I sat in the backseat of the little blue car as it rattled down the narrow two-lane road, past the sunflower fields, and headed towards the Normandy American Cemetery. My grandfather had been a prisoner of war, and he was aging. It was our chance to bear witness to his story before it was too late.
I reflected on our family trip so far—adventures exploring the streets of Paris with my brothers and the exquisite breakfasts with my cousins at our chateau hotel in the Loire Valley. Now it was time to refocus on what really brought us here.
When my grandfather was captured, there were three American tanks. They made a wrong turn and were ambushed. In a moment of bravery, a fellow soldier tossed my grandfather a bible as they exited the tank, a gift that hid his identity and gave him a chance at life. The Nazis lined the soldiers up. The men in the first tank were shot, then the last. The men in the middle tank were spared and they marched with the Nazis as prisoners until the end of the war.
We arrived at the cemetery and the cool breeze sent chills down my spine as the sun warmed the green grass overlooking the ocean. Below us, on those same shores, thousands of American troops landed on D-Day. Yet it was peaceful. The children playfully flew kites on the beach, masking the blood that once soaked the sand.
“Zadie, did you know anyone who died in the D-Day invasion?”
My grandfather paused. "Sam Shapiro," he said. "I heard he was deployed, but never heard from him again."
As we walked alongside thousands of crosses, we saw a lone star. I read the tombstone: "Sam Shapiro, Chicago, Illinois." I froze, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. Then we ran to find my grandfather.
My Zadie placed a stone on the grave—a custom when visiting the grave of a loved one. He cried. It is the only time I ever saw him cry. There was no one for Zadie to tell.
Everyone who knew Sam Shapiro was gone.
Zadie looked directly in my eyes and commanded: "Never Forget. Never forget the freedoms we fought for. Never forget the atrocities of the Holocaust."
My purpose was formed as we stood next to Sam Shapiro's lone Jewish star with the weight of Zadie's two words: never forget. It is what drives me back down the narrow two-lane road. To be the voice of those who have been silenced.
For what is a story if it is not heard? And what happens to a story if it is not retold?
EMPOWERING PEOPLE
& ENGAGING COMMUNITIES
One of the first Section 504 disability accommodation meetings I attended as lead attorney was at an elementary school on Chicago's South Side. Many South Side neighborhoods live with the consequences of residential and economic segregation: lower educational attainment, high unemployment, and under-resourced schools. While waiting for school representatives, I watched a classroom teacher photocopy aging pages from a 1950s workbook for a class activity. It struck me then that regardless of their academic potential, these students were at a marked disadvantage.
Over the four years I represented schoolchildren with disabilities in Illinois, I witnessed disparities in under-resourced urban schools, rural one-room schoolhouses, and districts retaliating against families perceived as different. Drawing on both my public health training and legal background, I took a multifaceted approach: empowering parents, training health professionals, developing curricula, advising school districts, and teaching workshops for school officials and teachers. Working at IIT Chicago-Kent College of Law's legal clinic gave me the privilege of supporting community-engaged learning opportunities for graduate law and public health students. This experience solidified my commitment to teaching.
My teaching philosophy has evolved over the past fifteen years and is grounded in the belief that solving complex problems requires critical and creative thinkers willing to push beyond their comfort zone, try new strategies, bring people together, and communicate effectively. I structure courses to allow students to practice supporting one another as colleagues, teammates, educators, learners, and leaders—balancing experiential learning, case-based methods, peer-to-peer learning, and other active engagement strategies that encourage informed decision-making, reflection, and growth.
Community engagement is not a complement to my work: it is central to it. I have built a strong partnership base locally in Los Angeles, across the country, and around the world, creating opportunities for students to gain practical experience while helping organizations build capacity. Through my applied practice experience course, CHS 400, more than 300 students have contributed over 120,000 hours to public health work alongside community partners since 2019, with more than ninety organizations engaged since 2022.
Since joining UCLA, I have served as instructor of record for 44 courses enrolling more than 1,100 students, and I have worked hard to ensure that the infrastructure supporting those students is as strong as the curriculum itself. That means writing grants, securing over $3.5 million to develop and sustain programs, and partnering with community organizations on their own funding efforts—including support that resulted in more than $100,000 in stipends for UCLA students completing their applied practice experience internships.