species too drab to escape my attention.

I left fish behind when I got to college. Instead, it was a constant joy of mathematics and engineering, with a liberal arts sprinkling of art history, economics and German. After college I tried many things: I started a business, taught in the NYC public school system and attempted a career in photography. But I wasn’t willing to persist when things were hard or no fun. Then I went to Australia to become a SCUBA instructor. There I met my first biologist. I was smitten with the idea of making a living trying to understand animals.

On my return to New York, I immersed myself in biology, particularly the natural history of fishes, reptiles and amphibians. Spending hours in the field closely observing animals and their environment was one avenue of inspiration. The other was investigating animals’ shape, or morphology, with an electron microscope. The link between form and function was how my weeks passed 鈥� looking at microstructure, then wading in temporary ponds for larval salamanders. I fell completely in love with both areas and have made my career at that interface.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Treasure your mentors in the moment. They are gone too soon and you will never feel like you made it clear enough how much they affected you and your career.

For more information, contact Summers at fishguy@uw.edu.听

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, Associate professor, Department of Communication

What do you study at the 91爆料?

I am a critical-cultural studies scholar who focuses on race, gender, and sexuality in the media. Specifically, I study how Black people negotiate mass media as marginalized subjects whose status as citizens is always precarious. I’m especially interested in the stories that circulate about Black women, both external narratives and the stories that Black women craft about themselves.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

I sometimes think of myself as an accidental academic. I pursued a degree in magazine journalism and international relations in college with the intention of becoming a magazine editor. But everything changed the summer I landed an internship at my dream magazine, . At the time, many publications were closing their doors or downsizing their staff in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. All of a sudden, pursuing a career in magazines began to feel like a much larger risk than I was comfortable with. Aside from the industry woes, I also realized that I had just as much fun studying magazines (and other media) for class projects as I did working for one.

At Essence, the assignments that my editor gave me reflected a particular image of Black womanhood and assumptions about Blackness, femininity and masculinity that were key to the magazine’s brand. When I returned to school for my last year of college, I took a Black feminist theory course where I wrote essays exploring the questions that had popped into my mind during my internship 鈥� questions that I couldn’t shake, questions that played in the background of my mind whenever I was walking through the magazine aisle at the grocery store, or watching television or a movie. This taste of how deeply satisfying a life of the mind could be was a turning point. By the end of the feminist theory course I had decided to apply to graduate school.

My first book, “,” was a full-circle moment. In the book I offer a cultural history of Essence magazine and position it as a predecessor to contemporary commercial representations of Black womanhood realized in the 2010s through hashtags like #BlackGirlMagic and advertising campaigns, such as Proctor and Gamble’s “.” It was an amazing feeling to follow my curiosity and return to the questions that first captivated my mind as an intern. During the writing process I realized that the seeds of these questions had started even earlier, when I was a little girl sitting in a Black beauty shop with dozens of issues of Ebony, Jet and Essence magazines. Long before I was old enough to fully comprehend the articles, the images in these magazines captivated me, beaconing me to explore further.

The thing that most fills my heart about the scholarly path that I’ve chosen is being able to document and amplify the brilliance and beauty of Black women. There’s so much that’s problematic in the stories that society tells about Black women, but the brightest moments in my teaching and research are connected to the dope narratives that Black women craft about themselves.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Lean into the questions that captivate you and the subject areas that awaken your passion and curiosity. This will point you in the direction of your most fulfilling research projects and your very best writing.

For more information, contact Tounsel at timeka@uw.edu.

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, Assistant professor, School of Oceanography

What do you study at the 91爆料?

听I’m a coastal ecogeomorphologist, which means I study how ecology, geology and physics change the landscape on the coast. A lot of my work focuses on how biology (plants, microbes) alters how mud moves around coastal systems and changes what our coastlines look like. I am particularly interested in marshes and mudflats. I go into the field to measure what is really happening on the coast, and then develop numerical computer models to predict how these processes will change in the future.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

When I was 5 years old, my family went on vacation to Cape Cod National Seashore. We attended an educational program at the Salt Pond Visitor Center, and I knew I was in love. The stinky, muddy marsh felt like home to me immediately, and I still remember talking to the volunteer scientist about how marshes work. At that time, however, I had no idea that you could study marshes and mud as your job!

That formative memory never left me, even though, as I continued in school and focused on science, I intended to become a medical doctor. In my world, if you were good at math and science, the logical career path was to become a medical doctor.

I went to college at Boston University, where I planned to major in chemistry. But for every class project, I ended up focusing on oceans and coastlines. I had a wonderful TA who noticed this trend and mentioned to me in passing that my university had a marine science program and that maybe I should consider taking a class in that program to see if I liked it. I enrolled in a class called “Estuaries” and I’ve never looked back. The first week of the class, we took a field trip to collect data in a marsh and I was instantly transported back to my 5-year-old self, loving the marsh. I was the first student who jumped into the mud to collect data, and I didn’t want to leave. Within a few weeks I was working in that professor’s lab, and I really haven’t left the marsh since.

I also started developing so many questions about how things worked 鈥� and how everything tied together, from the mud to the birds 鈥� that I quickly realized that research and teaching in the field was what I needed to do with my life. My research has expanded a lot since then to encompass many different types of coasts, but my love for the rotten-egg-smelling, squelching mud drives a lot of what I choose to do. Being out in nature and seeing the processes happen in real time inspires me to understand coastal systems and help make a more resilient future for our planet and for people.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

I am incredibly lucky to have a job that I absolutely love, and I would encourage my younger self to pursue what makes me happy. Sometimes my work hardly feels like work because I am so engaged and excited by what I am discovering and the students I get to work with. While every day isn’t always amazing (I have bad work days too!), at the end of the work week I’m always thankful for what a great job I have. I hope that everyone is able to find something they are passionate about in their life.

I would also say: Believe in yourself and don’t compare yourself to others. Just keep doing what you love and what you think is important and helpful to others, and everything will work out okay.

For more information, contact Valentine at kvalent@uw.edu.

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, Associate professor, Department of Materials Science & Engineering

What do you study at the 91爆料?

My research team integrates materials science, data science and advanced manufacturing with primary applications in aerospace. We focus on three main areas:

1. Smart material testing methods, using physics-informed machine learning to control the testing parameters.
2. Smart manufacturing that leverages automation, sensing and machine learning. The goal is to develop AI for autonomous and self-aware manufacturing systems.
3. Smart engineering approaches to accelerate aerospace design and certification. We use a combination of machine learning, automated testing and physics-based numerical simulations techniques.

What made you fall in love with your research area?

According to my parents, my first word was “hot.” Looking back, it seems like a fitting start to a life deeply intertwined with the principles of heat transfer. My fascination with heat and materials began early and found a natural outlet in my love for cooking. I enjoy experimenting with different cooking techniques, all of which benefit immensely from an understanding of heat transfer. This passion even led me to publish a cookbook a few years ago.

After earning my doctoral degree, I began working at a research center in Canada, where I collaborated with various companies to solve their manufacturing challenges. Over time, I worked with a wide range of materials 鈥� concrete, wood, polymers, metals and composites. As I delved deeper into manufacturing, I started noticing fascinating parallels between it and cooking. Both require precise control of variables like temperature and pressure to transform materials into something new.

For instance, making aerospace composite parts in an autoclave is essentially pressure-cooking a layered material. Similarly, tempering chocolate to achieve its perfect microstructure, texture and snap is strikingly similar to controlling the crystallinity of thermoplastics to optimize their performance. Recognizing these connections allowed me to combine my personal passion for cooking with my professional love for materials science and engineering.

This love for exploring the science behind materials was paired with my lifelong interest in mathematics, which naturally led me to integrate machine learning and AI into my research. These tools provided a way to unlock deeper insights and bring innovation into material design and manufacturing. For example, my very first project as a professor at the 91爆料 was a collaboration with Boeing, where we developed AI for manufacturing aerospace composites. It was akin to creating a smart oven that can monitor the temperature of various parts and autonomously adjust the controls 鈥� a direct parallel to advanced cooking techniques.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

As you explore different options for your career, focus more on what you truly love to do. Don鈥檛 be afraid to combine your personal passions with your professional goals 鈥� start doing this earlier. The joy and fulfillment you鈥檒l find in aligning your personal interests with your career will open doors to creative opportunities and unique solutions you might not have imagined. Trust the process and follow what excites you most.

For more information, contact Zobeiry at navidz@uw.edu.

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The 91爆料 , based in the Foster School of Business, brings together experts in finance, climate data, and business to research climate-related financial risk.

Executive director , who is also a professor of practice of sustainable finance, and other representatives from the lab, are participating this week in . This annual event brings together 鈥渂usiness leaders, political change-makers, local decision-makers and civil society representatives鈥� to promote global climate action.

91爆料 News talked with Dr. Bruner about Climate Week NYC, developing the 91爆料 Climate Risk Lab in 2022 and how climate change is related to financial risk.

How will you be participating in Climate Week NYC?

Phillip Bruner: Thanks to the visionary leadership of our Dean, Frank Hodge, the 91爆料 is a founding partner of the New York Climate Exchange, which is New York State鈥檚 flagship climate innovation program. The 91爆料 Climate Risk Lab aims to provide access to leading climate risk research to the New York Climate Exchange network, as well as other financial sector stakeholders, which will significantly help broaden our impact beyond Washington state.

For us, this week will be about presenting our work and research to-date, discussing our data and the open-source software tools we鈥檙e developing with early funding, and explaining how we plan to fulfill our mission 鈥� which is to make the best climate risk data analysis and tools available to all.

Interestingly, our presentation will take place on Governor鈥檚 Island, which has been slated by the State of New York to be developed, in part, into a significant climate innovation hub.

Can you describe the focus of the 91爆料 Climate Risk Lab?

PB: We鈥檙e building a research and innovation platform that will advance our understanding of how climate change impacts financial risk analysis, and our understanding of financial risk at the level of assets and supply chains. For example, we鈥檙e looking very closely at what happens when extreme weather events become more frequent, more extreme and more costly 鈥� and how those extreme weather events can affect valuations and premiums for Washington state businesses and residents.

We鈥檙e looking at the Washington state grid right now, and that will be our focus for about the next six months. How will the increased intensity and frequency of wildfires affect the power grid in Washington? How will that, in turn, affect various interest groups and stakeholder communities? Our MSBA students led a capstone project at the end of last quarter looking at the effect wildfires can have on power reliability and this in turn can present added risks to data center operations in Washington state.

We’re looking to put a number around the question: How much is climate change going to cost Washington state utilities over the next 10 years? What does that mean for local communities? What does that mean for asset valuations? What does that mean for the insurance sector? What does that mean for the long-term strategic planning of the energy sector in Washington state? Of course, there are lots of additional questions we could ask, but we’re starting with a focus on just costs.

It’s likely to come as a surprise to some people that the Business School is home to a climate lab. Is this a relatively new idea?

We鈥檙e one of the first. There are a couple of universities that have a climate risk focus nationwide, but it鈥檚 a small number. Folks really need to understand the financial implications of climate change to make decisions and to protect communities and local businesses. Climate-related financial risks need to be tackled by building more resilient, sustainable energy systems.

It makes sense to me and to the Foster School to have this kind of research in the finance department, because businesses and corporations are mainly focused on what is material to their business. So, while climate change is a big global problem that everyone in the world needs to come together to solve, our focus is local and it’s on: What can we do in our backyard?

We鈥檙e thinking globally and acting locally regarding the problem of global climate change. Numbers don鈥檛 lie. Forty years ago, the U.S. experienced a billion-dollar disaster every four months. Today, we experience a billion-dollar disaster every three weeks. Climate change carries significant financial risks to businesses and communities, and we need to develop open-source tools and transparent resources to help all decision-makers adapt rapidly.

Beyond the Washington state power grid, what are some other issues the lab could focus on in the future?

PB: We鈥檙e very concerned about the growth of artificial intelligence and how data centers are used. AI could be useful for coming up with new ideas to solve climate change, but right now there鈥檚 almost a frenzy around large tech companies trying to build more and more data centers. There鈥檚 a direct relationship between the growth of AI, consumption in general and power consumption. So outside of wildfire and other weather-related risk to Washington state utilities, we are also looking at the risk to data centers and weather-related threats to critical infrastructure.

Emergency services is another area where we would like to focus on the future 鈥� power supply to hospitals, power supply to transportation networks. We also want to look at the disproportionate impact of power outages on historically marginalized communities. So how power outages disproportionately affect low-income communities and people living in rural versus urban constituencies. Not everyone’s affected the same way.

For more information, contact Bruner at pdbruner@uw.edu.