Letters from Maine

In January, I purchased the newly published second edition of “The Anthropology of Childhood: Cherubs, Chattel, Changelings,” by David F. Lancy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), hoping it would provide me with some food for thought on the cold, dark winter nights. When the crocuses sprouted in April, I had slogged only halfway through its 533 pages (of which 104 are a list of references) and set it aside.

It has the heft of college text, but it is really more of a heavily referenced opinion piece. The author is an emeritus professor of anthropology at Utah State University, Logan, and his primary message is that how we value our children and how we choose to raise them here in North America should not be considered a benchmark against which to judge the way other societies treat their children. To emphasize his contention that we should not consider ourselves the norm, he refers to us as part of the WEIRD world (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democracies).

Nearly every page includes at least one observation by an anthropologist that illustrates how different we are from many other societies. Not everyone values young children as cherubs the way we do. In some cultures, children are barely tolerated until they are old enough to contribute to the group. In some cultures, they are treated as no more than chattel.

While we believe that parents, certainly mothers, should play a critical role in the raising of children, there are many societies in which mothers are considered essential only for birthing and providing nutrition until the child is weaned. Children are left to be raised by other members of the society. Often, it is older siblings or cousins who assume the role we associate with parenthood.

The diversity of attitudes and child-rearing practices that Professor Lancy lays out in his tome is fascinating, even shocking at times, but after a few hundred pages one gets the message. But what I and every other parent want to know is if there is a common thread in these diverse cultures that can help us define the “natural” or the “best” or the “correct” way to parent our children. This question is particularly vexing for us in the WEIRD as we have become more heterogeneous, diverse, and multicultural. Most new millennium parents have no cultural tradition to fall back on, or if they have one it is likely to be very different from their partner in parenting. The result is that many parents find themselves on a constant, anxiety-driven search for the proper way to raise their child.

It’s not entirely clear to me how he arrives at it, but Professor Lancy offers his opinion on how we WEIRDs should raise our children. He feels we are taking the job of parenting far too seriously, and as a result, are meddling in a process that is best left to play out on its own. He observes, as do I, that children learn best by doing and imitating, not by being taught. Parents, specifically “involved” parents, are not a necessary requirement of successful child rearing. This message may come as an ego-busting shock to some parents. On the other hand, it should be liberating and guilt assuaging for parents whose careers and lifestyles limit the time they can spend with their children.

While I agree with Professor Lancy’s observation that much of the parenting that is done our society is unnecessary, and even at times counterproductive, the problem is that our society doesn’t offer many alternatives that provide the children an environment in which they can learn by doing and imitating. For example, grouping child care and preschool by age isolates young children from older children who can provide powerful role models for skill development. Unrealistic parental and provider fears about injury build barriers that rob children of opportunities to learn and grow.

The fact that here in the WEIRD families tend to have low birth rates makes it unlikely that parents will back off from overfocusing on their children. However, with help from knowledgeable and experienced experts in child health and behavior – pediatricians – there may be hope that some parents can learn to step back and let their children learn and develop in a more natural way.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” Email him at [email protected].

In January, I purchased the newly published second edition of “The Anthropology of Childhood: Cherubs, Chattel, Changelings,” by David F. Lancy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), hoping it would provide me with some food for thought on the cold, dark winter nights. When the crocuses sprouted in April, I had slogged only halfway through its 533 pages (of which 104 are a list of references) and set it aside.

It has the heft of college text, but it is really more of a heavily referenced opinion piece. The author is an emeritus professor of anthropology at Utah State University, Logan, and his primary message is that how we value our children and how we choose to raise them here in North America should not be considered a benchmark against which to judge the way other societies treat their children. To emphasize his contention that we should not consider ourselves the norm, he refers to us as part of the WEIRD world (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democracies).

Nearly every page includes at least one observation by an anthropologist that illustrates how different we are from many other societies. Not everyone values young children as cherubs the way we do. In some cultures, children are barely tolerated until they are old enough to contribute to the group. In some cultures, they are treated as no more than chattel.

While we believe that parents, certainly mothers, should play a critical role in the raising of children, there are many societies in which mothers are considered essential only for birthing and providing nutrition until the child is weaned. Children are left to be raised by other members of the society. Often, it is older siblings or cousins who assume the role we associate with parenthood.

The diversity of attitudes and child-rearing practices that Professor Lancy lays out in his tome is fascinating, even shocking at times, but after a few hundred pages one gets the message. But what I and every other parent want to know is if there is a common thread in these diverse cultures that can help us define the “natural” or the “best” or the “correct” way to parent our children. This question is particularly vexing for us in the WEIRD as we have become more heterogeneous, diverse, and multicultural. Most new millennium parents have no cultural tradition to fall back on, or if they have one it is likely to be very different from their partner in parenting. The result is that many parents find themselves on a constant, anxiety-driven search for the proper way to raise their child.

It’s not entirely clear to me how he arrives at it, but Professor Lancy offers his opinion on how we WEIRDs should raise our children. He feels we are taking the job of parenting far too seriously, and as a result, are meddling in a process that is best left to play out on its own. He observes, as do I, that children learn best by doing and imitating, not by being taught. Parents, specifically “involved” parents, are not a necessary requirement of successful child rearing. This message may come as an ego-busting shock to some parents. On the other hand, it should be liberating and guilt assuaging for parents whose careers and lifestyles limit the time they can spend with their children.

While I agree with Professor Lancy’s observation that much of the parenting that is done our society is unnecessary, and even at times counterproductive, the problem is that our society doesn’t offer many alternatives that provide the children an environment in which they can learn by doing and imitating. For example, grouping child care and preschool by age isolates young children from older children who can provide powerful role models for skill development. Unrealistic parental and provider fears about injury build barriers that rob children of opportunities to learn and grow.

The fact that here in the WEIRD families tend to have low birth rates makes it unlikely that parents will back off from overfocusing on their children. However, with help from knowledgeable and experienced experts in child health and behavior – pediatricians – there may be hope that some parents can learn to step back and let their children learn and develop in a more natural way.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” Email him at [email protected].

In January, I purchased the newly published second edition of “The Anthropology of Childhood: Cherubs, Chattel, Changelings,” by David F. Lancy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), hoping it would provide me with some food for thought on the cold, dark winter nights. When the crocuses sprouted in April, I had slogged only halfway through its 533 pages (of which 104 are a list of references) and set it aside.

It has the heft of college text, but it is really more of a heavily referenced opinion piece. The author is an emeritus professor of anthropology at Utah State University, Logan, and his primary message is that how we value our children and how we choose to raise them here in North America should not be considered a benchmark against which to judge the way other societies treat their children. To emphasize his contention that we should not consider ourselves the norm, he refers to us as part of the WEIRD world (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democracies).

Nearly every page includes at least one observation by an anthropologist that illustrates how different we are from many other societies. Not everyone values young children as cherubs the way we do. In some cultures, children are barely tolerated until they are old enough to contribute to the group. In some cultures, they are treated as no more than chattel.

While we believe that parents, certainly mothers, should play a critical role in the raising of children, there are many societies in which mothers are considered essential only for birthing and providing nutrition until the child is weaned. Children are left to be raised by other members of the society. Often, it is older siblings or cousins who assume the role we associate with parenthood.

The diversity of attitudes and child-rearing practices that Professor Lancy lays out in his tome is fascinating, even shocking at times, but after a few hundred pages one gets the message. But what I and every other parent want to know is if there is a common thread in these diverse cultures that can help us define the “natural” or the “best” or the “correct” way to parent our children. This question is particularly vexing for us in the WEIRD as we have become more heterogeneous, diverse, and multicultural. Most new millennium parents have no cultural tradition to fall back on, or if they have one it is likely to be very different from their partner in parenting. The result is that many parents find themselves on a constant, anxiety-driven search for the proper way to raise their child.

It’s not entirely clear to me how he arrives at it, but Professor Lancy offers his opinion on how we WEIRDs should raise our children. He feels we are taking the job of parenting far too seriously, and as a result, are meddling in a process that is best left to play out on its own. He observes, as do I, that children learn best by doing and imitating, not by being taught. Parents, specifically “involved” parents, are not a necessary requirement of successful child rearing. This message may come as an ego-busting shock to some parents. On the other hand, it should be liberating and guilt assuaging for parents whose careers and lifestyles limit the time they can spend with their children.

While I agree with Professor Lancy’s observation that much of the parenting that is done our society is unnecessary, and even at times counterproductive, the problem is that our society doesn’t offer many alternatives that provide the children an environment in which they can learn by doing and imitating. For example, grouping child care and preschool by age isolates young children from older children who can provide powerful role models for skill development. Unrealistic parental and provider fears about injury build barriers that rob children of opportunities to learn and grow.

The fact that here in the WEIRD families tend to have low birth rates makes it unlikely that parents will back off from overfocusing on their children. However, with help from knowledgeable and experienced experts in child health and behavior – pediatricians – there may be hope that some parents can learn to step back and let their children learn and develop in a more natural way.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” Email him at [email protected].

One of the perks that comes with being a grandparent is that you may get the chance to watch your grandchildren practice, play, and perform in a variety of organized activities. If you are retired and are fortunate enough to live in the same town, the opportunities are limitless and change with the season.

Each event is a kaleidoscope of interpersonal and developmental tableaux. First, of course, you are interested to see how your grandchild is doing. Are her skills improving? How do they compare with her peers’? Is she having fun? But then, what is the goal of the activity? Are the coaches/instructors/organizers doing a good job of reaching that goal?

Last week, I was watching my 8-year-old grandson play the last baseball game of his career (“Grampy, baseball is boring. I’m only playing lacrosse next spring.”) Between innings, I thumbed through the June 2015 Pediatrics. I encountered an article that confirmed my suspicions about some of the organized youth activities I had been watching for the last decade, “Physical Activity in Youth Dance Classes” (Pediatrics 2015;135:1067-73). Using accelerometers, researchers from San Diego State University recorded the activity of more than 250 girls, both children and adolescents, in 21 dance studios, both private and community based.

They discovered that the young dancers were, on average, engaged in moderate to vigorous activity 17.2 minutes (plus or minus 8.9 minutes), which amounted to about 36% of the usual class session. Only 8% of the children and 6% of the adolescents met the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 30-minute guideline for after-school physical activity during dance.

I’ve watched a fair share of dance classes, and these findings come as no surprise. Typically, there is a lot of sitting around cross-legged in a circle, “listening” to “instruction.” There is even more lining up and waiting, and, then of course, adjusting the line, and an abundance of relining up, followed by a 6-second burst of activity. There is considerable poking and/or hugging fellow line mates, that I suspect wouldn’t have budged an accelerometer.

Unfortunately, this degree of inactivity is not unique to little girls’ dance classes. I have observed the same phenomenon during soccer, baseball, lacrosse, and swim classes – in which the ratio of inactivity to activity often exceeds 4:1. Although it may be slightly more prevalent when the instructors are parent/volunteers, professional physical educators also are guilty of injecting too little physical activity into the activities they are managing. Remember gym class. How much time was spent having your attendance taken, being instructed on how to do the activity, and then standing in line waiting your turn?

There are simple solutions, but they require thinking outside the box. Why have two lines of participants? Wouldn’t six lines mean three times as many children would be active at one time? For example, it has taken a while for soccer and hockey programs to catch on, but now both have games on smaller surfaces with less than the usual number of team members, in hopes that more children will be involved and active. Most great coaches have a knack for creating drills that keep the maximum number of participants active, foster the necessary skills, and at the same time are fun for the participants. The bottom line is that most children, particularly the younger ones, learn by imitating, not by being lectured to. They learn even more quickly if they have older children from which to model their behavior.

You could ask, “What’s the big deal?” Am I just venting the frustrations of an efficiency-obsessed former athlete? Does every minute of a child’s organized activity need to be packed with physical activity? No, not if children were allowed more opportunities for free play at other times during the day. No, not if parents were more diligent in restricting screen time. But if parents are going to count on dance classes and organized sports as physically active time for their children, they need to look more carefully at how that time is being used. An hour of dance class or soccer practice may be better than an hour in front of the tube, but it may fall far short of what the child needs.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

One of the perks that comes with being a grandparent is that you may get the chance to watch your grandchildren practice, play, and perform in a variety of organized activities. If you are retired and are fortunate enough to live in the same town, the opportunities are limitless and change with the season.

Each event is a kaleidoscope of interpersonal and developmental tableaux. First, of course, you are interested to see how your grandchild is doing. Are her skills improving? How do they compare with her peers’? Is she having fun? But then, what is the goal of the activity? Are the coaches/instructors/organizers doing a good job of reaching that goal?

Last week, I was watching my 8-year-old grandson play the last baseball game of his career (“Grampy, baseball is boring. I’m only playing lacrosse next spring.”) Between innings, I thumbed through the June 2015 Pediatrics. I encountered an article that confirmed my suspicions about some of the organized youth activities I had been watching for the last decade, “Physical Activity in Youth Dance Classes” (Pediatrics 2015;135:1067-73). Using accelerometers, researchers from San Diego State University recorded the activity of more than 250 girls, both children and adolescents, in 21 dance studios, both private and community based.

They discovered that the young dancers were, on average, engaged in moderate to vigorous activity 17.2 minutes (plus or minus 8.9 minutes), which amounted to about 36% of the usual class session. Only 8% of the children and 6% of the adolescents met the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 30-minute guideline for after-school physical activity during dance.

I’ve watched a fair share of dance classes, and these findings come as no surprise. Typically, there is a lot of sitting around cross-legged in a circle, “listening” to “instruction.” There is even more lining up and waiting, and, then of course, adjusting the line, and an abundance of relining up, followed by a 6-second burst of activity. There is considerable poking and/or hugging fellow line mates, that I suspect wouldn’t have budged an accelerometer.

Unfortunately, this degree of inactivity is not unique to little girls’ dance classes. I have observed the same phenomenon during soccer, baseball, lacrosse, and swim classes – in which the ratio of inactivity to activity often exceeds 4:1. Although it may be slightly more prevalent when the instructors are parent/volunteers, professional physical educators also are guilty of injecting too little physical activity into the activities they are managing. Remember gym class. How much time was spent having your attendance taken, being instructed on how to do the activity, and then standing in line waiting your turn?

There are simple solutions, but they require thinking outside the box. Why have two lines of participants? Wouldn’t six lines mean three times as many children would be active at one time? For example, it has taken a while for soccer and hockey programs to catch on, but now both have games on smaller surfaces with less than the usual number of team members, in hopes that more children will be involved and active. Most great coaches have a knack for creating drills that keep the maximum number of participants active, foster the necessary skills, and at the same time are fun for the participants. The bottom line is that most children, particularly the younger ones, learn by imitating, not by being lectured to. They learn even more quickly if they have older children from which to model their behavior.

You could ask, “What’s the big deal?” Am I just venting the frustrations of an efficiency-obsessed former athlete? Does every minute of a child’s organized activity need to be packed with physical activity? No, not if children were allowed more opportunities for free play at other times during the day. No, not if parents were more diligent in restricting screen time. But if parents are going to count on dance classes and organized sports as physically active time for their children, they need to look more carefully at how that time is being used. An hour of dance class or soccer practice may be better than an hour in front of the tube, but it may fall far short of what the child needs.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

One of the perks that comes with being a grandparent is that you may get the chance to watch your grandchildren practice, play, and perform in a variety of organized activities. If you are retired and are fortunate enough to live in the same town, the opportunities are limitless and change with the season.

Each event is a kaleidoscope of interpersonal and developmental tableaux. First, of course, you are interested to see how your grandchild is doing. Are her skills improving? How do they compare with her peers’? Is she having fun? But then, what is the goal of the activity? Are the coaches/instructors/organizers doing a good job of reaching that goal?

Last week, I was watching my 8-year-old grandson play the last baseball game of his career (“Grampy, baseball is boring. I’m only playing lacrosse next spring.”) Between innings, I thumbed through the June 2015 Pediatrics. I encountered an article that confirmed my suspicions about some of the organized youth activities I had been watching for the last decade, “Physical Activity in Youth Dance Classes” (Pediatrics 2015;135:1067-73). Using accelerometers, researchers from San Diego State University recorded the activity of more than 250 girls, both children and adolescents, in 21 dance studios, both private and community based.

They discovered that the young dancers were, on average, engaged in moderate to vigorous activity 17.2 minutes (plus or minus 8.9 minutes), which amounted to about 36% of the usual class session. Only 8% of the children and 6% of the adolescents met the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 30-minute guideline for after-school physical activity during dance.

I’ve watched a fair share of dance classes, and these findings come as no surprise. Typically, there is a lot of sitting around cross-legged in a circle, “listening” to “instruction.” There is even more lining up and waiting, and, then of course, adjusting the line, and an abundance of relining up, followed by a 6-second burst of activity. There is considerable poking and/or hugging fellow line mates, that I suspect wouldn’t have budged an accelerometer.

Unfortunately, this degree of inactivity is not unique to little girls’ dance classes. I have observed the same phenomenon during soccer, baseball, lacrosse, and swim classes – in which the ratio of inactivity to activity often exceeds 4:1. Although it may be slightly more prevalent when the instructors are parent/volunteers, professional physical educators also are guilty of injecting too little physical activity into the activities they are managing. Remember gym class. How much time was spent having your attendance taken, being instructed on how to do the activity, and then standing in line waiting your turn?

There are simple solutions, but they require thinking outside the box. Why have two lines of participants? Wouldn’t six lines mean three times as many children would be active at one time? For example, it has taken a while for soccer and hockey programs to catch on, but now both have games on smaller surfaces with less than the usual number of team members, in hopes that more children will be involved and active. Most great coaches have a knack for creating drills that keep the maximum number of participants active, foster the necessary skills, and at the same time are fun for the participants. The bottom line is that most children, particularly the younger ones, learn by imitating, not by being lectured to. They learn even more quickly if they have older children from which to model their behavior.

You could ask, “What’s the big deal?” Am I just venting the frustrations of an efficiency-obsessed former athlete? Does every minute of a child’s organized activity need to be packed with physical activity? No, not if children were allowed more opportunities for free play at other times during the day. No, not if parents were more diligent in restricting screen time. But if parents are going to count on dance classes and organized sports as physically active time for their children, they need to look more carefully at how that time is being used. An hour of dance class or soccer practice may be better than an hour in front of the tube, but it may fall far short of what the child needs.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

For those of us who appreciate the value of science and accept its limitations, it is sometimes difficult to understand how parents can choose to not immunize their children against serious and life-threatening diseases. To some extent, the explanation may be that immunizations simply have become victims of their own success.

How many adults have a relative, friend, or neighbor whose child has died as the result of bacterial meningitis or epiglottitis? They might have had a friend whose month-long cough was eventually diagnosed as whooping cough, but how many parents know of an infant who succumbed to pertussis? If you were trained in the last decade, you may not have had first-hand experience with most of the diseases for which we now have immunizations.

Reading a recent review of a new biography of Jonas Salk triggered a stream of memories of what it was like when polio descended on the landscape of North America – unchecked by an effective immunization. Moving through communities, choosing victims seemingly at random, it was every parent’s nightmare.

I grew up in a small town in New York State, so small that its inhabitants refer to it as a “village.” Everyone in Pleasantville knew at least one family that had been touched by polio. I don’t recall being aware of anyone in my family’s extended network of acquaintances who had died of the disease, but I suspect there may have been some fatalities that my parents avoided discussing in my presence. But I knew it was a disease with a significant mortality rate, and I knew of children and adults who had luckily survived several weeks or months in an iron lung. One of my parents’ closest friends walked with a limp as a result of polio.

There was rumor in town that all five members in one family had contracted polio and incredibly survived. Their cat had allegedly died of the disease. Our community was said to be particularly vulnerable because we had a public pool. This gift from the federal government’s Works Progress Administration provided a multi-lane superhighway for the virus to spread from child to child.

Even as a young child, I could sense that a blanket of fear hung over our little village during the summer when the disease was at its most prevalent. Now, as a parent, I am surprised how well my own parents disguised the fears that they and their peers must have harbored. My sister and I were still allowed to go swimming at the pool on the hottest days, but we knew that there were other families who stayed away.

When a vaccine trial began at our school, there was no question that we would participate. In fact, I don’t recall bringing home any permission slips to be signed. Nor do I remember hearing of any families who had opted out. We always wondered whether we had received the real vaccine or the placebo. But when the trials were over and the real vaccine was available, what parent in his or her right mind would even consider depriving his or her child from protection against this scourge that had taken up residence among us? I’m sure that Dr. Blum, my pediatrician, never needed to spend more than 30 seconds trying to convince my parents or any other parents, for that matter, of the need to vaccinate against polio.

My childhood ended before the development of the vaccines against the other common viral illnesses, and as a result I contracted and survived measles, mumps, rubella, and varicella. Of course, there must have been a few children who died of the diseases that had left me unscathed, but the number of fatalities was so small that I’m sure my parents would have wondered why we would need vaccines for these “usual diseases of childhood.”

But polio was different, and while it pales in comparison to Ebola, polio and its successful eradication created a generation of parents with a respect for science and the value of immunization. However, that generation has passed, and with it the stories they could have told the parents of today. Unfortunately, vaccine refusers seem to be immune to education and deaf to the lessons history can teach. I suspect that they would have foolishly ignored my parents’ stories about polio as just so much when-I-was-your-age mumbling.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

For those of us who appreciate the value of science and accept its limitations, it is sometimes difficult to understand how parents can choose to not immunize their children against serious and life-threatening diseases. To some extent, the explanation may be that immunizations simply have become victims of their own success.

How many adults have a relative, friend, or neighbor whose child has died as the result of bacterial meningitis or epiglottitis? They might have had a friend whose month-long cough was eventually diagnosed as whooping cough, but how many parents know of an infant who succumbed to pertussis? If you were trained in the last decade, you may not have had first-hand experience with most of the diseases for which we now have immunizations.

Reading a recent review of a new biography of Jonas Salk triggered a stream of memories of what it was like when polio descended on the landscape of North America – unchecked by an effective immunization. Moving through communities, choosing victims seemingly at random, it was every parent’s nightmare.

I grew up in a small town in New York State, so small that its inhabitants refer to it as a “village.” Everyone in Pleasantville knew at least one family that had been touched by polio. I don’t recall being aware of anyone in my family’s extended network of acquaintances who had died of the disease, but I suspect there may have been some fatalities that my parents avoided discussing in my presence. But I knew it was a disease with a significant mortality rate, and I knew of children and adults who had luckily survived several weeks or months in an iron lung. One of my parents’ closest friends walked with a limp as a result of polio.

There was rumor in town that all five members in one family had contracted polio and incredibly survived. Their cat had allegedly died of the disease. Our community was said to be particularly vulnerable because we had a public pool. This gift from the federal government’s Works Progress Administration provided a multi-lane superhighway for the virus to spread from child to child.

Even as a young child, I could sense that a blanket of fear hung over our little village during the summer when the disease was at its most prevalent. Now, as a parent, I am surprised how well my own parents disguised the fears that they and their peers must have harbored. My sister and I were still allowed to go swimming at the pool on the hottest days, but we knew that there were other families who stayed away.

When a vaccine trial began at our school, there was no question that we would participate. In fact, I don’t recall bringing home any permission slips to be signed. Nor do I remember hearing of any families who had opted out. We always wondered whether we had received the real vaccine or the placebo. But when the trials were over and the real vaccine was available, what parent in his or her right mind would even consider depriving his or her child from protection against this scourge that had taken up residence among us? I’m sure that Dr. Blum, my pediatrician, never needed to spend more than 30 seconds trying to convince my parents or any other parents, for that matter, of the need to vaccinate against polio.

My childhood ended before the development of the vaccines against the other common viral illnesses, and as a result I contracted and survived measles, mumps, rubella, and varicella. Of course, there must have been a few children who died of the diseases that had left me unscathed, but the number of fatalities was so small that I’m sure my parents would have wondered why we would need vaccines for these “usual diseases of childhood.”

But polio was different, and while it pales in comparison to Ebola, polio and its successful eradication created a generation of parents with a respect for science and the value of immunization. However, that generation has passed, and with it the stories they could have told the parents of today. Unfortunately, vaccine refusers seem to be immune to education and deaf to the lessons history can teach. I suspect that they would have foolishly ignored my parents’ stories about polio as just so much when-I-was-your-age mumbling.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

For those of us who appreciate the value of science and accept its limitations, it is sometimes difficult to understand how parents can choose to not immunize their children against serious and life-threatening diseases. To some extent, the explanation may be that immunizations simply have become victims of their own success.

How many adults have a relative, friend, or neighbor whose child has died as the result of bacterial meningitis or epiglottitis? They might have had a friend whose month-long cough was eventually diagnosed as whooping cough, but how many parents know of an infant who succumbed to pertussis? If you were trained in the last decade, you may not have had first-hand experience with most of the diseases for which we now have immunizations.

Reading a recent review of a new biography of Jonas Salk triggered a stream of memories of what it was like when polio descended on the landscape of North America – unchecked by an effective immunization. Moving through communities, choosing victims seemingly at random, it was every parent’s nightmare.

I grew up in a small town in New York State, so small that its inhabitants refer to it as a “village.” Everyone in Pleasantville knew at least one family that had been touched by polio. I don’t recall being aware of anyone in my family’s extended network of acquaintances who had died of the disease, but I suspect there may have been some fatalities that my parents avoided discussing in my presence. But I knew it was a disease with a significant mortality rate, and I knew of children and adults who had luckily survived several weeks or months in an iron lung. One of my parents’ closest friends walked with a limp as a result of polio.

There was rumor in town that all five members in one family had contracted polio and incredibly survived. Their cat had allegedly died of the disease. Our community was said to be particularly vulnerable because we had a public pool. This gift from the federal government’s Works Progress Administration provided a multi-lane superhighway for the virus to spread from child to child.

Even as a young child, I could sense that a blanket of fear hung over our little village during the summer when the disease was at its most prevalent. Now, as a parent, I am surprised how well my own parents disguised the fears that they and their peers must have harbored. My sister and I were still allowed to go swimming at the pool on the hottest days, but we knew that there were other families who stayed away.

When a vaccine trial began at our school, there was no question that we would participate. In fact, I don’t recall bringing home any permission slips to be signed. Nor do I remember hearing of any families who had opted out. We always wondered whether we had received the real vaccine or the placebo. But when the trials were over and the real vaccine was available, what parent in his or her right mind would even consider depriving his or her child from protection against this scourge that had taken up residence among us? I’m sure that Dr. Blum, my pediatrician, never needed to spend more than 30 seconds trying to convince my parents or any other parents, for that matter, of the need to vaccinate against polio.

My childhood ended before the development of the vaccines against the other common viral illnesses, and as a result I contracted and survived measles, mumps, rubella, and varicella. Of course, there must have been a few children who died of the diseases that had left me unscathed, but the number of fatalities was so small that I’m sure my parents would have wondered why we would need vaccines for these “usual diseases of childhood.”

But polio was different, and while it pales in comparison to Ebola, polio and its successful eradication created a generation of parents with a respect for science and the value of immunization. However, that generation has passed, and with it the stories they could have told the parents of today. Unfortunately, vaccine refusers seem to be immune to education and deaf to the lessons history can teach. I suspect that they would have foolishly ignored my parents’ stories about polio as just so much when-I-was-your-age mumbling.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

I was 7 years old when my family got its first television. I can’t recall the year, but I know that we were one of the last houses in our neighborhood to have a color TV. As parents, my wife and I kept our children on a moderate viewing diet, mostly “Captain Kangaroo” and “Sesame Street” when they were young. Until they were teenagers, they believed that only televisions in motel rooms received cartoons. Now, as parents, they are more restrictive with their children than we were with them. One family doesn’t even own a television.

A few years ago, my wife and I cut back our cable service to “basic” and, other than a few sporting events and a rare show on PBS, our TV sits unused in our living room. Five months out of the year, we have no television at all – when we’re in our cottage by the ocean.

Our trajectory from being enthusiastic viewers to television abstainers seems to be not that unusual among our peers. At dinner parties, I often hear, “There is nothing worth watching on television. It’s all junk and commercials.” Could the same condemnation be voiced about television for young children? Could there be some benefit for preschoolers in watching an “educational” show such as “Sesame Street”? Or is it all garbage, even for the very young?

A recently and much ballyhooed study by two economists suggests that, at least as “Sesame Street” is concerned, television can have a positive effect on young children. You may have read the headline: “Study: Kids can learn as much from ‘Sesame Street’ as from preschool” (Washington Post, June 7, 2015).

The researchers exploited a quirk of the precable landscape when some markets could not tune into some shows, including “Sesame Street,” because they were receiving only a UHF signal. Analyzing the data over several years, the economists found that, in communities where children had the opportunity to watch “Sesame Street,” those children had a “14% drop in the likelihood of being behind in school.” That association appeared to fade by the time the children reached high school. To claim that “Sesame Street” is at least as good as preschool based on these numbers seems to me to be a bit of a stretch. It may be that UHF-watching kids watched more professional wrestling, and this encouraged them to be more disruptive in school.

We must remember that these researchers are economists, and we should take anything they conclude with a grain of salt. But let’s say that there may be something to their conclusion that there is an association between “Sesame Street” viewing and school readiness. Does this mean that we should be developing more shows on the “Sesame Street” model, and that young children should be watching educational television several hours a day? Is there a dose effect? Or does this apparent association simply suggest that we should be improving preschools?

For decades, pediatricians and the American Academy of Pediatrics were focused on content and giving too little attention to the amount of screen time. This has improved slightly in the last few years, but the fact remains that television is a passive and sedentary activity that is threatening the health of our nation. It is robbing millions of Americans of precious hours of restorative sleep. It is giving even more millions an easy and addictive way to avoid doing something else. Instead, the addicts spend hours each day watching other people doing something. I always have suspected that the introduction of color to television is the culprit. Black-and-white TV was interesting to a point, but I don’t recall it being addictive. Most of us will watch for hours anything that is colorful and moves.

“Sesame Street” is and has been a wonderful show, and I suspect it has helped millions of children learn things they may not have been exposed to at home. But in one sense, educational programming could be considered a gateway drug. Once the set goes on, many parents don’t have the fortitude to shut it off. We should think twice before claiming that it is on a par with preschool.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

I was 7 years old when my family got its first television. I can’t recall the year, but I know that we were one of the last houses in our neighborhood to have a color TV. As parents, my wife and I kept our children on a moderate viewing diet, mostly “Captain Kangaroo” and “Sesame Street” when they were young. Until they were teenagers, they believed that only televisions in motel rooms received cartoons. Now, as parents, they are more restrictive with their children than we were with them. One family doesn’t even own a television.

A few years ago, my wife and I cut back our cable service to “basic” and, other than a few sporting events and a rare show on PBS, our TV sits unused in our living room. Five months out of the year, we have no television at all – when we’re in our cottage by the ocean.

Our trajectory from being enthusiastic viewers to television abstainers seems to be not that unusual among our peers. At dinner parties, I often hear, “There is nothing worth watching on television. It’s all junk and commercials.” Could the same condemnation be voiced about television for young children? Could there be some benefit for preschoolers in watching an “educational” show such as “Sesame Street”? Or is it all garbage, even for the very young?

A recently and much ballyhooed study by two economists suggests that, at least as “Sesame Street” is concerned, television can have a positive effect on young children. You may have read the headline: “Study: Kids can learn as much from ‘Sesame Street’ as from preschool” (Washington Post, June 7, 2015).

The researchers exploited a quirk of the precable landscape when some markets could not tune into some shows, including “Sesame Street,” because they were receiving only a UHF signal. Analyzing the data over several years, the economists found that, in communities where children had the opportunity to watch “Sesame Street,” those children had a “14% drop in the likelihood of being behind in school.” That association appeared to fade by the time the children reached high school. To claim that “Sesame Street” is at least as good as preschool based on these numbers seems to me to be a bit of a stretch. It may be that UHF-watching kids watched more professional wrestling, and this encouraged them to be more disruptive in school.

We must remember that these researchers are economists, and we should take anything they conclude with a grain of salt. But let’s say that there may be something to their conclusion that there is an association between “Sesame Street” viewing and school readiness. Does this mean that we should be developing more shows on the “Sesame Street” model, and that young children should be watching educational television several hours a day? Is there a dose effect? Or does this apparent association simply suggest that we should be improving preschools?

For decades, pediatricians and the American Academy of Pediatrics were focused on content and giving too little attention to the amount of screen time. This has improved slightly in the last few years, but the fact remains that television is a passive and sedentary activity that is threatening the health of our nation. It is robbing millions of Americans of precious hours of restorative sleep. It is giving even more millions an easy and addictive way to avoid doing something else. Instead, the addicts spend hours each day watching other people doing something. I always have suspected that the introduction of color to television is the culprit. Black-and-white TV was interesting to a point, but I don’t recall it being addictive. Most of us will watch for hours anything that is colorful and moves.

“Sesame Street” is and has been a wonderful show, and I suspect it has helped millions of children learn things they may not have been exposed to at home. But in one sense, educational programming could be considered a gateway drug. Once the set goes on, many parents don’t have the fortitude to shut it off. We should think twice before claiming that it is on a par with preschool.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

I was 7 years old when my family got its first television. I can’t recall the year, but I know that we were one of the last houses in our neighborhood to have a color TV. As parents, my wife and I kept our children on a moderate viewing diet, mostly “Captain Kangaroo” and “Sesame Street” when they were young. Until they were teenagers, they believed that only televisions in motel rooms received cartoons. Now, as parents, they are more restrictive with their children than we were with them. One family doesn’t even own a television.

A few years ago, my wife and I cut back our cable service to “basic” and, other than a few sporting events and a rare show on PBS, our TV sits unused in our living room. Five months out of the year, we have no television at all – when we’re in our cottage by the ocean.

Our trajectory from being enthusiastic viewers to television abstainers seems to be not that unusual among our peers. At dinner parties, I often hear, “There is nothing worth watching on television. It’s all junk and commercials.” Could the same condemnation be voiced about television for young children? Could there be some benefit for preschoolers in watching an “educational” show such as “Sesame Street”? Or is it all garbage, even for the very young?

A recently and much ballyhooed study by two economists suggests that, at least as “Sesame Street” is concerned, television can have a positive effect on young children. You may have read the headline: “Study: Kids can learn as much from ‘Sesame Street’ as from preschool” (Washington Post, June 7, 2015).

The researchers exploited a quirk of the precable landscape when some markets could not tune into some shows, including “Sesame Street,” because they were receiving only a UHF signal. Analyzing the data over several years, the economists found that, in communities where children had the opportunity to watch “Sesame Street,” those children had a “14% drop in the likelihood of being behind in school.” That association appeared to fade by the time the children reached high school. To claim that “Sesame Street” is at least as good as preschool based on these numbers seems to me to be a bit of a stretch. It may be that UHF-watching kids watched more professional wrestling, and this encouraged them to be more disruptive in school.

We must remember that these researchers are economists, and we should take anything they conclude with a grain of salt. But let’s say that there may be something to their conclusion that there is an association between “Sesame Street” viewing and school readiness. Does this mean that we should be developing more shows on the “Sesame Street” model, and that young children should be watching educational television several hours a day? Is there a dose effect? Or does this apparent association simply suggest that we should be improving preschools?

For decades, pediatricians and the American Academy of Pediatrics were focused on content and giving too little attention to the amount of screen time. This has improved slightly in the last few years, but the fact remains that television is a passive and sedentary activity that is threatening the health of our nation. It is robbing millions of Americans of precious hours of restorative sleep. It is giving even more millions an easy and addictive way to avoid doing something else. Instead, the addicts spend hours each day watching other people doing something. I always have suspected that the introduction of color to television is the culprit. Black-and-white TV was interesting to a point, but I don’t recall it being addictive. Most of us will watch for hours anything that is colorful and moves.

“Sesame Street” is and has been a wonderful show, and I suspect it has helped millions of children learn things they may not have been exposed to at home. But in one sense, educational programming could be considered a gateway drug. Once the set goes on, many parents don’t have the fortitude to shut it off. We should think twice before claiming that it is on a par with preschool.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

Our local daily paper, like most other print newspapers, is on its last legs. But I read it faithfully for the obituaries, and to see how my former patients are doing on their school sports teams. Of course, there is always the smattering of motor vehicle accident reports to keep me reading.

One doesn’t have to be an insurance adjuster or an actuary to realize that motor vehicle accident fatalities cluster into two groups: teenagers and older folks (70 plus). One group falls victim to inexperience and a delusional sense of immortality. Those in the other group are losing their ability to sense their environment and respond with sufficient speed. One group makes poor decisions. The other makes them too slowly.

Because my mother died in her early 60s and my father never had a driver’s license, I never faced the difficult task of telling my aging parents that they were too old to drive. But I have heard from some of my friends of how difficult it was to ask Mom and Dad to give up their car keys.

The American Medical Association announced recently that they have to decided to take on a similar challenge by agreeing to “spearhead an effort to create competency guidelines for assessing whether older physicians remain able to provide safe and effective care for patients” (“Aging MDs Prompt Call for Competency Tests at AMA Meeting,” Associated Press, June 8, 2015). Prompted by the reality that one in four physicians in this country is over the age of 65 years, the AMA is beginning to talk about the issue and formulate plans to convene a variety of councils and work groups.

I’m sure there are some older physicians whose clinical skills have eroded with age to a point that they pose a significant threat to the safety of their patients, but I don’t think the situation warrants a full-court press by the AMA or anyone else for that matter.

First, I suspect that most physicians who continue to practice after they turn 70 years are not doing so because they need the money. That might be true 10-15 years from now when today’s young physicians are facing retirement while they are still recovering from the monstrous educational debts they incurred in their 20s. At present, though, I suspect that most physicians continue to practice because they enjoy what they do. I have to believe that a physician whose primary motivation is the joy of seeing patients is, in general, going to be doing a good job of it – and his or her patients probably know it and appreciate it.

Second, we already have in place (or should have) systems for identifying and dealing with physicians who are practicing substandard care for variety of reasons, such as substance abuse, financial malfeasance, inadequate training, or outright incompetence. Do we really need another layer of screening for older physicians? It feels like just another example of profiling. For example, does the Transportation Security Administration need to strip search every male with a dark complexion named Hassan?

The problem is that in many situations our safety nets for identifying and addressing incompetent physicians have too many holes in them. One of the reasons for this inadequacy is the unofficial code of silence that physicians have followed for years. Unless a fellow physician’s behavior is three orders of magnitude beyond the pale, many of us feel uncomfortable about approaching him or her or even lodging an anonymous report to the state board of licensure.

Of course, as physicians age some will lose critical clinical skills. On the other hand, with age many older physicians have gained perspectives on health, life, and death that their younger colleagues need to hear. We don’t need to single out older physicians for closer scrutiny. We simply have to improve our current surveillance systems and attitudes for physicians of all ages. If anyone wants to look more closely at how older physicians practice, the first question to ask should not be “What are they doing wrong?” but “What are these folks doing right that allows them to continue to enjoy practicing medicine at age 75?”

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

Our local daily paper, like most other print newspapers, is on its last legs. But I read it faithfully for the obituaries, and to see how my former patients are doing on their school sports teams. Of course, there is always the smattering of motor vehicle accident reports to keep me reading.

One doesn’t have to be an insurance adjuster or an actuary to realize that motor vehicle accident fatalities cluster into two groups: teenagers and older folks (70 plus). One group falls victim to inexperience and a delusional sense of immortality. Those in the other group are losing their ability to sense their environment and respond with sufficient speed. One group makes poor decisions. The other makes them too slowly.

Because my mother died in her early 60s and my father never had a driver’s license, I never faced the difficult task of telling my aging parents that they were too old to drive. But I have heard from some of my friends of how difficult it was to ask Mom and Dad to give up their car keys.

The American Medical Association announced recently that they have to decided to take on a similar challenge by agreeing to “spearhead an effort to create competency guidelines for assessing whether older physicians remain able to provide safe and effective care for patients” (“Aging MDs Prompt Call for Competency Tests at AMA Meeting,” Associated Press, June 8, 2015). Prompted by the reality that one in four physicians in this country is over the age of 65 years, the AMA is beginning to talk about the issue and formulate plans to convene a variety of councils and work groups.

I’m sure there are some older physicians whose clinical skills have eroded with age to a point that they pose a significant threat to the safety of their patients, but I don’t think the situation warrants a full-court press by the AMA or anyone else for that matter.

First, I suspect that most physicians who continue to practice after they turn 70 years are not doing so because they need the money. That might be true 10-15 years from now when today’s young physicians are facing retirement while they are still recovering from the monstrous educational debts they incurred in their 20s. At present, though, I suspect that most physicians continue to practice because they enjoy what they do. I have to believe that a physician whose primary motivation is the joy of seeing patients is, in general, going to be doing a good job of it – and his or her patients probably know it and appreciate it.

Second, we already have in place (or should have) systems for identifying and dealing with physicians who are practicing substandard care for variety of reasons, such as substance abuse, financial malfeasance, inadequate training, or outright incompetence. Do we really need another layer of screening for older physicians? It feels like just another example of profiling. For example, does the Transportation Security Administration need to strip search every male with a dark complexion named Hassan?

The problem is that in many situations our safety nets for identifying and addressing incompetent physicians have too many holes in them. One of the reasons for this inadequacy is the unofficial code of silence that physicians have followed for years. Unless a fellow physician’s behavior is three orders of magnitude beyond the pale, many of us feel uncomfortable about approaching him or her or even lodging an anonymous report to the state board of licensure.

Of course, as physicians age some will lose critical clinical skills. On the other hand, with age many older physicians have gained perspectives on health, life, and death that their younger colleagues need to hear. We don’t need to single out older physicians for closer scrutiny. We simply have to improve our current surveillance systems and attitudes for physicians of all ages. If anyone wants to look more closely at how older physicians practice, the first question to ask should not be “What are they doing wrong?” but “What are these folks doing right that allows them to continue to enjoy practicing medicine at age 75?”

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

Our local daily paper, like most other print newspapers, is on its last legs. But I read it faithfully for the obituaries, and to see how my former patients are doing on their school sports teams. Of course, there is always the smattering of motor vehicle accident reports to keep me reading.

One doesn’t have to be an insurance adjuster or an actuary to realize that motor vehicle accident fatalities cluster into two groups: teenagers and older folks (70 plus). One group falls victim to inexperience and a delusional sense of immortality. Those in the other group are losing their ability to sense their environment and respond with sufficient speed. One group makes poor decisions. The other makes them too slowly.

Because my mother died in her early 60s and my father never had a driver’s license, I never faced the difficult task of telling my aging parents that they were too old to drive. But I have heard from some of my friends of how difficult it was to ask Mom and Dad to give up their car keys.

The American Medical Association announced recently that they have to decided to take on a similar challenge by agreeing to “spearhead an effort to create competency guidelines for assessing whether older physicians remain able to provide safe and effective care for patients” (“Aging MDs Prompt Call for Competency Tests at AMA Meeting,” Associated Press, June 8, 2015). Prompted by the reality that one in four physicians in this country is over the age of 65 years, the AMA is beginning to talk about the issue and formulate plans to convene a variety of councils and work groups.

I’m sure there are some older physicians whose clinical skills have eroded with age to a point that they pose a significant threat to the safety of their patients, but I don’t think the situation warrants a full-court press by the AMA or anyone else for that matter.

First, I suspect that most physicians who continue to practice after they turn 70 years are not doing so because they need the money. That might be true 10-15 years from now when today’s young physicians are facing retirement while they are still recovering from the monstrous educational debts they incurred in their 20s. At present, though, I suspect that most physicians continue to practice because they enjoy what they do. I have to believe that a physician whose primary motivation is the joy of seeing patients is, in general, going to be doing a good job of it – and his or her patients probably know it and appreciate it.

Second, we already have in place (or should have) systems for identifying and dealing with physicians who are practicing substandard care for variety of reasons, such as substance abuse, financial malfeasance, inadequate training, or outright incompetence. Do we really need another layer of screening for older physicians? It feels like just another example of profiling. For example, does the Transportation Security Administration need to strip search every male with a dark complexion named Hassan?

The problem is that in many situations our safety nets for identifying and addressing incompetent physicians have too many holes in them. One of the reasons for this inadequacy is the unofficial code of silence that physicians have followed for years. Unless a fellow physician’s behavior is three orders of magnitude beyond the pale, many of us feel uncomfortable about approaching him or her or even lodging an anonymous report to the state board of licensure.

Of course, as physicians age some will lose critical clinical skills. On the other hand, with age many older physicians have gained perspectives on health, life, and death that their younger colleagues need to hear. We don’t need to single out older physicians for closer scrutiny. We simply have to improve our current surveillance systems and attitudes for physicians of all ages. If anyone wants to look more closely at how older physicians practice, the first question to ask should not be “What are they doing wrong?” but “What are these folks doing right that allows them to continue to enjoy practicing medicine at age 75?”

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.”

When you decided to go to medical school, did you expect that you would be seeing as many patients with mental health complaints as you are seeing now? If you have been practicing pediatrics for more than 15 years, has your patient mix significantly taken on a more behavioral flavor? Do you think that more of your patients are experiencing serious mental health issues?

If you answered yes to any or all of those questions, your perception of the mental health status of this country’s children agrees with mine and probably that of most other Americans. However, a recent study suggests that not all of our perceptions are reality based (N. Engl. J. Med. 2015;372:2029-38). The authors used a parent-scored scale of the children’s impairment and found that the rate of severe mental illness has fallen significantly over the last generation. Despite the decline in severe cases that they observed, the percentage of children receiving outpatient mental health services (including psychotherapy and psychotropic drugs) has increased. In other words, while we and other providers are indeed seeing more children and adolescents with mental health and behavioral complaints, the tip of the iceberg is shrinking.

Does that divergence make any sense? As the chief of the National Institute of Mental Health’s in-house genetic epidemiological research program observes, it is hard to make any sense of the results of this new study, or any study, because there is a plethora of agencies doing surveys often using different methodologies. In Kathleen Merikangas’ words, “It’s a nightmare” (“Severe Mental Illness Found to Drop in Young, Defying Perceptions” by Benedict Carey in the New York Times on May 20, 2015).

The situation seems to be a classic case of comparing apples and oranges. It is probably even worse because different agencies can’t even agree on whether McIntoshes and Granny Smiths should both be counted as apples. With this degree of uncertainty, the officials charged with making decisions about funding and allocating mental health services are flying blind much of the time.

When it comes to divining the trends in the prevalence of mental illness in children and adolescents, your guess is as good as mine. So ... because I happen to have the time, I’m going to give you mine.

From my lofty perch here on the rocky coast of Maine, it appears to me that the recent study in the New England Journal of Medicine is accurate in its observation that serious mental illness is not increasing and may in be decreasing. But why does it feel that our office schedules are bulging with the patients presenting with less serious behavioral problems? One answer is that many of the cases of serious physical illness that we once saw never make it to the waiting room. For example, most children with congenital heart disease are now diagnosed in utero and delivered and treated in tertiary centers. Serious infectious diseases such as meningitis and epiglottitis have been damped down by successful immunizations. The abundance of subspecialists, the tendency of some physicians to issue knee-jerk referrals, and the awareness by parents that they can self-refer has left a void in our schedules that in the blink of an eye has filled with the walking worried.

It is worry and anxiety that in my estimation is on the rise and generating a large percentage of visits. Whether this is a post 9-11 phenomenon or simply a reflection of too-much-news-too-quickly is unclear. But the bottom line is that parents are worried and as a result so are many of their children. I am less sure on whether there has been a true increase in depression. It may be that people are more willing to talk about their unhappiness or it may be a ripple effect from our national sleep deprivation.

Finally, there has been a tendency to narrow the definition of normal that goes hand in hand with the notion that if it isn’t “normal,” there must be some medication to fix the problem. Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder is the poster child for this schedule-filling duo.

So that’s what I think. I suspect you feel you are seeing more behavior-related problems. But is this because of a true increase in the level of mental health problems in this country? How do you explain it?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

When you decided to go to medical school, did you expect that you would be seeing as many patients with mental health complaints as you are seeing now? If you have been practicing pediatrics for more than 15 years, has your patient mix significantly taken on a more behavioral flavor? Do you think that more of your patients are experiencing serious mental health issues?

If you answered yes to any or all of those questions, your perception of the mental health status of this country’s children agrees with mine and probably that of most other Americans. However, a recent study suggests that not all of our perceptions are reality based (N. Engl. J. Med. 2015;372:2029-38). The authors used a parent-scored scale of the children’s impairment and found that the rate of severe mental illness has fallen significantly over the last generation. Despite the decline in severe cases that they observed, the percentage of children receiving outpatient mental health services (including psychotherapy and psychotropic drugs) has increased. In other words, while we and other providers are indeed seeing more children and adolescents with mental health and behavioral complaints, the tip of the iceberg is shrinking.

Does that divergence make any sense? As the chief of the National Institute of Mental Health’s in-house genetic epidemiological research program observes, it is hard to make any sense of the results of this new study, or any study, because there is a plethora of agencies doing surveys often using different methodologies. In Kathleen Merikangas’ words, “It’s a nightmare” (“Severe Mental Illness Found to Drop in Young, Defying Perceptions” by Benedict Carey in the New York Times on May 20, 2015).

The situation seems to be a classic case of comparing apples and oranges. It is probably even worse because different agencies can’t even agree on whether McIntoshes and Granny Smiths should both be counted as apples. With this degree of uncertainty, the officials charged with making decisions about funding and allocating mental health services are flying blind much of the time.

When it comes to divining the trends in the prevalence of mental illness in children and adolescents, your guess is as good as mine. So ... because I happen to have the time, I’m going to give you mine.

From my lofty perch here on the rocky coast of Maine, it appears to me that the recent study in the New England Journal of Medicine is accurate in its observation that serious mental illness is not increasing and may in be decreasing. But why does it feel that our office schedules are bulging with the patients presenting with less serious behavioral problems? One answer is that many of the cases of serious physical illness that we once saw never make it to the waiting room. For example, most children with congenital heart disease are now diagnosed in utero and delivered and treated in tertiary centers. Serious infectious diseases such as meningitis and epiglottitis have been damped down by successful immunizations. The abundance of subspecialists, the tendency of some physicians to issue knee-jerk referrals, and the awareness by parents that they can self-refer has left a void in our schedules that in the blink of an eye has filled with the walking worried.

It is worry and anxiety that in my estimation is on the rise and generating a large percentage of visits. Whether this is a post 9-11 phenomenon or simply a reflection of too-much-news-too-quickly is unclear. But the bottom line is that parents are worried and as a result so are many of their children. I am less sure on whether there has been a true increase in depression. It may be that people are more willing to talk about their unhappiness or it may be a ripple effect from our national sleep deprivation.

Finally, there has been a tendency to narrow the definition of normal that goes hand in hand with the notion that if it isn’t “normal,” there must be some medication to fix the problem. Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder is the poster child for this schedule-filling duo.

So that’s what I think. I suspect you feel you are seeing more behavior-related problems. But is this because of a true increase in the level of mental health problems in this country? How do you explain it?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

When you decided to go to medical school, did you expect that you would be seeing as many patients with mental health complaints as you are seeing now? If you have been practicing pediatrics for more than 15 years, has your patient mix significantly taken on a more behavioral flavor? Do you think that more of your patients are experiencing serious mental health issues?

If you answered yes to any or all of those questions, your perception of the mental health status of this country’s children agrees with mine and probably that of most other Americans. However, a recent study suggests that not all of our perceptions are reality based (N. Engl. J. Med. 2015;372:2029-38). The authors used a parent-scored scale of the children’s impairment and found that the rate of severe mental illness has fallen significantly over the last generation. Despite the decline in severe cases that they observed, the percentage of children receiving outpatient mental health services (including psychotherapy and psychotropic drugs) has increased. In other words, while we and other providers are indeed seeing more children and adolescents with mental health and behavioral complaints, the tip of the iceberg is shrinking.

Does that divergence make any sense? As the chief of the National Institute of Mental Health’s in-house genetic epidemiological research program observes, it is hard to make any sense of the results of this new study, or any study, because there is a plethora of agencies doing surveys often using different methodologies. In Kathleen Merikangas’ words, “It’s a nightmare” (“Severe Mental Illness Found to Drop in Young, Defying Perceptions” by Benedict Carey in the New York Times on May 20, 2015).

The situation seems to be a classic case of comparing apples and oranges. It is probably even worse because different agencies can’t even agree on whether McIntoshes and Granny Smiths should both be counted as apples. With this degree of uncertainty, the officials charged with making decisions about funding and allocating mental health services are flying blind much of the time.

When it comes to divining the trends in the prevalence of mental illness in children and adolescents, your guess is as good as mine. So ... because I happen to have the time, I’m going to give you mine.

From my lofty perch here on the rocky coast of Maine, it appears to me that the recent study in the New England Journal of Medicine is accurate in its observation that serious mental illness is not increasing and may in be decreasing. But why does it feel that our office schedules are bulging with the patients presenting with less serious behavioral problems? One answer is that many of the cases of serious physical illness that we once saw never make it to the waiting room. For example, most children with congenital heart disease are now diagnosed in utero and delivered and treated in tertiary centers. Serious infectious diseases such as meningitis and epiglottitis have been damped down by successful immunizations. The abundance of subspecialists, the tendency of some physicians to issue knee-jerk referrals, and the awareness by parents that they can self-refer has left a void in our schedules that in the blink of an eye has filled with the walking worried.

It is worry and anxiety that in my estimation is on the rise and generating a large percentage of visits. Whether this is a post 9-11 phenomenon or simply a reflection of too-much-news-too-quickly is unclear. But the bottom line is that parents are worried and as a result so are many of their children. I am less sure on whether there has been a true increase in depression. It may be that people are more willing to talk about their unhappiness or it may be a ripple effect from our national sleep deprivation.

Finally, there has been a tendency to narrow the definition of normal that goes hand in hand with the notion that if it isn’t “normal,” there must be some medication to fix the problem. Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder is the poster child for this schedule-filling duo.

So that’s what I think. I suspect you feel you are seeing more behavior-related problems. But is this because of a true increase in the level of mental health problems in this country? How do you explain it?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

The number of parents asking their pediatricians to stray from the recommended immunization schedule by spreading out the vaccines is increasing, and so is the number of pediatricians who are agreeing to follow these spaced-out schedules.

One of the two reasons most often given by pediatricians for agreeing to the less than optimal immunization schedules is that by showing a willingness to compromise, that physician may be helping to build a trusting relationship with these families. The other reason is a concern – let’s be honest and call it a fear – that a dissatisfied family will move its care to another physician/provider.

When we scratch the surface of these two rationales, neither seems to make much sense. The conflict over immunization spacing comes to a head at the 2-month well-child visit recommended call for six injections. If the infant has had an unremarkable neonatal course, there may not have been any situation in which the physician was forced to demonstrate her trustworthiness. As long as she has dressed professionally, showed up on time for appointments, washed her hands, and appeared genuinely interested in the child’s well-being, that’s about all she has had to do.

The physician may give the impression that she can be trusted, but real trust is usually something that must accumulate over time, in monthly – or more likely yearly – increments. Occasionally a crisis allows the physician to behave so heroically that her route to a trusting relationship is compressed to just a few hours, but fortunately these crises are rare.

Does agreeing to an unnecessary and unsubstantiated diversion from the recommended immunization schedule play a role in trust building? It may signal that the physician is willing to compromise, which in some situations may not be a bad attribute. For example, the mother who has struggled and failed at breastfeeding her 6 weeks despite everyone’s best efforts will appreciate her pediatrician’s willingness to compromise. But should compromise of scientifically validated practices really be one of the cornerstones of a physician-patient relationship?

I have never had a family request that the immunization schedule be spread out for their second child because they have seen for themselves that the process is not what they have feared. I gave all the immunizations myself, and my administration style was quick and matter-of-fact. The problem, of course, is getting hesitant parents up to and over that hurdle of the 2-month visit. Unfortunately, the evidence seems to be that education and extra time and reassurance are of little value in getting them to that point of trust.

The more difficult issue is a physician’s fear that by failing to agree to a spaced-out schedule, she will open a spigot and families will flow out of her practice to other more compromising providers. Is this just an ego thing? No one likes to feel rejected. Will the feared patient exodus seriously depress the physician’s income or will it be merely a trickle that can be ignored? Obviously, the answer varies from community to community. Do families have so many options that they will easily be able to find a provider who is eager to grow his or her practice, and is less concerned about the immunization level of the community? Or, is the pediatrician so busy that a firm adherence to the standard schedule might provide a welcome opportunity to have a more manageable panel size, and at the same time shift the patient mix toward families that don’t require the extra time in fruitless “educational” discussions?

These are questions that don’t seem to be getting asked. What are the numbers? Is the loss of patients just an irrational fear for physicians created by an irrational fear of a small segment of the population? If the physician practices in a group, could her fear of patient loss be eased if the entire group committed itself to following the standard immunization schedule? Are group members discussing this issue among themselves and with their practice managers? Or, is everyone just spacing out?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected]. Scan this QR code to read similar articles or go to pediatricnews.com.

The number of parents asking their pediatricians to stray from the recommended immunization schedule by spreading out the vaccines is increasing, and so is the number of pediatricians who are agreeing to follow these spaced-out schedules.

One of the two reasons most often given by pediatricians for agreeing to the less than optimal immunization schedules is that by showing a willingness to compromise, that physician may be helping to build a trusting relationship with these families. The other reason is a concern – let’s be honest and call it a fear – that a dissatisfied family will move its care to another physician/provider.

When we scratch the surface of these two rationales, neither seems to make much sense. The conflict over immunization spacing comes to a head at the 2-month well-child visit recommended call for six injections. If the infant has had an unremarkable neonatal course, there may not have been any situation in which the physician was forced to demonstrate her trustworthiness. As long as she has dressed professionally, showed up on time for appointments, washed her hands, and appeared genuinely interested in the child’s well-being, that’s about all she has had to do.

The physician may give the impression that she can be trusted, but real trust is usually something that must accumulate over time, in monthly – or more likely yearly – increments. Occasionally a crisis allows the physician to behave so heroically that her route to a trusting relationship is compressed to just a few hours, but fortunately these crises are rare.

Does agreeing to an unnecessary and unsubstantiated diversion from the recommended immunization schedule play a role in trust building? It may signal that the physician is willing to compromise, which in some situations may not be a bad attribute. For example, the mother who has struggled and failed at breastfeeding her 6 weeks despite everyone’s best efforts will appreciate her pediatrician’s willingness to compromise. But should compromise of scientifically validated practices really be one of the cornerstones of a physician-patient relationship?

I have never had a family request that the immunization schedule be spread out for their second child because they have seen for themselves that the process is not what they have feared. I gave all the immunizations myself, and my administration style was quick and matter-of-fact. The problem, of course, is getting hesitant parents up to and over that hurdle of the 2-month visit. Unfortunately, the evidence seems to be that education and extra time and reassurance are of little value in getting them to that point of trust.

The more difficult issue is a physician’s fear that by failing to agree to a spaced-out schedule, she will open a spigot and families will flow out of her practice to other more compromising providers. Is this just an ego thing? No one likes to feel rejected. Will the feared patient exodus seriously depress the physician’s income or will it be merely a trickle that can be ignored? Obviously, the answer varies from community to community. Do families have so many options that they will easily be able to find a provider who is eager to grow his or her practice, and is less concerned about the immunization level of the community? Or, is the pediatrician so busy that a firm adherence to the standard schedule might provide a welcome opportunity to have a more manageable panel size, and at the same time shift the patient mix toward families that don’t require the extra time in fruitless “educational” discussions?

These are questions that don’t seem to be getting asked. What are the numbers? Is the loss of patients just an irrational fear for physicians created by an irrational fear of a small segment of the population? If the physician practices in a group, could her fear of patient loss be eased if the entire group committed itself to following the standard immunization schedule? Are group members discussing this issue among themselves and with their practice managers? Or, is everyone just spacing out?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected]. Scan this QR code to read similar articles or go to pediatricnews.com.

The number of parents asking their pediatricians to stray from the recommended immunization schedule by spreading out the vaccines is increasing, and so is the number of pediatricians who are agreeing to follow these spaced-out schedules.

One of the two reasons most often given by pediatricians for agreeing to the less than optimal immunization schedules is that by showing a willingness to compromise, that physician may be helping to build a trusting relationship with these families. The other reason is a concern – let’s be honest and call it a fear – that a dissatisfied family will move its care to another physician/provider.

When we scratch the surface of these two rationales, neither seems to make much sense. The conflict over immunization spacing comes to a head at the 2-month well-child visit recommended call for six injections. If the infant has had an unremarkable neonatal course, there may not have been any situation in which the physician was forced to demonstrate her trustworthiness. As long as she has dressed professionally, showed up on time for appointments, washed her hands, and appeared genuinely interested in the child’s well-being, that’s about all she has had to do.

The physician may give the impression that she can be trusted, but real trust is usually something that must accumulate over time, in monthly – or more likely yearly – increments. Occasionally a crisis allows the physician to behave so heroically that her route to a trusting relationship is compressed to just a few hours, but fortunately these crises are rare.

Does agreeing to an unnecessary and unsubstantiated diversion from the recommended immunization schedule play a role in trust building? It may signal that the physician is willing to compromise, which in some situations may not be a bad attribute. For example, the mother who has struggled and failed at breastfeeding her 6 weeks despite everyone’s best efforts will appreciate her pediatrician’s willingness to compromise. But should compromise of scientifically validated practices really be one of the cornerstones of a physician-patient relationship?

I have never had a family request that the immunization schedule be spread out for their second child because they have seen for themselves that the process is not what they have feared. I gave all the immunizations myself, and my administration style was quick and matter-of-fact. The problem, of course, is getting hesitant parents up to and over that hurdle of the 2-month visit. Unfortunately, the evidence seems to be that education and extra time and reassurance are of little value in getting them to that point of trust.

The more difficult issue is a physician’s fear that by failing to agree to a spaced-out schedule, she will open a spigot and families will flow out of her practice to other more compromising providers. Is this just an ego thing? No one likes to feel rejected. Will the feared patient exodus seriously depress the physician’s income or will it be merely a trickle that can be ignored? Obviously, the answer varies from community to community. Do families have so many options that they will easily be able to find a provider who is eager to grow his or her practice, and is less concerned about the immunization level of the community? Or, is the pediatrician so busy that a firm adherence to the standard schedule might provide a welcome opportunity to have a more manageable panel size, and at the same time shift the patient mix toward families that don’t require the extra time in fruitless “educational” discussions?

These are questions that don’t seem to be getting asked. What are the numbers? Is the loss of patients just an irrational fear for physicians created by an irrational fear of a small segment of the population? If the physician practices in a group, could her fear of patient loss be eased if the entire group committed itself to following the standard immunization schedule? Are group members discussing this issue among themselves and with their practice managers? Or, is everyone just spacing out?

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected]. Scan this QR code to read similar articles or go to pediatricnews.com.

While folks my age are sometimes referred to as “elderly” victims in newspaper stories about phone and Internet scams, I resist and object to the implication that I am less than sharp and worrisomely vulnerable to being duped.

I hang up when a stranger calls to warn me that I am about to be audited by the Internal Revenue Service and asks for my Social Security number. I double-delete e-mails purported to come from my Internet provider that ask for my e-mail address and password. I’m no pushover.

However, I fear that over the last 20 years of my practice career, I was duped by several of my adolescent patients on more than one occasion. I hope that I had a reputation in town as one of the physicians least likely to leap to the diagnosis of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and even less likely to pull out my pad and prescribe stimulants.

I was particularly hesitant to make the diagnosis of ADHD in an adolescent whose academic career and behavior in grade school had been unremarkable. But from time to time I was presented with a case that included a combination of apparently reliable teachers’ reports, parental pleas, and patient complaints that was hard to ignore. Having ruled out anxiety, depression, learning disabilities, and severe sleep deprivation (all my teenage patients were sleep deprived to some degree) I would reluctantly agree to a trial of stimulant medication.

As you can imagine, assessing success or failure took time because we were usually looking for improvement in academic performance. For adolescents, this often means waiting to the end of the semester or grading period. If the academic improvement was less than dramatic as it was in the usual scenario, I was left relying on the patient’s report of his subjective observations and waiting another 6 months for more information from the school. Occasionally, the patient would report that the medication made him feel weird and that he wanted to stop it. More often, the patient would report that he was able to pay attention in class more easily, even though he had difficulty pointing to a documented improvement in his performance.

So what does one do? Sometimes I could convince the patient and his family that the trial had failed and that we should stop the medication and work harder to find a better match between his learning style, study habits, and the demands of the school. In other cases, I would adjust dosages and switch medications. The results were seldom dramatic. However, if the patient continued to claim a benefit, I would continue to prescribe the stimulant. I would make phone assessments with every refill, and face-to-face visits at least once a year.

While it may be that a few of those adolescents without clearly demonstrable benefit were indeed being helped by the stimulants, I am now convinced that I was being duped more often than I cared to admit then. I know there were stimulants available on the streets and in the school hallways and parking lots because some of my patients told me that they were easy to find and had tried them. I have to believe that some of those pills on the street were ones I had prescribed. I worry when I consider how many.

The national statistics are staggering and embarrassing. In 2013, the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration reported that ED visits associated with the nonmedical use of prescribed stimulants among adults aged 18-34 years had tripled from 2005 to 2011. (“Workers Seeking Productivity in a Pill Are Abusing ADHD Drugs,” by Alan Schwarz, New York Times, April 18, 2015). How many of the pills associated with those visits were originally prescribed for adolescent who didn’t have ADHD?

How many of my patients were just trying to be good friends by sharing their pills and how many were selling them? How many of the pills I prescribed were fueling all-night parties, and how many were being used as performance-enhancing drugs by students who needed to finish a term paper on time?

I don’t know. But I do know that although I miss practicing pediatrics, I am glad I no longer have to face the dilemma of the adolescent with ADHD-like complaints, because I hate being duped.

While folks my age are sometimes referred to as “elderly” victims in newspaper stories about phone and Internet scams, I resist and object to the implication that I am less than sharp and worrisomely vulnerable to being duped.

I hang up when a stranger calls to warn me that I am about to be audited by the Internal Revenue Service and asks for my Social Security number. I double-delete e-mails purported to come from my Internet provider that ask for my e-mail address and password. I’m no pushover.

However, I fear that over the last 20 years of my practice career, I was duped by several of my adolescent patients on more than one occasion. I hope that I had a reputation in town as one of the physicians least likely to leap to the diagnosis of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and even less likely to pull out my pad and prescribe stimulants.

I was particularly hesitant to make the diagnosis of ADHD in an adolescent whose academic career and behavior in grade school had been unremarkable. But from time to time I was presented with a case that included a combination of apparently reliable teachers’ reports, parental pleas, and patient complaints that was hard to ignore. Having ruled out anxiety, depression, learning disabilities, and severe sleep deprivation (all my teenage patients were sleep deprived to some degree) I would reluctantly agree to a trial of stimulant medication.

As you can imagine, assessing success or failure took time because we were usually looking for improvement in academic performance. For adolescents, this often means waiting to the end of the semester or grading period. If the academic improvement was less than dramatic as it was in the usual scenario, I was left relying on the patient’s report of his subjective observations and waiting another 6 months for more information from the school. Occasionally, the patient would report that the medication made him feel weird and that he wanted to stop it. More often, the patient would report that he was able to pay attention in class more easily, even though he had difficulty pointing to a documented improvement in his performance.

So what does one do? Sometimes I could convince the patient and his family that the trial had failed and that we should stop the medication and work harder to find a better match between his learning style, study habits, and the demands of the school. In other cases, I would adjust dosages and switch medications. The results were seldom dramatic. However, if the patient continued to claim a benefit, I would continue to prescribe the stimulant. I would make phone assessments with every refill, and face-to-face visits at least once a year.

While it may be that a few of those adolescents without clearly demonstrable benefit were indeed being helped by the stimulants, I am now convinced that I was being duped more often than I cared to admit then. I know there were stimulants available on the streets and in the school hallways and parking lots because some of my patients told me that they were easy to find and had tried them. I have to believe that some of those pills on the street were ones I had prescribed. I worry when I consider how many.

The national statistics are staggering and embarrassing. In 2013, the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration reported that ED visits associated with the nonmedical use of prescribed stimulants among adults aged 18-34 years had tripled from 2005 to 2011. (“Workers Seeking Productivity in a Pill Are Abusing ADHD Drugs,” by Alan Schwarz, New York Times, April 18, 2015). How many of the pills associated with those visits were originally prescribed for adolescent who didn’t have ADHD?

How many of my patients were just trying to be good friends by sharing their pills and how many were selling them? How many of the pills I prescribed were fueling all-night parties, and how many were being used as performance-enhancing drugs by students who needed to finish a term paper on time?

I don’t know. But I do know that although I miss practicing pediatrics, I am glad I no longer have to face the dilemma of the adolescent with ADHD-like complaints, because I hate being duped.

While folks my age are sometimes referred to as “elderly” victims in newspaper stories about phone and Internet scams, I resist and object to the implication that I am less than sharp and worrisomely vulnerable to being duped.

I hang up when a stranger calls to warn me that I am about to be audited by the Internal Revenue Service and asks for my Social Security number. I double-delete e-mails purported to come from my Internet provider that ask for my e-mail address and password. I’m no pushover.

However, I fear that over the last 20 years of my practice career, I was duped by several of my adolescent patients on more than one occasion. I hope that I had a reputation in town as one of the physicians least likely to leap to the diagnosis of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and even less likely to pull out my pad and prescribe stimulants.

I was particularly hesitant to make the diagnosis of ADHD in an adolescent whose academic career and behavior in grade school had been unremarkable. But from time to time I was presented with a case that included a combination of apparently reliable teachers’ reports, parental pleas, and patient complaints that was hard to ignore. Having ruled out anxiety, depression, learning disabilities, and severe sleep deprivation (all my teenage patients were sleep deprived to some degree) I would reluctantly agree to a trial of stimulant medication.

As you can imagine, assessing success or failure took time because we were usually looking for improvement in academic performance. For adolescents, this often means waiting to the end of the semester or grading period. If the academic improvement was less than dramatic as it was in the usual scenario, I was left relying on the patient’s report of his subjective observations and waiting another 6 months for more information from the school. Occasionally, the patient would report that the medication made him feel weird and that he wanted to stop it. More often, the patient would report that he was able to pay attention in class more easily, even though he had difficulty pointing to a documented improvement in his performance.

So what does one do? Sometimes I could convince the patient and his family that the trial had failed and that we should stop the medication and work harder to find a better match between his learning style, study habits, and the demands of the school. In other cases, I would adjust dosages and switch medications. The results were seldom dramatic. However, if the patient continued to claim a benefit, I would continue to prescribe the stimulant. I would make phone assessments with every refill, and face-to-face visits at least once a year.

While it may be that a few of those adolescents without clearly demonstrable benefit were indeed being helped by the stimulants, I am now convinced that I was being duped more often than I cared to admit then. I know there were stimulants available on the streets and in the school hallways and parking lots because some of my patients told me that they were easy to find and had tried them. I have to believe that some of those pills on the street were ones I had prescribed. I worry when I consider how many.

The national statistics are staggering and embarrassing. In 2013, the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration reported that ED visits associated with the nonmedical use of prescribed stimulants among adults aged 18-34 years had tripled from 2005 to 2011. (“Workers Seeking Productivity in a Pill Are Abusing ADHD Drugs,” by Alan Schwarz, New York Times, April 18, 2015). How many of the pills associated with those visits were originally prescribed for adolescent who didn’t have ADHD?

How many of my patients were just trying to be good friends by sharing their pills and how many were selling them? How many of the pills I prescribed were fueling all-night parties, and how many were being used as performance-enhancing drugs by students who needed to finish a term paper on time?

I don’t know. But I do know that although I miss practicing pediatrics, I am glad I no longer have to face the dilemma of the adolescent with ADHD-like complaints, because I hate being duped.

If you ask a primary care pediatrician who has been practicing for more than 2 decades, she will tell you that her practice has tilted steeply toward complaints with a more developmental and behavioral flavor. In the lead article of the April 2015 Pediatrics (“Are We on the Right Track? Examining the Role of Developmental Behavioral Pediatrics”) Dr. Ruth E.K. Stein, a recent recipient of the C. Anderson Aldrich Award given by the American Academy of Pediatrics section on children with developmental and behavioral pediatrics, questions whether we, both general pediatricians and specialists in developmental and behavioral pediatrics, are on the right path in addressing this shifting mix in our patient populations.

Dr. Stein observes that while she and other pioneers in the creation of her specialty began as general pediatricians, today physicians typically enter developmental and behavioral fellowship programs without the benefit of practicing the runny nose–earache–diaper rash kind of pediatrics that many of us enjoy. She worries that from this early branching point in training, developmental and behavioral specialists have become “sequestered and siloed – increasingly seen only as people who take care of children who have special needs.” The problem is that, as Dr. Stein wisely observes, developmental and behavioral issues “are the core constructs of pediatrics and its backbone and that they must be incorporated into every primary care and specialty encounter and included in every educational experience.”

Dr. Stein continues her essay by proposing a handful of strategies for bridging the gap between developmental and behavioral specialists and general pediatricians, and strengthening the training of house officers, which currently requires only a pitifully inadequate month devoted to developmental and behavioral issues. While it is hard to argue with Dr. Stein’s suggestions, they only nibble around the edges of the real problem.

If one really believes as she and I do, that behavior and development must be considered in every patient encounter and educational experience, then the solution lies in changing how we teach medicine from the very beginning instead of waiting until postgraduate education. Everyone mouths the importance of the mind-body connection, but it is often just so much hot air. The relationship between behavior and development, and what Dr. Stein refers to as “biomedical” conditions, exists in every patient. It is often said it is the fact that our patients are growing and developing that keeps pediatrics apart from the rest of medicine. But the same process of change over time occurs in adults as well; we call it aging instead of development. Understanding where our patients are positioned on this trajectory from birth to death is critical in helping us understand what is troubling them, and how best to help them manage their concerns.

For pediatricians, our preverbal patients’ behavior is often the only way we have of knowing there is a problem. Behavior can be their unspoken chief complaint. The failure by a physician to interpret her patient’s behavior as either a result or the cause of the problem can lead to an unfortunate outcome.

This means, as we teach aspiring doctors the art of medicine, we must make it clear that the patient’s behavior and stage of development must be considered equally with the more traditional biomedical etiologies, not as an afterthought. For example, any discussion of nonacute recurrent abdominal pain in children that fails to acknowledge from the outset that most of these patients will not have an abnormality detectable by lab work and imaging studies is doing the young physician and his patients a disservice. I am suggesting that we adopt a more patient-centered rather than a disease-centered approach to training all physicians.

While every patient must be viewed in the proper behavioral and developmental context, there are those in whom a behavior problem dominates. Given the patient mix that the new millennium pediatrician is going to face, 1 month in postgraduate training is clearly insufficient. One cannot begin to learn even the rudiments of managing common problems such as attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, disordered sleep, temper tantrums, and school refusal in 30 days. Finding room in a training program to give behavioral and developmental problems more than a quick nod is going to require some rethinking of how we train pediatricians. It may be that training programs will need to selectively trim back some programs that may be of only limited long-term use to most general office-based pediatricians and offer them as electives. For example, how many of us still practice the kind of neonatology we were exposed to in the special care nursery? These are not easy decisions, but as Dr. Reid has suggested, we need to reconsider whether we are on the right track.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

If you ask a primary care pediatrician who has been practicing for more than 2 decades, she will tell you that her practice has tilted steeply toward complaints with a more developmental and behavioral flavor. In the lead article of the April 2015 Pediatrics (“Are We on the Right Track? Examining the Role of Developmental Behavioral Pediatrics”) Dr. Ruth E.K. Stein, a recent recipient of the C. Anderson Aldrich Award given by the American Academy of Pediatrics section on children with developmental and behavioral pediatrics, questions whether we, both general pediatricians and specialists in developmental and behavioral pediatrics, are on the right path in addressing this shifting mix in our patient populations.

Dr. Stein observes that while she and other pioneers in the creation of her specialty began as general pediatricians, today physicians typically enter developmental and behavioral fellowship programs without the benefit of practicing the runny nose–earache–diaper rash kind of pediatrics that many of us enjoy. She worries that from this early branching point in training, developmental and behavioral specialists have become “sequestered and siloed – increasingly seen only as people who take care of children who have special needs.” The problem is that, as Dr. Stein wisely observes, developmental and behavioral issues “are the core constructs of pediatrics and its backbone and that they must be incorporated into every primary care and specialty encounter and included in every educational experience.”

Dr. Stein continues her essay by proposing a handful of strategies for bridging the gap between developmental and behavioral specialists and general pediatricians, and strengthening the training of house officers, which currently requires only a pitifully inadequate month devoted to developmental and behavioral issues. While it is hard to argue with Dr. Stein’s suggestions, they only nibble around the edges of the real problem.

If one really believes as she and I do, that behavior and development must be considered in every patient encounter and educational experience, then the solution lies in changing how we teach medicine from the very beginning instead of waiting until postgraduate education. Everyone mouths the importance of the mind-body connection, but it is often just so much hot air. The relationship between behavior and development, and what Dr. Stein refers to as “biomedical” conditions, exists in every patient. It is often said it is the fact that our patients are growing and developing that keeps pediatrics apart from the rest of medicine. But the same process of change over time occurs in adults as well; we call it aging instead of development. Understanding where our patients are positioned on this trajectory from birth to death is critical in helping us understand what is troubling them, and how best to help them manage their concerns.

For pediatricians, our preverbal patients’ behavior is often the only way we have of knowing there is a problem. Behavior can be their unspoken chief complaint. The failure by a physician to interpret her patient’s behavior as either a result or the cause of the problem can lead to an unfortunate outcome.

This means, as we teach aspiring doctors the art of medicine, we must make it clear that the patient’s behavior and stage of development must be considered equally with the more traditional biomedical etiologies, not as an afterthought. For example, any discussion of nonacute recurrent abdominal pain in children that fails to acknowledge from the outset that most of these patients will not have an abnormality detectable by lab work and imaging studies is doing the young physician and his patients a disservice. I am suggesting that we adopt a more patient-centered rather than a disease-centered approach to training all physicians.

While every patient must be viewed in the proper behavioral and developmental context, there are those in whom a behavior problem dominates. Given the patient mix that the new millennium pediatrician is going to face, 1 month in postgraduate training is clearly insufficient. One cannot begin to learn even the rudiments of managing common problems such as attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, disordered sleep, temper tantrums, and school refusal in 30 days. Finding room in a training program to give behavioral and developmental problems more than a quick nod is going to require some rethinking of how we train pediatricians. It may be that training programs will need to selectively trim back some programs that may be of only limited long-term use to most general office-based pediatricians and offer them as electives. For example, how many of us still practice the kind of neonatology we were exposed to in the special care nursery? These are not easy decisions, but as Dr. Reid has suggested, we need to reconsider whether we are on the right track.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].

If you ask a primary care pediatrician who has been practicing for more than 2 decades, she will tell you that her practice has tilted steeply toward complaints with a more developmental and behavioral flavor. In the lead article of the April 2015 Pediatrics (“Are We on the Right Track? Examining the Role of Developmental Behavioral Pediatrics”) Dr. Ruth E.K. Stein, a recent recipient of the C. Anderson Aldrich Award given by the American Academy of Pediatrics section on children with developmental and behavioral pediatrics, questions whether we, both general pediatricians and specialists in developmental and behavioral pediatrics, are on the right path in addressing this shifting mix in our patient populations.

Dr. Stein observes that while she and other pioneers in the creation of her specialty began as general pediatricians, today physicians typically enter developmental and behavioral fellowship programs without the benefit of practicing the runny nose–earache–diaper rash kind of pediatrics that many of us enjoy. She worries that from this early branching point in training, developmental and behavioral specialists have become “sequestered and siloed – increasingly seen only as people who take care of children who have special needs.” The problem is that, as Dr. Stein wisely observes, developmental and behavioral issues “are the core constructs of pediatrics and its backbone and that they must be incorporated into every primary care and specialty encounter and included in every educational experience.”

Dr. Stein continues her essay by proposing a handful of strategies for bridging the gap between developmental and behavioral specialists and general pediatricians, and strengthening the training of house officers, which currently requires only a pitifully inadequate month devoted to developmental and behavioral issues. While it is hard to argue with Dr. Stein’s suggestions, they only nibble around the edges of the real problem.

If one really believes as she and I do, that behavior and development must be considered in every patient encounter and educational experience, then the solution lies in changing how we teach medicine from the very beginning instead of waiting until postgraduate education. Everyone mouths the importance of the mind-body connection, but it is often just so much hot air. The relationship between behavior and development, and what Dr. Stein refers to as “biomedical” conditions, exists in every patient. It is often said it is the fact that our patients are growing and developing that keeps pediatrics apart from the rest of medicine. But the same process of change over time occurs in adults as well; we call it aging instead of development. Understanding where our patients are positioned on this trajectory from birth to death is critical in helping us understand what is troubling them, and how best to help them manage their concerns.

For pediatricians, our preverbal patients’ behavior is often the only way we have of knowing there is a problem. Behavior can be their unspoken chief complaint. The failure by a physician to interpret her patient’s behavior as either a result or the cause of the problem can lead to an unfortunate outcome.

This means, as we teach aspiring doctors the art of medicine, we must make it clear that the patient’s behavior and stage of development must be considered equally with the more traditional biomedical etiologies, not as an afterthought. For example, any discussion of nonacute recurrent abdominal pain in children that fails to acknowledge from the outset that most of these patients will not have an abnormality detectable by lab work and imaging studies is doing the young physician and his patients a disservice. I am suggesting that we adopt a more patient-centered rather than a disease-centered approach to training all physicians.

While every patient must be viewed in the proper behavioral and developmental context, there are those in whom a behavior problem dominates. Given the patient mix that the new millennium pediatrician is going to face, 1 month in postgraduate training is clearly insufficient. One cannot begin to learn even the rudiments of managing common problems such as attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, disordered sleep, temper tantrums, and school refusal in 30 days. Finding room in a training program to give behavioral and developmental problems more than a quick nod is going to require some rethinking of how we train pediatricians. It may be that training programs will need to selectively trim back some programs that may be of only limited long-term use to most general office-based pediatricians and offer them as electives. For example, how many of us still practice the kind of neonatology we were exposed to in the special care nursery? These are not easy decisions, but as Dr. Reid has suggested, we need to reconsider whether we are on the right track.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “Coping with a Picky Eater.” E-mail him at [email protected].