Caring is expressed in listening

Lee Shulman, whom I heard speak at one conference many years ago, was one heck of a guru in the world of understanding teaching and learning.  He talked and wrote in plenty about pedagogy, by observing the teaching and leaning in various fields.  Shulman made me think a lot about the pedagogy in medical schools, which I also understood vicariously through my daughter's experiences.

There is a lot we can--and should--learn from how knowledge is conveyed in professional fields different from ours.  A constant reflection on what we do and what others do is a requirement for teachers.

Abraham Verghese writes about the rapid infusion of big data into the medical profession, and the essay gives me a lot to think about.  Verghese, who I referred to in this post seven years ago, I came to know of through a book of his ... that was more than 20 years ago.  He is one of the Indian-American physician authors who seemingly have time for everything!  And now the guy has even wandered into writing fiction.  An ultimate Renaissance man indeed!

Anyway, in this recent essay, Verghese writes about the practice of medicine:

True clinical judgment is more than addressing the avalanche of blood work, imaging and lab tests; it is about using human skills to understand where the patient is in the trajectory of a life and the disease, what the nature of the patient’s family and social circumstances is and how much they want done.
... that patient’s greatest need is both scientific state-of-the-art knowledge and genuine caring from another human being. Caring is expressed in listening, in the time-honored ritual of the skilled bedside exam — reading the body — in touching and looking at where it hurts and ultimately in localizing the disease for patients not on a screen, not on an image, not on a biopsy report, but on their bodies.

In our profession, too, we deal with data about students like the graduation requirements and GPA.  But, working with students is not merely about looking up that kind of data and "solving" their problems.  Well, that too. But, often, it is above and beyond those mechanics.  It is about listening to students.   And to "genuinely care."

Earlier this week, as we wrapped up a nearly 30 minute chat about her academic plans, the student said "thanks for your advice every time." I was slightly taken aback.  She continued with "you always listen to me, and think about what will be good for me."

I thanked her.  I wished her a good summer.

Yesterday, it was deja vu all over again with another student.  At the end of our meeting, she put her stuff in her backpack, picked it up, and then said, "thanks for listening to me and always putting myself in my place and thinking about what will be good for me."

I thanked her.  And told her that it was pleasantly strange that she was saying something identical to what another student.  Her response was even more interesting for me: "Most other faculty I have taked to seem to be single-track and they only talk about their own stuff."

I agree with Abraham Verghese: Caring is expressed in listening

This beach is made for walking

I can only hope that I will never run into the situation described in this "Dear Prudence" column in slate.com (with me as the old professor walking down the beach, of course!):

Dear Prudence,I have recently started frequenting a popular clothing-optional beach. This beach is fairly secluded, so I feel very comfortable tanning and swimming naked. The other day, however, I had a very embarrassing encounter. As I lay naked on my towel trying to improve my tan, one of my old college professors walked by me. (He was fully clothed, incidentally.) We recognized each other; however, neither of us said hello out of (I assume) mutual embarrassment. Afterward, I felt rude for not acknowledging him and am now concerned that he may feel that I snubbed him. Was it appropriate not to greet him? Do you have any advice on how I should behave if this happens again?
—Not a Never-Nude

Dear Nude,There are certain situations in which not acknowledging an acquaintance can be the most graceful thing to do. One is if you're in a restaurant, and the spouse of a friend in mid-canoodle with someone who is not your friend looks up and sees you. The other is when you are lying nude on a beach towel and strolling by is your former professor, who may be doing field work, though I doubt his field is conchology. While you are worrying that you snubbed your professor, he's worrying that you think he likes to ogle the shore life. If he comes wandering by again, this is an occasion in which it would be perfectly acceptable to roll over and, figuratively, bury your head in the sand.