TRY SOMETHING NEW

I apologize for how late in the month you're receiving this installment, but I spent the second half of the month on the longest real vacation of my life in Italy and France. I know what you're thinking, "I'm glad she got to do that, but how will she relate that experience this month to our Academy?"

The experience has reminded me, fondly, of the international meetings of the 1990s and 2000s, but that's not the connection I'm proposing. Instead, it's Try Something New. Kurt (Zadnik, managing Editor of Optometry and Vision Science since 1996) and I traveled with old friends (well, ones we've known a long time, not nonagenarians) who planned the trip. All four of us have had to be willing to Try Something New. I'm not much of a sightseer, but Michangelo's David in the Florence Accademia changed how I think about museums, forever. Our friends don't much like feeling like tourists, so taking a goofy pizza making class was a (fun) stretch for them.

As you make your plans for Academy Phoenix 2012, think about stretching yourself. If you always attend glaucoma lectures, for example, think about hitting the glaucoma posters in the Scientific Program too. If you never miss a certain speaker's annual lecture on keratoconus but realize you could tell all his anecdotes because you've heard it so often, try a new, young speaker on a similar topic. If you avoid binocular vision-related sessions of every variety because you just never liked the topic in optometry school, dip your toes in the waters of the Binocular Vision, Pediatric, and Perceptual Optometry's symposium. Branch out. Try Something New.

There's one problem with my proposal. Adult learners want to master a new skill quickly. We want to know everything the teacher knows in an hour or two. We have a hard time giving anything novel a chance. I read something recently that posited that a real expert spends most of her time trying to master a new skill rather than practicing one already mastered (or is that "mistressed"?)

As we moved from Italy to France last week, I got it into my head that I was going to start a watercolor travelogue of little pictures or images from our trek. The obsessive search for materials began. I bought pencils, an eraser, and marker in Florence. I gestured in vain at a "peints" sign outside a shop at the foot of Mont Ventoux in France. We tried to find a shop near Avignon in Provence that a local described. Finally, in a grocery store, I bought a child's paint set, much to the relief of my traveling companions who were tired of hearing me whine. I sat out on the patio of our lodging in Tavel and sketched and painted a little wine glass filled with the local rose, a local wine label logo, and a tiny bunch of grapes that were imprinted on a cork left on the table. (Go to the Academy's Facebook page now to view my effort.

See? They're amateurish. I have to keep trying and practice. They're not the Sistine Chapel, but I did Try Something New.

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IT'S A SMALL WORLD, AFTER ALL

President-Elect, Bernie Dolan, and I had the distinct pleasure to represent our American Academy of Optometry at the 2012 meeting of the European Academy of Optometry and Optics (EAOO) in Dublin, Ireland last weekend. The EAOO’s mission is “Shaping Optometry and Optics across Europe.”

While I did a quick turnaround trip, as in the crazy, post-trip declaration, “I went to Ireland for the weekend,” Bernie took the opportunity to investigate his geneaology. He is Irish on both sides of his family, and he toured the country to visit long-lost, never-before-met, cousins countless-times removed, pronouncing them friendlier than San Francisco Bay Area relatives he sees all the time. I spent available leisure time touring the Jameson and Guinness factories and feeling like the people on the buses and streets looked a lot like me.

The meeting itself was fascinating. It numbered 210 registrants and had familiar sessions like invited speakers, submitted papers and posters, case reports, and workshops. Our Academy co-sponsored the opening reception, overlooking the verdant, 80-000+ capacity rugby and hurling stadium, Croke Park. I spoke to an enthusiastic, friendly crowd of optometrists from all over Europe plus a few hearty Americans about our Academy’s current upward spiral on all fronts. People fondly recalled our international meetings in Interlochen, Munich, and Copenhagen.

We met people with all kinds of connections to US optometry. I met optometrists bearing Master’s degrees from Salus University and European faculty members with training time spent at Indiana University, and talked about interactions with Pacific University, the University of Houston, and Nova Southeastern University.

Bernie and I attended a brilliant 3-D optic nerve viewing workshop co-taught by Fellow Julie Tyler. I watched a keynote speaker show an OVS-published graph from the National Eye Institute-funded Berkeley Infant Biometry Study that I’d also seen presented at Ohio State the week before. We applauded as the 2012 graduates from the Dublin Institute of Technology optometry program received their certificates from a new Irish governmental appointee in charge of Primary Care. (The graduating class comprised almost all women, and they looked a lot like the students I visited with in April at the Illinois College of Optometry; there were just more redheads among them.) I was enthusiastically greeted by Fellow and President of the EAOO Roger Crelier and Fellow and European Council of Optometry and Optics President, Armin Duddek, who has already made his plane reservations for our Phoenix 2012 meeting.

There are some differences, though. Fellowship in the EAOO is different from our own FAAO distinction. It is an honorific designation, and only 11 people worldwide have received the honor. Its Secretariat (administrative office) is housed in the British College of Optometrists. There are far fewer biology-oriented scientific presentations than at our Annual Meeting.

As all different languages swirled the air at the coffee breaks and meals, I found myself marveling at our professional similarities rather than our cultural differences. Suddenly, I was transported to past Disney meetings in America and found myself humming this little tune (sing it quietly in your head or aloud in your office or car to the tune of It’s a Small World but run the risk of then humming it all day):

It’s a world of myopes and a world of tears.

It’s a world of squints and a world of … beers.

It’s so much that we share that it’s time we’re aware

It’s Optometry after all.

It’s a small world after all. It’s a small world after all …”

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CARRYING ON

On March 11, 2012, I had the honor of representing the American Academy of Optometry and the American Optometric Foundation at a memorial service held for Irvin M. Borish, OD, FAAO, in Boca Raton, Florida. Irv's long-time mentee, Indiana University's Vice President for Research and Fellow Sarita Soni, asked that I speak at the service. My comments from that day follow.

I am honored to speak on behalf of the American Academy of Optometry and the American Optometric Foundation. I recently read Fellow Bill Baldwin's biography, Borish, and discovered that Irv had a near-fatal heart attack near the end of the 1972 Academy meeting in New York. He was admitted to intensive care at a New York hospital and finally went home after 10 weeks in the hospital. In typical upbeat fashion, Irv declared it "the longest Academy meeting ever!" Irv's obituary described him as a confidant of every Academy president since 1936, and I am no exception.

Irv Borish saw the future. He was actively cognizant of it. That's hard to do. We all get caught up in our day-to-day endeavors and suddenly find those days have turned to weeks, months, and years; often, we've lost sight of the future and wonder what we have to show for all those days' efforts.

Irv's significant contributions to the Academy and AOF are evidence of his focus on the future. He created the Irvin M. and Beatrice Borish Award for young scientists to encourage their progress toward their bright futures. The Borish Award–and Irv–bet on its recipients, and a quick perusal of the list of awardees shows that his investment has been returned. The AOF awards an endowed Borish Ezell fellowship annually to a promising young graduate student. The young Borish Ezells so far and the countless ones who will follow will bear his stamp of approval and must align with his view of the future.

Not surprisingly, I've heard from many young people who, hearing of Irv's passing, wanted to share their reflections on how Dr. Borish touched them. Fellow Kathy Osborn talked about having happened into the AOF Celebration Luncheon when Irv's 90th birthday was celebrated. She ended up in the empty seat next to Irv and described to me how aware she was of the significance of the event. Fellow Danne Ventura from Essilor shared a past Optometry Student Bowl "rules" video that shows Irv in a football uniform with "92" (his age) as his number, being tackled by eager optometry students from NOVA Southeastern University. Danne observed, "He would do anything for the students." Fellow Stacey Townshend wrote, "I was a young graduate in 1993 receiving recognition and a monetary award from Dr. Borish for my senior year thesis work. I remember his personal touch in a note of congratulations and thinking what a great man to support the future of optometry after having dedicated and contributing so much to its past. Such a generous person—of himself, his knowledge, his time and his kind monetary gesture to—I'm sure—hundreds of new optometrists over the years. He will be missed but certainly not forgotten."

Two days ago, we watched Irv's 2009 inaugural Myers lecture video at Ohio State. The room was full of faculty and graduate students, and the room was adorned with two of Irv's paintings. He spoke on screen for more than an hour, without notes, on the history of optometry. As we watched, we paused the video whenever someone wanted to share a story or comment on what he'd said. The speech ended—typically—with an anecdote to illustrate a point. He told a story of seeing two University of Houston optometry students after a talk he'd given to them. As they walked away, one of them turned back toward Irv and said, "Dr. Borish, we will carry on." As I looked around our conference room at Ohio State, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Irv continued on the video, "Of course, I didn't know the students' names, so I never checked back with them to see if they did indeed carry on."

Dr. Irvin Borish won't be around now to see if the optometric profession and its leaders carry on, but we must. The young scientists and graduate students his name rewards in the future will carry on. Future Academy presidents should pretend they're consulting with Irv as they lead. The AOF will build on his legacy. Rest easy and assured, Irv, we will carry on.

If you would like to contribute to programs that were dear to Dr. Borish, please donate to the American Optometric Foundation.

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LAUNDRY MATTERS

Some days it’s hard to get to what matters. We’re all too busy with all kinds of life obligations, and the idea of prioritizing them overwhelms us, even on a really good day. I’m not a huge fan of business writer Stephen Covey; in fact, one of my favorite people-watching images in an airport is of a woman asleep in an airport gate seating area with a copy of Covey’s The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People open over her face. (Of course, maybe the eighth habit of highly effective people is catching 40 winks in airports.) There is one Covey concept, however, that resonates with me and that I pass along to the young people who enter my life. It’s the idea of activities that are urgent versus important.

Picture a 2x2 table like this:

	Urgent	Not Urgent
Important
Not Important

Now, imagine the activities in your life you would put in each cell of the table, divided by category: urgent and important; not urgent but important; urgent but not important; and neither urgent nor important. For example, I tell my daughters and students that a lot of time spent on Facebook or celebrity gossip magazines is neither urgent nor important, albeit fun. An Academy example of something both urgent and important might be submission of nominees for the 2012 Academy Awards (deadline: April 2, 2012), studying for Part I of the National Board Examination in Optometry, or, for me, writing this column. Something that is urgent but not really important in your life might include something that has an external deadline set by someone else that makes you spend time on something you’d really rather not have to do at all (maybe like your 2011 Federal tax return); if you’re lucky, your life minimizes time spent in that box.

It seems like the hardest box to get in and stay in for a significant amount of time each day/week/month is the “not urgent but important” box. A student in one of my classes recently pointed out that “doing laundry” falls in that box. I had to concede she was right, even though it wasn’t what exactly what I had in mind. What I did have in mind were things like writing the first draft of a scientific publication, taking a few minutes to read more about the perplexing condition your last patient had, reviewing materials for the next day’s lecture, or working on your grant proposal well before its deadline. It includes reading to a child, spending time with an elderly friend, and writing that last case report for your Fellowship application. (I know. You’re saying, “Wait, the last one sounds both urgent and important,” until you realize that the Fellowship option rolls around every year, so the urgency is artificial.) Likewise, that spinning class at the gym happens several times a day. It’s only me who makes it important without any real associated urgency.

We sort of get an extra day this week in which to prioritize because it’s Leap Year. I know, I know. You already have patients scheduled, lectures to give and/or attend, and commitments already made. Nonetheless, resolve to spend some small portion of Wednesday, February 29, on something that is utterly important to you and, ideally, to our Academy. Book out the Academy Annual Meeting in Phoenix, October 24-27, 2012, on your calendar. Find the patient for that case report. Study for that diplomate exam. Analyze the data for that scientific abstract. After all, who’d want to do laundry on a day like that?

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LET'S QUESTION THAT!

One of my New Year's resolutions was to get my life's physical spaces in order. At home, that included converting a guest room to a quilt studio; at work, that just meant general cleaning up, straightening, and organizing. I'd been avoiding sorting through two large boxes in my office that came from my mother's attic after her death, now nearly two years ago. Sure enough, when I opened one, the first thing I came upon was a note she wrote me on my 50^th birthday chronicling her memories of the day I was born. . .

Several days later, when I could stand to get back to the boxes and determined to get a little deeper into them this time, I found a cache of memorabilia from my grandfather, William J. Henry, who practiced optometry his whole life in northern Ohio. I found a business card with "op-tom-e-try" spelled out phonetically in the upper right corner, presumably so that recipients of the card would know how to pronounce his profession. I found the letter from then-AOA President, H. Ward Ewalt, Jr., to Dr. Henry, bestowing AOA life membership on him. And then I hit the real pay dirt. There were annotated page proofs of issues of Optometric Weekly from the 1930s. Each one featured an opening article called "Let's Question That!" by "Dr. William J. Henry, Akron O.," complete with the author's mark-ups.

I read,

"After attending the three-day Ohio state convention I am still not quite ready completely to follow the instruction of this 'New Optometry' and throw away all old ideas and cleave only to that which is not over five years of age. I hope I will never get too old to accept new ideas. We should seek new ideas, constantly, but let's put every new idea through as severe a test as we can conceive, and prove whether or not it is worthy of adoption."

Another article began,

"It seems to me that it is high time to look facts in the face. To reason among ourselves. To experiment and analyze the different steps in this technique that has been brought to us. Just because someone tells me something is so, is no reason why I have to believe it. I, as a human being, have every right to question every statement made to me. So have you. It is not only our right and privilege, it is a duty we owe to our patients, to see the truth; and we should prove to ourselves whether or not that which is held up to us for the truth is the truth."

Yet another article ends with, "Don't take anyone's word for anything-doubt-experiment-prove for yourself." All three passages sound like evidence-based optometry along with the application of clinical wisdom or "Today's Research, Tomorrow's Practice®," don't you think?

My grandfather ("Gumpy" to me, "Grandpa Doc" to the rest of the family, "Base-in Bill" to his optometric colleagues) would have loved Academy Fellows and those who aspire to be Academy Fellows. He would have reveled in the enthusiastic attendance at the Annual Meeting lectures in Boston, thinking of all those optometrists going home and taking better care of their patients because of what they learned. He would have thoroughly enjoyed the high-flying ocular imaging presentations by Fellows Larry Thibos, Michael Twa, and Kathryn Richdale in the "Ezell Fellows Presents" session. He would have horned in on hallway debates about the best treatment for a patient with keratoconus, or convergence insufficiency, or early diabetic retinopathy, or where to go for dinner.

'Tis the perfect season, between Academy Annual Meetings, to renew your intellectual pursuits, to question everything. Resolve to read each month's issue of Optometry and Vision Science, cover to cover. Promise yourself you'll get that lecture submission in by the February 2 deadline. Brainstorm with some colleagues about who to nominate for the Academy Awards, due in early April. Start thinking about your scientific program abstract for Phoenix before the May 1-31 submission window. Get in touch with that candidate for Fellowship you met in Boston and encourage her to finish up her case report and submit it to Fellow Pete Russo's hard-working Admittance Committee for consideration. Dig out the contact information for that third year optometry student who might be looking for a job come summer 2013 and invite him to visit your practice. Review your notes and musings from the Boston meeting, and use the information to deliver even better eye care to your patients. Doubt, experiment, prove. Question that.

P.S. In addition to the family historical connection, the old issues of Optometric Weekly were a hoot and a half. Next to one of Gumpy's articles was a news item that stated, "The Indiana Association of Optometrists. . .Zone 7 is contemplating a vigorous, educational advertising campaign, to put optometry in the minds of the public." The more things change, the more they remain the same.
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SO NOW YOU'RE A FELLOW...

I attended Ohio State's autumn quarter graduation ceremony last weekend. To my right sat a graduate's sister holding a bouquet of starched dollar bills and dried red roses. To my left, a faculty member proofread a document in Greek while the 2,330 graduates received their diplomas. I had the privilege of hooding 2011 Academy fellow, Padmapriya Ramamoorthy, as she received her PhD, having been advised by Jason Nichols, the 2011 Borish Award winner.

It occurred to me that Priya has reached a significant milestone in her career. So did all the new Academy Fellows inducted in Boston. Is that the end of their careers, though? Of course not. How many of you have reached some long-sought, hard-fought goal and concluded that you were done? How many of you received your Doctor of Optometry degree and thought, "Gee, this is great. I'm glad I don't ever have to work hard again." How many of the scientists among you receive an official Federal Notice of Grant Award and conclude, "Whew! I'm thankful that effort is over and done with." The answer? None. Not one. No one. In fact, achievement of those milestones is when the really hard, really rewarding work begins.

New, recent, and to-date-inactive Fellows, you should not feel as if your Academy activity ended with the granting of your FAAO. In fact, it's only beginning. Mark your calendars now for all our Academy meetings that are already booked (through 2018). Start to pursue Diplomate status in the Section of your choice. Join a Special Interest Group. (Currently, Special Interest Groups, Vision in Aging, Fellows Doing Research, Ocular Nutrition, Anterior Segment, and Glaucoma are on the books.) Start a new Special Interest Group with 25 of your soon-to-be best friends. Submit a lecture, workshop, or scientific abstract for 2012 in Phoenix. Nominate people for the 2012 Awards.

In short, Fellows, don't rest on your laurels. Stake your claim. Get involved. Make your mark. Do something great. Our—your—Academy will only be the better for it.

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TAKIN' CARE OF BUSINESS

"Meetings are difficult." "Meetings are problematic." "Meetings are inspirational." "Meetings are idea generating." "Really good meetings are like conversations." "Apple® employees meet all day long." "I liked one place I worked because I never had to attend any meetings." "Meetings recharge my batteries." Perhaps you've all thought, said, or heard every one of those things at one time or another as you head to a staff meeting in your practice or a faculty meeting or a committee or board meeting in your community or at your university. I would go so far as to say that the Business Meetings at the American Academy of Optometry Annual Meetings are rarely a high point. They are typically attended by the Academy "faithful" who only truly engage in the Business Meeting when there's a contested election or when the attendees think the Board of Directors has done something wrong.

If you were in Boston last month, the Business Meeting was something altogether different. First, it was attended by about 250 students. I can hear you saying "Whaaaat? Students at the Business Meeting?" It turned out that Business Meeting attendance was on the menu of the new Student Fellowship Program, conceived by Jeff Walline and his Student-Faculty Liaison Committee. The students filed in dutifully, and Academy staff kept moving the "Fellows Only in Front of Here" sign closer to the front of the room to accommodate their increasing numbers. The Fellows sat close together, marveling at the energy level in the room. At one point, an entire row of Fellows had to be moved forward to let students have their seats. That row was anchored by Fellow Al Rosenbloom, who was pretty comfortable where he was sitting, and moving him didn't sound like a great idea. A student from the University of Waterloo ended up sitting next to Dr. Rosenbloom, and last I saw before heading to the podium for my President's remarks, they were chatting like long-lost high school friends, with cameras flashing like it was the red carpet.

The Fellows mirrored the students' energy level by opening the meeting with a standing ovation directed at the students, for representing our Academy and our profession's future. I like to think that Executive Director and Fellow Lois Schoenbrun and I rose to the occasion, and that our usual positive comments were almost bubbly. Even the Secretary-Treasurer's report was fascinating!

Later that evening, I attended a student social mixer held (and sponsored, to the tune of many thousands of dollars raised) off-site by the New England College of Optometry students, clearly demonstrating that they attend THE school in Massachusetts. One enthusiastic young woman came up to me and told me how much she'd liked the Business Meeting. "You did?" I asked. "You're not just saying that?" "No," she responded. "It was obvious how much you all love the Academy and optometry. I love optometry!" Another told me it reminded her of her sorority's business meetings during undergrad where everyone loved the organization they were serving and the causes they discussed at their business meetings.

Next time you attend a meeting and when you attend the next Academy Annual Meeting in Phoenix in 2012, including the now-legendary Business Meeting, consider what you yourself bring to the meeting table. Lethargy, inattention, your smart phone, and distraction? Or energy, enthusiasm, attention, and a sense that you're thrilled to be there? Either way, you choose, and you influence the future.

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