Letters from Maine

In a recent issue of Pediatric News, the Child Psychiatry Consult column featured an excellent discussion by Dr. David Rettew of some new research into a possible association between excessive crying in infancy and emotional problems later in childhood. This longitudinal study of almost 5,000 children included an assessment at 3 months and an MRI at age 10, which found that the infants who were excessive criers also had smaller amygdala. While the orders of magnitude of the researchers’ observations is small, it is interesting that the mothers of excessive criers were slightly more likely to experience mental health problems.

Dr. Rettew wisely cautions us to take note of this study’s findings but avoid overreacting. If indeed excessive crying in infancy is a marker for future problems, at the moment we may want to increase our efforts in helping parents improve their parenting skills using a nonjudgmental approach.

Using Dr. Rettew’s sage advice as a leaping off point, I will add the reminder that we must continue to meet head on the venerable myth that “colic” is a gastrointestinal problem. We must promise to never code out a parental complaint as “colic.” If we want to label it “excessive crying of infancy,” that’s one thing, but using “colic” only serves to perpetuate the myth and all the old, and sometimes dangerous, remedies that continue to cling to it.

Whether we use the term “colicky behavior” or call it “excessive crying,” we must remember these are merely descriptive terms. We have not made a diagnosis and are obligated to keep our minds open to serious and life-threatening conditions that make infants cry excessively — aberrant coronary arteries and urinary obstructions to name just two.

I can’t leave the phenomenon of colic without adding a nickel to the two cents I have already gifted you. When I was in medical school, I am sure I was told something about the amygdala. But, I suspect that I was only expected to recall where it lived. In the 50+ years since that brief encounter, other folks have learned much more. Prompted by this study, I searched what is known about small amygdala. Turns out that sleep deprivation has been associated with smaller amygdala, as has episodic migraine headaches, both in adults.

Regular readers of Letters from Maine can already smell where this is going. For decades I have believed that both excessive crying in infancy and episodic migraine in children are associated with, and my bias would say “caused” by, sleep deprivation. We learned from this study that mothers of excessively crying infants are more likely to have mental health problems. And, I will add that at least one study has shown that mothers and fathers of excessively crying infants are more likely to suffer from migraines.

Whether you join me in my biased interpretation isn’t important. What this study tells us is that there is likely to be something going on in infancy that may be a marker for future mental health problems. Were these children born with small or vulnerable amygdala? Did poor sleep hygiene contribute to the problem by interfering with the growth of their amygdala? I can envision studies that could provide some clarity. I’m not sure many parents would agree to have their happy and well-slept 3-month-olds slid into an MRI tube to serve as controls. But, I wouldn’t be surprised that we could find a sizable number of sleep deprived and frazzled parents of colicky infants who would agree if we told them it might help find an answer.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a recent issue of Pediatric News, the Child Psychiatry Consult column featured an excellent discussion by Dr. David Rettew of some new research into a possible association between excessive crying in infancy and emotional problems later in childhood. This longitudinal study of almost 5,000 children included an assessment at 3 months and an MRI at age 10, which found that the infants who were excessive criers also had smaller amygdala. While the orders of magnitude of the researchers’ observations is small, it is interesting that the mothers of excessive criers were slightly more likely to experience mental health problems.

Dr. Rettew wisely cautions us to take note of this study’s findings but avoid overreacting. If indeed excessive crying in infancy is a marker for future problems, at the moment we may want to increase our efforts in helping parents improve their parenting skills using a nonjudgmental approach.

Using Dr. Rettew’s sage advice as a leaping off point, I will add the reminder that we must continue to meet head on the venerable myth that “colic” is a gastrointestinal problem. We must promise to never code out a parental complaint as “colic.” If we want to label it “excessive crying of infancy,” that’s one thing, but using “colic” only serves to perpetuate the myth and all the old, and sometimes dangerous, remedies that continue to cling to it.

Whether we use the term “colicky behavior” or call it “excessive crying,” we must remember these are merely descriptive terms. We have not made a diagnosis and are obligated to keep our minds open to serious and life-threatening conditions that make infants cry excessively — aberrant coronary arteries and urinary obstructions to name just two.

I can’t leave the phenomenon of colic without adding a nickel to the two cents I have already gifted you. When I was in medical school, I am sure I was told something about the amygdala. But, I suspect that I was only expected to recall where it lived. In the 50+ years since that brief encounter, other folks have learned much more. Prompted by this study, I searched what is known about small amygdala. Turns out that sleep deprivation has been associated with smaller amygdala, as has episodic migraine headaches, both in adults.

Regular readers of Letters from Maine can already smell where this is going. For decades I have believed that both excessive crying in infancy and episodic migraine in children are associated with, and my bias would say “caused” by, sleep deprivation. We learned from this study that mothers of excessively crying infants are more likely to have mental health problems. And, I will add that at least one study has shown that mothers and fathers of excessively crying infants are more likely to suffer from migraines.

Whether you join me in my biased interpretation isn’t important. What this study tells us is that there is likely to be something going on in infancy that may be a marker for future mental health problems. Were these children born with small or vulnerable amygdala? Did poor sleep hygiene contribute to the problem by interfering with the growth of their amygdala? I can envision studies that could provide some clarity. I’m not sure many parents would agree to have their happy and well-slept 3-month-olds slid into an MRI tube to serve as controls. But, I wouldn’t be surprised that we could find a sizable number of sleep deprived and frazzled parents of colicky infants who would agree if we told them it might help find an answer.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a recent issue of Pediatric News, the Child Psychiatry Consult column featured an excellent discussion by Dr. David Rettew of some new research into a possible association between excessive crying in infancy and emotional problems later in childhood. This longitudinal study of almost 5,000 children included an assessment at 3 months and an MRI at age 10, which found that the infants who were excessive criers also had smaller amygdala. While the orders of magnitude of the researchers’ observations is small, it is interesting that the mothers of excessive criers were slightly more likely to experience mental health problems.

Dr. Rettew wisely cautions us to take note of this study’s findings but avoid overreacting. If indeed excessive crying in infancy is a marker for future problems, at the moment we may want to increase our efforts in helping parents improve their parenting skills using a nonjudgmental approach.

Using Dr. Rettew’s sage advice as a leaping off point, I will add the reminder that we must continue to meet head on the venerable myth that “colic” is a gastrointestinal problem. We must promise to never code out a parental complaint as “colic.” If we want to label it “excessive crying of infancy,” that’s one thing, but using “colic” only serves to perpetuate the myth and all the old, and sometimes dangerous, remedies that continue to cling to it.

Whether we use the term “colicky behavior” or call it “excessive crying,” we must remember these are merely descriptive terms. We have not made a diagnosis and are obligated to keep our minds open to serious and life-threatening conditions that make infants cry excessively — aberrant coronary arteries and urinary obstructions to name just two.

I can’t leave the phenomenon of colic without adding a nickel to the two cents I have already gifted you. When I was in medical school, I am sure I was told something about the amygdala. But, I suspect that I was only expected to recall where it lived. In the 50+ years since that brief encounter, other folks have learned much more. Prompted by this study, I searched what is known about small amygdala. Turns out that sleep deprivation has been associated with smaller amygdala, as has episodic migraine headaches, both in adults.

Regular readers of Letters from Maine can already smell where this is going. For decades I have believed that both excessive crying in infancy and episodic migraine in children are associated with, and my bias would say “caused” by, sleep deprivation. We learned from this study that mothers of excessively crying infants are more likely to have mental health problems. And, I will add that at least one study has shown that mothers and fathers of excessively crying infants are more likely to suffer from migraines.

Whether you join me in my biased interpretation isn’t important. What this study tells us is that there is likely to be something going on in infancy that may be a marker for future mental health problems. Were these children born with small or vulnerable amygdala? Did poor sleep hygiene contribute to the problem by interfering with the growth of their amygdala? I can envision studies that could provide some clarity. I’m not sure many parents would agree to have their happy and well-slept 3-month-olds slid into an MRI tube to serve as controls. But, I wouldn’t be surprised that we could find a sizable number of sleep deprived and frazzled parents of colicky infants who would agree if we told them it might help find an answer.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Since very few of us practice medicine without being either an employer or an employee, we should probably be paying more attention to research in industrial and employee relations, not an area most of us have studied. One of the hot topics for employers in these days of low unemployment is the question of whether to offer free wellness-enhancing programs companywide.

Almost by definition anything “free” has a good public relations aura surrounding it. Recent surveys have shown that a large chunk of the population is feeling stressed. If your boss is offering you a free opportunity to help you feel better about yourself, he/she must understand at least a bit of what you are going through.

From the employer’s standpoint these programs offer the potential for a double win. On one hand, offering a free well-being program is a perk the company can tout as it competes in the tight market for new employees. On the other hand, if the program is effective then the employees will be happier. And we all know that happy workers are more productive and less likely to leave and feed the expensive cycle of hiring and training new workers to replace the unhappy and disgruntled workers who have quit. Even if the employer’s total focus is on the company’s bottom line, offering a wellness program should pay a dividend.

Well ... this may be one of those situations where wishful thinking isn’t going to work. A recent study published in Industrial Relations Journal suggests that these well-being programs, which include employee mental services, may not be living up to their promise. In this large study of nearly 50,00 workers in the United Kingdom, the researcher discovered that workers who had been offered coaching and relaxation classes, internet-based apps, and courses in time management and financial health were “no better off” than their coworkers who had not participated in these programs. In fact, training programs in stress management and resilience appeared to possibly have had a negative effect.

In a New York Times article about this study, the British researcher recommends that employers who are interested in improving their worker’s mental health should turn their attention to “core organizational practices” meaning pay scales, work schedules, and performance reviews.

Not surprisingly, this study has raised some controversy. There are a lot of people invested emotionally and in some cases financially in programs similar to the ones that appeared to be ineffective in this study. Critics argue the study was too short, or too small, or failed to select programs with a proven track record.

Even given these potential flaws, physicians, particularly those who of us who feel they approaching burnout, should take this investigator’s message seriously. Certainly some of us could be doing a better job of building resilience into our lifestyles and may be helped by the kind of well-being programs tested in this study. However, the biggest contribution to the burnout phenomenon is coming from the work environments that are asking too much of even the most resilient among us. This study makes it clear that if healthcare system administrators truly want to help us address burnout, they must make serious and substantive changes in their “core organizational practices” including work schedules, time-gobbling electronic systems, and short staffing. Trotting out a few feel-good mindfulness programs is not going to do the job.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Since very few of us practice medicine without being either an employer or an employee, we should probably be paying more attention to research in industrial and employee relations, not an area most of us have studied. One of the hot topics for employers in these days of low unemployment is the question of whether to offer free wellness-enhancing programs companywide.

Almost by definition anything “free” has a good public relations aura surrounding it. Recent surveys have shown that a large chunk of the population is feeling stressed. If your boss is offering you a free opportunity to help you feel better about yourself, he/she must understand at least a bit of what you are going through.

From the employer’s standpoint these programs offer the potential for a double win. On one hand, offering a free well-being program is a perk the company can tout as it competes in the tight market for new employees. On the other hand, if the program is effective then the employees will be happier. And we all know that happy workers are more productive and less likely to leave and feed the expensive cycle of hiring and training new workers to replace the unhappy and disgruntled workers who have quit. Even if the employer’s total focus is on the company’s bottom line, offering a wellness program should pay a dividend.

Well ... this may be one of those situations where wishful thinking isn’t going to work. A recent study published in Industrial Relations Journal suggests that these well-being programs, which include employee mental services, may not be living up to their promise. In this large study of nearly 50,00 workers in the United Kingdom, the researcher discovered that workers who had been offered coaching and relaxation classes, internet-based apps, and courses in time management and financial health were “no better off” than their coworkers who had not participated in these programs. In fact, training programs in stress management and resilience appeared to possibly have had a negative effect.

In a New York Times article about this study, the British researcher recommends that employers who are interested in improving their worker’s mental health should turn their attention to “core organizational practices” meaning pay scales, work schedules, and performance reviews.

Not surprisingly, this study has raised some controversy. There are a lot of people invested emotionally and in some cases financially in programs similar to the ones that appeared to be ineffective in this study. Critics argue the study was too short, or too small, or failed to select programs with a proven track record.

Even given these potential flaws, physicians, particularly those who of us who feel they approaching burnout, should take this investigator’s message seriously. Certainly some of us could be doing a better job of building resilience into our lifestyles and may be helped by the kind of well-being programs tested in this study. However, the biggest contribution to the burnout phenomenon is coming from the work environments that are asking too much of even the most resilient among us. This study makes it clear that if healthcare system administrators truly want to help us address burnout, they must make serious and substantive changes in their “core organizational practices” including work schedules, time-gobbling electronic systems, and short staffing. Trotting out a few feel-good mindfulness programs is not going to do the job.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Since very few of us practice medicine without being either an employer or an employee, we should probably be paying more attention to research in industrial and employee relations, not an area most of us have studied. One of the hot topics for employers in these days of low unemployment is the question of whether to offer free wellness-enhancing programs companywide.

Almost by definition anything “free” has a good public relations aura surrounding it. Recent surveys have shown that a large chunk of the population is feeling stressed. If your boss is offering you a free opportunity to help you feel better about yourself, he/she must understand at least a bit of what you are going through.

From the employer’s standpoint these programs offer the potential for a double win. On one hand, offering a free well-being program is a perk the company can tout as it competes in the tight market for new employees. On the other hand, if the program is effective then the employees will be happier. And we all know that happy workers are more productive and less likely to leave and feed the expensive cycle of hiring and training new workers to replace the unhappy and disgruntled workers who have quit. Even if the employer’s total focus is on the company’s bottom line, offering a wellness program should pay a dividend.

Well ... this may be one of those situations where wishful thinking isn’t going to work. A recent study published in Industrial Relations Journal suggests that these well-being programs, which include employee mental services, may not be living up to their promise. In this large study of nearly 50,00 workers in the United Kingdom, the researcher discovered that workers who had been offered coaching and relaxation classes, internet-based apps, and courses in time management and financial health were “no better off” than their coworkers who had not participated in these programs. In fact, training programs in stress management and resilience appeared to possibly have had a negative effect.

In a New York Times article about this study, the British researcher recommends that employers who are interested in improving their worker’s mental health should turn their attention to “core organizational practices” meaning pay scales, work schedules, and performance reviews.

Not surprisingly, this study has raised some controversy. There are a lot of people invested emotionally and in some cases financially in programs similar to the ones that appeared to be ineffective in this study. Critics argue the study was too short, or too small, or failed to select programs with a proven track record.

Even given these potential flaws, physicians, particularly those who of us who feel they approaching burnout, should take this investigator’s message seriously. Certainly some of us could be doing a better job of building resilience into our lifestyles and may be helped by the kind of well-being programs tested in this study. However, the biggest contribution to the burnout phenomenon is coming from the work environments that are asking too much of even the most resilient among us. This study makes it clear that if healthcare system administrators truly want to help us address burnout, they must make serious and substantive changes in their “core organizational practices” including work schedules, time-gobbling electronic systems, and short staffing. Trotting out a few feel-good mindfulness programs is not going to do the job.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

On a recent rainy afternoon I was speed skimming through the pile of publications sitting on the floor next to my Grampy’s chair. A bright patch of color jumped off the gray background of the printed page forcing me to pause and consider the content.

In the right upper corner was a photograph of an attractive Black woman nursing her baby. Her bare arms suggested she might be slightly overweight. She wore a simple off-white head wrap and smiled broadly as she played with her infant’s fingers. The image was a reproduction of a WIC poster encouraging women to take advantage of the program’s breastfeeding support services. The accompanying article from American Academy of Pediatrics offered ten strategies for achieving breastfeeding equity.

United States Department of Agriculture

I must admit that I tend to shy away from discussions of equity because I’ve seldom found them very informative. However, the engaging image of this Black woman breastfeeding led me to read beyond the title.

The first of the strategies listed was “Check you biases.” I will certainly admit to having biases. We all have biases and see and interpret the world through lenses ground and tinted by our experiences and the environment we have inhabited. In the case of breastfeeding, I wasn’t sure where my biases lay. Maybe one of mine is reflected in a hesitancy to actively promote exclusive breastfeeding for the first 6 months. I prefer a more nuanced approach adjusted to the unique needs and limitations of each family. But I decided to chase down the Implicit Association Test (IAT) suggested in the article. I couldn’t make that link work, but found a long list of subjects on the Harvard Implicit Association Test website. None dealt with breastfeeding, so I chose the one described as Black/White.

If, like me, you have never had your implicit biases assessed by taking an IAT, you might find it interesting. Probably took me about 15 minutes using my laptop. There are a lot of demographic questions then some rapid-fire exercises in which you must provide your first response to a barrage of photos of faces and words. At times I sensed that the test makers were trying to trick me into making associations that I didn’t want to make by the order in which the exercises were presented. At the end I was told that I was a little slow in associating Black faces with positive words.

I’m not sure what this means. After doing a little internet searching I learned that one of the criticisms of the IAT is that, while it may hint at a bias, it is really more important whether you cut with or across that bias. If I acknowledge that where and how I grew up may have left me with some implicit biases, it is more important that I make a strong and honest effort to act independently of those biases.

In full disclosure I must tell you that there was one Black girl in my high school of a thousand students. I have lived and practiced in Maine for 50 years. At less than 2%, we are sixth from the bottom in Black population among other states. However, in the last 5 or 6 years here in Brunswick we have welcomed a large infusion of asylum seekers who come predominantly from Black African countries.

Skimming through the rest of the article, I found it hard to argue with the remaining nine recommendations for promoting breastfeeding, although most of them we not terribly applicable to small community practices. The photo of the Black woman nursing her baby at the top of the page remains as the primary message. The fact that I was drawn to that image is a testament to several of my biases and another example of a picture being worth far more than a thousand words.

I suspect that I’m not alone in appreciating the uniqueness of that image. Until recently, the standard photos of a mother breastfeeding have used trim White women as their models. I suspect and hope this poster will be effective in encouraging Black women to nurse. I urge you all to hang it in your office as a reminder to you and your staff of your biases and assumptions. Don’t bother to take the Implicit Association Test unless you’re retired and have 15 minutes to burn on a rainy afternoon.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

On a recent rainy afternoon I was speed skimming through the pile of publications sitting on the floor next to my Grampy’s chair. A bright patch of color jumped off the gray background of the printed page forcing me to pause and consider the content.

In the right upper corner was a photograph of an attractive Black woman nursing her baby. Her bare arms suggested she might be slightly overweight. She wore a simple off-white head wrap and smiled broadly as she played with her infant’s fingers. The image was a reproduction of a WIC poster encouraging women to take advantage of the program’s breastfeeding support services. The accompanying article from American Academy of Pediatrics offered ten strategies for achieving breastfeeding equity.

United States Department of Agriculture

I must admit that I tend to shy away from discussions of equity because I’ve seldom found them very informative. However, the engaging image of this Black woman breastfeeding led me to read beyond the title.

The first of the strategies listed was “Check you biases.” I will certainly admit to having biases. We all have biases and see and interpret the world through lenses ground and tinted by our experiences and the environment we have inhabited. In the case of breastfeeding, I wasn’t sure where my biases lay. Maybe one of mine is reflected in a hesitancy to actively promote exclusive breastfeeding for the first 6 months. I prefer a more nuanced approach adjusted to the unique needs and limitations of each family. But I decided to chase down the Implicit Association Test (IAT) suggested in the article. I couldn’t make that link work, but found a long list of subjects on the Harvard Implicit Association Test website. None dealt with breastfeeding, so I chose the one described as Black/White.

If, like me, you have never had your implicit biases assessed by taking an IAT, you might find it interesting. Probably took me about 15 minutes using my laptop. There are a lot of demographic questions then some rapid-fire exercises in which you must provide your first response to a barrage of photos of faces and words. At times I sensed that the test makers were trying to trick me into making associations that I didn’t want to make by the order in which the exercises were presented. At the end I was told that I was a little slow in associating Black faces with positive words.

I’m not sure what this means. After doing a little internet searching I learned that one of the criticisms of the IAT is that, while it may hint at a bias, it is really more important whether you cut with or across that bias. If I acknowledge that where and how I grew up may have left me with some implicit biases, it is more important that I make a strong and honest effort to act independently of those biases.

In full disclosure I must tell you that there was one Black girl in my high school of a thousand students. I have lived and practiced in Maine for 50 years. At less than 2%, we are sixth from the bottom in Black population among other states. However, in the last 5 or 6 years here in Brunswick we have welcomed a large infusion of asylum seekers who come predominantly from Black African countries.

Skimming through the rest of the article, I found it hard to argue with the remaining nine recommendations for promoting breastfeeding, although most of them we not terribly applicable to small community practices. The photo of the Black woman nursing her baby at the top of the page remains as the primary message. The fact that I was drawn to that image is a testament to several of my biases and another example of a picture being worth far more than a thousand words.

I suspect that I’m not alone in appreciating the uniqueness of that image. Until recently, the standard photos of a mother breastfeeding have used trim White women as their models. I suspect and hope this poster will be effective in encouraging Black women to nurse. I urge you all to hang it in your office as a reminder to you and your staff of your biases and assumptions. Don’t bother to take the Implicit Association Test unless you’re retired and have 15 minutes to burn on a rainy afternoon.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

On a recent rainy afternoon I was speed skimming through the pile of publications sitting on the floor next to my Grampy’s chair. A bright patch of color jumped off the gray background of the printed page forcing me to pause and consider the content.

In the right upper corner was a photograph of an attractive Black woman nursing her baby. Her bare arms suggested she might be slightly overweight. She wore a simple off-white head wrap and smiled broadly as she played with her infant’s fingers. The image was a reproduction of a WIC poster encouraging women to take advantage of the program’s breastfeeding support services. The accompanying article from American Academy of Pediatrics offered ten strategies for achieving breastfeeding equity.

United States Department of Agriculture

I must admit that I tend to shy away from discussions of equity because I’ve seldom found them very informative. However, the engaging image of this Black woman breastfeeding led me to read beyond the title.

The first of the strategies listed was “Check you biases.” I will certainly admit to having biases. We all have biases and see and interpret the world through lenses ground and tinted by our experiences and the environment we have inhabited. In the case of breastfeeding, I wasn’t sure where my biases lay. Maybe one of mine is reflected in a hesitancy to actively promote exclusive breastfeeding for the first 6 months. I prefer a more nuanced approach adjusted to the unique needs and limitations of each family. But I decided to chase down the Implicit Association Test (IAT) suggested in the article. I couldn’t make that link work, but found a long list of subjects on the Harvard Implicit Association Test website. None dealt with breastfeeding, so I chose the one described as Black/White.

If, like me, you have never had your implicit biases assessed by taking an IAT, you might find it interesting. Probably took me about 15 minutes using my laptop. There are a lot of demographic questions then some rapid-fire exercises in which you must provide your first response to a barrage of photos of faces and words. At times I sensed that the test makers were trying to trick me into making associations that I didn’t want to make by the order in which the exercises were presented. At the end I was told that I was a little slow in associating Black faces with positive words.

I’m not sure what this means. After doing a little internet searching I learned that one of the criticisms of the IAT is that, while it may hint at a bias, it is really more important whether you cut with or across that bias. If I acknowledge that where and how I grew up may have left me with some implicit biases, it is more important that I make a strong and honest effort to act independently of those biases.

In full disclosure I must tell you that there was one Black girl in my high school of a thousand students. I have lived and practiced in Maine for 50 years. At less than 2%, we are sixth from the bottom in Black population among other states. However, in the last 5 or 6 years here in Brunswick we have welcomed a large infusion of asylum seekers who come predominantly from Black African countries.

Skimming through the rest of the article, I found it hard to argue with the remaining nine recommendations for promoting breastfeeding, although most of them we not terribly applicable to small community practices. The photo of the Black woman nursing her baby at the top of the page remains as the primary message. The fact that I was drawn to that image is a testament to several of my biases and another example of a picture being worth far more than a thousand words.

I suspect that I’m not alone in appreciating the uniqueness of that image. Until recently, the standard photos of a mother breastfeeding have used trim White women as their models. I suspect and hope this poster will be effective in encouraging Black women to nurse. I urge you all to hang it in your office as a reminder to you and your staff of your biases and assumptions. Don’t bother to take the Implicit Association Test unless you’re retired and have 15 minutes to burn on a rainy afternoon.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

With the flip of the calendar a few short weeks ago, gyms and fitness centers began ramping up their advertising campaigns in hopes of attracting the horde of resolution makers searching for a place where they can inject some exercise into their sedentary lives. A recent survey by C.S. Mott’s Children’s Hospital found that even young people are setting health-related goals with more than half of the parents of 11- to 18-year-olds reporting their children were setting personal goals for themselves. More than 40% of the young people listed more exercise as a target.

However, our personal and professional experiences have taught us that achieving goals, particularly when it comes to exercise, is far more difficult than setting the target. Finding an exercise buddy can be an important motivator on the days when just lacing up one’s sneakers is a stumbling block. Investing in a gym membership and sweating with a peer group can help. However, it is an investment that rarely pays a dividend. Exercise isn’t fun for everyone. For adults, showing up at a gym may be just one more reminder of how they have already lost their competitive edge over their leaner and fitter peers. If they aren’t lucky enough to find a sport or activity that they enjoy, the loneliness of the long-distance runner has little appeal.

A recent study on children in the United Kingdom suggests that at least when it comes to teens and young adults we as physicians may actually have been making things worse for our obese patients by urging them to accept unrealistic activity goals. While it is already known that sedentary time is responsible for 70% of the total increase in cholesterol as children advance to young adulthood an unqualified recommendation for more exercise may not be the best advice.

In an interview with the study author, Andre O. Agbaje MD, MPH, said that in his large study population “light physical activity outperforms moderate to vigorous physical activity by five to eight times in lowering lipids”. While we may be surprised by this counterintuitive finding, Dr. Agbaje points out that an increase in sedentariness from 6 to 9 hours per day translates into a loss of 3 hours of light physical activity. In other words if you’re not sedentary you must be standing at attention or engaged in some light activity.

In my experience, and I suspect yours, it is difficult to get adults to do something, particularly if that something involves exerting energy, even a small amount of energy. The general admonishment of “be more active” is often met with a blank stare and the sometimes unspoken question “Like what?”

You could fall into a bottomless trap with them by suggesting a long list of activities, many of which are probably ones you do or would enjoy but don’t happen to fit with any of their interests or capabilities. Your chances of hitting on a perfect activity that the patient will attempt, let alone adopt, is very slim. Those of you with more patience than I have may choose to persist with this strategy. You could argue that even if the patient only dabbles briefly in one of your recommended activities, this is a minor victory worth celebrating. Who knows? The brief jolt of energy they received from this activity may prompt them to seek and find something else that works.

My interpretation of Dr. Agbaje’s findings is this: If we are going to suggest more activity, aim low. Don’t even mention the heavily weighted words “sport” or “exercise,” which are likely to dredge up bad memories. For adults, “Go shopping” or “Visit a friend” may be sufficient to at least get the person off the couch and on their feet and moving, even if very briefly.

The second message from this study applies more to children and adolescents and is one of those unusual instances in which a negative intervention may be more effective than a positive approach. Acknowledging that we are likely to have difficulty finding even a light activity that the child enjoys, why not pivot to the other side of the equation? Make a list of the child’s primary sedentary “activities.” Then suggest the parents put the child on a couch potato diet by immediately cutting in half the time he or she spends being sedentary. By definition, this will automatically increase his or her light physical activity by 50%. According to Dr. Agbaje’s data, this should be more effective in lowering lipids than in the unlikely event of finding a moderate activity the child accepts.

You can argue that the child will hound his or her parents unmercifully asking to be entertained. This may be true and this persistent complaining will be more likely to come from the older the child and the longer that the child has been allowed to be sedentary. Although the child may appear to have lost the ability to self amuse, I contend this isn’t a permanent loss and, with parental help, self-generated activity is a skill that can be regained if sedentary behavior is curtailed. This is another example of how saying “No!” in the right circumstances is often the most effective remedy for an unhealthy situation. I would never claim saying “No” is easy and helping parents to learn how to say “No” is one of our most difficult challenges. But, nothing else seems to be working.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

With the flip of the calendar a few short weeks ago, gyms and fitness centers began ramping up their advertising campaigns in hopes of attracting the horde of resolution makers searching for a place where they can inject some exercise into their sedentary lives. A recent survey by C.S. Mott’s Children’s Hospital found that even young people are setting health-related goals with more than half of the parents of 11- to 18-year-olds reporting their children were setting personal goals for themselves. More than 40% of the young people listed more exercise as a target.

However, our personal and professional experiences have taught us that achieving goals, particularly when it comes to exercise, is far more difficult than setting the target. Finding an exercise buddy can be an important motivator on the days when just lacing up one’s sneakers is a stumbling block. Investing in a gym membership and sweating with a peer group can help. However, it is an investment that rarely pays a dividend. Exercise isn’t fun for everyone. For adults, showing up at a gym may be just one more reminder of how they have already lost their competitive edge over their leaner and fitter peers. If they aren’t lucky enough to find a sport or activity that they enjoy, the loneliness of the long-distance runner has little appeal.

A recent study on children in the United Kingdom suggests that at least when it comes to teens and young adults we as physicians may actually have been making things worse for our obese patients by urging them to accept unrealistic activity goals. While it is already known that sedentary time is responsible for 70% of the total increase in cholesterol as children advance to young adulthood an unqualified recommendation for more exercise may not be the best advice.

In an interview with the study author, Andre O. Agbaje MD, MPH, said that in his large study population “light physical activity outperforms moderate to vigorous physical activity by five to eight times in lowering lipids”. While we may be surprised by this counterintuitive finding, Dr. Agbaje points out that an increase in sedentariness from 6 to 9 hours per day translates into a loss of 3 hours of light physical activity. In other words if you’re not sedentary you must be standing at attention or engaged in some light activity.

In my experience, and I suspect yours, it is difficult to get adults to do something, particularly if that something involves exerting energy, even a small amount of energy. The general admonishment of “be more active” is often met with a blank stare and the sometimes unspoken question “Like what?”

You could fall into a bottomless trap with them by suggesting a long list of activities, many of which are probably ones you do or would enjoy but don’t happen to fit with any of their interests or capabilities. Your chances of hitting on a perfect activity that the patient will attempt, let alone adopt, is very slim. Those of you with more patience than I have may choose to persist with this strategy. You could argue that even if the patient only dabbles briefly in one of your recommended activities, this is a minor victory worth celebrating. Who knows? The brief jolt of energy they received from this activity may prompt them to seek and find something else that works.

My interpretation of Dr. Agbaje’s findings is this: If we are going to suggest more activity, aim low. Don’t even mention the heavily weighted words “sport” or “exercise,” which are likely to dredge up bad memories. For adults, “Go shopping” or “Visit a friend” may be sufficient to at least get the person off the couch and on their feet and moving, even if very briefly.

The second message from this study applies more to children and adolescents and is one of those unusual instances in which a negative intervention may be more effective than a positive approach. Acknowledging that we are likely to have difficulty finding even a light activity that the child enjoys, why not pivot to the other side of the equation? Make a list of the child’s primary sedentary “activities.” Then suggest the parents put the child on a couch potato diet by immediately cutting in half the time he or she spends being sedentary. By definition, this will automatically increase his or her light physical activity by 50%. According to Dr. Agbaje’s data, this should be more effective in lowering lipids than in the unlikely event of finding a moderate activity the child accepts.

You can argue that the child will hound his or her parents unmercifully asking to be entertained. This may be true and this persistent complaining will be more likely to come from the older the child and the longer that the child has been allowed to be sedentary. Although the child may appear to have lost the ability to self amuse, I contend this isn’t a permanent loss and, with parental help, self-generated activity is a skill that can be regained if sedentary behavior is curtailed. This is another example of how saying “No!” in the right circumstances is often the most effective remedy for an unhealthy situation. I would never claim saying “No” is easy and helping parents to learn how to say “No” is one of our most difficult challenges. But, nothing else seems to be working.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

With the flip of the calendar a few short weeks ago, gyms and fitness centers began ramping up their advertising campaigns in hopes of attracting the horde of resolution makers searching for a place where they can inject some exercise into their sedentary lives. A recent survey by C.S. Mott’s Children’s Hospital found that even young people are setting health-related goals with more than half of the parents of 11- to 18-year-olds reporting their children were setting personal goals for themselves. More than 40% of the young people listed more exercise as a target.

However, our personal and professional experiences have taught us that achieving goals, particularly when it comes to exercise, is far more difficult than setting the target. Finding an exercise buddy can be an important motivator on the days when just lacing up one’s sneakers is a stumbling block. Investing in a gym membership and sweating with a peer group can help. However, it is an investment that rarely pays a dividend. Exercise isn’t fun for everyone. For adults, showing up at a gym may be just one more reminder of how they have already lost their competitive edge over their leaner and fitter peers. If they aren’t lucky enough to find a sport or activity that they enjoy, the loneliness of the long-distance runner has little appeal.

A recent study on children in the United Kingdom suggests that at least when it comes to teens and young adults we as physicians may actually have been making things worse for our obese patients by urging them to accept unrealistic activity goals. While it is already known that sedentary time is responsible for 70% of the total increase in cholesterol as children advance to young adulthood an unqualified recommendation for more exercise may not be the best advice.

In an interview with the study author, Andre O. Agbaje MD, MPH, said that in his large study population “light physical activity outperforms moderate to vigorous physical activity by five to eight times in lowering lipids”. While we may be surprised by this counterintuitive finding, Dr. Agbaje points out that an increase in sedentariness from 6 to 9 hours per day translates into a loss of 3 hours of light physical activity. In other words if you’re not sedentary you must be standing at attention or engaged in some light activity.

In my experience, and I suspect yours, it is difficult to get adults to do something, particularly if that something involves exerting energy, even a small amount of energy. The general admonishment of “be more active” is often met with a blank stare and the sometimes unspoken question “Like what?”

You could fall into a bottomless trap with them by suggesting a long list of activities, many of which are probably ones you do or would enjoy but don’t happen to fit with any of their interests or capabilities. Your chances of hitting on a perfect activity that the patient will attempt, let alone adopt, is very slim. Those of you with more patience than I have may choose to persist with this strategy. You could argue that even if the patient only dabbles briefly in one of your recommended activities, this is a minor victory worth celebrating. Who knows? The brief jolt of energy they received from this activity may prompt them to seek and find something else that works.

My interpretation of Dr. Agbaje’s findings is this: If we are going to suggest more activity, aim low. Don’t even mention the heavily weighted words “sport” or “exercise,” which are likely to dredge up bad memories. For adults, “Go shopping” or “Visit a friend” may be sufficient to at least get the person off the couch and on their feet and moving, even if very briefly.

The second message from this study applies more to children and adolescents and is one of those unusual instances in which a negative intervention may be more effective than a positive approach. Acknowledging that we are likely to have difficulty finding even a light activity that the child enjoys, why not pivot to the other side of the equation? Make a list of the child’s primary sedentary “activities.” Then suggest the parents put the child on a couch potato diet by immediately cutting in half the time he or she spends being sedentary. By definition, this will automatically increase his or her light physical activity by 50%. According to Dr. Agbaje’s data, this should be more effective in lowering lipids than in the unlikely event of finding a moderate activity the child accepts.

You can argue that the child will hound his or her parents unmercifully asking to be entertained. This may be true and this persistent complaining will be more likely to come from the older the child and the longer that the child has been allowed to be sedentary. Although the child may appear to have lost the ability to self amuse, I contend this isn’t a permanent loss and, with parental help, self-generated activity is a skill that can be regained if sedentary behavior is curtailed. This is another example of how saying “No!” in the right circumstances is often the most effective remedy for an unhealthy situation. I would never claim saying “No” is easy and helping parents to learn how to say “No” is one of our most difficult challenges. But, nothing else seems to be working.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

People are surprised when they learn I was an art history major in college. Most folks assume I had majored in biology or chemistry. Their assumption was based on strong odds. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that nearly half of all physicians practicing in this country were biology majors.

I headed off to college clueless about my future. I was hoping to succeed as a walk-on to the football team and beyond that I figured someone or something would guide me toward a career. Had you asked me, “physician” it would have been a definite “Never.”

I flirted with a psychology major, but after a semester I realized that the department was more interested in the behavior of rats rather than humans. I got an “easy A” in the intro to art history and that was the open door I was looking for.

By my senior year I was applying for fellowships to study in faraway places. However, the world situation in 1965 was unsettling for a young man in this country. I had had a strong high school science education and had continued to take a some science courses. Fortunately, I had banked just enough credits so that I could apply to medical school, again without really planning to become a physician.

Even during the sharpest turns in my circuitous path to becoming a small town pediatrician, including a year doing research in exercise physiology in Denmark, I never once regretted my years spent studying art history. I credit them with making me a more sensitive observer.

You can probably understand why I was intrigued by an article I recently read that described a program in which the radiology residents that the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston take a year-long course in art history using the Art Museum at Harvard University as a resource. Titled “Seeing in Art and Medical Imaging,” the program is now 6 years old. Hyewon Hyun, MD, a radiologist and one of its cofounders, observes that “art is the starting point for in-depth conversations about medicine, humanity, and different ways of seeing the world.”

Radiology and dermatology are obviously the two specialties in which the physician relies most heavily on his or her powers of observation. However, every doctor can benefit from learning to really “see” what they are looking at. Looking and seeing are two very different activities. There is obviously the forest-from the-trees phenomenon. Can the physician in a hurried clinical situation muster up the discipline to shift focus back and forth from the lesion or painful body part to the entire patient and beyond? How is the parent responding to the child’s discomfort? How are they dressed? Does this wider view suggest some additional questions to ask that may help you understand how this patient or family will be able to cope with diagnosis or follow up with your treatment plan?

The art historian sees every object in its historical context. What has come before? How have the societal conditions influenced the artist choice of subject and use of materials? How has his or her emotions at the time of creation influenced his or her style? The astute physician must likewise see the patients and their complaints in the broader context of their emotional health and socioeconomic situation. This requires sensitive listening and careful observation.

One doesn’t have to major in art history or spend years roaming through the sometimes dark and dusty halls of the world’s museums to progress from being one who simply looks to a person who really sees the environment and its inhabitants. It is really a state of mind and a commitment to improvement.

As physicians, we often complain or sometimes brag about how many patients we “see” in a day. I fear that too often we mean “looked at.” How frequently did we make the effort to really see the patient?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

People are surprised when they learn I was an art history major in college. Most folks assume I had majored in biology or chemistry. Their assumption was based on strong odds. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that nearly half of all physicians practicing in this country were biology majors.

I headed off to college clueless about my future. I was hoping to succeed as a walk-on to the football team and beyond that I figured someone or something would guide me toward a career. Had you asked me, “physician” it would have been a definite “Never.”

I flirted with a psychology major, but after a semester I realized that the department was more interested in the behavior of rats rather than humans. I got an “easy A” in the intro to art history and that was the open door I was looking for.

By my senior year I was applying for fellowships to study in faraway places. However, the world situation in 1965 was unsettling for a young man in this country. I had had a strong high school science education and had continued to take a some science courses. Fortunately, I had banked just enough credits so that I could apply to medical school, again without really planning to become a physician.

Even during the sharpest turns in my circuitous path to becoming a small town pediatrician, including a year doing research in exercise physiology in Denmark, I never once regretted my years spent studying art history. I credit them with making me a more sensitive observer.

You can probably understand why I was intrigued by an article I recently read that described a program in which the radiology residents that the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston take a year-long course in art history using the Art Museum at Harvard University as a resource. Titled “Seeing in Art and Medical Imaging,” the program is now 6 years old. Hyewon Hyun, MD, a radiologist and one of its cofounders, observes that “art is the starting point for in-depth conversations about medicine, humanity, and different ways of seeing the world.”

Radiology and dermatology are obviously the two specialties in which the physician relies most heavily on his or her powers of observation. However, every doctor can benefit from learning to really “see” what they are looking at. Looking and seeing are two very different activities. There is obviously the forest-from the-trees phenomenon. Can the physician in a hurried clinical situation muster up the discipline to shift focus back and forth from the lesion or painful body part to the entire patient and beyond? How is the parent responding to the child’s discomfort? How are they dressed? Does this wider view suggest some additional questions to ask that may help you understand how this patient or family will be able to cope with diagnosis or follow up with your treatment plan?

The art historian sees every object in its historical context. What has come before? How have the societal conditions influenced the artist choice of subject and use of materials? How has his or her emotions at the time of creation influenced his or her style? The astute physician must likewise see the patients and their complaints in the broader context of their emotional health and socioeconomic situation. This requires sensitive listening and careful observation.

One doesn’t have to major in art history or spend years roaming through the sometimes dark and dusty halls of the world’s museums to progress from being one who simply looks to a person who really sees the environment and its inhabitants. It is really a state of mind and a commitment to improvement.

As physicians, we often complain or sometimes brag about how many patients we “see” in a day. I fear that too often we mean “looked at.” How frequently did we make the effort to really see the patient?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

People are surprised when they learn I was an art history major in college. Most folks assume I had majored in biology or chemistry. Their assumption was based on strong odds. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that nearly half of all physicians practicing in this country were biology majors.

I headed off to college clueless about my future. I was hoping to succeed as a walk-on to the football team and beyond that I figured someone or something would guide me toward a career. Had you asked me, “physician” it would have been a definite “Never.”

I flirted with a psychology major, but after a semester I realized that the department was more interested in the behavior of rats rather than humans. I got an “easy A” in the intro to art history and that was the open door I was looking for.

By my senior year I was applying for fellowships to study in faraway places. However, the world situation in 1965 was unsettling for a young man in this country. I had had a strong high school science education and had continued to take a some science courses. Fortunately, I had banked just enough credits so that I could apply to medical school, again without really planning to become a physician.

Even during the sharpest turns in my circuitous path to becoming a small town pediatrician, including a year doing research in exercise physiology in Denmark, I never once regretted my years spent studying art history. I credit them with making me a more sensitive observer.

You can probably understand why I was intrigued by an article I recently read that described a program in which the radiology residents that the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston take a year-long course in art history using the Art Museum at Harvard University as a resource. Titled “Seeing in Art and Medical Imaging,” the program is now 6 years old. Hyewon Hyun, MD, a radiologist and one of its cofounders, observes that “art is the starting point for in-depth conversations about medicine, humanity, and different ways of seeing the world.”

Radiology and dermatology are obviously the two specialties in which the physician relies most heavily on his or her powers of observation. However, every doctor can benefit from learning to really “see” what they are looking at. Looking and seeing are two very different activities. There is obviously the forest-from the-trees phenomenon. Can the physician in a hurried clinical situation muster up the discipline to shift focus back and forth from the lesion or painful body part to the entire patient and beyond? How is the parent responding to the child’s discomfort? How are they dressed? Does this wider view suggest some additional questions to ask that may help you understand how this patient or family will be able to cope with diagnosis or follow up with your treatment plan?

The art historian sees every object in its historical context. What has come before? How have the societal conditions influenced the artist choice of subject and use of materials? How has his or her emotions at the time of creation influenced his or her style? The astute physician must likewise see the patients and their complaints in the broader context of their emotional health and socioeconomic situation. This requires sensitive listening and careful observation.

One doesn’t have to major in art history or spend years roaming through the sometimes dark and dusty halls of the world’s museums to progress from being one who simply looks to a person who really sees the environment and its inhabitants. It is really a state of mind and a commitment to improvement.

As physicians, we often complain or sometimes brag about how many patients we “see” in a day. I fear that too often we mean “looked at.” How frequently did we make the effort to really see the patient?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Until relatively recently, becoming a physician was a process in which the student began as an apprentice to an already skilled clinician. Eventually, both university- and hospital-based schools became part of the process, but an apprenticeship component persisted. In 1910, with the release of the Flexner Report, medical education here in the United States was revolutionized with a shift toward a more academic and scientific model already in use in Europe. While the path to becoming a physician grew more rigorous and science based when the students moved from the classroom and laboratory to the clinic and bedside, the process necessarily returned to its old one-on-one mentor-learner roots.

The venerable maxim of “See one — Do one — Teach one” that dominated my residency may still occasionally be whispered in the quiet corners of teaching hospitals, but I suspect concerns about risk management have discouraged its frequent application in hands-on situations. The development of artificial intelligence–driven mannequins may have finally relegated this remnant of an old cowboy (and girl) procedure-acquisition strategy to the dusty closet of medical education history.

However, when it comes to non–procedure based learning in clinic and hospital settings, the process continues to be one in which the inexperienced are expected to learn by observing their more experienced (sometimes only slightly more experienced) mentors. There may be some mini “lectures” on the fly during rounds explaining the rationale behind what the learner is observing, but “teaching” is still dominated by “Watch this — Try it when it’s your turn — Then we’ll tell you how you did.”

A recent survey in the journal Hospital Pediatrics reviewed in AAP News suggests that there is a problem with feedback, the final step in this three-step process. The investigators surveyed 52 residents and 21 fellows using a scale developed for industrial applications and found that, with the exception of delivery, the fellows scored better than residents in the feedback process. In interviews with a small subgroup of eight residents, the researchers learned that the two consistent impediments to obtaining feedback were 1) that the hectic pace of patient care placed a limit on opportunities (not surprising) and 2) a culture emphasizing “a positive, nurturing environment may have led physicians to avoid giving constructive criticism because it might hurt resident’s feelings.”

I have a friend who has held human resource (HR) positions in two good-sized teaching hospital systems. He certainly agrees with the time limitations component. He has also been involved in several cases in which trainees have accused senior physicians of harassment and unprofessional behavior because learners took issue with the manner in which they had been given feedback on their performance. One wonders if the institution(s) surveyed in this recent study had already experienced similar cases of discontent and have reacted by being so polite that feedback now lacks a feel of authenticity. This was a very small study, and it is hard to know how applicable the findings would be in a national sample, but I suspect there are more than a few teaching institutions in which kid gloves have become fashionable attire.

As my friend pointed out to me, substantial “generational differences” exist in many work places. Different generations may hold competing value systems when it comes to how feedback should be, and should not be, delivered.

None of us were trained in how to deliver a performance evaluation and feedback regardless of whether it was with one or two rushed sentences on a sprint from room to room on morning rounds or a more relaxed sit-down at the end of a rotation. We tend to lean on our own experiences of receiving feedback from our parents, from coaches, and most often from the models we observed as we came up through the hierarchy of medical training.

Feedback is a tightrope we must all walk along, and we must be acutely aware of the background and expectations of the recipients of well-meaning constructive criticism. I found it refreshing to learn that at least one small population of the trainees may be willing, and even eager, to receive honest feedback even though it sometimes may come with a hard edge.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Until relatively recently, becoming a physician was a process in which the student began as an apprentice to an already skilled clinician. Eventually, both university- and hospital-based schools became part of the process, but an apprenticeship component persisted. In 1910, with the release of the Flexner Report, medical education here in the United States was revolutionized with a shift toward a more academic and scientific model already in use in Europe. While the path to becoming a physician grew more rigorous and science based when the students moved from the classroom and laboratory to the clinic and bedside, the process necessarily returned to its old one-on-one mentor-learner roots.

The venerable maxim of “See one — Do one — Teach one” that dominated my residency may still occasionally be whispered in the quiet corners of teaching hospitals, but I suspect concerns about risk management have discouraged its frequent application in hands-on situations. The development of artificial intelligence–driven mannequins may have finally relegated this remnant of an old cowboy (and girl) procedure-acquisition strategy to the dusty closet of medical education history.

However, when it comes to non–procedure based learning in clinic and hospital settings, the process continues to be one in which the inexperienced are expected to learn by observing their more experienced (sometimes only slightly more experienced) mentors. There may be some mini “lectures” on the fly during rounds explaining the rationale behind what the learner is observing, but “teaching” is still dominated by “Watch this — Try it when it’s your turn — Then we’ll tell you how you did.”

A recent survey in the journal Hospital Pediatrics reviewed in AAP News suggests that there is a problem with feedback, the final step in this three-step process. The investigators surveyed 52 residents and 21 fellows using a scale developed for industrial applications and found that, with the exception of delivery, the fellows scored better than residents in the feedback process. In interviews with a small subgroup of eight residents, the researchers learned that the two consistent impediments to obtaining feedback were 1) that the hectic pace of patient care placed a limit on opportunities (not surprising) and 2) a culture emphasizing “a positive, nurturing environment may have led physicians to avoid giving constructive criticism because it might hurt resident’s feelings.”

I have a friend who has held human resource (HR) positions in two good-sized teaching hospital systems. He certainly agrees with the time limitations component. He has also been involved in several cases in which trainees have accused senior physicians of harassment and unprofessional behavior because learners took issue with the manner in which they had been given feedback on their performance. One wonders if the institution(s) surveyed in this recent study had already experienced similar cases of discontent and have reacted by being so polite that feedback now lacks a feel of authenticity. This was a very small study, and it is hard to know how applicable the findings would be in a national sample, but I suspect there are more than a few teaching institutions in which kid gloves have become fashionable attire.

As my friend pointed out to me, substantial “generational differences” exist in many work places. Different generations may hold competing value systems when it comes to how feedback should be, and should not be, delivered.

None of us were trained in how to deliver a performance evaluation and feedback regardless of whether it was with one or two rushed sentences on a sprint from room to room on morning rounds or a more relaxed sit-down at the end of a rotation. We tend to lean on our own experiences of receiving feedback from our parents, from coaches, and most often from the models we observed as we came up through the hierarchy of medical training.

Feedback is a tightrope we must all walk along, and we must be acutely aware of the background and expectations of the recipients of well-meaning constructive criticism. I found it refreshing to learn that at least one small population of the trainees may be willing, and even eager, to receive honest feedback even though it sometimes may come with a hard edge.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Until relatively recently, becoming a physician was a process in which the student began as an apprentice to an already skilled clinician. Eventually, both university- and hospital-based schools became part of the process, but an apprenticeship component persisted. In 1910, with the release of the Flexner Report, medical education here in the United States was revolutionized with a shift toward a more academic and scientific model already in use in Europe. While the path to becoming a physician grew more rigorous and science based when the students moved from the classroom and laboratory to the clinic and bedside, the process necessarily returned to its old one-on-one mentor-learner roots.

The venerable maxim of “See one — Do one — Teach one” that dominated my residency may still occasionally be whispered in the quiet corners of teaching hospitals, but I suspect concerns about risk management have discouraged its frequent application in hands-on situations. The development of artificial intelligence–driven mannequins may have finally relegated this remnant of an old cowboy (and girl) procedure-acquisition strategy to the dusty closet of medical education history.

However, when it comes to non–procedure based learning in clinic and hospital settings, the process continues to be one in which the inexperienced are expected to learn by observing their more experienced (sometimes only slightly more experienced) mentors. There may be some mini “lectures” on the fly during rounds explaining the rationale behind what the learner is observing, but “teaching” is still dominated by “Watch this — Try it when it’s your turn — Then we’ll tell you how you did.”

A recent survey in the journal Hospital Pediatrics reviewed in AAP News suggests that there is a problem with feedback, the final step in this three-step process. The investigators surveyed 52 residents and 21 fellows using a scale developed for industrial applications and found that, with the exception of delivery, the fellows scored better than residents in the feedback process. In interviews with a small subgroup of eight residents, the researchers learned that the two consistent impediments to obtaining feedback were 1) that the hectic pace of patient care placed a limit on opportunities (not surprising) and 2) a culture emphasizing “a positive, nurturing environment may have led physicians to avoid giving constructive criticism because it might hurt resident’s feelings.”

I have a friend who has held human resource (HR) positions in two good-sized teaching hospital systems. He certainly agrees with the time limitations component. He has also been involved in several cases in which trainees have accused senior physicians of harassment and unprofessional behavior because learners took issue with the manner in which they had been given feedback on their performance. One wonders if the institution(s) surveyed in this recent study had already experienced similar cases of discontent and have reacted by being so polite that feedback now lacks a feel of authenticity. This was a very small study, and it is hard to know how applicable the findings would be in a national sample, but I suspect there are more than a few teaching institutions in which kid gloves have become fashionable attire.

As my friend pointed out to me, substantial “generational differences” exist in many work places. Different generations may hold competing value systems when it comes to how feedback should be, and should not be, delivered.

None of us were trained in how to deliver a performance evaluation and feedback regardless of whether it was with one or two rushed sentences on a sprint from room to room on morning rounds or a more relaxed sit-down at the end of a rotation. We tend to lean on our own experiences of receiving feedback from our parents, from coaches, and most often from the models we observed as we came up through the hierarchy of medical training.

Feedback is a tightrope we must all walk along, and we must be acutely aware of the background and expectations of the recipients of well-meaning constructive criticism. I found it refreshing to learn that at least one small population of the trainees may be willing, and even eager, to receive honest feedback even though it sometimes may come with a hard edge.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

As we begin to find our way in the new world of obesity management, questions continue to surface more quickly than answers. This isn’t surprising, as we are being asked to view obesity as a disease when for decades the general consensus has been that overweight people are simply will power deficient.

Are the new drugs as effective as we are told by the patients and physicians who have had some experience using and prescribing them? Will they continue to be effective in the very long run? Will their safety record hold up over time? And for those of us in pediatrics, what will be their role for children? As a group we tend to be cautious about drugs that haven’t been thoroughly tested in children. How many years will it take before we feel comfortable with obesity drugs? And, of course, we should be asking ourselves the same questions about bariatric surgery.

Fortunately, while the media spotlight has been focused on the treatment arm of our obesity strategy, there are still some folks looking at what has been up to now the discouraging prospects for prevention. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) has recently released a draft of its recommendations that includes evidence supporting the effectiveness of “intensive behavioral interventions” (defined as a minimum of 26 hours of counseling). In reviewing data from nearly 60 randomized controlled trials, which included more than 10,000 children, the task force found that when beginning as early as age 6, a package including healthy eating education, physical activity, and behavioral change support could be effective in helping the children achieve healthy weight and an improved quality of life. It should be noted that the USPSTF gave the intervention package only a B grade, which means that the agency found evidence of high certainty of a moderate benefit over an unspecified time period. Certainly, not a ringing endorsement.

While I think we must applaud the diligent efforts of the task force and its commitment to prevention, I fear that the strategy is too little too late. That being said, I am willing to accept the idea that targeting age 6 for intensive counseling may qualify for the better-late-than-never category. The task force acknowledges that procuring the resources given our already understaffed mental health clinics is going to be difficult and expensive. I would add that it will be so costly in time and money as to be unrealistic.

Based on my observations of thousands of children, the scaffolding of habits, diet, and preference for inactivity that underly obesity has already been laid by age 6. Are we prepared to shoulder our already overburdened school systems in an attempt to reconfigure this foundation of an obesogenic lifestyle? An effort on this scale after children have been sent off to first grade is doomed to failure.

A recent review of data reported by the CDC and reviewed in the journal Pediatrics reveals that about 2% of children receiving federal assistance from the WIC program are severely obese. It is probably safe to say that these preschoolers represent just the tip of a very concerning iceberg.

By waiting until age 6, we would increase the risk of further stigmatizing the obese child. What will he tell his peers when he is taken out of school or misses a playdate because he has to meet with his “obesity counselor”?

If we are going to take obesity prevention seriously and spend time and money in counseling, doesn’t it make more sense to invest this effort on the parents and the home situation when the child is still under their influence? We must be prepared to unwrap and employ an “intensive behavioral package” the first time we see evidence that the child’s growth chart is heading in an unhealthy direction.

This won’t always be easy. I can recall seeing a 4-year-old whose weight had risen dramatically from her previous curve in the year since her 3-year checkup. The answer became obvious when I discovered that her grandmother, for whom baking was a passion, had taken over as her daycare provider. Arriving at a solution that kept the family on speaking terms took some tact, but it was one of my rare successes in obesity prevention. And, it worked because of early intervention.

Thank you USPSTF, but 6 years is too late.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

As we begin to find our way in the new world of obesity management, questions continue to surface more quickly than answers. This isn’t surprising, as we are being asked to view obesity as a disease when for decades the general consensus has been that overweight people are simply will power deficient.

Are the new drugs as effective as we are told by the patients and physicians who have had some experience using and prescribing them? Will they continue to be effective in the very long run? Will their safety record hold up over time? And for those of us in pediatrics, what will be their role for children? As a group we tend to be cautious about drugs that haven’t been thoroughly tested in children. How many years will it take before we feel comfortable with obesity drugs? And, of course, we should be asking ourselves the same questions about bariatric surgery.

Fortunately, while the media spotlight has been focused on the treatment arm of our obesity strategy, there are still some folks looking at what has been up to now the discouraging prospects for prevention. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) has recently released a draft of its recommendations that includes evidence supporting the effectiveness of “intensive behavioral interventions” (defined as a minimum of 26 hours of counseling). In reviewing data from nearly 60 randomized controlled trials, which included more than 10,000 children, the task force found that when beginning as early as age 6, a package including healthy eating education, physical activity, and behavioral change support could be effective in helping the children achieve healthy weight and an improved quality of life. It should be noted that the USPSTF gave the intervention package only a B grade, which means that the agency found evidence of high certainty of a moderate benefit over an unspecified time period. Certainly, not a ringing endorsement.

While I think we must applaud the diligent efforts of the task force and its commitment to prevention, I fear that the strategy is too little too late. That being said, I am willing to accept the idea that targeting age 6 for intensive counseling may qualify for the better-late-than-never category. The task force acknowledges that procuring the resources given our already understaffed mental health clinics is going to be difficult and expensive. I would add that it will be so costly in time and money as to be unrealistic.

Based on my observations of thousands of children, the scaffolding of habits, diet, and preference for inactivity that underly obesity has already been laid by age 6. Are we prepared to shoulder our already overburdened school systems in an attempt to reconfigure this foundation of an obesogenic lifestyle? An effort on this scale after children have been sent off to first grade is doomed to failure.

A recent review of data reported by the CDC and reviewed in the journal Pediatrics reveals that about 2% of children receiving federal assistance from the WIC program are severely obese. It is probably safe to say that these preschoolers represent just the tip of a very concerning iceberg.

By waiting until age 6, we would increase the risk of further stigmatizing the obese child. What will he tell his peers when he is taken out of school or misses a playdate because he has to meet with his “obesity counselor”?

If we are going to take obesity prevention seriously and spend time and money in counseling, doesn’t it make more sense to invest this effort on the parents and the home situation when the child is still under their influence? We must be prepared to unwrap and employ an “intensive behavioral package” the first time we see evidence that the child’s growth chart is heading in an unhealthy direction.

This won’t always be easy. I can recall seeing a 4-year-old whose weight had risen dramatically from her previous curve in the year since her 3-year checkup. The answer became obvious when I discovered that her grandmother, for whom baking was a passion, had taken over as her daycare provider. Arriving at a solution that kept the family on speaking terms took some tact, but it was one of my rare successes in obesity prevention. And, it worked because of early intervention.

Thank you USPSTF, but 6 years is too late.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

As we begin to find our way in the new world of obesity management, questions continue to surface more quickly than answers. This isn’t surprising, as we are being asked to view obesity as a disease when for decades the general consensus has been that overweight people are simply will power deficient.

Are the new drugs as effective as we are told by the patients and physicians who have had some experience using and prescribing them? Will they continue to be effective in the very long run? Will their safety record hold up over time? And for those of us in pediatrics, what will be their role for children? As a group we tend to be cautious about drugs that haven’t been thoroughly tested in children. How many years will it take before we feel comfortable with obesity drugs? And, of course, we should be asking ourselves the same questions about bariatric surgery.

Fortunately, while the media spotlight has been focused on the treatment arm of our obesity strategy, there are still some folks looking at what has been up to now the discouraging prospects for prevention. The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) has recently released a draft of its recommendations that includes evidence supporting the effectiveness of “intensive behavioral interventions” (defined as a minimum of 26 hours of counseling). In reviewing data from nearly 60 randomized controlled trials, which included more than 10,000 children, the task force found that when beginning as early as age 6, a package including healthy eating education, physical activity, and behavioral change support could be effective in helping the children achieve healthy weight and an improved quality of life. It should be noted that the USPSTF gave the intervention package only a B grade, which means that the agency found evidence of high certainty of a moderate benefit over an unspecified time period. Certainly, not a ringing endorsement.

While I think we must applaud the diligent efforts of the task force and its commitment to prevention, I fear that the strategy is too little too late. That being said, I am willing to accept the idea that targeting age 6 for intensive counseling may qualify for the better-late-than-never category. The task force acknowledges that procuring the resources given our already understaffed mental health clinics is going to be difficult and expensive. I would add that it will be so costly in time and money as to be unrealistic.

Based on my observations of thousands of children, the scaffolding of habits, diet, and preference for inactivity that underly obesity has already been laid by age 6. Are we prepared to shoulder our already overburdened school systems in an attempt to reconfigure this foundation of an obesogenic lifestyle? An effort on this scale after children have been sent off to first grade is doomed to failure.

A recent review of data reported by the CDC and reviewed in the journal Pediatrics reveals that about 2% of children receiving federal assistance from the WIC program are severely obese. It is probably safe to say that these preschoolers represent just the tip of a very concerning iceberg.

By waiting until age 6, we would increase the risk of further stigmatizing the obese child. What will he tell his peers when he is taken out of school or misses a playdate because he has to meet with his “obesity counselor”?

If we are going to take obesity prevention seriously and spend time and money in counseling, doesn’t it make more sense to invest this effort on the parents and the home situation when the child is still under their influence? We must be prepared to unwrap and employ an “intensive behavioral package” the first time we see evidence that the child’s growth chart is heading in an unhealthy direction.

This won’t always be easy. I can recall seeing a 4-year-old whose weight had risen dramatically from her previous curve in the year since her 3-year checkup. The answer became obvious when I discovered that her grandmother, for whom baking was a passion, had taken over as her daycare provider. Arriving at a solution that kept the family on speaking terms took some tact, but it was one of my rare successes in obesity prevention. And, it worked because of early intervention.

Thank you USPSTF, but 6 years is too late.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

You’re familiar with DIY and DUI, but what associations do the initials DEI trigger in your thought processor? Your college is probably influenced by it. So is your medical school, as are many of the businesses whose advertisements bombard you on television and the internet. Your professional association is definitely involved with it.

In the words of one newspaper columnist, DEI is an “ideological framework” whose most recognizable buzz words are “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion.” In the case of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), DEI has taken the form of a hiring philosophy that accepts and respects its responsibility to create a workplace “where each person can fully contribute to the shared mission without discrimination or intimidation and each person is respected, supported, and provided the equal opportunity, regardless of race, ethnicity, ancestry, national origin, religion, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression age, veteran status, immigration status, or disability.”.

As an organization representing its members, the AAP has issued a statement: “Celebrating the diversity of children and families and promoting nurturing, inclusive environments means actively opposing intolerance, bigotry, bias and discrimination” Further, the AAP says it is committed to using policy, advocacy, and education to encourage inclusivity and cultural effectiveness for all.”. Included in its recommendations to fulfill this commitment are efforts to diversify the pediatric workforce and eliminate race-based medicine.

For the AAP, its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion seems to be a good fit. The first line of its mission statement — “to attain optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents and young adults” — is well focused and one that its members can agree upon. However, we are beginning to see and hear that on some college and university campuses DEI has worn out its welcome.

In academia, the decision to include a broad mix of students and faculty with diverse backgrounds and at the same time provide opportunities equitably has hit some serious bumps in the road. It’s unclear how much the chaos in the Middle East is to blame, However, for several years there have been unfortunate campus incidents when the invitation of controversial guest speakers has laid bare the widely different interpretations of exactly what “free speech” means.

From its hazy inception, DEI has been missing one key ingredient — commonality. If we are going to actively seek to include individuals from a variety of backgrounds, encourage them to celebrate their diversity, and offer them equitable opportunities, then at the same time we must make it clear that our overriding goal is to seek and encourage the civil discussion of what we all have in common. Neglecting this additional step of promoting commonality is a grave mistake.

One mustn’t be surprised that a group of individuals from diverse backgrounds will have differing opinions. Finding common ground will predictably be a challenge, but it can be done. It requires compromise and a commitment to civil discussion. Regrettably, DEI as a framework places so much emphasis on the individual and diversity that the critical concept of commonality has been lost. Ironically, true inclusion and equity can’t occur without a reverence for commonality.

The AAP has done a good job of folding DEI into fulfilling the first sentence of its mission statement. However, it must not lose sight of the critical ingredient of commonality as it seeks to “support the professional needs of its members” (the second sentence of its mission). Despite a general agreement on the goal of providing care for all children, there are differences of opinion among its members when it comes to some of the details. The confusing topic of gender-affirmative care comes to mind. I am confident that as a group of thoughtful professionals, even in the face of wide differences, we can see the way to civil and productive discussions in the search for commonality.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

You’re familiar with DIY and DUI, but what associations do the initials DEI trigger in your thought processor? Your college is probably influenced by it. So is your medical school, as are many of the businesses whose advertisements bombard you on television and the internet. Your professional association is definitely involved with it.

In the words of one newspaper columnist, DEI is an “ideological framework” whose most recognizable buzz words are “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion.” In the case of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), DEI has taken the form of a hiring philosophy that accepts and respects its responsibility to create a workplace “where each person can fully contribute to the shared mission without discrimination or intimidation and each person is respected, supported, and provided the equal opportunity, regardless of race, ethnicity, ancestry, national origin, religion, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression age, veteran status, immigration status, or disability.”.

As an organization representing its members, the AAP has issued a statement: “Celebrating the diversity of children and families and promoting nurturing, inclusive environments means actively opposing intolerance, bigotry, bias and discrimination” Further, the AAP says it is committed to using policy, advocacy, and education to encourage inclusivity and cultural effectiveness for all.”. Included in its recommendations to fulfill this commitment are efforts to diversify the pediatric workforce and eliminate race-based medicine.

For the AAP, its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion seems to be a good fit. The first line of its mission statement — “to attain optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents and young adults” — is well focused and one that its members can agree upon. However, we are beginning to see and hear that on some college and university campuses DEI has worn out its welcome.

In academia, the decision to include a broad mix of students and faculty with diverse backgrounds and at the same time provide opportunities equitably has hit some serious bumps in the road. It’s unclear how much the chaos in the Middle East is to blame, However, for several years there have been unfortunate campus incidents when the invitation of controversial guest speakers has laid bare the widely different interpretations of exactly what “free speech” means.

From its hazy inception, DEI has been missing one key ingredient — commonality. If we are going to actively seek to include individuals from a variety of backgrounds, encourage them to celebrate their diversity, and offer them equitable opportunities, then at the same time we must make it clear that our overriding goal is to seek and encourage the civil discussion of what we all have in common. Neglecting this additional step of promoting commonality is a grave mistake.

One mustn’t be surprised that a group of individuals from diverse backgrounds will have differing opinions. Finding common ground will predictably be a challenge, but it can be done. It requires compromise and a commitment to civil discussion. Regrettably, DEI as a framework places so much emphasis on the individual and diversity that the critical concept of commonality has been lost. Ironically, true inclusion and equity can’t occur without a reverence for commonality.

The AAP has done a good job of folding DEI into fulfilling the first sentence of its mission statement. However, it must not lose sight of the critical ingredient of commonality as it seeks to “support the professional needs of its members” (the second sentence of its mission). Despite a general agreement on the goal of providing care for all children, there are differences of opinion among its members when it comes to some of the details. The confusing topic of gender-affirmative care comes to mind. I am confident that as a group of thoughtful professionals, even in the face of wide differences, we can see the way to civil and productive discussions in the search for commonality.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

You’re familiar with DIY and DUI, but what associations do the initials DEI trigger in your thought processor? Your college is probably influenced by it. So is your medical school, as are many of the businesses whose advertisements bombard you on television and the internet. Your professional association is definitely involved with it.

In the words of one newspaper columnist, DEI is an “ideological framework” whose most recognizable buzz words are “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion.” In the case of the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), DEI has taken the form of a hiring philosophy that accepts and respects its responsibility to create a workplace “where each person can fully contribute to the shared mission without discrimination or intimidation and each person is respected, supported, and provided the equal opportunity, regardless of race, ethnicity, ancestry, national origin, religion, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression age, veteran status, immigration status, or disability.”.

As an organization representing its members, the AAP has issued a statement: “Celebrating the diversity of children and families and promoting nurturing, inclusive environments means actively opposing intolerance, bigotry, bias and discrimination” Further, the AAP says it is committed to using policy, advocacy, and education to encourage inclusivity and cultural effectiveness for all.”. Included in its recommendations to fulfill this commitment are efforts to diversify the pediatric workforce and eliminate race-based medicine.

For the AAP, its commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion seems to be a good fit. The first line of its mission statement — “to attain optimal physical, mental, and social health and well-being for all infants, children, adolescents and young adults” — is well focused and one that its members can agree upon. However, we are beginning to see and hear that on some college and university campuses DEI has worn out its welcome.

In academia, the decision to include a broad mix of students and faculty with diverse backgrounds and at the same time provide opportunities equitably has hit some serious bumps in the road. It’s unclear how much the chaos in the Middle East is to blame, However, for several years there have been unfortunate campus incidents when the invitation of controversial guest speakers has laid bare the widely different interpretations of exactly what “free speech” means.

From its hazy inception, DEI has been missing one key ingredient — commonality. If we are going to actively seek to include individuals from a variety of backgrounds, encourage them to celebrate their diversity, and offer them equitable opportunities, then at the same time we must make it clear that our overriding goal is to seek and encourage the civil discussion of what we all have in common. Neglecting this additional step of promoting commonality is a grave mistake.

One mustn’t be surprised that a group of individuals from diverse backgrounds will have differing opinions. Finding common ground will predictably be a challenge, but it can be done. It requires compromise and a commitment to civil discussion. Regrettably, DEI as a framework places so much emphasis on the individual and diversity that the critical concept of commonality has been lost. Ironically, true inclusion and equity can’t occur without a reverence for commonality.

The AAP has done a good job of folding DEI into fulfilling the first sentence of its mission statement. However, it must not lose sight of the critical ingredient of commonality as it seeks to “support the professional needs of its members” (the second sentence of its mission). Despite a general agreement on the goal of providing care for all children, there are differences of opinion among its members when it comes to some of the details. The confusing topic of gender-affirmative care comes to mind. I am confident that as a group of thoughtful professionals, even in the face of wide differences, we can see the way to civil and productive discussions in the search for commonality.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Organized labor seems to be experiencing a rebirth of sorts. In October 2022 a strike by railroad workers was averted when a tentative agreement about wages, working conditions, health insurance, and medical leave was hammered out. This past fall, strikes by auto workers that threatened to paralyze the big three manufacturers have now been resolved with agreements that meet many of the workers’ demands. The President even made an appearance on a picket line. Baristas at coffee shops, screenwriters, and actors have all been involved in work actions around the country.

While the health care industry has been relatively immune to threatened work stoppages, there are a growing number of hospitals and clinics where nurses and physicians are exploring the possibility of organizing to give themselves a stronger voice in how health care is being delivered. The realities that come when you transition from owner to employee are finally beginning to sink in for physicians, whether they are specialists or primary care providers.

One of the most significant efforts toward unionization recently occurred in Minnesota and Wisconsin. About 400 physicians and 150 physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners employed at Allina Health System voted to unionize and join the Doctors Council.

In an interview with Jacobin, a publication that offers a socialist perspective, three of the providers involved in the process that led to the vote shared their observations. The physicians claim that the first steps toward unionization came after multiple efforts to work with the Allina’s administration were rebuffed. As primary care physicians, their initial demands focused on getting help with hiring staffing and getting support with paperwork and administrative obligations.

The organizers complained that while Medicare hoped to bolster primary care by paying the providers more, the funds went to the companies, who then distributed them in a way that often did little to help the overworked providers. In addition to achieving a more equitable distribution of the monies, one of the organizers sees unionization as a way to provide a layer of protection when providers feel they must speak out about situations which clearly put quality of care at risk.

The organizers say the idea of unionization has been particularly appealing to the younger providers who are feeling threatened by burnout. When these new physicians look to their older coworkers for advice, they often find that the seasoned employees are as stressed as they are. Realizing that things aren’t going to improve with time, acting now to strengthen their voices sounds appealing.

With the vote for unionization behind them, the organizers are now ready to formulate a prioritized list of demands. Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine know that I have been urging primary care physicians to find their voices. Unfortunately, unionization seems to be becoming a more common fall-back strategy when other avenues have failed to reach a sympathetic ear in the corporate boardrooms.

As more unions form, it will be interesting to see how the organizers structure their demands and job actions. While walkouts and strikes can certainly be effective in gaining attention, that attention can carry a risk of counter productivity sometimes by alienating patients, who should become allies.

Since an unsustainable burden of paperwork and administrative demands seems to be at the top of everyone’s priority list, it might make sense to adopt this message as a scaffolding on which to built a work action. Instead of walking off the job or marching on a picket line, why not stay in the hospital and continue to see patients but only for part of the work day. The remainder of the day would be spent doing all the clerical work that has become so onerous.

Providers would agree to see patients in the mornings, saving up the clerical work and administrative obligations for the afternoon. The definition of “morning” could vary depending on local conditions.

The important message to the public and the patients would be that the providers were not abandoning them by walking out. The patients’ access to face-to-face care was being limited not because the doctors didn’t want to see them but because the providers were being forced to accept other responsibilities by the administration. The physicians would always be on site in case of a crisis, but until reasonable demands for support from the company were met, a certain portion of the providers’ day would be spent doing things not directly related to face-to-face patient care. This burden of meaningless work is the reality as it stands already. Why not organize it in a way that makes it startlingly visible to the patients and the public.

There would be no video clips of physicians walking the picket lines carrying signs. Any images released to the media would be of empty waiting rooms while providers sat hunched over their computers or talking on the phone to insurance companies.

The strategy needs a catchy phrase like “a paperwork-in” but I’m still struggling with a name. Let me know if you have a better one or even a better strategy.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Organized labor seems to be experiencing a rebirth of sorts. In October 2022 a strike by railroad workers was averted when a tentative agreement about wages, working conditions, health insurance, and medical leave was hammered out. This past fall, strikes by auto workers that threatened to paralyze the big three manufacturers have now been resolved with agreements that meet many of the workers’ demands. The President even made an appearance on a picket line. Baristas at coffee shops, screenwriters, and actors have all been involved in work actions around the country.

While the health care industry has been relatively immune to threatened work stoppages, there are a growing number of hospitals and clinics where nurses and physicians are exploring the possibility of organizing to give themselves a stronger voice in how health care is being delivered. The realities that come when you transition from owner to employee are finally beginning to sink in for physicians, whether they are specialists or primary care providers.

One of the most significant efforts toward unionization recently occurred in Minnesota and Wisconsin. About 400 physicians and 150 physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners employed at Allina Health System voted to unionize and join the Doctors Council.

In an interview with Jacobin, a publication that offers a socialist perspective, three of the providers involved in the process that led to the vote shared their observations. The physicians claim that the first steps toward unionization came after multiple efforts to work with the Allina’s administration were rebuffed. As primary care physicians, their initial demands focused on getting help with hiring staffing and getting support with paperwork and administrative obligations.

The organizers complained that while Medicare hoped to bolster primary care by paying the providers more, the funds went to the companies, who then distributed them in a way that often did little to help the overworked providers. In addition to achieving a more equitable distribution of the monies, one of the organizers sees unionization as a way to provide a layer of protection when providers feel they must speak out about situations which clearly put quality of care at risk.

The organizers say the idea of unionization has been particularly appealing to the younger providers who are feeling threatened by burnout. When these new physicians look to their older coworkers for advice, they often find that the seasoned employees are as stressed as they are. Realizing that things aren’t going to improve with time, acting now to strengthen their voices sounds appealing.

With the vote for unionization behind them, the organizers are now ready to formulate a prioritized list of demands. Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine know that I have been urging primary care physicians to find their voices. Unfortunately, unionization seems to be becoming a more common fall-back strategy when other avenues have failed to reach a sympathetic ear in the corporate boardrooms.

As more unions form, it will be interesting to see how the organizers structure their demands and job actions. While walkouts and strikes can certainly be effective in gaining attention, that attention can carry a risk of counter productivity sometimes by alienating patients, who should become allies.

Since an unsustainable burden of paperwork and administrative demands seems to be at the top of everyone’s priority list, it might make sense to adopt this message as a scaffolding on which to built a work action. Instead of walking off the job or marching on a picket line, why not stay in the hospital and continue to see patients but only for part of the work day. The remainder of the day would be spent doing all the clerical work that has become so onerous.

Providers would agree to see patients in the mornings, saving up the clerical work and administrative obligations for the afternoon. The definition of “morning” could vary depending on local conditions.

The important message to the public and the patients would be that the providers were not abandoning them by walking out. The patients’ access to face-to-face care was being limited not because the doctors didn’t want to see them but because the providers were being forced to accept other responsibilities by the administration. The physicians would always be on site in case of a crisis, but until reasonable demands for support from the company were met, a certain portion of the providers’ day would be spent doing things not directly related to face-to-face patient care. This burden of meaningless work is the reality as it stands already. Why not organize it in a way that makes it startlingly visible to the patients and the public.

There would be no video clips of physicians walking the picket lines carrying signs. Any images released to the media would be of empty waiting rooms while providers sat hunched over their computers or talking on the phone to insurance companies.

The strategy needs a catchy phrase like “a paperwork-in” but I’m still struggling with a name. Let me know if you have a better one or even a better strategy.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Organized labor seems to be experiencing a rebirth of sorts. In October 2022 a strike by railroad workers was averted when a tentative agreement about wages, working conditions, health insurance, and medical leave was hammered out. This past fall, strikes by auto workers that threatened to paralyze the big three manufacturers have now been resolved with agreements that meet many of the workers’ demands. The President even made an appearance on a picket line. Baristas at coffee shops, screenwriters, and actors have all been involved in work actions around the country.

While the health care industry has been relatively immune to threatened work stoppages, there are a growing number of hospitals and clinics where nurses and physicians are exploring the possibility of organizing to give themselves a stronger voice in how health care is being delivered. The realities that come when you transition from owner to employee are finally beginning to sink in for physicians, whether they are specialists or primary care providers.

One of the most significant efforts toward unionization recently occurred in Minnesota and Wisconsin. About 400 physicians and 150 physician’s assistants and nurse practitioners employed at Allina Health System voted to unionize and join the Doctors Council.

In an interview with Jacobin, a publication that offers a socialist perspective, three of the providers involved in the process that led to the vote shared their observations. The physicians claim that the first steps toward unionization came after multiple efforts to work with the Allina’s administration were rebuffed. As primary care physicians, their initial demands focused on getting help with hiring staffing and getting support with paperwork and administrative obligations.

The organizers complained that while Medicare hoped to bolster primary care by paying the providers more, the funds went to the companies, who then distributed them in a way that often did little to help the overworked providers. In addition to achieving a more equitable distribution of the monies, one of the organizers sees unionization as a way to provide a layer of protection when providers feel they must speak out about situations which clearly put quality of care at risk.

The organizers say the idea of unionization has been particularly appealing to the younger providers who are feeling threatened by burnout. When these new physicians look to their older coworkers for advice, they often find that the seasoned employees are as stressed as they are. Realizing that things aren’t going to improve with time, acting now to strengthen their voices sounds appealing.

With the vote for unionization behind them, the organizers are now ready to formulate a prioritized list of demands. Those of you who are regular readers of Letters from Maine know that I have been urging primary care physicians to find their voices. Unfortunately, unionization seems to be becoming a more common fall-back strategy when other avenues have failed to reach a sympathetic ear in the corporate boardrooms.

As more unions form, it will be interesting to see how the organizers structure their demands and job actions. While walkouts and strikes can certainly be effective in gaining attention, that attention can carry a risk of counter productivity sometimes by alienating patients, who should become allies.

Since an unsustainable burden of paperwork and administrative demands seems to be at the top of everyone’s priority list, it might make sense to adopt this message as a scaffolding on which to built a work action. Instead of walking off the job or marching on a picket line, why not stay in the hospital and continue to see patients but only for part of the work day. The remainder of the day would be spent doing all the clerical work that has become so onerous.

Providers would agree to see patients in the mornings, saving up the clerical work and administrative obligations for the afternoon. The definition of “morning” could vary depending on local conditions.

The important message to the public and the patients would be that the providers were not abandoning them by walking out. The patients’ access to face-to-face care was being limited not because the doctors didn’t want to see them but because the providers were being forced to accept other responsibilities by the administration. The physicians would always be on site in case of a crisis, but until reasonable demands for support from the company were met, a certain portion of the providers’ day would be spent doing things not directly related to face-to-face patient care. This burden of meaningless work is the reality as it stands already. Why not organize it in a way that makes it startlingly visible to the patients and the public.

There would be no video clips of physicians walking the picket lines carrying signs. Any images released to the media would be of empty waiting rooms while providers sat hunched over their computers or talking on the phone to insurance companies.

The strategy needs a catchy phrase like “a paperwork-in” but I’m still struggling with a name. Let me know if you have a better one or even a better strategy.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

A few weeks ago I shared by concerns about the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians. The early exodus of practicing providers and an obvious disinterest by future physicians in what they see as the unpalatable work/life balance of frontline hands-on medicine are among the causes.

A recent study published in the journal Pediatrics highlights personal finance as a contributor to the drain on the primary care workforce. The investigators found “high self-reported educational debt ($200,000 to < $300,000) was positively associated with training in a positive lifetime earnings potential subspecialty.” In other words, why would a physician who was burdened with student loans enter a subspecialty that would limit his or her ability to pay it off? I suspect that money has always been a factor in career selection, but the ballooning cost of college and medical school has certainly not nudged graduates toward the low lifetime earnings potential of primary care pediatrics.

Another recently released survey adds the perspective of current medical school students to the murky future of the primary health care workforce. The Clinician of the Future 2023: Education Edition, published by Elsevier Health, reports on insights of more than 2,000 nursing and medical school student from around the world. The headline shocker was that while across the board a not surprising 12% of medical students were considering quitting their studies, in the United States this number was 25%.

Overall, more than 60% of the students worried about their future income, how workforce shortages would effect them and whether they would join the ranks of those clinicians suffering from burnout. While the students surveyed acknowledged that artificial intelligence could have some negative repercussions, 62% were excited about its use in their education. Similarly, they anticipated the positive contribution of digital technology while acknowledging its potential downsides.

Given the current mental health climate in this country, I was not surprised that almost a quarter of medical students in this country are considering quitting school. I would like to see a larger sample surveyed and repeated over time. But, the discrepancy between the United States and the rest of the world is troubling.

The number that really jumped out at me was that 54% of medical students (nurses, 62%) viewed “ their current studies as a stepping-stone toward a broader career in health care.” As an example, the authors quoted one medical student who plans to “look for other possibilities where I don’t directly treat patients.”

Whether this disinterest in direct patient care is an attitude that preceded their entry into medical school or a change reflecting a major reversal induced by the realty of face-to-face patient encounters in school was not addressed in the survey. I think the general population would be surprised and maybe disappointed to learn that half the students in medical school weren’t planning on seeing patients.

I went off to medical school with a rather naive Norman Rockwellian view of a physician. I was a little surprised that a few of my classmates seemed to be gravitating toward administrative and research careers, but by far most of us were heading toward opportunities that would place us face to face with patients. Some would become specialists but primary care still had an appeal for many of us.

In my last letter about primary care training, I suggested that traditional medical school was probably a poor investment for the person who shares a bit of my old-school image of the primary care physician. In addition to cost and the time invested, the curriculum would likely be overly broad and deep and not terribly applicable to the patient mix he or she would eventually be seeing. This global survey may suggest that medical students have already discovered, or are just now discovering, this mismatch between medical school and the realities of primary care.

Our challenge is to first deal with deterrent of student debt and then to develop a new, affordable and efficient pathway to primary care that attracts those people who are looking for a face to face style of medicine on the front line. The patients know we need specialists and administrators but they also want a bit more of Norman Rockwell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

A few weeks ago I shared by concerns about the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians. The early exodus of practicing providers and an obvious disinterest by future physicians in what they see as the unpalatable work/life balance of frontline hands-on medicine are among the causes.

A recent study published in the journal Pediatrics highlights personal finance as a contributor to the drain on the primary care workforce. The investigators found “high self-reported educational debt ($200,000 to < $300,000) was positively associated with training in a positive lifetime earnings potential subspecialty.” In other words, why would a physician who was burdened with student loans enter a subspecialty that would limit his or her ability to pay it off? I suspect that money has always been a factor in career selection, but the ballooning cost of college and medical school has certainly not nudged graduates toward the low lifetime earnings potential of primary care pediatrics.

Another recently released survey adds the perspective of current medical school students to the murky future of the primary health care workforce. The Clinician of the Future 2023: Education Edition, published by Elsevier Health, reports on insights of more than 2,000 nursing and medical school student from around the world. The headline shocker was that while across the board a not surprising 12% of medical students were considering quitting their studies, in the United States this number was 25%.

Overall, more than 60% of the students worried about their future income, how workforce shortages would effect them and whether they would join the ranks of those clinicians suffering from burnout. While the students surveyed acknowledged that artificial intelligence could have some negative repercussions, 62% were excited about its use in their education. Similarly, they anticipated the positive contribution of digital technology while acknowledging its potential downsides.

Given the current mental health climate in this country, I was not surprised that almost a quarter of medical students in this country are considering quitting school. I would like to see a larger sample surveyed and repeated over time. But, the discrepancy between the United States and the rest of the world is troubling.

The number that really jumped out at me was that 54% of medical students (nurses, 62%) viewed “ their current studies as a stepping-stone toward a broader career in health care.” As an example, the authors quoted one medical student who plans to “look for other possibilities where I don’t directly treat patients.”

Whether this disinterest in direct patient care is an attitude that preceded their entry into medical school or a change reflecting a major reversal induced by the realty of face-to-face patient encounters in school was not addressed in the survey. I think the general population would be surprised and maybe disappointed to learn that half the students in medical school weren’t planning on seeing patients.

I went off to medical school with a rather naive Norman Rockwellian view of a physician. I was a little surprised that a few of my classmates seemed to be gravitating toward administrative and research careers, but by far most of us were heading toward opportunities that would place us face to face with patients. Some would become specialists but primary care still had an appeal for many of us.

In my last letter about primary care training, I suggested that traditional medical school was probably a poor investment for the person who shares a bit of my old-school image of the primary care physician. In addition to cost and the time invested, the curriculum would likely be overly broad and deep and not terribly applicable to the patient mix he or she would eventually be seeing. This global survey may suggest that medical students have already discovered, or are just now discovering, this mismatch between medical school and the realities of primary care.

Our challenge is to first deal with deterrent of student debt and then to develop a new, affordable and efficient pathway to primary care that attracts those people who are looking for a face to face style of medicine on the front line. The patients know we need specialists and administrators but they also want a bit more of Norman Rockwell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

A few weeks ago I shared by concerns about the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians. The early exodus of practicing providers and an obvious disinterest by future physicians in what they see as the unpalatable work/life balance of frontline hands-on medicine are among the causes.

A recent study published in the journal Pediatrics highlights personal finance as a contributor to the drain on the primary care workforce. The investigators found “high self-reported educational debt ($200,000 to < $300,000) was positively associated with training in a positive lifetime earnings potential subspecialty.” In other words, why would a physician who was burdened with student loans enter a subspecialty that would limit his or her ability to pay it off? I suspect that money has always been a factor in career selection, but the ballooning cost of college and medical school has certainly not nudged graduates toward the low lifetime earnings potential of primary care pediatrics.

Another recently released survey adds the perspective of current medical school students to the murky future of the primary health care workforce. The Clinician of the Future 2023: Education Edition, published by Elsevier Health, reports on insights of more than 2,000 nursing and medical school student from around the world. The headline shocker was that while across the board a not surprising 12% of medical students were considering quitting their studies, in the United States this number was 25%.

Overall, more than 60% of the students worried about their future income, how workforce shortages would effect them and whether they would join the ranks of those clinicians suffering from burnout. While the students surveyed acknowledged that artificial intelligence could have some negative repercussions, 62% were excited about its use in their education. Similarly, they anticipated the positive contribution of digital technology while acknowledging its potential downsides.

Given the current mental health climate in this country, I was not surprised that almost a quarter of medical students in this country are considering quitting school. I would like to see a larger sample surveyed and repeated over time. But, the discrepancy between the United States and the rest of the world is troubling.

The number that really jumped out at me was that 54% of medical students (nurses, 62%) viewed “ their current studies as a stepping-stone toward a broader career in health care.” As an example, the authors quoted one medical student who plans to “look for other possibilities where I don’t directly treat patients.”

Whether this disinterest in direct patient care is an attitude that preceded their entry into medical school or a change reflecting a major reversal induced by the realty of face-to-face patient encounters in school was not addressed in the survey. I think the general population would be surprised and maybe disappointed to learn that half the students in medical school weren’t planning on seeing patients.

I went off to medical school with a rather naive Norman Rockwellian view of a physician. I was a little surprised that a few of my classmates seemed to be gravitating toward administrative and research careers, but by far most of us were heading toward opportunities that would place us face to face with patients. Some would become specialists but primary care still had an appeal for many of us.

In my last letter about primary care training, I suggested that traditional medical school was probably a poor investment for the person who shares a bit of my old-school image of the primary care physician. In addition to cost and the time invested, the curriculum would likely be overly broad and deep and not terribly applicable to the patient mix he or she would eventually be seeing. This global survey may suggest that medical students have already discovered, or are just now discovering, this mismatch between medical school and the realities of primary care.

Our challenge is to first deal with deterrent of student debt and then to develop a new, affordable and efficient pathway to primary care that attracts those people who are looking for a face to face style of medicine on the front line. The patients know we need specialists and administrators but they also want a bit more of Norman Rockwell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].