Reconciling Australia: it starts with our First Nations

Artwork Title: Partnerships

Artwork Title: Partnerships

In the mid-90′s I had the privilege of attending an advanced cultural awareness workshop for staff of the (then) Department of Human Services and Health in Canberra, at which Aboriginal Elder Aunty Mary Graham was one of the main facilitators. Aunty Mary shared many gems of information over those days, however one of the main statements she made that has always stuck in my mind was this:

“Aboriginal people will never have their Martin Luther King [Jr.]“

It was a statement made as part of a discussion on the diversity of Aboriginal peoples aimed at broadening the participants’ understanding of Aboriginal Australia as a ‘nation of nations’ – a land where each Clan/Language group was as separate and distinct from each other as other countries of the world are. The overarching message was that the Government must recognise that attempts to engage in consultation or partnerships with Aboriginal peoples needed to be done at local (community) levels; that there was not – and never will be – ‘one person’ who could speak for or claim to represent all Aboriginal peoples.

In that sense, Aunty Mary’s statement is very true, and I appreciate and agree with it from that perspective. However, to my way of thinking, it’s also a sad statement, because in a broader context, it also suggests that Aboriginal peoples will never achieve unity amongst ourselves. When you consider the achievements of Dr Martin Luther King Jr., one of the main things he did was unify people. In leading the American Civil Rights Movement, Dr King not only provided a voice for African-Americans, he gave them a common cause to rally to, and in doing so, brought African-Americans (and in a broader sense, all Americans who believed in racial equality) together in the spirit of unity. As a result, Dr King is credited with achieving, “more genuine progress toward racial equality in America than the previous 350 years …” (The King Center).

Australia’s Aboriginal peoples may never have our Dr King, however, we do need to create that unity amongst our First Nations. There have been attempts, the latest of which has been the formation of the National Congress of Australia’s First Peoples (Congress). Congress was established under the premise of being a representative body for all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples that could act as our national voice, particularly when dealing with Government. Congress states that as of January 2014 it has over 7,500 individual members from all over Australia – a considerable figure given it was only formally established in 2010. However, whether this can be considered sufficiently ‘representative’ (about 1%) of the almost 670,000 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples living in Australia is subject to debate, as is Congress’ continued existence, given the Australian Government’s recent decision to discontinue its funding.

What isn’t debatable is the need for a unified voice that led to the formation of Congress in the first place. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples still only make up approximately 3% of the total Australian population, giving us a relatively small voice in Australian affairs. Divide that by the number of First Nations (estimated at about 600 prior to European settlement), and the voices of individual Nations becomes even smaller. This would not necessarily be a problem if Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples enjoyed an equitable status in areas such as health, education, employment, and social justice, with non-Indigenous Australians. The fact that we don’t, and that the scales are tipped so far away from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians, should be reason enough for us to unify and seek solutions to common problems.

Ironically, in my observation at least, it is these very inequities that steer us away from unity. There is conflict between and within nations, communities, and sometimes even families, over what needs to be done and who has the ‘right’ to make those decisions. We fight over who should or shouldn’t have access to services, who should or shouldn’t be able to speak for our peoples, even who should or shouldn’t be identified as Aboriginal. This is not to say that there aren’t real issues within nations and communities that require resolution, however, when you consider that many of these issues only exist because of the effects of both historical and current policies and practices that have been imposed upon us, you have to question whether much of our internal conflict stems from a continued – perhaps now self-imposed – ‘divide-and-conquer’ strategy. As an Aboriginal person, I find this highly distressing, divisive, and confusing. I can only imagine how it must appear to non-Indigenous peoples. How can we possibly expect to achieve Reconciliation within Australia, when we’re unable to achieve it amongst ourselves?

It is crucial that all First Nations be able to retain their individuality in their identity, their Law, their cultural practices and beliefs, and their ability to determine their own futures. However, if we are going to make changes and improvements for the betterment of our peoples, we need to unify to address common issues. We need to reconcile both within and between communities and nations, and present a united front – a united voice – to combat the injustices we face. We need to adopt the old adage of “strength in numbers”, because as a minority within our own land, we need all the numbers we can get!

And if we can reconcile amongst ourselves, we give ourselves a greater chance of achieving Reconciliation amongst all of Australia. We can achieve a lot with 670,000. Imagine what we could achieve with 22 million.


I would like to acknowledge and thank the Making Two Worlds Work project for permission to use the image, Partnerships, in this article.


This post appears as part of the Deadly Bloggers Inaugural Blogging Carnival, held during Australian Blak History Month. To read other posts from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Bloggers, visit the Deadly Bloggers website.

Why Identify?

Happy NAIDOC week to all of you who celebrate it! NAIDOC week is a great week of celebration of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, our culture, and our achievements. For me, it’s always a time to not only celebrate my Aboriginality, but to reflect on what it means to me, what I’ve done to celebrate it within myself, and what I want to do to recognise and celebrate it as my life moves forward. This year, inspired by NAIDOC and the Deadly Bloggers Inaugural Blogging Carnival, as well as some personal experiences I’ve had over the last couple of years, I’ve decided to share with you my thoughts on two questions that I have been asked on numerous occasions, and often together: “Why do you identify as Aboriginal?” and “What do you get out of it?”

The second question is particularly interesting, as it suggests that there is still a perception within certain parts of the Australian community that the only reason anyone would identify as Aboriginal is to gain some sort of tangible benefit from it. This disappoints me for two main reasons: first, because while I mostly get asked this by non-Aboriginal people, it’s not uncommon for some Aboriginal people to challenge me with it as well (a topic I covered in my post, “Is colourism the ‘new’ racism facing Aboriginal Peoples?”); and second, because it indicates to me that when it comes to Aboriginal identity, there is still confusion and concern over the difference between Aboriginal ‘identity’ and Aboriginal ‘identification’ (discussed in my post on, “Aboriginal Australia’s Identity Crisis”).

It seems that some people still harbor a fear or resentment that calling yourself ‘Aboriginal’ will grant you some form of entitlement that their own biases don’t believe you should have. While there is no doubt there will always be those who will look for ways to abuse any system for their own benefit, to my way of thinking, questioning whether someone who identifies as Aboriginal does so only for personal gain is equivalent of questioning whether someone with a serious physical or mental disability only identifies as such to gain disability benefits. Yes, there may be abusers, but to question the motivations of everyone who identifies with any group is quite ludicrous. As another Aboriginal man said to me years ago, “why would anyone who wants some sort of advantage over others choose to identify with the group that has the poorest health, the poorest education, the poorest employment, and the worst racism? If I wanted an advantage, I’d choose to be white!”

However, the truth is I do gain from identifying as Aboriginal. What I gain from it is a greater sense of self. I do not identify as Aboriginal, so much as my Aboriginality gives me my identity. It tells me who and where I came from, and who and where I’m connected to. It helps to form my world view, and my place within that world. It influences the person I want to be, through my morals, my ethics, and my approach to life. That is not to say that it is separate from the other things that make up me – it is one of many pieces of my personal puzzle, which together provide the full picture that is me. It is as important in defining who I am as is being a man, or a father, or a healthcare professional, or any one of a number of the hats I wear. It gives me ME, and I would be incomplete without it. I would not know myself, and that is a terrible way to live one’s life.

So, why do I identify as Aboriginal?

Simple. That’s who I am.

And if you know who you are, and what gives you that sense of self, I have no doubt you will understand exactly what I mean.

What more reason could anyone need?

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Whether you are Aboriginal, Torres Strait Islander, a non-Indigenous Australian, or from another country altogether, I hope you will join me in celebrating NAIDOC Week and all it represents for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

Dedication:

I would like to dedicate this to all those who’ve directly helped, encouraged, and assisted me as I’ve grown in my identity: Karen, Kaye, Linda, Sandra, Callista, Ros, Leon, Eric, Justin, Dennis, Jackie, Aunty Pat, Aunty Rita, my cuz’s Shauna and Gerry (RIP), and everyone – Indigenous and non-Indigenous – who has understood and supported me along the way, and who continue to do so.


This post appears as part of the Deadly Bloggers Inaugural Blogging Carnival, held during Australian Blak History Month. To read other posts from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Bloggers, visit the Deadly Bloggers website.

Is it time to say “bye” to BMI?

bmiBody Mass Index, or BMI, has become somewhat of a catchphrase in a world of ever-increasing obesity. Doctors, dietitians, and personal trainers are just some of those who use your BMI to determine whether you are obese, or at risk of becoming obese. Even the tools we use for fitness – electronic scales, heart rate monitors, and even our smart phone apps – use BMI as a primary indicator of whether you are at your ‘ideal weight’. However, while everyone is busy calculating their BMI and worrying whether they’re outside the ‘golden range’, few seem to be asking what this number actually represents, and fewer still whether it actually has any validity.

What are we actually talking about?

Before trying to answer those questions, it’s important to define a few terms:

‘Weight’ – contrary to popular belief, your weight is not a measure of how fat you are. Your weight is a measure of the effect of gravity on your mass – that is, the resultant force that gravity is having on the total mass of matter that makes up you. Weight doesn’t care what this matter represents – fat, bone, muscle, fluid – it just tells you what gravity is doing to you. Because gravity is pretty much the same all over Earth, the only way to change your weight is to change your physical mass. By that reasoning it could be said that to be ‘overweight’ or ‘underweight’ means you either have too much or too little physical mass compared to an ideal value. However, in practice we do not define these terms in this way.

‘Overweight’ and ‘obesity’ are defined by the World Health Organisation (WHO) as, “abnormal or excessive fat accumulation that presents a risk to health.” Note that the thing that is being measured or compared in this definition is the amount of fat that makes up an individuals body composition. Therefore, to determine whether a person has an abnormal or excessive accumulation of fat, it stands to reason you need to know the amount of fat that makes up a person’s mass. WHO further defines obesity as a percentage of body fat equivalent to 25% total body weight for men, and 35% for women.

‘Underweight’ interestingly enough, is most often defined by a person’s BMI, which is discussed below.

‘BMI’ – again, contrary to popular belief, BMI is a mathematical calculation, not a measurement. BMI is calculated by dividing your weight (in kg) by the square of your height (in meters). So for example, a person weighing 70kgs at a height of 1.75m would have a BMI of: 70kg / (1.75m x 1.75m) = 22.86 kg/m2.

So what’s the problem with BMI?

Well, there are several problems which continue to be debated within the literature today, including concerns around its validity in reference to specific populations and its use as a diagnostic tool (which, by the admittance of its inventor, Belgian mathematician Lambert Adolphe Jacques Quetelet, it was never intended for). However the most glaring one should be obvious from these definitions. BMI tells us about the relationship between the height and weight of an individual, however it does not – in fact, it cannot – tell us anything about the composition of that individual’s body. Specifically, it does not – cannot – tell us anything about the fat composition of that individual’s body.

This in itself would not be a concern, if not for the fact that BMI is frequently used to categorise people as being underweight, overweight, or obese. The fact is, BMI cannot make this categorisation because it does not measure fat composition. At worst, it runs the risk of generating false positives and false negatives when attempting to categorise people based on a comparison of height and weight. This can be illustrated with a simple example using a muscular athlete, such as a competitive body-builder.

Photo courtesy HealthyCeleb.com

Photo courtesy HealthyCeleb.com

Meet Jay (Jason) Cutler, a four-time Mr Olympia winner from the United States. Jay is 5’9″ (1.75m) and at competition weight approximately 274 pounds (124kg). Based on his height and weight, Jay’s BMI calculates to 40.49 kg/m2, which accordingly to WHO classification, puts him in the morbidly obese category. Looking at Jay at the 2009 Mr Olympia competition, you would be hard pressed to call this man “morbidly obese.” Why is his BMI so high? Simply because muscle has a higher density (approximately 18% greater) than fat, so for the same volume of tissue, muscle weighs more than fat. As such, Jay’s BMI is clearly a false positive result.(For interest, Jay’s weight outside of competition has been recorded at 310 pounds (140kg), which would place him in the super obese category!)

The problem of density differences between muscle and fat can also give false negative results as well. Consider someone with a low proportion of muscle mass (eg: sedentary-lifestyle) or whose muscle mass is reducing over time (eg: elderly, or active person becoming inactive). It is quite possible that this person will record a BMI that would be considered ‘normal’, yet physiologically have a body fat percentage higher than that considered ‘healthy’ by the WHO. This has been demonstrated in a number of scientific studies by comparing BMI with more accurate body composition recording techniques, such as dual energy x-ray absorptiometry (DXA or DEXA), including one study where approximately 1 in 4 men and 1 in 2 women were incorrectly classified by BMI [1]. Can these error rates be considered acceptable when screening for risks to people’s health?

So why do we use it?

Despite its problems, BMI’s simplicity is the main reason why it continues to be used. It’s quick, cheap, and easy to do. If you have the ability to measure a person’s height and weight, and basic math skills, you can categorise someone as being within a ‘healthy’ weight range, or not. Apparent anomalies are often dismissed through subjective observation by the assessor. “No, Jay, of course you’re not obese,” is what we would expect Jay Cutler’s doctor to advise him, for example. Though in light of the incidence of false negatives BMI produces, it could be argued we should be questioning whether such subjective opinions are valid, or even putting individuals at risk of being miss- or undiagnosed.

Critics of BMI have cited more potentially malicious reasons why the use of BMI persists. For example, some health insurance companies adjust their customer’s premiums based on their BMI – the higher your BMI, the more you pay – because they are considered to be at higher risk for developing problems with their health. Is this fair for the professional athlete, a person considered to be at peak physical fitness, and therefore healthy compared to the rest of the population? What about the 29 million Americans who suddenly “became fat” in 1998 when the U.S. National Institutes of Health and the Center for Disease Control (CDC) lowered the U.S. cutoff for ‘normal’ BMI from 27.8 to 25 [2]?

What’s the alternative?

There are many different ways body composition can be measured. In relation to body fat, hydrostatic weighing (weighing underwater) and whole-body air displacement plethysmography (ADP) are considered the gold standards of getting an accurate value. DXA or DEXA is also highly regarded, though primarily used in research. However, these procedures require specialised equipment and operators, and in some cases can be quite expensive to undertake.

Bioelectrical impedance analysis (BIA) is a cheaper alternative which is gaining popularity, particularly as an ‘in-home’ means of determining body composition through the use of body composition analysis scales. BIA has been demonstrated to be useful for predicting the body fat composition of groups, however shows poorer accuracy for individuals, likely due to the fact that readings can vary depending on an individual’s level of hydration (or dehydration) [3].

Skinfold calipers are another inexpensive and time-honoured method of determining body fat percentage, and chances are if you’ve been involved in college/university level sports, or been part of a sports institute, you’ve felt the skinfold pinch. There has been much ongoing debate in the scientific literature about the accuracy and usefulness of skinfold measurements in determining body fat, with issues such as inter- and intra-tester reliability (ie: whether the same person or different people can produce the same results with each test), the sites used, the methods of calculation, and again, the hydration level of the subject, identified as potential problems. At best, it seems skinfold measurements are accurate at determining body fat percentage on lean athletes, but less so for those with excess body fat or loose connective tissue (ie: the elderly) [4].

In the last two decades, waist circumference measurement has been increasingly used as a screening tool for assessing individual’s risk of developing diseases associated with excess body fat, such as diabetes and cardiovascular disease. Like BMI it is quick, easy, and inexpensive to administer, requiring only a tape measure. Current Australian guidelines state that waist measurements above 94cm for adult males and 80cm for adult females are indicator of excessive internal fat deposits, and increase the risk of chronic disease. Waist circumference has been demonstrated to be a good predictor of visceral fat (fat around the organs) [5] and a better predictor of risk of cardiovascular disease [4,5,6], type II diabetes [4,5], and metabolic syndrome [5] than BMI.

Is it time to say “bye” to BMI?

It is apparent that BMI tells us nothing about the composition of the body, and that there are problems with its use as an indicator of diseases such as obesity, and with its accuracy at identifying individuals who may be at risk of further health complications based on their body composition. It’s also apparent that there are more accurate ways of determining body composition, and these may be better indicators for people’s risk of developing diseases related to unhealthy levels of body fat [4]. Is it therefore time we stopped using BMI?

It’s not a simple question to answer. BMI still has potential in screening people who are underweight compared to a normal population, and flag the need for further examination, to determine if they may be suffering from diseases such as malnutrition or anorexia. However, while BMI can determine whether an individual is ‘overweight’ compared to a normal population, it cannot give any indication as to why that is the case. Therefore it would seem justifiable that BMI should no longer be used as a means of categorising people as being ‘obese’, as it cannot indicate what the body composition of an individual is.

Further, given that other methods of body composition analysis are better predictors of the risk of disease and other complications associated with unhealthy levels of body fat, it seems justifiable to suggest that BMI should be the least favoured tool utilised by clinicians and individuals. This is particularly true where other methods, such as waist circumference measurement, have been demonstrated to be more reliable indicators of risk of associated health problems, such as cardiovascular disease, and are just as quick, easy and cost-effective to administer as BMI.

Why, then, should we continue to use BMI?

Do you know your BMI? Do you agree with the category it places you in? Would you rather know your BMI, or your Body Fat Percentage, in terms of making decisions about your own health? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section below.

References

1. Shah, N. R. and Braverman, E. R. (2012). Measuring adiposity in patients: the utility of Body Mass Index (BMI), percent body fat, and leptin. PLoSOne. 7(4): e33308 1-8.
2. Cohen, E. and McDermott, A. (1998). Who’s fat? New definition adopted. CNN: 17 June 1998. Retrieved 26 June 2014 at: http://edition.cnn.com/HEALTH/9806/17/weight.guidelines/
3. Houtkooper, L. B. et al. (1996). Why bioelectrical impedence analysis should be used for estimating adiposity. American Journal of Clinical Nutrition. 64(suppl.): 436S-448S.
4. Wagner, D. R. and Heyward, V. H. (1999). Techniques of body composition assessment: a review of laboratory and field methods. Research Quarterly for Exercise and Sport. 70(2): 135-149.
5. National Health and Medical Research Council (2013). Clinical practice guidelines for the management of overweight and obesity in adults, adolescents and children in Australia. Melbourne: National Health and Medical Research Council.
6. Siavash, M. et al. (2008). Comparison of Body Mass Index and Weight/Height Ratio in predicting definite coronary artery disease. Annals of Nutrition and Metabolism. 53: 162 – 166.

Never Give Up

hands-reaching-outI’d be surprised if anyone reading this has not experienced some point in their life when they felt like giving up on something. Maybe it was a relationship, a job, or a lifelong dream. Maybe it was trying to understand something, or help someone else understand. Maybe it was just trying to get your computer or phone to do what it’s supposed to do. We’ve all had times when it got too hard, too frustrating, too hurtful, or too impossible to keep going, and the only viable option seemed to be: give up.

Plow through the multitude of advice and self-help guides both on- and off-line and you can find innumerable references to make it easier for you to give up on things. Knowing when to quit – when to give up and walk away – has become a life-skill. There is merit in this: engaging in exercises of futility benefit no-one, least of all ourselves. If anything, they might cause far more harm or grief than abandoning them would. But how many things we pursue, or cling to, or believe in, are truly futile? How many just seem that way, because we lose hope, or faith, or motivation, or sight of our goal, or what set us in motion towards it in the first place?

The great African-American human rights advocate Frederick Douglass is often quoted as saying, “if there is no struggle, there is no progress.” Inherent in this statement is the concept of never giving up. In the remainder of the address this quote is taken from, Douglass effectively states that all things worth having require effort. More than this, there is no promise that our efforts will be rewarded with what it is we want, however without that effort we guarantee we will not have it. Within this ideal, futility is not the effort required to do something exceeding that which we are capable of, but rather our own fears, doubts, and insecurities overcoming our resolve to keep striving for what is important to us.

This is not to say that we should just persist with things no matter what. There are numerous situations where continuing to do something would be detrimental, even harmful, to yourself, or even to others. What makes the difference is your thoughts, feelings, and beliefs about the thing you are deciding whether to give up on or not.

If something has true value to you, if it has true meaning, or is truly important to you; if something has true significance to you, is something you truly believe in, or is a fundamental part of your life, or the life you want, then never give up on it. It is worth the effort it takes to have it, and hold on to it. It is worth the fight, the struggle, the pain, the heartache, and the sacrifice required to have it.

I know when the lights go out in the universe, I would rather bow out knowing I never gave up on the things that meant everything to me, than spend my final thoughts regretting those I did.

If You Want to Learn, Teach

E-learning-2-1024x746You may have come across a version of George Bernard Shaw’s original quote, “He who can, does. He who cannot, teaches.” It was originally intended as a criticism of the teaching profession as a whole, however today it is more often used as a derogatory observation of a person’s actual skill or proficiency, the implication being they have chosen to teach something because they are not good enough to be successful at actually doing it. Of all the reasons someone may decide to teach something, this is perhaps the most misguided and nonsensical. The ability to teach – to convey knowledge, impart experience, demonstrate a skill and guide another’s growth – is invaluable: our world, our species, would not be as developed as it is today without those who have chosen to teach others. While it is easy to understand this in terms of the student learning from the teacher, one way that I’ve discovered and come to appreciate the importance of teaching is the amount of learning that the teacher gets from the student.

I’ve become a teacher in a variety of roles. As a physiotherapist, I teach people ways to maximise their functional abilities and avoid injuries. As a guest lecturer and non-fiction writer, I teach students about engaging with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples using the principles of cultural safety. In martial arts I’ve taught people forms and self-defence. Even as a father, a friend, a mentor, or a blogger, I ‘teach’ others by sharing my knowledge, understanding, ideas, experience and skills. Over the years I’ve developed a strong affinity for teaching, much of which stems from how teaching advances my development. When I teach, I’m every bit as much a student as those who I’m teaching. I learn something from every teaching experience I undertake, and so I develop my own abilities further. For me, there are three main ways this occurs:

1. Teaching Tests What I Know

I know how to perform safe manual handling, how to engage with someone whilst being culturally sensitive, and how to perform a Tai Chi or Qigong set. I feel confident saying I know how to do these things, because if asked to do them, I know I can. Teaching someone else how to do them, however, takes me beyond simply knowing how to do something. It tests whether I really understand what it is I’m doing, and it does this with a simple, single word question: why?

‘Why?’ is a fantastic question, however it’s one we tend to stop asking ourselves once we think we know something. The moment a student asks you ‘why’, you immediately discover your own level of knowledge and understanding about something. This is reflected in your ability to provide a meaningful answer. It does not mean you must have an answer; in fact, as intimidating as it might sound, it can actually be a very positive thing if you don’t, because it enables you to recognise your own limitations, and offers you an opportunity to develop yourself further. When I first started teaching, I dreaded being asked questions – especially, “why?” – because I lacked confidence in my ability to answer them. Now I relish them. I seek them out and encourage people to ask me questions, because it’s a great way to check what I know, and perhaps more importantly, what I don’t know. It both enables me to expand my understanding (see 2.) and identifies opportunities for me to learn more (see 3.)

2. Teaching Expands My Understanding

One of the great things about teaching something is that students will always think of something you haven’t thought of. This usually presents itself in the form of a question that you weren’t expecting, and commonly starts with, “why does…”, “what if…”, or “how can…”. Often they will come from a perspective that I had not previously considered. This is of tremendous benefit as it requires me to think outside of my own box, and expand my own viewpoint. It gives me a new way to apply my knowledge or skill, and tests whether my ability is at a level where I can do this successfully (see 1.), or whether I need to learn more in order to be able to do so (see 3.) Either way, my understanding expands, and my development continues.

3. Teaching Encourages My Learning

There is a saying, “you don’t know what you don’t know”, and this becomes quite apparent when you try to teach something (see 1.). When I first started teaching, I felt that as a teacher, I needed to know everything about whatever it was I was trying to teach. This was both positive and negative: it encouraged me to learn more about the things I was going to teach, but it also made me anxious about whether I knew enough to be able to teach. Over time, I’ve learned that it’s okay not to know things, and that when it comes down to it, I can’t always know what I don’t know. However, revealing the limitations in my knowledge and understanding gives me the opportunity to learn and improve myself. In many ways, it actually directs my learning more efficiently than simply trying to learn everything about something could ever do. This is because it allows me to take what I already know, and then selectively seek out what I would like to know in order to increase my understanding of something. In this way, teaching enables me to identify gaps in my knowledge or understanding in ways that other strategies, like self-reflection, for example, could never do. In this way, teaching and learning become an endless cycle: the more I learn, the better my ability to teach becomes; the more I teach, the better I can identify opportunities to learn more; and round and round it goes.

Whatever your field of interest, if you want to improve your knowledge, understanding, and ability, I encourage you to try teaching it to others. Develop a course, present a seminar, start an online discussion, or just try to explain it to someone else. You might be amazed at what you learn from it.

Do you teach something? What do you get from teaching? How do you find it benefits you? Please feel free to add your thoughts to the comments below.

 

 

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