Required Reading

Medical students are asked (forced) to read a lot of books and notes. The purpose of all this reading is to build our knowledge and skills. You know: diagnostic skills, patient interaction skills, bowhunting skills. But there's one set of skill that has been completely ignored on the literary front, and I'm not talking about sexual prowess. We were told to develop that on our own, but I find it difficult given our contradictory lessons on the G-Spot. Jerks. No, I'm talking about the critical skill of perception.

Before entering medical school, all students are forced (asked) to sign a form which states that the entering student possesses sufficient ability in detecting symptoms and subtle clues, and that all our senses function properly (available in Braille). But after signing that form, they leave us to our own devices for developing our perceptive abilities. Sure they show us what to look for, but no readings on how to look better (aside from the fashion classes, of course).

You might be saying, "Montgomery, there are no books which improve your eye sight or ability to see things." To which I reply, "Au contraire, jackass" (pardon my freedom). There is a book which has improved young eyes for years*. you all know what I'm talking about: Where's Waldo?**.

For years, Martin Handford has stepped up in the world of "Reading is Fundamental" and "Take a look, it's in a book" and "Book 'em, Danno" to say, "Books don't need words! Books need simply drawn cartoon scenarios with an oddly attired gentleman hiding in a crowd!" Mr. Handford takes a more traditional view on education, and I applaud him. In this case, traditional means "from the 17th century, when reading wasn't viewed as a critical skill." Ultra traditional.

Where's Waldo? Single-handedly eliminated the phrase "go ahead and pick any book you want" from parents' vocabularies. It also introduced the phrase "if you keep staring at that damn book I'm going to kick your skull in" to my parents' vocabulary.

And thanks to these books, I'm extremely well prepared to find a bespectacled fellow in a red-and-white-striped beanie and shirt carrying a cane. If I ever find one (who will undoubtedly be hiding from the neck down behind an overweight downhill skier), I'm going to point and scream, "There he is! I found him!" That'll be awkward... And if he's standing in a crowd of similarly attired folk, I know to look for the one missing a shoe.

Unfortunately I won't be able to read the "don't walk" sign, and in my excitement I'll probably be struck by a a large truck transporting danishes.

Another accomplishment of the books: it greatly skewed my idea of how much red-and-white-striped fabric exists in the world. If you believe the books, that shit is everywhere.

Aside from contributing to generations of illiteracy and fabric choices, Where's Waldo? has left an indelible mark on the world of modern art. Who wouldn't recognize that familiar field of soulless cartoon faces fighting in a castle, playing rugby or deep-sea diving? I commend the artist responsible for this work. It takes great patience to draw one thing with slight variation hundreds of times across two pages. Or they just hired some dude with a very specific manifestation of OCD (OCD is another consequence of the Waldo books, FYI).

In short, I'm suggesting that Where's Waldo? be introduced at medical schools nationwide. It will improve future physician's ability to detect subtle symptoms of disease. Especially if those symptoms are a red and white rash, or a tumor wearng glasses.


* actually not true. squinting at that damned book for hours did permanent damage to many a child's ability to accomodate.
** contrary to popular belief, Where's Waldo? is not sold internationally. But there are cheap knock-offs in most western countries. In Spain and Mexico, ¿Donde Donald?. In France, Ou se trouve Trevor?. In Germany, Wo Ira Ist?. In Italy, Dove e il Ilan?. In Portugal, Onde esta o Oliver?. In the Middle East, Kill Waldo!.