October 2026 Flinn Scholars Alumni Newsletter

From the Flamily

Who has been an influential mentor in your life, and what did they teach you that college couldn’t?

Ivy Gerbis

1992 Scholar

I’m sure I won’t be alone in saying that I was deeply influenced by Michael Cochise Young. I knew her first as the Associate Director of the ASU Honors College, where her warmth and enthusiasm made her a beloved mentor to many students. I was also lucky enough to work with her at the Flinn Foundation as her assistant director and witnessed the depth of her dedication to student success. She became a mentor, a colleague, and a friend.

When I was the Assistant Director of the Honors Program at University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire and graduating students excitedly introduced me to their parents, I realized that I was carrying on her legacy. It made me resolve to Be Somebody’s Michael. I’m so glad I shared that with her while I could. She was my inspiration to be kind, be curious, and be brave.

William Valencia

2003 Scholar

“The hill can’t change. It will always be steep. It will always hurt. What can and must change is how quickly you recover after cresting that hill, for there will always be another looming just ahead.”

It has been more than 25 years since my cross country coach and first mentor imparted that wisdom to me. I still – to this day – recite it to myself whenever I face a daunting task or decision. Whether a grueling hike in the Arizona backcountry or developing new curricula in another language, I am ever aware of what hard work and determination brings: another hill to crest.

Amy Shahar (Stabler)

2007 Scholar

In 2011, I graduated from my master’s program equipped with degrees in economics and geography, a passion for water solutions, and a mission to meaningfully integrate public input into public administration.

My first boss, then-Tucson City Councilmember Steve Kozachik, taught me more about translating that preparation into real-world impact than I suspect I grasp even today. A few lessons I’ve taken with me: Steve K. taught me to ditch perfection in favor of outcomes. He helped me see that encountering conflict means it’s time to lean in, not shy away. And he taught me to earnestly hear everyone out, no matter how venomous the delivery, how fringe the view, or how self-centered the motives. Perhaps most importantly, he didn’t do any of this so people would “feel heard.” He did it pragmatically, knowing the only path to a lasting solution is one that no one will have to be dragged down kicking and screaming.

In my current role helping an international architecture and engineering firm’s clients navigate complex, multi-stakeholder water challenges, I find myself drawing on these lessons every day.

Alumni gatherings in November

We’re excited to bring Flinn alumni together for two regional gatherings in November!

Thanks to alumni volunteers helping to organize these events, we’ll have opportunities for Flinns in the Bay Area and greater Boston to reconnect with familiar faces, make new connections, and enjoy time together.

Whether you’ve stayed closely connected to the Flinn community or haven’t seen fellow alumni in years, we’d love for you to join the gathering!

Remembering Ted Humphrey: share your stories

We were saddened to learn of the passing of Ted Humphrey, founding dean of Barrett, The Honors College at Arizona State University, on Oct. 7. A visionary leader and passionate educator, Ted played a transformative role in shaping honors education at ASU and creating an academic community that has enriched the experiences of generations of Flinn Scholars.

As we reflect on his remarkable legacy, we’d love to hear from Flinn alumni who had the opportunity to learn from or work with Ted. Did he challenge your thinking, offer guidance, or influence your academic or personal journey? Do you have a favorite memory or story about him?

We’re gathering alumni reflections for a future story celebrating Ted’s life and impact on the Flinn Scholars community.

Alumni Voices

Jean Robey, M.D.

Class of 1992 Flinnliness

In the 34 years since I graduated high school and became a Flinn I have thought about the happenstance of being selected so many times. “Flinnliness” has been for me during formable years an elusive sanctuary of minds and motives. Our class had little in common except that we had little in common at times and we all did whatever we did uniquely. It is interesting to think of all that highbrow diversity Flinning around.

I ended up in medicine, as I had hoped, and I ended up a writer, the thing I had practiced all my life, circling back to it once I needed writing to survive doctoring and writing depended on the authentic drama of medicine. I ended up caring a lot about the future generations of dormant youth who are floating around looking for opportunity and peers, so, I mentor and teach. I think I ended up being a Flinn fully by 50 now and my Flinnliness is this constant, indescribably intangle, off the beaten path way of looking at any person, plan, or purpose.

I have had a lot of interesting inflection points. Once, someone asked, “What will you do once you reach the summit?” I finished all my training and was practicing my discipline. By year four I was finding things monotonous and grew disenchanted. For mountain climbers, the summit is an eerily quiet place that echoes questions: “Was it worth it?” “Did you find what you were looking for?” “Do you like what you are doing? Do you like who you are?” “How do you stay stimulated but not burnt out or ever chasing?”

I began to write again and found myself seeking each day the things worthy of writing about, and my soul returned. I have had some hard times pressing forward to make good on deadlines I create for myself. “Before I die…,” I chant, and I worry the day is already arriving. I do not want to die with information unshared. I feel a liability and a waste, not an irrelevance.

I am happiest to have been patient and intentional when I published my first book [https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FQQTN5TG?lv=shuf&channelId=500&plpRedirect=mhFallback], “Evesonderism: Living the Story of Narrative Medicine.” If you are thinking of being a physician, I offer you early clues on how to remain loving it. I am happiest to talk and shortcut your search the harder way that I took. I have had constant affirmation from my profession that I met my calling, and my patients gift me with their permissive and sacred intimacy, with gooey thanks.

Once in college a respected mentor said to me, “You need to focus your energy and pick one thing to study.” I gave it a lot of heartbreaking thought, and it continues to haunt me every time I find myself not picking one thing. Yet, I understand every second breath that I, in fact, do not need to pick one thing, and in that dire disability are my different approaches to problem analyzing and problem-solving. Humans do not operate in any focal manner. Doctoring them needs a very multifaceted framework. Humans are complex and personal equations that are fascinating to be around and to be invited to observe, engage, and draw from. It would be a very superficial understanding and contribution to come from narrow attributes to join in their ongoing narrative as a physician.

My biggest pearl for all is to say my greatest accomplishments were not academic. They were personal and in those are the hallmarks of life and living it. My toughest days were understanding my spouse and my children as they grow to understand themselves. Saving space, allowing their whole universe to be as unadulterated by unconstructive and negative feedback or, essentially, my own bias and limitations, has been my skill set to master and apologize for the lack of instant recognition. My greatest thought every day contemplates how paths are laid and whether I could die today satisfied. Every day we are but at heaven’s foyer. Every day we have the audacity to be here another day.

I recall the wall on Jimmy John’s sandwich where a story is told of a man who loves fishing so much he builds a company with a fleet of efficient ships for large-scale fishing …only to take a week off and go fishing. We circle back to the simplest aspects of our joys after long and useful journeys to affirm them. That makes the best people and the Flinn Foundation selection committee knows this.

I think any Flinn would understand this sentiment and would likely have their own way of exploring it. I hope every Flinn brings their passion, and their part to play, to our growing cadre. I’m happy that my origin story aligns so Flinnly with those of my fellow Flinns, now and to come.

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