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It’s been a quiet week in Cuyahoga Falls…
I think it says a lot when I work to begin a column about my teaching by looking for an antonym for “influence.” As it turns out, I found 15 antonyms before I had to stop for fear of clinical depression. I was growing depressed because I saw some truth to the words “deter,” “impede,” “handicap,” hindrance” and, my personal favorite, “leave unmoved.”
At some point in every course for Cross Country, and that’s 165 courses at this point, I ask the class if anyone had ever heard of me before the brochure arrived in the mail. Up until yesterday there had always been at least one, usually a few. But yesterday when I asked this question the class was perfectly still, and that didn’t change when I asked again, just to be sure. In fact, repeating the question actually made a few hold their breath. I thought, “Finally it’s happened – I have become entirely unknown.” The real kicker here is this: I asked that question in a conference room full of therapists in Canton Ohio – 22 miles from the office I have practiced in for the past 27 years.
I haven’t taught in Northeast Ohio since December of 2004 and my records reveal that my classes are smaller this week by sixty percent. So far, nobody has said that they came because of the remarkable effect my teaching had on a colleague back in ‘04. Heck, I’d be floored if I heard that because since my last visit the therapy community has grown as quiet as those breathless few in Canton who seemed to be trying to hide from my wrath. They had no idea that I wasn’t angry – I was intrigued by the meaning of this. If some had known of me beforehand I would have lost interest in the subject.
I’m of the opinion today that the single aspect of my teaching and practice that repels so many is my loyalty to the truth – and by that I mean the truth as revealed in scientific discourse and to my personal and dispassionate observation. Reading as I do and watching the profession I am a part of isn’t just a hobby for me though I know it is for many others. We commonly disagree.
While knowing the truth may “set you free” as they say, it’s been my experience that speaking it will often isolate you. These days, the truth about the practice of physical therapy is often hard for many in the profession to hear. Understandably, they’d prefer to hear the stories of success many of their colleagues are anxious to tell. Instead, I begin my course by pointing out that though our profession has become the last line of defense against the epidemic of chronic pain in our country there’s no evidence that most therapists can tell you what the origins of pain are or who Patrick Wall was. And that’s just for beginners. I’ve seen countless therapists nod their heads (though somewhat ruefully) in agreement when I point this out, but I’ve yet to have anybody actually thank me for saying this.
Then I say, “About half of you seated here suffer from chronic pain and you abandoned your own brand of therapy long ago though you’re billing patients for that same therapy every day.” This has proven true every time I’ve said it, and, as far as I can tell, I’m the only continuing ed instructor that does.
I’m reading Why Truth Matters at the moment and have found among its pages a few lines that are both comforting and disturbing. I’d highly recommend this book to everyone. I’d also recommend you take a deep breath before you open it up and start to read. In there the authors say things like: “The truth is important to us but so are our needs and desires and hopes and fears. Without them we wouldn’t recognize ourselves. We want the truth but we also want to care, and some of the things we care about are threatened by the truth. So we’re stuck – but we have to choose.”
Choosing the truth over what we’d prefer to believe or the illusion of what “works” in the clinic is too painful for most, and the obvious collapse of my influence as a teacher (at least as far as the diminishing numbers of students indicates) is probably related to that.
There’s one more thing, and I want to include this here for anyone who thinks I imagine I have some special hold on the truth or feels I am sure I can’t be mistaken. It is this small passage from Anthony De Mello’s One Minute Wisdom:
To a visitor who described himself as “a seeker after Truth” the Master said, “If what you seek is truth there is one thing you must have above all else.”
The visitor: “Oh yes I know – an overwhelming passion for it.”
The Master – “No! What you must have is an unremitting readiness to admit you may be wrong.”
I agree.
I think it says a lot when I work to begin a column about my teaching by looking for an antonym for “influence.” As it turns out, I found 15 antonyms before I had to stop for fear of clinical depression. I was growing depressed because I saw some truth to the words “deter,” “impede,” “handicap,” hindrance” and, my personal favorite, “leave unmoved.”
At some point in every course for Cross Country, and that’s 165 courses at this point, I ask the class if anyone had ever heard of me before the brochure arrived in the mail. Up until yesterday there had always been at least one, usually a few. But yesterday when I asked this question the class was perfectly still, and that didn’t change when I asked again, just to be sure. In fact, repeating the question actually made a few hold their breath. I thought, “Finally it’s happened – I have become entirely unknown.” The real kicker here is this: I asked that question in a conference room full of therapists in Canton Ohio – 22 miles from the office I have practiced in for the past 27 years.
I haven’t taught in Northeast Ohio since December of 2004 and my records reveal that my classes are smaller this week by sixty percent. So far, nobody has said that they came because of the remarkable effect my teaching had on a colleague back in ‘04. Heck, I’d be floored if I heard that because since my last visit the therapy community has grown as quiet as those breathless few in Canton who seemed to be trying to hide from my wrath. They had no idea that I wasn’t angry – I was intrigued by the meaning of this. If some had known of me beforehand I would have lost interest in the subject.
I’m of the opinion today that the single aspect of my teaching and practice that repels so many is my loyalty to the truth – and by that I mean the truth as revealed in scientific discourse and to my personal and dispassionate observation. Reading as I do and watching the profession I am a part of isn’t just a hobby for me though I know it is for many others. We commonly disagree.
While knowing the truth may “set you free” as they say, it’s been my experience that speaking it will often isolate you. These days, the truth about the practice of physical therapy is often hard for many in the profession to hear. Understandably, they’d prefer to hear the stories of success many of their colleagues are anxious to tell. Instead, I begin my course by pointing out that though our profession has become the last line of defense against the epidemic of chronic pain in our country there’s no evidence that most therapists can tell you what the origins of pain are or who Patrick Wall was. And that’s just for beginners. I’ve seen countless therapists nod their heads (though somewhat ruefully) in agreement when I point this out, but I’ve yet to have anybody actually thank me for saying this.
Then I say, “About half of you seated here suffer from chronic pain and you abandoned your own brand of therapy long ago though you’re billing patients for that same therapy every day.” This has proven true every time I’ve said it, and, as far as I can tell, I’m the only continuing ed instructor that does.
I’m reading Why Truth Matters at the moment and have found among its pages a few lines that are both comforting and disturbing. I’d highly recommend this book to everyone. I’d also recommend you take a deep breath before you open it up and start to read. In there the authors say things like: “The truth is important to us but so are our needs and desires and hopes and fears. Without them we wouldn’t recognize ourselves. We want the truth but we also want to care, and some of the things we care about are threatened by the truth. So we’re stuck – but we have to choose.”
Choosing the truth over what we’d prefer to believe or the illusion of what “works” in the clinic is too painful for most, and the obvious collapse of my influence as a teacher (at least as far as the diminishing numbers of students indicates) is probably related to that.
There’s one more thing, and I want to include this here for anyone who thinks I imagine I have some special hold on the truth or feels I am sure I can’t be mistaken. It is this small passage from Anthony De Mello’s One Minute Wisdom:
To a visitor who described himself as “a seeker after Truth” the Master said, “If what you seek is truth there is one thing you must have above all else.”
The visitor: “Oh yes I know – an overwhelming passion for it.”
The Master – “No! What you must have is an unremitting readiness to admit you may be wrong.”
I agree.
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