Joy

Marie Kondo's debut guide book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up has been published in more than 30 countries, teaching us to be happier by letting go of the stuff we don't need. Recently, I've been reading her second one, Spark Joy, and learning to tidy up in a way that will spark joy.

Technically, we aren't told to discover joy simply by discarding things. One line in particular from the secrets cracked me wide open. She said, “If it makes you happy, then the right choice is to keep it confidently." I learn this richest of lessons from Kondo, and for that, I am grateful.

For many years, I've kept a closet chockfull of my patients' faces in my heart. Even though I may not be able to recall their names and details, I try my best to remember their faces.

"Good afternoon, I guess this is the first time I see you" is my standard hello to greet a patient who has been seen by many doctors but new to me. Sometimes I make mistakes. Most of the time, I'm right. That sparks joy. In a sense, though, it is more of pride (of my memory) than joy. What really matters is not mistaking a patient as a complete stranger by the time he returns to see me ten years later. I met one yesterday. Can you guess what? We still recognised each other after a lapse of ten years. The way he told me I haven't grown (too) old is one of the best birthday gifts for me today.

School

Brand name school works, but only if you measure it that way.

That's what Julie Lyncott-Haims, Dean of Freshmen and Undergraduate Advising at Stanford University, teaches us in her book How to Raise an Adult. One of the oft-quoted measures, the U.S. News college rankings, simply reflects how hard a school is to get into - to say nothing of the tuition fee - and what a group of other educators think of it, which is a function of how hard it is to get into.

In her TED talk, Lyncott-Haims reminded the audience to let children develop into their selves, have free play, and to broaden our definition of good school.

I still think my daughter's school is a magical place, but not because of its ranking. Quite the opposite. Long story short: a school my child loves. We visited the Old Tai Po Police Station on the public holiday after Mid-Autumn Festival yesterday. This is the second time my daughter learned about the heritage of this historic building. We were impressed. Before going home, Jasmine asked us to bring her to her school nearby. "Oh, this is a holiday, my dear," we said to her.

My daughter's answer took no time. "I know, mum and dad, and I just to want to say hello to my school."

This brief sentence takes sixteen words, but each one tells me how much she loves her school.

Library

Reading a handwritten message from one's daughter is the closest some of us are ever going to come to knowing what's meant by love, so it’s no wonder I experienced that feeling when I received one from mine.

"Dear mum and dad," Jasmine wrote. "I love you. I miss you so much when you are at work. You guys are the best." Next to my daughter's message is her drawing of what the best dad means: all the good books I borrow for her. What a relief when you find that you've actually provided a delightful springboard to literacy for your child!

I've lost count of the number of story books I've borrowed from the public library, and this was long before my daughter started to choose her favorite ones from her own school library. And long before my daughter learned to read the chapter books of Roald Dahl (who is having his 100th birthday today). Even today, although my daughter is now big enough to pick her own, I find myself enjoying going to the children's library after work, checking out books for her. My pick this evening is Grrrrr! by the award-winning author Rob Biddulph. "Wait a minute, dad," said my daughter, gleefully, pointing at the books she borrowed herself today. A Giraffe and a Half by Shel Silverstein. Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes by Eric Litwin. Wise choice - it's better than her dad's, actually.