A day in the life of a behavioral scientist.

It's days like this that keep me fulfilled as a behavioral scientist. It is 8:30 in the morning, and I have a half hour before I meet one of the second-year residents for a teaching session in the psychiatry and behavioral science rotation. I spend more time than usual with this resident because the psychiatry portion of the rotation was cancelled, and I want her to feel that the rotation is a worthwhile experience with lots of good teaching. So, I double my efforts. As behavioral science faculty , we often have to work harder to demonstrate our relevance. An-ecdotally, we behavioral scientists know that it is not until after residency that many residents will appreciate the value of what we taught them. As we greet each other, I find out about the resident's weekend. She attended a 2-day EPEC (Education for Physicians on End-of-life Care) Conference. I eagerly listen as she excitedly tells me that she applied what she learned while on call last night with a dying patient. It is rewarding to see a resident enthusiastic about learning, even while performing difficult and emotionally draining work. The resident also tells me that she delivered a baby while on call. I suggest that she write up her call experience, since it exemplified the multiple activities involved in family medi-cine—from delivering a baby to reviewing code status and assisting a patient to " die well. " I re cently read a fascinating book on bipolar disorder in childhood , 1 and I spend time telling the resident what I learned. The resident and I have a lively and productive exchange. We discuss the suggestion that children with bipo-lar disorder are often misdiagnosed as having ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder). I feel that we at least scratched the surface on a new development in psychiatry. After this one-on-one teaching, I get called to the family health center to follow-up with a third-year resident and his 15-year-old patient with ADHD. The resident tells me that he learned from the patient's therapist that there is a 6-month history of encopresis. While the resident is talking to the patient, I talk with his frustrated mother outside the room when another resident mouths to me, " I need you. " As I approach, I see that she has the chart of an 8-year-old girl we've discussed before. The girl's mother has brought her in for …