Things I'll miss....

I have taught my last college course. I am happy. I admit that during this last semester I suffered from a bad case of "senioritis."  There were days I was just phoning it in.  Still, it was a great semester, filled with some happy memories.  

In my population issues class I have a unit on fertility. I always start the fertility section with a little "where do babies come from" lecture, before moving on to discussions of patterns and determinants of fertility, methods of  contraception, abortion, and other demographic topics.  My friends laugh when I tell them about the introductory lecture. These are college students after all. But, I assume nothing and want us all to be on the same page.

My final exam is an "answer 3 of these 5 questions" type of take home essay test. One of the 5 questions is always "Tell me about two important things you learned from this class. Give enough detail to convince me that you will remember these for longer than it takes you to write this answer."  This year I got the following answer:

 To start off, the reason I chose contraceptives over everything else we learned in class was because much of it were things I didn’t know. I have grown up as a Muslim in a traditional Islamic household. While my religion teaches us to be modest yet curious, often, culture plays a role and families, like mine, avoid talking about women’s health, especially when it’s related to intercourse and romantic relationships. While I know and understand the very general vague idea of how things work, I’ve never had a one-to-one talk or research session about any of it. So, being able to learn about it in class, even briefly felt like a big benefit and relief I didn’t know I needed.

That is what I will miss most about teaching.

 

More better

 Recently I spent time with my grandkids. I'm always fascinated to see how language develops in kids. I love hearing "Her" doesn't want any, instead of "She." Pronouns are tricky. My granddaughter is 3.5 and is still a little stumped by their use. I suppose since kids are naturally inclined to the possessive, it makes sense that it is the preferred form. 

The one I really like, though is "more better."  As adults we know that "more" can be used with countable objects and ideas, while "much" is generally used for the uncountable. More is also comparative, having more money than another, for instance. There are many other distinctions. A quick Google search will lead you to many tutorials for non-English speakers where the differences between "more" and "much" are outlined.

But, what if we think of "better" as something that could be countable. We say "more of a good thing," "more appropriate," "more useful," etc. Are good things, appropriateness, and useful countable? I think not. However, they are comparative. So, for a child it is perfectly reasonable to say that something is "more better." It is comparatively better than it was.  Better is already more, already comparative, I guess. More than what was already good. So, how do we describe when something is even better than before?  Much better.

Then we have the "much more."  I have much more thinking to do on this topic. 

 P.S.

On the topic of language, I love this bit by British comedian Michael McIntyre about odd phrases, like hanky panky....

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJEqXJRK4Q4

Time Toxicity

 I was listening to a healthcare webinar a few days ago when the topic of "time toxicity" was introduced. For a long time the medical field focused exclusively on the physiological toxicity of treatments--mainly chemotherapy. The interest was on physical side effects, was the cure worse than the disease?  I remember when the concept of financial toxicity was introduced. A recognition by doctors that there were monetary costs associated with treatments, costs that were sometimes exorbitant. This type of toxicity came with its own set of risks and "side effects."  

Time toxicity is the recognition that medical care takes time; time to travel to offices, time to get tests done, time to meet with doctors. In the case of chronic illness, the amount of time spent managing the illness can be quite high.  Add in the time outside of direct medical care, but spent making decisions about care, researching options, and dealing with insurance and the time can increase dramatically. 

The webinar presenter encouraged medical professionals to think about time when meeting with patients. Can appointments be scheduled differently? Can care be better coordinated? 

I've been thinking about this idea. Outside of medical care, are there other areas where the concept of time toxicity could be applied? Is it really a problem that can be solved? I don't think it is unique to our US healthcare system. Is it an inherent aspect of human life--do some things just take up a lot of time?

I think I've spent more than enough time pondering these questions.

What to do?

 I am devastated each day as I read the news. I am at a loss to explain how national leaders are acting, or, often, not acting. I have personally and professionally directly benefited from many of the areas being slashed. But, more importantly, I grieve for those who don't have the resources to recover, resist, or wait. I feel helpless and hopeless.

In the past I've sometimes felt that my contributions to the world were too small. This was especially true when I saw colleagues and friends spearhead major public health initiatives, start NGOs, or hold government office. In those times, I reassured myself that we each have a role to play, a corner of the world were we do have impact. During these tumultuous times I've tried to remind myself of that thought. A few days ago I reached out to several younger scholars who work in areas particularly targeted. All of these friends are members of the LGBTQ community. Some are former students, some past or present colleagues. I wanted to let them know that I was thinking of them and working, in the small ways that I can, to protest. Each responded with gratitude, but also with fortitude. They are not giving up, they are not abandoning their work. Their  responses gave me a small glimmer of hope.

I've been talking about some of my concerns with my sons. One has recently started his own blog and sent me the link to his latest post. Maybe some of you would like to read his thoughts, too. 

https://larfenwrites.blogspot.com/

Perspective

 I engage in two organized exercise classes. One is a relatively high intensity "boot camp" type class. The other is yoga. 

At the boot camp studio there are posters around the room admonishing us to "give 110 percent," "you're stronger than you think," "play like you are in first place, train like you are in second." The overall vibe is don't try, do, don't make excuses, push, push, push.  We are encouraged to set goals, be ambitious, and always strive to improve.

I've been struck by the contrast to yoga where the instructor says things like, "let go of any expectations of what you should be able to do."  She reminds us of resting poses that "are always available to you."  We are asked to honor where we are today, what we are able to do that day.  In yoga there are no judgements, where you are is where you are. One of my favorite phrases, that I've heard more than one yoga instructor say, is to use props, like blocks, "to bring the ground to you."  The very idea that it is the ground that should be moved, not your body, gives a totally different perspective on how to approach life. 

I once heard a Jewish creation story, that I probably wrote about here years ago, that ends with the statement that you are exactly who you are meant to be. While I enjoy the challenge of building my physical strength and stamina, I prefer to live my life as a yogi.