first two years of medical school. He enjoyed only one course: pathology—a science that tells a story. “I still love pathology,” he adds, recalling pivotal figures in the course: Robert L. Trelstad, MD, then professor and chair, Department of Pathology and Laboratory Medicine, “cutting out lectures and introducing selfdirected small groups with faculty facilitators,” and Peter S. Amenta, MD, PhD, then assistant professor of pathology and laboratory medicine. “Dr. Amenta was outstanding,” Dr. Brenner recalls, “not only for his knowledge of pathology, but also his huge enthusiasm for the topic and his ability to energize the discussion.” It was 1992, and national health care reform was in the spotlight. Not only did the United States have the world’s highest health care costs, but also a substantial portion of its residents lacked basic medical insurance. Affordable primary and preventive health care services were conspicuously inadequate in American cities—including New Brunswick, the medical school’s immediate community. In addition to his gift as a raconteur, Dr. Brenner has an uncanny ability to unify people with varied, often competing, agendas in a collective effort. He called on this skill to tackle both of these concerns: how to provide clinical experience for first- and second-year medical students and how to address the need for affordable primary care. He worked with the Office of Student Affairs and classmate Jamie Reedy, MD ’95, MPH, to establish the studentoutreach program that they named HIPHOP (the Homeless and Indigent Population Health Outreach Project). Following the advice of David Seiden, PhD, then associate dean for admissions, and Paul Mehne, PhD, then asso- Taking Risks, Building Collaboration the curriculum from day one,” he says. “The most important thing for a doctor to learn is communication.” 38 Robert Wood Johnson I MEDICINE t he basic science curriculum lacked experiential education, an omission that troubled Dr. Brenner. “You need to intertwine clinical experience with