This is your brain on drugs...

NOTE: I wrote this blog back in September, but life took over. I am finally getting around to posting it now. Sorry for the time delay.  J

 So, it’s that time of the year again. The start of a semester. Those of you that read my post at the start of the previous semester know how much I love the startup meetings. And that’s not meant with a sarcastic tone, it’s sincere. While many educational institutions use that meeting to discuss copier codes and changes in paperwork regulations, we talk about the good stuff. The intellectual stuff. Brain functioning and its impact on learning, how to best address the diverse needs of our students… that kind of thing.  Good, juicy brain food.

This meeting was especially interesting to me, as I love to think about the brain. It fascinates me beyond words. The fact that we are able to do and understand so much is incredible. And the fact that our brain allows us to do it… even more fascinating.

So, the presenter puts up a PowerPoint slide with a picture of a brain. She pauses. She then states, “This is your brain”. And half the teachers in the meeting say “This is your brain on drugs”. I thought it, but didn’t say it out loud. Everyone cracked up, and I mean really laughed. Getting refocused wasn’t easy.

 And it got me thinking about the brain and what we know. And how we learn it. And why we think it’s funny or sad… or whatever emotion it may be at that moment.

When I traveled overseas, I functioned pretty well. Sure, my language skills were pretty below par when I arrived, but I worked hard and studied hard and I progressed quickly. I began my experience surviving and ended it functioning pretty well. But the hardest part, for me, was the loss of my sense of humor. I’m no comedian, but I can hold up my end of a funny conversation with the best of them. My timing for one liners isn’t bad when I’m focused, especially in situations where sarcasm is appropriate. But sense of humor in a foreign language is an entirely different ball game.

 I remember sitting on the plane when I returned from one of my trips, watching Frasier on the little screen in front of me with headphones. Under normal circumstances I find this show extremely funny, but on that day it was more than funny. It was a taste of home.  A lifeline. I hadn’t watched any American sitcoms in months and I found myself laughing so hard I was annoying the person next to me. I tried to stop, but all I could do was muffle the giggles and produce a snorting noise. My body vibrated violently against the force of attempting to control the laughter.  If I weren’t having so much fun, I would have been irritated.

Even my husband, who was raised in the UK, loses humor here in the US because he misses cultural references. (Less now than before, but if it’s an 80’s reference, he doesn’t stand a chance.) When I told him about the meeting and the brain comment, he just looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. His English is just great, but he wasn’t in the US in the Nancy Regan war on drugs era. He didn’t see the commercial. Even when I showed it to him… he found it interesting, even somewhat amusing. But the joke was lost. He barely cracked a smile. And he’s got a great sense of humor.

 Interestingly, even within families this rift exists. My parents and I don’t share a sense of humor on many levels and I attribute it mostly to being a generational issue. Sure, it could be personality differences, but it is certainly not limited to personality.

 Did you know terminally ill patients who are exposed to high levels of “funny” TV have a better prognosis and a better quality of life? I guess laughing is healthy. Go figure.

 Make sure you laugh today. It just might save your life. Or at least your day.