Marie Frolich - Vice Chair of Alumni Outreach & Engagement

In the future newsletters, we'll be spotlighing members of our Alumni Association, introducing the dedicated individuals helping to strengthen and grow our alumni community. We believe it's important for students to get to know the people working behind the scenes to build lasting connections. Our first member is Marie Frolich, our Vice Chair of Alumni Outreach & Engagement. Read her story below.

The waiting room looked sterile, old magazines were scattered in every corner. Five-year-old Marie Frolich sat in a chair that was too big for her. Her untied shoelaces swung, she sipped apple juice, and stared at a man across from her, struggling to find a comfortable position. Marie didn’t understand what was happening. On the other side of the room a door creaked open.

“Mr. Frolich are you ready?” the physical therapist asked, with a smile. Marie looked at her father as he stood up slowly. He reached for his cane, caught his balance, and put his hand out looking at Marie. “Come on Marie, you’re going to do physical therapy with Dad”. Grabbing his hand, smiling, she’d been here before, and knew the routine. Marie sat and watched her dad learn how to walk again. She knew something

was wrong with her dad, but she didn’t quite know the whole story.

At five years old, Marie’s gym was the park, with its swings and slides. Her dad’s gym was a room filled with equipment that helped people become themselves again. These visits stuck with her. Sometimes she laughed at the positions the PT would have her dad in, and her dad would look at her and smile. Marie watched week after week as her dad slowly returned to his old self, and it stuck with her.

Years later, she would walk into Columbia’s Doctor of Physical Therapy program.

She had a purpose she couldn’t articulate yet. It took anatomy labs, research, hours of studying, and a single unexpected moment with a patient to help her realize that this is where she belonged. Ever since she was five.

Later in life, Marie learned what had really happened to her father. He had been working on the 80^th floor of the South Tower on the morning of September 11^th. After the first plane hit, he turned to a friend and said, “Maybe we should leave. Just in case.” He was the designated floor fire warden. He helped as many people as he could get to the stairs. On the way down, the second plane struck, he kept going, he kept helping, but he also kept in mind that a little girl would be waiting for him at home.

He carried someone out of the building, but not without injury. A crush injury shattered small bones in his left foot. He spent months in physical therapy, relearning how to walk. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2019), nearly 400,000 individuals were exposed to both physical injuries and psychological stress following the 9/11 attacks, with many requiring long-term rehabilitation services like physical therapy. Marie was five, “I remember the big physio balls, and all the equipment. I didn’t understand it at the time but now I know how much of his life changed that day. And how much he owed to the people who helped him put it back together.”

The early exposure didn’t lead straight to a career. Instead, it watched from the background as Marie grew up. She loved science, so in high school she loaded up on anatomy classes, and even considered the medical field. However, it came rushing back when in college an advisor mentioned rehab medicine. Physical therapy, occupational therapy, and that’s when it clicked.

Marie began shadowing PTs. She watched patients stumble, and then recover. She began to understand that treatment wasn’t just technical, it was personal. It was human, and now, it was hers to pursue. Marie had always been a strong student. In college she studied alone, worked ahead, stayed organized; but Columbia was different. She commuted from Dyker Heights, Brooklyn to save on housing. In the beginning she tried to maintain her independent study habits except the intensity of Columbia’s first-year coursework demanded something else.

Collaboration, adaptability, and the capacity to ask for help were integral. “You go from having control over your time to realizing this is your full-time job,” she says. “You’re learning what it means to become a professional. And that’s not always something you can do alone.” The anatomy lab became her second home, and long nights became early mornings. Somewhere in the middle of that first year, Marie started changing, evolving. She became less apologetic. More confident, she found herself relying on her classmates, and they relied on her.

Marie was elected class president. The transformation intensified. Every Sunday, she sent out color-coded emails with schedules, deadlines, and reminders. Marie was organized, supported her peers, and led quietly, consistently, and with the kind of care that made her classmates feel seen.

However, a shift was coming. This shift took place during her clinicals, a moment where she was tested. During her first clinicals, it was also her first time assisting with a heavy transfer on an inpatient neuro unit. Fear set in, strung with thoughts of brain injuries, strokes, and doubt. “I remember thinking, Can I really do this?” she says. Carefully, with guidance, she helped the patient move safely. Marie saw the hope in their eyes when they realized they weren’t alone. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and it worked. “Those were the moments,” she says, “where I started to believe I belonged in this field.” “So, when are you going to make me walk again?”, Columbia couldn’t have prepared her for the moment when a patient looked her in the eyes and asked this.

Marie had just started in outpatient care. Her patients included those with severe neurological conditions, individuals who hadn’t stood in years. She was young, eager, and determined. Nothing tested her more than learning how to say, “maybe not”, with empathy, and certainty. “I would come home with it, the weight of those conversations,” she says. “Did I say the right thing? Did I do the right thing? It’s hard when someone looks to you for hope, and you don’t know if you can give them the kind they want.”

Then came the patient she’ll never forget. He was in his early thirties. Recovering from a spinal cord injury. He had a simple goal. He just wanted to stand again. Marie worked with him for weeks, that turned into months, slowly building strength, waking up muscles back into motion. She watched his determination and confidence rise alongside his progress. Then one day she went for it. She asked him, “Do you want to try walking?”. She knew the stakes. If it didn’t work, it could break him, but she believed in him, and the work she was doing. It wasn’t perfect, nor was it fast, but he took a step, then another. As he moved across the gym, everyone watched in awe, until they burst into applause. “I looked at my colleague and said, this is why we do what we do”. Marie says, “That moment changed his life, and it’s something I’ll never forget.”

Marie never imagined she’d be helping others find their way through the same classes and labs where she once felt overwhelmed. However, the moment Columbia approached her about joining the inaugural DPT

Alumni Association, the answer was easy. “I told them, whatever role you need me to fill, I’m in,” she says. Now the Vice Chair of Alumni Outreach and Engagement, Marie is helping shape the kind of network she wishes existed when she was a student. According to Whitford (2024), nearly 30% of students say universities should prioritize alumni connections, yet only one-third of graduate’s report having those opportunities. Marie is determined to close that gap, helping to build an alumni network that feels accessible, supportive, and real. Whether it’s sharing job advice, guiding someone through a difficult case, or just being visible at events and conferences, she knows that simple connection can make all the difference.

“I met a recent grad at a conference who was applying for a job at NYU,” she says. “She reached out

afterward, and I was able to help her through the process. The conversation might not have happened without the alumni association.” For Marie, this isn’t only about mentorship. It’s about visibility. It’s about current students seeing who came before them and realizing they’re now a part of something bigger. Yes, Columbia challenged her, and it pushed her. Nevertheless, it also gave her another family and a support system that still shows up for her. Now, through the Alumni Board, it has become one she can show up for in return.

Looking back, Marie can trace it all, starting with being the kid in the waiting room with her dad, the science student in love with anatomy, the overwhelmed student during her clinical trials, the PT graduate holding a patient’s hand. Every version of her led to this one, a clinician who leads with empathy, who isn’t afraid of the difficult conversations, and one who believes that the smallest

steps are the beginning of the biggest leaps. Columbia helped her grow into that. Not just through the rigorous curriculum or the enduring clinicals, but through the people. The classmates who became family. The faculty who pushed her to lead. The mentors who taught her that failing is learning and that’s a part of the process.

Now, she hopes to offer the same to others. To prospective students wondering if they’ll belong, you will, to current students questioning if they’re enough, you are, and to the next generation of physical therapists, we’re here for you. In this profession, you’re never alone, there’s always a patient beside you, some days they lean on you, and some days, you’ll find strength in them.