The Brief

If someone were to tell you: “Close your eyes. Picture a scientist.” Who would you envision?

Maybe you’d picture Albert Einstein and his unruly hair. Or maybe your mind would go to Marie Curie and her stern gaze. Researchers have found that students persistently picture older white men in lab coats, usually with glasses.

For years, the K-12 education team at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory worked to get students to see themselves.

The team made hundreds of lesson plans around major space events. They facilitated workshops for teachers, created a high school internship, took meteor rocks to local campuses, and much, much more.

All of these activities were meant to foster the next generation of STEM professionals.

But during the latest round of layoffs at JPL last November, the tiny team was among the 325 let go. And though some parts of the educational program remain, educators across the country mourn what was lost.

For teachers, by teachers 

Three of the K-12 education team’s four members are former classroom teachers. That experience helped them know what to do — and what not to do — to make their materials useful. 

Brandon Rodriguez, who’d taught high school chemistry and physics, said it was all about “respecting the limitations” teachers often have to navigate, including tiny budgets and being strapped for time. As a result, he and his colleagues made it a point to keep it simple and “keep it cheap” when they designed projects and lessons for JPL’s education website. And to align those materials with California’s math and science standards.

“We wanted to make sure that teachers didn't have to figure out how to get our stuff in,” said Ota Lutz, former manager for STEM elementary and secondary education, and a former math teacher.

The education team served as a pipeline, taking the missions, discoveries, and engineering innovations that happened at JPL and turning them into resources for teachers.

“There were these things that were popping up in the news, and kids were hearing about them. But they were happening so fast that teachers wouldn't necessarily have time to become an expert in the topic and develop lessons that would go along with that,” said Lyle Tavernier, former educational technology specialist.

“It was sort of, like, ‘OK, this is something kids are going to be excited about. How can we get this into teachers’ hands?’” he said.

Tavernier is especially proud of a JPL resource inspired by a meteor that exploded over Chelyabinsk, Russia, which challenges students to calculate the force of the explosion.

The team’s efforts proved fruitful. The JPL education website “drove about 30% of [the research center’s] annual web traffic, to the tune of about a little over two million visits annually,” Lutz said.

The resources she and her colleagues created have been used by educators worldwide.

At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, for instance, NASA landed the Perseverance Rover on Mars, in search for signs of ancient microbial life. The K-12 team created the Mission to Mars Student Challenge, a seven-week unit that teaches students how to design, build, launch, and land missions of their own — “using materials you have around the house,” Lutz said. When her team opened up registration for accompanying webinars, more than a million people signed up.

“We had participation around the U.S., all over Europe, Australia, New Zealand,” she added. “We didn't expect that. It just exploded in a wonderful way.”

'Design an alien' 

One of the K-12 team’s biggest fans lives in the state of Michigan: Anne Tapp Jaksa is a professor at Saginaw Valley State University, where she’s training the next generation of educators.

Among other things, Tapp Jaksa appreciates that the JPL resources often weave in other subjects, such as social science and English.

“The materials [the K-12 team] created are just exemplary,” she told LAist. Many of the activities Tapp Jaksa models for her students were created by Lutz and her colleagues.

When Tapp Jaksa had the opportunity to go on sabbatical, she spent a semester at JPL. Under the K-12 team’s guidance, she created learning materials of her own, including “Design an Alien,” inspired by Jupiter's icy moon, Europa. The lesson is rooted in observations by NASA spacecraft, which found that the moon has features that are interesting to scientists who are exploring the possibility of life beyond Earth.

Tapp Jaksa’s lesson, designed for grades 2-8, teaches students about the elements that are required to sustain life. It instructs teachers to “Have students imagine what an alien plant or animal would look like to survive in the environment . . . Would an alien animal need to have feet, fins, or a radiation shield? Would an alien plant have a large trunk or huge leaves?” That lesson includes illustrated dice to turn it into a game.

An onramp for students into the sciences

Tavernier and his colleagues also wanted to push students to have a broader notion of who could become a scientist. 

For the little ones, “I wanted to show students examples of a broad and diverse group of people who are in those types of roles, to show that anybody can be a scientist or an engineer, but, also, to share with them that these are everyday people,” he said.

Tavernier loved when kids asked difficult questions.

“There's this idea that if you work at NASA, you know everything and you're a genius. And the reality is that everybody is there because they are passionate about what they do,” he said. “And so, I loved it when kids asked me questions and I didn't know the answer, because then I could say: ‘Well, I don't know the answer. Maybe you can look it up.’ Or, if nobody knew the answer, ‘Maybe you can become a scientist or an engineer and help us answer that question someday.’"

Following a lesson created by JPL's K-12 team, students at Carpenter Community Charter School used pinhole cameras to safely watch a solar eclipse.

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Courtesy Lauren Manning

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For older students, the team created a high school internship. Lutz and her manager saw it as an important opportunity, especially as budget cuts threatened such opportunities at NASA.

Lutz looked into which school districts had been allotted state and federal workforce development grants. She reached out to those within a 50-mile radius of JPL’s campus in La Cañada Flintridge.

“There are smart kids at every school,” she said, “and we wanted to work with students who may not might not have otherwise found their way to JPL.”

Over the last decade, Lutz and her team brought in summer interns from Glendale, El Monte, El Segundo, Pasadena, and Santa Ana.

“They just let us loose on this government facility!” said Pedro, a student from Santa Ana Unified School District who interned last summer.

“It’s always a blast going into the cafeteria and meeting with mentors, and then their colleagues, and getting to see, like, their life experience,” he added.

“There’s so much to look at here,” said Regina, also a student at Santa Unified. “There was never a dull day in this internship . . . You could just go into [a] building and be, like, ‘Hey! I’m an intern. Do you have time to talk?’”

For a teenager “to walk into a professional organization and work eight hours a day and be part of a team and be treated as a peer is a real shift from being in a classroom,” Lutz said.

When high school students first arrive, she added, “they're excited, but they're nervous. They're afraid they won't do well, or they're not sure what they've gotten into.” But by the eighth week, “they're walking around like they own the place. They are giving presentations to rooms full of scientists and engineers, fielding questions like professionals.”

JPL was scheduled to have another batch of high school students from Santa Ana in 2025. That will no longer be the case. (Santa Ana Unified declined to comment.)

When Lutz found out she was being let go, she immediately reached out to the district, before she lost access to her JPL email.

A source of professional development

Lauren Manning is a fourth grade teacher and the coach of the robotics team at Carpenter Community Charter School in Studio City.

She routinely takes students on field trips to JPL and makes wide use of the resources Lutz, Rodriguez, Tavernier, and web producer Kim Orr created.

One of Manning’s favorite lessons involves teaching students how to build a proper spacecraft lander — an essential skill when “touch[ing] down on the Moon, Mars, or another world of your choosing.”

Lauren Manning attended numerous professional development sessions hosted by JPL's K-12 team.

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Courtesy Lauren Manning

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“You have two marshmallows inside of a cup that represent astronauts,” Manning said. “And so, you have to drop [your lander] from a meter above the ground. And the astronauts can't fall out or get hurt.”

Manning loves lessons like these because, for students, “having something that they can touch, that they can see with their own eyes, makes learning that much more fun. And they can understand the concepts so much better when you're doing these activities, instead of just teaching from a textbook.”

Above all, Manning appreciated the K-12 team’s Saturday morning professional development sessions.

“First of all, it's cool being at JPL,” she said. “You're around like-minded people who are interested in bringing science into the classroom. And then we went right into the activities, where they weren't just talking about the activities, but we actually got to do [them] together.”

Rodriguez said those sessions were a way to share ideas in a way that also helped JPL. “We learned together, we found creative ways to make impactful content, to deliver it to students, and to promote science education.”

Thanks to Lutz and her team, Manning became certified to borrow meteor rocks and moon samples from JPL. She also noted that “Ota and Brandon were the first people [who] taught me about robots and coding at a professional development, and now I coach a robotics team that competes in tournaments.”

“That could have never been possible without them opening up my eyes to something new,” Manning said. “They've completely changed my trajectory as an educator.”

Students in Manning's class used paper cups, cardboard, and other everyday materials to design their own landers.

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Courtesy Lauren Manning

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In an email statement, Matthew Segal, JPL’s news chief, said that while the research center “cannot currently support teacher trainings,” the education website “will continue to feature updated resources.” Segal noted that it features “200 lesson plans, more than 50 student projects, and almost five dozen ‘Teachable Moments’ directly related to space topics.”

Manning said she’s nervous about where she’ll get that assistance in the future. “And I'm just really, really sad to not have their partnership and work with them anymore,” she added.

Lutz and her colleagues are proud of that effort.

“I think we had the opportunity to make a difference, and we did,” she said. “And I'm sorry we won't be doing that anymore.”

K-12 reporter Mariana Dale contributed to this story.

Early every Saturday for the last three and a half years, William Campbell, 61, leaves his Silver Lake home to be at the Angels Flight station for the first ride at 6:45 a.m.

Campbell is one of a team of operators behind the proverbial wheel of the two near-identical funiculars — named Olivet and Sinai — that go up and down a 33% angle slope from Hill Street to Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles.

“You’re a part of living history,” said Campbell, who is dressed in an orange and black waistcoat and bow tie, and wears a bowler hat with a monarch butterfly on top. There’s a reason for that, he said mysteriously.

Angels Flight on Bunker Hill.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Today, I am the first rider. Soon after, I am joined by a family visiting from Texas.

“I was just looking at a local tourist place, and I just saw this small, cute railway,” said Michael Nguyen, who was alongside his mother and sister. “I was like, oh, this looks interesting. And I saw that you can actually go on it. I was like, OK, that’s pretty dope.”

Masterminded by lawyer, politician and engineer Col. James Ward Eddy, the Angels Flight “hillevator” opened on New Year’s Eve 1901 as a way for people to travel up and down Bunker Hill, which was then the place where the city’s wealthy population lived.

The journey took them down to the streets and stores below and from 1917, Grand Central Market, with the first passengers paying just a penny fare for what was billed as the “shortest railway in America,” traveling just 298 feet.

When he’s not working his weekday full-time day job investigating animal cruelty and abuse, Campbell spends his spare time looking through online newspaper archives for any information about Angels Flight.

Angels Flight Railway.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Angels Flight Railway.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Originally located by the 3rd Street Tunnel — at the end of the block from where it is now — the train has been through several changes, as has Bunker Hill itself.

“All the wealthy people moved to Beverly Hills, and Brentwood, and Bel Air, and beyond. And all their wonderful Victorian mansions were turned into boarding houses, and it attracted a lower income, more diverse population, which resulted in blight and crime — at least according to the city,” Campbell said of Bunker Hill's transformation.

City officials authorized Bunker Hill to be all but razed in the 1950s and '60s, and Angels Flight was put into what was promised to be temporary storage for a year or two, despite protests from singer Peggy Lee and others.

The year was 1969. And it took nearly three decades for its return. Angels Flight welcomed passengers again in 1996 to its current location after test runs were made with cases of beer and soft drinks weighing 9,000 pounds. The cable cars were rebuilt exactly as before, but with modern safety requirements, such as Sinai having wheelchair space.

A 2001 accident in which one person died and seven were injured saw another long closure until 2010, and there was a derailment in 2014, which saw another short shuttering. But Angels Flight has been running ever since 2017, save the odd mechanical problem.

William Campbell.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Angels Flight keepsakes made by William Campbell for riders to take.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Campbell describes himself as a cheerleader for Angels Flight, and you can easily see why. During his shift he pins up a 1904 photo of the city’s landscape taken from an 80-foot-high observation tower at the original location, so people can compare it to the skyscraper skyline of today.

“At one time you could see all the way to Catalina,” he noted.

There is also a display about near-forgotten Bunker Hill folk artist Marcel Cavalla, and Campbell gives away Angels Flight bookmarks, stickers and maps, all of which he researches, designs and prints out of his own pocket.

One of his projects, old advertisements from 1901 to the 1940s, is displayed in the panels above the seats, and was installed a couple of months ago.

Interior of Angels Flight, showcasing old advertisements from 1901 to the 1940s that Campbell installed.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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One of the vintage ads for Catalina Carrier-Pigeon Service.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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There's everything from old Market Basket supermarket ads, to Barbara Stanwyck shilling for Lux toilet soap, to a standard power mower from John Bean manufacturing, to one for the Catalina Carrier Pigeon Service, which operated from 1894 to 1902, taking messages from Avalon to Bunker Hill.

And the monarch butterfly on his hat? That’s related to his Angels Flight “holy grail,” the one question he can’t definitively answer: why were they painted orange and black?

With that, Campbell grabs his binoculars and sees there are passengers waiting for a ride up, so I get into Olivet and wave goodbye as I travel down to Hill Street.

A group called Neighbors Helping Neighbors has been clearing overgrown weeds for free on fire survivors' empty lots in Altadena.

They’ve finished 10 with many more to go. They’re keeping at it not just to keep things tidy, but to avert another disaster as the region enters fire season — and their efforts are spreading. More than 200 homeowners have signed up, after hearing about the group from its Facebook page and through word of mouth.

“I'm 5 feet 2 inches tall, but there were weeds 6 and 8 feet tall,” said Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines, the ringleader. She is also a co-founder of Altadena Talks Foundation, a nonprofit started in the wake of the Eaton Fire.

Bailey-Raines lives in San Dimas but grew up in Altadena. Her parents and sister all lost their homes in the Eaton Fire.

“I went to my parents' lot one day,” she said. “I loaded up the back of my car with my lawnmower, my blower, my rake, because I wanted to make sure their lot was cleaned up.”

It took seven hours, but she figured all that overgrown vegetation can't be good for Altadena with the fire season just around the corner.

And just like that, the idea for Neighbors Helping Neighbors was born.

Preventing another disaster

Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines, founder of Neighbors Helping Neighbors.

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Fiona Ng

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LAist

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Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines at one of the cleared lots.

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Fiona Ng

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LAist

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The very first lot, just south in Pasadena, was cleared in mid-April. Bailey-Raines said the property was getting notices from the city to clear the lot or face escalating fines. Pasadena conducts brush clearance inspections every spring and summer.

Toni said the family had moved to Mississippi after the Eaton Fire.

“You lost everything, and then somebody's gonna tell you they're gonna give you a fine because you have weeds on your lot and you're not even here to see that?” Bailey-Raines said.

That day, she rounded up a group of nine people, including her son and his friend. A neighbor across the street was suspicious at first, but eventually told her, "You have me for about an hour." He stayed for two.

The job took less than four hours.

A growing movement

On May 13, dozens of volunteers showed up in Altadena to clear seven lots in one morning.

One of them — a 14,000-square-foot lot — belongs to Sarkis Aleksanian and his family. He had reached out to Bailey-Raines in late April, after learning about the group from a neighborhood WhatsApp chat.

“I was looking into cleaning up the lot and really daunted by the prospect,” he said. “I was worried that the lawn would dry up and be a problem.”

Aleksanian and his wife were on hand to help out. It’s the one thing that Bailey-Raines requires — for the homeowners to be there.

“I've asked them that if they're able-bodied to be here and help,” she said. “You're here. You're encouraging people, and you're helping on your lot. [Sarkis] was doing everything from weed-eater, to chainsaw, to whatever, and that's what it's about.”

This 14,000-square-foot lot in Altadena was cleaned up in less than two hours on a recently Saturday.

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Fiona Ng

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LAist

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“It was just remarkable, I tell you,” Aleksanian said. He said he recognized some of the volunteers that morning — folks he sees in the community.

And he did encounter someone he knew — a high school acquaintance from years back. “It's neighbors helping neighbors, just like she called it, you know?” Aleksanian said.

His lot was finished in 90 minutes.

More is needed

With a growing waitlist, what is needed are people and equipment — from gloves and trash bags to the hardware.

“I have six brush cutters and two chainsaws and a couple trimmers, but I need, like, triple that at least,” she said.

Same goes for rechargeable batteries that power these tools — which Bailey-Raines juices up with generators they bring on-site.

A number of organizations — including Neighborhood Survants, Altagether, Project Passion, My Tribe Rise, Dena Heals — have granted money and donated equipment and manpower. Bailey-Raines has also put in her own money.

“My dream is one Saturday morning to have 500 people and that we clear a whole street, a whole block — so that this list of 200 can go down, and as others hear about it, they get on it, and we as a community do this as neighbors to help one another,” she said.

After fires and floods, Southern California’s only remaining native freshwater turtle recently got a boost.

Just last month, 15 southwestern pond turtle hatchlings were released into the San Gabriel River — a major milestone in an effort to restore the vulnerable turtle population.

But this wasn’t a typical raise-and-release scenario.

These turtles’ parents went on a harrowing journey before they were born.

A daring rescue

In early September 2020, amid a heat wave and dry weather, a tree branch hit a Southern California Edison power line, igniting the Bobcat Fire.

The fire eventually scorched more than 180 square miles — mostly forest in the San Gabriel Mountains. For comparison, the 2025 Eaton Fire burned about 22 square miles.

Lights from a fire truck illuminate firefighters working the Bobcat Fire in September 2021.

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Frederic J. Brown

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Getty Images

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As the Bobcat Fire spread, biologists grew worried. The fire was burning in the West Fork of the San Gabriel River, a biodiversity hotspot and refuge for bears and mountain lions, the federally protected Santa Ana sucker fish and the mountain yellow-legged frog.

It’s also home to the largest remaining — and possibly only — population of southwestern pond turtles in the entire watershed. Their exact numbers aren’t known, but it’s likely less than 200.

“Because this hadn’t burned in decades and decades and decades, there was big concern about debris flows,” said Robert Fisher, a biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey.

Scientists hoped the turtles would be able to ride out the fire itself by staying in the water, but any rain after would likely lead to a deluge of mud, trees and other burned materials. That would be akin to an avalanche for the turtles in the river, and it had the potential to wipe out the entire population.

Once the flames died down, Fisher and a team of biologists, in partnership with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife and U.S. Forest Service, trekked to the home of the pond turtles.

“It was a moonscape,” Fisher said.

They waded through ashy, murky waters, eventually collecting 11 adult turtles.

A temporary home and 15 surprises

The turtles were taken to the San Diego Zoo, where the plan was to hold them until their mountain habitat recovered enough for them to return.

By 2024, the San Gabriel Mountains were looking far better — biologists even found some pond turtles that survived major debris flows.

But right before the turtles were set to go back home, scientists got a surprise.

“Just before we were getting to release, we found a baby turtle, which is amazing,” said Brandon Scott, wildlife care manager of herpetology and ichthyology at San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance. “You don't know how long it's going to take to restart that process of them actually being able to breed, with the stress and it's a new habitat.”

A juvenile southwestern pond turtle is weighed before being released to the wild.

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Ken Bohn

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Courtesy San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance

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The turtles and the new baby were all returned to their home in the San Gabriels. But then came another surprise. And another.

“We just continually, every day, started finding a baby in that habitat,” said Scott.

Female southwestern pond turtles lay and bury their eggs in late spring or early summer. Juveniles emerge months later, only about the size of a quarter.

Fifteen babies later, conservation staff were shocked and pleased.

Their goal for the 11 rescued turtles was to make sure they could thrive before being released back into their habitat. “But in the process,” Scott said, “yes, we made it comfortable enough for them to breed.”

A hopeful release

The new generation of southwestern pond turtles was released in April near the spot their parents were rescued from in the San Gabriel River.

Such rescues of vulnerable wildlife are becoming increasingly common in the face of more catastrophic fires. All but two of the biggest fires in recorded history have been in the last 20 years.

Fisher said a similar rescue of pond turtles had occurred only once before, after the 2009 Station Fire in the San Gabriels. That time, the turtles were quickly returned to their habitat.

A staff member of the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance releases a juvenile southwestern pond turtle into the San Gabriel River.

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Ken Bohn

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Courtesy San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance

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That rescue, in part, inspired the U.S. Geological Survey to work with the San Diego Zoo to build a conservation habitat for southwestern pond turtles nearly two decades ago. And the Bobcat Fire became the first time it was used for wild rescues, Fisher said.

Ironically, the Bobcat Fire could eventually help the local population, Fisher said.

“We’ve known about [the population] for decades, but it’s not really thriving,” he said. “So this helped give it a head start. And because the fire was so intense, it opened up a lot of habitat.”

With less tree canopy and more sunlight, the cold-blooded reptiles could thrive in warmer waters and on sunnier rocks.

But the new generation is key.

“Because the site was so forested and hadn’t burned in so long, we don’t think they were having good success at breeding,” Fisher said. “Now we think we’ve really enhanced the population by putting more animals out there, especially young animals.”

Scott and Fisher said the saga has inspired preliminary conversations about formalizing breeding efforts to support the population. The little turtles' myriad threats have yet to let up, so they’ll likely need more help in the future.

But at the moment, there’s a little more hope — at least 16 hatchlings and 11 adults' worth of hope, to be exact — for California’s only native freshwater turtle.