Laissez-faire term break, too loose? Not always. Our preoccupation with homework has deprived out children of what should have been some of the most nurturing experiences of childhood.
It's my daughter's school term break this week. When I say break, I mean it. A break without homework. Now that autumn is here, we chose to go outdoors. It's not hard to understand why the natural world is a child's favorite classroom. Can you imagine what we did at the last stop of our hike today? My daughter spent nearly an hour watching leaves.
With countless butterflies around, the leaf-eating caterpillars must have left behind lots of "footprints" for us to explore. Finding holes in the foliage gives rise to all sorts of patterns as long as we add a bit of imagination, much in the way that we name the constellation by linking up stars. My daughter studied those leaves the way astronomers viewed the richness of the sky - you can imagine a dolphin leaping out at you if you gaze at them for long enough.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Monday, October 10, 2016
Homework
Over the years as my daughter has grown from an infant to toddler to grade-schooler, I've read quite a collection of books on parenting. These books have given me a thousand suggestions, many of them insightful, and others somewhat run-of-the-mill. Rarely is there a book delving into pages after pages of academic papers, citing meta-analysis with critique. And no wonder: parenting isn't rocket science, after all.
I remember reading somewhere that parenting and plumbing have much in common. It's like stopping a leak in the dark with a duff torch while wearing mittens. You feel around to understand what's happening, make decision, and then after the event spend forever justifying it on the idea of sweet reason trickled over with a spoonful of authority. For that matter, anyone who have been in the dark can justify their authority and make claims nobody can challenge. And whether their claims are real or only in their mind, nobody knows because everything is in the dark.
I was lucky enough to have read The Homework Myth by Alfie Kohn. As we all know, homework assignment can create havoc in the relationship between a child and his parents. And even when the parents feel squeezed by the homework (yes, conflict is inevitable), they still ask for more homework, and not less. All of these have to do with the myth that homework is good for their kids. That certainly does not have to be the case. Kohn hasn't reported, and I haven't found, any evidence that homework gives an iota of academic benefits for young students. Strictly speaking, we don't even have a whiff of research evidence to support or refute whether the assignment of homework fosters good study habits.
The takeaway: There is such a thing as too much homework.
Need I say more?
I remember reading somewhere that parenting and plumbing have much in common. It's like stopping a leak in the dark with a duff torch while wearing mittens. You feel around to understand what's happening, make decision, and then after the event spend forever justifying it on the idea of sweet reason trickled over with a spoonful of authority. For that matter, anyone who have been in the dark can justify their authority and make claims nobody can challenge. And whether their claims are real or only in their mind, nobody knows because everything is in the dark.
I was lucky enough to have read The Homework Myth by Alfie Kohn. As we all know, homework assignment can create havoc in the relationship between a child and his parents. And even when the parents feel squeezed by the homework (yes, conflict is inevitable), they still ask for more homework, and not less. All of these have to do with the myth that homework is good for their kids. That certainly does not have to be the case. Kohn hasn't reported, and I haven't found, any evidence that homework gives an iota of academic benefits for young students. Strictly speaking, we don't even have a whiff of research evidence to support or refute whether the assignment of homework fosters good study habits.
The takeaway: There is such a thing as too much homework.
Need I say more?
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
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.
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.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
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.
"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.
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Name
Try this. Rewrite the sentence "the flower in the window" as "the geranium in the window."
The name geranium immediately gives us the scene by the window - red petals, green circular leaves, all straining toward sunlight. This is what I've learnt from Natalie Goldberg after reading her classic Writing Down the Bones. Don't say "fruit," Natalie reminds us, and tell what kind of fruit - "It is a pomegranate."
Give things the dignity of names, to paraphrase Natalie Goldberg. And that's pretty wise.
These are words from the heart as much as the head, and as such offer precious insights into the world other than that of writers. About ten years ago I decided I had to remember people's names after reading How to Win Friends and Influence People. While I have trouble with memory as I get old, I subscribe to Dale Carnegie's theory that names are the sweetest and most important sound in any language. In fact, we could offer dozens, indeed hundreds, of examples in which remembering names gains good will.
Okay. Take the example of a busy medical ward. An on-call intern came to my ward last night when one of my patients developed pancreas complication after a procedure to look for stones in his bile ducts. A complication in the pancreas is no joke; it means an injury to the patient's digestive system. If the injury gets free rein, it can literally digest or eat away the pancreas. Many of us, understandably, freaked out after receiving the high enzyme laboratory level. Nine times out of ten, the nurses or doctor would call the intern "Hey, houseman, that's bed 10 with amylase level over 6000." But this wasn't the case. Our nurse called her by name, Katrina, instead of "houseman."
I didn't know how the nurses recalled our intern's name, but I certainly felt the appreciation of Katrina.
The name geranium immediately gives us the scene by the window - red petals, green circular leaves, all straining toward sunlight. This is what I've learnt from Natalie Goldberg after reading her classic Writing Down the Bones. Don't say "fruit," Natalie reminds us, and tell what kind of fruit - "It is a pomegranate."
Give things the dignity of names, to paraphrase Natalie Goldberg. And that's pretty wise.
These are words from the heart as much as the head, and as such offer precious insights into the world other than that of writers. About ten years ago I decided I had to remember people's names after reading How to Win Friends and Influence People. While I have trouble with memory as I get old, I subscribe to Dale Carnegie's theory that names are the sweetest and most important sound in any language. In fact, we could offer dozens, indeed hundreds, of examples in which remembering names gains good will.
Okay. Take the example of a busy medical ward. An on-call intern came to my ward last night when one of my patients developed pancreas complication after a procedure to look for stones in his bile ducts. A complication in the pancreas is no joke; it means an injury to the patient's digestive system. If the injury gets free rein, it can literally digest or eat away the pancreas. Many of us, understandably, freaked out after receiving the high enzyme laboratory level. Nine times out of ten, the nurses or doctor would call the intern "Hey, houseman, that's bed 10 with amylase level over 6000." But this wasn't the case. Our nurse called her by name, Katrina, instead of "houseman."
I didn't know how the nurses recalled our intern's name, but I certainly felt the appreciation of Katrina.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Consult Guys
As a practicing physician, I understand the temptation to skip the medical literature. A sick patient comes in and we're so focused on the things that might help him, as what we'd been taught in medical school, that we don't think of looking at anything else. Except those maxims portrayed as the golden rule by our senior.
The sicker the patient, the greater the temptation to skip the reality check. It's a temptation that can sometimes prove wrong. My classmate's dad came in two weeks ago with crushing chest pain. In the middle of the night. I was on call and told myself that was a serious heart attack after looking at those berserk zigzag lines of his electrocardiogram. And a heart rate slower than 40 per minute. This means a blocked blood vessel depriving my patient's heart muscle of oxygen supply. One of the most dreadful consequences of deoxygenated heart muscle is muscle death, if not patient's death.
Quick, I reminded myself, to bring back oxygen to his precarious heart by clot buster medication. And extra oxygen, most of us would say. Why not? President Eisenhower was even placed in an oxygen tank when he had an heart attack more than sixty years ago. We don't use oxygen tank nowadays; my previous textbook Clinical Medicine by Kumar and Clark suggested oxygen at 60% administered by face mask for several hours. This is not a new idea. And neither is it a correct idea. With time, we are learning the harmful effect of (too much) oxygen. This is a recent topic in the journal Annals of Internal Medicine . The title of this video teaching feature is Consult Guys, by which it refers to two old guys (think about the white-haired consultant in authoritative white coats) discussing the updated science of medicine.
The way those two consultants address the questions and debunk those because-I-said-so myths can powerfully remind myself not to let my brain get sclerotic with age, sticking with dogma without doubt. Even my hair isn't getting grey, I am old enough to get a job promotion to be the consult guy. That's why I have to read and keep myself updated.
The sicker the patient, the greater the temptation to skip the reality check. It's a temptation that can sometimes prove wrong. My classmate's dad came in two weeks ago with crushing chest pain. In the middle of the night. I was on call and told myself that was a serious heart attack after looking at those berserk zigzag lines of his electrocardiogram. And a heart rate slower than 40 per minute. This means a blocked blood vessel depriving my patient's heart muscle of oxygen supply. One of the most dreadful consequences of deoxygenated heart muscle is muscle death, if not patient's death.
Quick, I reminded myself, to bring back oxygen to his precarious heart by clot buster medication. And extra oxygen, most of us would say. Why not? President Eisenhower was even placed in an oxygen tank when he had an heart attack more than sixty years ago. We don't use oxygen tank nowadays; my previous textbook Clinical Medicine by Kumar and Clark suggested oxygen at 60% administered by face mask for several hours. This is not a new idea. And neither is it a correct idea. With time, we are learning the harmful effect of (too much) oxygen. This is a recent topic in the journal Annals of Internal Medicine . The title of this video teaching feature is Consult Guys, by which it refers to two old guys (think about the white-haired consultant in authoritative white coats) discussing the updated science of medicine.
The way those two consultants address the questions and debunk those because-I-said-so myths can powerfully remind myself not to let my brain get sclerotic with age, sticking with dogma without doubt. Even my hair isn't getting grey, I am old enough to get a job promotion to be the consult guy. That's why I have to read and keep myself updated.
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