The young nurse who was attending to me recently said that she had come into this line ‘by accident’. She studied in Haldia and, having done well in her higher secondary examinations, managed to get admission into a local college to study English. Meanwhile, she had completed a nursing course and was offered a job in a reputed private hospital. The young girl decided to accept the job and I was happy for her. If she had chosen to pursue English Literature, she would have possibly been taught bi-lingually and three or more years of this kind of study would not, perhaps, have enhanced her chances of getting employment. Education is certainly not just a means of getting a job or furthering one’s career. However, a fine balance has to be struck here as, in many cases, the urgent need to earn takes top priority.

An impressive young woman, whose work is to fix Holter monitors on patients in their homes, told me that she had been advised by her father to join the workforce straight after high school. Fortunately, she enjoyed her work and intended to upskill herself and eventually carry out advanced functions such as inserting pacemakers.

The employees in the hospital seemed to be in an excellent learning environment. Moreover, they were helped when it came to upgrading themselves. The principle of lifelong education was evident in the hospital policy of patient education — all relevant procedures (such as ultra-sound or MRI) were explained clearly to patients and they were educated in basic hygiene, self-care, diet and nutrition.

Observing these practices, I realised that we must fill up some glaring gaps in our school education. No matter how progressive the school, the practical element is usually missing in the senior classes. Many schools will claim that they do enough lab work, but I am not referring to the usual practical classes where lab experiments are mandatory. Life skills must be developed in multiple areas. Students must be taught these in relation to their own lives. My recent hospital experience reminded me that children should know why they had to be given all kinds of shots in their lifespan, and be familiarised with modern medical equipment.

Then there is the question of behaviour in hospitals and clinics, including careful movement and lowering of voices. We Indians love to push and jostle and speak extra loud to emphasise a point. It is not students only who make a din indoors — adults, too, raise their voices while carrying on an ordinary conversation. I have been unintentionally privy to many private conversations. The one that comes to mind is the one between a couple who appeared to be on the verge of breaking up and were negotiating ‘terms and conditions’ over a cup of coffee. The conversation was getting louder and juicier. In the meantime, I suddenly realised that there was silence at our own table. Our attention was shamelessly focussed on the drama unfolding at the next table. I was thankful to be in a quiet hospital but cars, like the people in our city, are extremely noisy everywhere. They honk and beep with impunity even in prominently marked ‘silent’ zones.

Another thing I discovered as a patient, was the importance of kindness and courtesy whether it was from a cleaner or a surgeon. No matter how reputed you are in your field, it is important that you communicate clearly and politely. We often notice arrogance and smugness in sought-after physicians who treat their patients like kindergarten children. Patients, in turn, must demonstrate gratitude to those who are attending to them.

Courteous behaviour is rare these days. We must demand proper manners from our students. I feel that the mechanical ‘Good morning’ and ‘Thank you’ are not enough; good manners can only stem from consideration and genuine respect.

What struck me throughout my stay in the well-run hospital was that right from the cleaner to the administrative head, all seemed to be proud of their workplace. I am sure it is the same in most reputed institutions. There is something beyond the pay-packet that creates a happy workforce. This intangible ‘something’ is what explains their consistent excellence and prevents attrition.

Devi Kar is director, Modern High School for Girls, Calcutta