We teach because we were once taught well – and because tomorrow’s patients depend on it

I’m a psychiatrist, but on top of my clinical practice, I’ve been teaching for more than two decades. One of my most memorable moments as a teacher came from an encounter I had with a student in class. 

It was in the middle of a session on “Humanities in Psychiatry” that I was facilitating with a group of medical undergraduates several months ago at the Institute of Mental Health. 

I was sharing an article by a physician about her anxieties following the diagnosis of her young child with a genetic disorder. Right after I finished, one of them raised her hand and told me that a family member had the same diagnosis. 

The entire room fell silent as her classmates and I listened to her experience of caring for that family member while also training to become a healthcare professional. 

It was an intimate and heartfelt account – and also an unexpected one. Students do not readily share deeply personal family experiences in a classroom, especially in front of their peers. Choosing to do so was a courageous act of vulnerability that transformed the atmosphere and gave her classmates a precious learning moment. 

They gained insight into the realities of caregiving and the human impact of illness beyond what textbooks can teach. They could also reflect on their own encounters with patients and families – deepening their understanding of not just the medical condition, but also the person living with that condition and the family journey that accompanies it. 

The moment reminded me of how teaching is much more than just imparting knowledge – it is also an exercise in shared humanity and attentive presence.

This is especially so when it comes to teaching in the mental healthcare field – where joy comes in producing not only competent professionals, but also compassionate ones. 

A growing need

The Institute of Mental Health is the national training centre for mental healthcare. More than 3,000 learners pass through it every year, consisting largely of undergraduates in nursing, medical, and allied health professions going through their psychiatry rotations. 

There are also postgraduates training to be psychiatrists, registered nurses training to be advanced practice nurses, and clinical psychologists in training. Some, too, are practising doctors who sign up to be better equipped in mental healthcare.

The responsibility is enormous, and is especially challenging given that mental healthcare, in particular, demands not only clinical skill but also emotional presence.

Patients experiencing depression, anxiety, psychosis, trauma or other mental health conditions frequently carry burdens that are invisible to others. Many struggle not only with symptoms, but also with loneliness, shame, stigma and the fear of being misunderstood. In such situations, the ability to listen attentively, convey respect and communicate genuine compassion is part of the therapeutic process itself.

The need for trained professionals is enlarging before our eyes. Across society, there is growing awareness of the importance of mental health, the burden of psychological distress, and the value of early detection and treatment. 

As more people seek help, the healthcare system must be ready not only with services, but also with healthcare professionals such as doctors, nurses, psychologists, social workers, pharmacists, occupational therapists and others equipped to care for those with mental health needs.

Teaching helps build this pipeline of future professionals who will care for our population in the years ahead. 

As teachers, our role is not just to impart knowledge, but also to help them appreciate the scope of mental healthcare in their professional training, equip them with the necessary clinical competencies, and nurture habits of curiosity and lifelong learning. 

Teaching also empowers awareness. When we teach healthcare professionals to understand mental health better, they are more able to recognise distress, know what resources are available, and guide patients and families towards help.

When we teach, it is more than just formal lectures or tutorials. We have to tailor our lessons according to the background of the students and how long they are with us. A short tutorial for medical undergraduates is different from work-based teaching for residents, or case-based discussion within multidisciplinary meetings for nurses or allied health colleagues such as psychologists.

It’s a reminder that psychiatry is always about people and relationships, not abstractions.

The joy of teaching

The responsibility may be an enormous one, but much joy can also be found in teaching. 

Most of us can recall a teacher whose clarity, patience or example shaped us. In my case, it was Prof Chee, an emeritus consultant at our institute who retired last year in his late 80s. 

Through his teaching rounds during my own training, he showed me the importance of rigour in history-taking with patients. During one ward round, after I confidently presented a patient’s history, he asked: “How do you know that?” 

It was not a criticism, but an invitation to think more carefully. We returned to the patient, clarified several details, and discovered that an assumption I had made was incorrect. 

That simple encounter taught me that careful listening, thoughtful verification and intellectual humility are essential to understanding a person well. Decades later, I still hear that gentle question whenever I assess a patient, and I find myself asking it of my own students. 

Teaching, therefore, becomes an act of gratitude. We teach because we were once taught well. To teach now is, in part, to model and pass that gift forward.

It also lies in planting the seeds of a career in the field. Over the years, I have watched undergraduates who once sat in tutorials go on to residency training in psychiatry and later graduate as psychiatrists. Few things are more gratifying than witnessing that journey. To have played even a small part in it is a deep and humbling joy.

As teachers, we also learn twice. Our students ask fresh questions. They expose assumptions, probe uncertainties and sometimes compel us to revisit what we thought we understood well. 

In doing so, they sharpen our thinking. Good teaching refines clinical judgment, deepens understanding and ultimately improves patient care. The teacher who remains open to questioning is often a better clinician for it.

And finally, there is a joy that comes from knowing that the lives we touch will, in turn, touch many others.

This was exactly what I was reminded of when the student related her story in class. I could see how the others listened carefully, with compassion and empathy, which I knew would stand them in good stead when it’s their turn to care for other patients and caregivers. 

Indeed, when we teach, we are shaping the care of future patients and families, just as the teacher and astronaut Christa McAuliffe famously said: “I touch the future. I teach.”