The heart of the matter

Heart doctor Michael Henein steps back to consider the unseen and unique wonders of the human body’s design.

Michael Henein

Professor Michael Henein is a consultant cardiologist, and a Professor of Cardiology at Umea University, Sweden.

A model of a human heart on a short stand.

Photo by Jesse Orrico on Unsplash.

Shakespeare famously asked:

“What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?

Humans may be complex, capable of great heroism and deep depravity, yet it is worth stopping for a moment to look at the human body and mind to marvel in what we have become, and how we are made.

The visible design of the human body points out common features shared along with other members of the animal kingdom. Examples of these features are: two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, one mouth and four limbs, attached to a body and head. Detailed study of different seen parts of the body may, however, show some differences. For example, the presence of fingers and nails, hair distribution as well as a developed tail. While most members of the animal kingdom have teeth and a tongue, those two could also vary in their number and size, respectively, according to different species. Genetic investigations have shown that we humans share 99 % of our genes with animals, suggesting that our “earthly” component shares a common origin. Indeed, the twenty first century scientific findings match what is written in the Genesis story of creation, a story written over 3,500 years ago, well before genetic sciences came to light.

Creatures great and small

As for morphological differences between animal species, it is difficult to naively conclude why some are wild while others are man-friendly-even if the wild ones have different shapes, design, dietary habits, body size and life span. Other important observed features of the members of the animal kingdom are that they are all born, they all age, then ultimately die.

If we are to look at the unseen features of the members of the animal kingdom, we can again identify similarities. For example, all have a gastrointestinal tract, a cardiovascular system, a reproductive system, a respiratory system, a urinary system and much more. While these systems may differ slightly between species, the overall structure and function achieve similar purposes. For example, heart speed is faster in small animals like rats compared to big ones like elephants who have very slow hearts. Likewise, the respiratory system and the number of respiratory cycles per minute are significantly faster in running animals compared to the sedentary and slowly moving ones. Finally, the number of offspring also differs in different species, being just one at a time in big animals like elephants and horses, and many offspring in small animals like rabbits and mice. Such paradox between the number of offspring and animal size makes you think of the important determining role of the activity of those animals.

Unseen wonders

Now to turn to the rest of the animal kingdom and the unseen features of the human body. To start, let us look at the amazing functions of the human brain and its various functions. When humanity is sometimes described as the crown of creation, such a description is based on the superiority of human brain function and skills. Its sophisticated structure and how vital centres are created deep in the skull, to be protected from traumas, make you marvel. Also, the brain controls the different functions of the whole body, with its sensory and motor activities, various vital system functions including the lungs and the heart, all endocrine glands’ function, in addition to various receptors and centres that allow utmost precision and accuracy in everything we do. An example of this kind of precision is a doctor feeling a vein or an artery with the tip of a finger to insert a needle or a musician moving a finger a few millimetres while playing a violin, to produce the exact sound needed. Furthermore, the integrated function of human muscles, nerves and spinal cord is also amazing, let alone the synapsis between the nerve endings and muscle bundles, the chemicals secreted in them which allow electric stimulus transmission from the nervous system to achieve the motor function and desired movement.

The human brain also has the unique feature of storing knowledge. Of course, we should not ignore the importance of the training and programming ability of human brain. We learn how to drive a car, how to play games, how to study, how to operate safely on a sick patient. Such acquired skills are quite limited in other members of the animal kingdom. Moreover, the human brain has the unique ability to invent, discover, improve and correct errors it identifies.

Another very unique feature of human brain is its ability to conduct speech, a feature of humans that is under-developed in other members of the animal kingdom. While most animals can make noise and sounds, only humans can articulate words, sentences and even sing very complex songs. This unique ability seems to be the underlying mechanism behind the development of languages which are based on the human ability to talk and transmit information and knowledge by words and phrases.

The unseen brain has allowed human life to develop over time, building skills and achievements from generation to generation. Millennia ago, humans lived in huts together with animals, and now they build houses and palaces to live in. Centuries ago, we used donkeys, horses and camels to travel but now we use cars, trains, ships and airplanes. Our ancestors burned wood and coal to cook and to warm but now we use electricity to do these.

When we look carefully at the unseen parts of the human body, we also realize that we cannot alter any of it, despite the scientific advances made over the years. We can understand what harms our body and take measures to avoid it. Out of the ability of our brain to discover and invent, we have now produced science-based means for curing various diseases. Consider how we can replace a dysfunctional heart valve or a mobility-limiting joint. These inventions have resulted in a better quality of life, alleviating of symptoms, even helping to avoid early death, in some cases such as heart disease and cancer.

The heart of the matter

Another unseen source of life in humans is the heart. This fist-size organ is so complex in its structure and function. Recent scientific advances have enabled us to study heart function in milliseconds, hence the development of pacemaker treatments. They have also allowed clear imaging of the inside of the heart and the identification of pathologies, developments that guide practitioners to the optimum treatment of heart conditions. Recent discoveries have also allowed us to better understand how people develop coronary artery disease and how the pathology starts at the innermost layer of the arteries, particularly in individuals carrying significant risks for atherosclerosis including, smoking, high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol and obesity. Amazingly, obesity has been shown to be the strongest underlying cause of other risk factors, hypertension, diabetes and hypercholesterolemia. So, nature cannot be blamed in many of these patients but our own patterns of behaviour. Science has shown that walking at least 5,000 steps each day, complying with the design of our body, reduces the likelihood of developing coronary artery disease by 15 per cent.

The unseen physiology of the rest of our body systems and the interaction between systems make us wonder how we are made. A rise of our body temperature by one degree due to a bug infection affects all body systems from the brain to the heart. A virus which cannot be seen by the most powerful microscope can destroy our lungs and cause premature death, as was the case with COVID-19 and others.

Finally, human inventions in the form of powerful microscopes have allowed scientists to study the human cell, which is the smallest living component of our body. Such small cells cannot be replicated in any factory in the twenty-first century, despite the vast scientific developments that surround us. You'll be surprised to learn how complicated and meticulously fine-tuned a human cell is and also how it functions, connects with other cells and other parts of the body. An example of this is the interaction between body minerals, calcium, sodium and potassium with heart and muscle individual cells. Such a function is critically controlled by many factors such as time, electric stimulation and pressure differences producing remarkably harmonious contractions and relaxation of the muscles without missing a beat.

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Education

Leading

26 July 2024

5 min read

Why I teach over my students’ heads

Successful teaching is a work of empathy that stretches the mind.

James K.A. Smith

James is a philosopher, cultural critic and author.

A blackboard covered in chalk writing and highlights.

James's chalkboard.

I’ve been teaching college students for almost 30 years now. As much as I grumble during grading season, it is a pretty incredible way to make a living. I remain grateful.

I am not the most creative pedagogue. My preference is still chalk, but I can live with a whiteboard (multiple colors of chalk or markers are a must). Over the course of 100 minutes, various worlds emerge that I couldn’t have anticipated before I walked into class that morning. (I take photos of what emerges so I can remember how to examine the students later.) I think there is something important about students seeing ideas—and their connections—unfold in “real time,” so to speak.

I’ve never created a PowerPoint slide for a class. I put few things on Moodle, and only because my university requires it. I’ve heard people who use “clickers” in class and I have no idea what they mean. I find myself skeptical whenever administrators talk about “high impact” teaching practices (listening to lectures produced the likes of Hegel and Hannah Arendt; what have our bright shiny pedagogical tricks produced?). I am old and curmudgeonly about such “progress.”

But I care deeply about teaching and learning. I still get butterflies before every single class. I think (hope!) that’s because I have a sense of what’s at stake in this vocation.

I am probably most myself in a classroom. As much as I love research, and imagine myself a writer, the exploratory work of teaching is a crucial laboratory for both. I love making ideas come alive for students—especially when students are awakened by such reflection and grappling with challenging texts. You see the gears grinding. You see the brow furrowing. Every once in a while, you sense the reticence and resistance to an insight that unsettles prior biases or assumptions; but the resistance is a sign of getting it. And then you see the light dawn. I’m a sucker for that spectacle.

This is how the hunger sets in. If you can invite a student to care about the questions, to grasp their import, and experience the unique joy of joining the conversation that is philosophy.

Successful teaching is, fundamentally, a work of empathy. As a teacher, you have to try to remember your way back into not knowing what you now take for granted. You have to re-enter a student’s puzzlement, or even apathy, to try to catalyze questions and curiosity. Because I teach philosophy, my aim is nothing less than existential engagement. I’m not trying to teach them how to write code or design a bridge; I’m trying to get them to envision a different way to live. But, for me, it’s impossible to separate the philosophical project from the history of philosophy: to do philosophy is to join the long conversation that is the history of philosophy. So we are always wresting with challenging, unfamiliar texts that arrive from other times that might as well be other planets for students in the twenty-first century.

So successful teaching requires a beginner’s mindset on the part of the teacher, a charitable capacity to remember what ignorance (in the technical sense) feels like. To do so without condescension is absolutely crucial if teaching is going to be an art of invitation rather than an act of alienation. (The latter, I fear, is more common than we might guess.)

Such empathy means meeting students where they are. But successful teaching is also about stretching students’ minds and imaginations into new territory and unfamiliar habits of mind. This is where I find myself especially skeptical of pedagogical developments that, to my eyes, run the risk of infantilizing college students. (I remember a workshop in which a “pedagogical expert” explained that the short attention span of students required changing the PowerPoint slide every 8 seconds. This does not sound like a recipe for making students more human, I confess.)

That’s why I am unapologetic about trying to teach over my students’ heads. I don’t mean, of course, that I’m satisfied with spouting lectures that elude their comprehension. That would violate the fundamental rule of empathy. But such empathy—meeting students where they are—is not mutually exclusive with also inviting them into intellectual worlds and conversations where they won’t comprehend everything.

This is how the hunger sets in. If you can invite a student to care about the questions, to grasp their import, and experience the unique joy of joining the conversation that is philosophy, then part of the thrill, I think, is being admitted into a world where you don’t “get” everything.

This gambit—every once in a while, talking about ideas and thinkers as if students should know them—is, I maintain, still an act of empathy.

When I’m teaching, I think of this in a couple of ways. At the same time that I am trying to make core ideas and concepts accessible and understandable, I don’t regret talking about attendant ideas and concepts that will, to this point, still elude students. For the sharpest students, this registers as something to learn, something to be curious about. Or sometimes when we’re focused on, say, Pascal or Hegel, I’ll plant little verbal footnotes—tiny digressions about how Hannah Arendt engaged their work in the 20th century, or how O.K. Bouwsma’s reading of Anselm is akin to something we’re talking about. The vast majority of students won’t be familiar with either, but it’s another indicator of how big and rich and complicated the intellectual cosmos of philosophy is. For some of these students (not all, certainly), this becomes tantalizing: they want to become the kind of people for whom a vast constellation of ideas and thinkers are as familiar and present as their friends and cousins. This becomes a hunger to belong to such a world, to join such a conversation.

This gambit—every once in a while, talking about ideas and thinkers as if students should know them—is, I maintain, still an act of empathy. To both meet students where they are and, at the same time, teach “over their heads,” is an invitation to stretch into new terrain and thereby swell the soul into the fullness for which it was made. The things that skitter just over their heads won’t be on the exam, of course; but I’m hoping they’ll chase some of them for a lifetime to come.

This article was originally published on James K A Smith’s Substack Quid Amo.