A short while ago I was interviewed on Zoom by one of Concord High School’s many dedicated and talented teachers, Jane Voth-Palisi, for her AP Biology course.
She said that when she had initially planned these sessions she had thought of them as teaching opportunities to help students see real-life applications of the materials they were studying. That sounded very interesting to me.
In deference, probably, to the challenges of remote learning and to the distractions of the coming holidays, Ms. Voth-Palisi decided that this time around her students might benefit more from hearing about the personal career journeys of those she was interviewing, as the students consider their own career options in these upside down times. Now that has definitely gotten me thinking!
I love science, but I was only too happy to digress, and discuss instead my own winding path into the practice of medicine in general, and neurology in particular. While there are certainly people who know what they want from the beginning, and pursue their goals steadfastly and unblinkingly, most of us arrive where we are by a comedy of errors, or by snap judgments that surprise us in retrospect.
If we would do it all over again at the end of our careers – and I would! – we can call that success – and it is!
Ironically, I think, some of those choices we make with a great deal of fanfare that “seemed like a good idea at the time” in furthering us in our journey come back to bite us further down the line.
I told the students about my fateful decision to take physics rather than typing in high school. After all, what would I need typing for? It turns out, I did have other chances to take physics, but to this day I am still struggling with my miserable keyboarding skills.
When I think of the untold hours this added to the completion of the medical notes I worked on each day, made immeasurably more burdensome by that miracle of modern technology, the electronic medical record, I practically weep.
I have heard many experts lamenting the sorry unpreparedness of today’s students for the demands of the workforce. I agree, but I disagree that learning a specific set of technical skills will solve these woes.
As an example, my choice to major in a subject in the humanities ultimately served my younger self far better than a decision to cut to the chase and focus strictly on the sciences would have.
First of all, at that stage the younger me was clueless about what I wanted to do with my life. But, even more, being a human being and walking with other human beings as they encounter health difficulties has something to do with science, but even more to do with connecting with each other on a deeper level.
I am encouraged that the first vaccine doses are trickling into our state. It does feel wonderful to have a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
But we need to remind ourselves that we still have a long road to walk before we’re done with this mess. We’ve got to listen to the science the experts are laying out for us. We’ve got to resist our COVID fatigue, wear our masks, and keep our distance. But we also need to figure out a way to connect with those who have plugged their ears in denial of the science. In this season, which this year is more “holy” and less “holiday,” we need to walk together to the end of the tunnel.
I’m hoping, as I reflect on the lessons I learned before I went into medicine, as well as the lessons in being a human being since then, that I see more ways to connect with those who have plugged their ears, and we will all be better listeners so we can all walk together.
(Millie LaFontaine of Concord is a retired neurologist.)