Many parents have learned the hard way that what sounds like open communication is often the very thing that closes a youngster's ears and month. One common mistake is The Lecture, the long monologue that often starts with “When I was your age….” Eighteen-year-old Kelly calls lectures “long, one-side discussions in which I don't say much.”

    Kids reflexively（条件反射地） shut down in the face of a lecture. Their eyes glaze over(呆滞), and they don't register any incoming information. Listen to 13-year-old Sarah describe her least favorite times with her mom and dad. “First, they scream. Then comes the ‘We're so disappointed' speech. Then the ‘I never did that to my parents' lecture begins. After that, even if they realize how ridiculous they sound, they never take it back.”

    Lines like “When you have children of your own, you'll understand” have been seriously said by parents since time immemorial. But many of our expert parents, like Bobby, a registered nurse and mother of three, feel that by falling back on clichés（陈词滥调） to justify our actions, we weaken our position.

    Since kids are creatures of the here and now, the far-off future has no relevance to them. Therefore, good communicators like Bobby suggest, “Give specific reasons for your actions in present language: ‘I'm not letting you go to the party because I don't think there will be enough adult supervisions（监护）.'”

    Betty, who lives in Missiouri, uses an indirect approach. “I find that warnings are accepted more readily if I discuss a news article on a subject I am concerned about. My husband and I talk about it while our children absorb the information. Then they never think I'm preaching.”

    This really helped when Betty's kids began driving. Instead of constantly repeating “Don't drink; don't speed,” she would talk about articles in the paper and express sympathy for the victims of a car crash. Betty made no special effort to draw her kids into the conversation. She depended on a teen-ager's strong desire to put in his opinions-especially if he thinks he isn't being asked for them.

    This year's flu season is pretty scary. To try to minimize the effects, public officials are still urging anyone who hasn't yet gotten their flu shot to get one as soon as possible. However, even if every single person got a shot in the arm, the vaccine(疫苗)—with its excellent 36 percent effectiveness—would not prevent everyone from getting infected with the annoying virus. Knowledge is power, so here's what goes on in your body when you come down with the flu.

    The influenza virus primarily attacks your nose, throat, and the tubes that lead to your lungs. But the flu is so much more than that. Your muscles ache, your head hurts, and your appetite goes down, among other things. To our surprise, almost all of these symptoms have less to do with the virus itself than with your immune(免疫的)response to them. Unfortunately, the very defense you have in place to get rid of the flu is the reason you feel so painful when you recover.

    The virus usually enters through your mouth, typically by way of your hands But it takes a few days for symptoms to set in. While this process might cause some harm to your nose and throat, it's nothing major, and nothing like the symptoms that typically accompany a bad or even mild case of the flu.

    The real fun starts when your immune system begins to fight. Your immune system comes in two parts: the innate system and the adaptive. The innate immune system is essentially an all-purpose tool. As soon as your body senses the presence of any injury or invader (入侵者), the innate immune system launches into action by producing tiny proteins called cytokines and chemokines. The cytokines reproduce almost immediately and start to attack the virus. This increase in immune cells creates an serious inflammation(炎症) throughout the body. But the worst is still to come. Meanwhile, the chemokines work with the adaptive immune system to help create T cells. These cells are a special type of white blood cell that works in a much more specific way: They find the influenza virus, identify what's special about it, and create something unique on their surface that finds and destroys similar invaders.

    It's surprising how much simple movements of the body can affect the way we think. Using expansive gestures with open arms makes us feel more powerful, crossing your arms makes you more determined and lying down can bring more insights(领悟).

    So if moving the body can have these effects, what about the clothes we wear? We're all well aware of how dressing up in different ways can make us feel more attractive, sporty or professional, depending on the clothes we wear, but can the clothes actually change cognitive (认知的) performance or is it just a feeling?

    Adam and Galinsky tested the effect of simply wearing a white lab coat on people's powers of attention. The idea is that white coats are associated with scientists, who are in turn thought to have close attention to detail.

    What they found was that people wearing white coats performed better than those who weren't. Indeed, they made only half as many errors as those wearing their own clothes on the Stroop Test (one way of measuring attention). The researchers call the effect “enclothed cognition,” suggesting that all manner of different clothes probably affect our cognition in many different ways.

    This opens the way for all sorts of clothes-based experiments. Is the writer who wears a fedora more creative? Is the psychologist wearing little round glasses and smoking a cigar more insightful? Does a chef's hat make the resultant food taste better?

    From now on I will only be editing articles for PsyBlog while wearing a white coat to help keep the typing error count low. Hopefully you will be doing your part by reading PsyBlog in a cap and gown (学位服).

    Charles Dickens' joy at first arriving in Boston Harbor in 1842 reads like Ebenezer Scrooge's awakening on Christmas morning. Biographer Peter Ackroyd reports that he flew up the steps of the Tremont House Hotel, sprang into the hall and greeted a curious crowd with a bright "Here we are!" He took to the streets that twinkling midnight in his shaggy fur coat, shouting out the names on shop signs, pulling bell-handles of doors as he passed—excited with laughter—and even screamed with (one imagines) astonishment and delight at the sight of the old South Church. He had set at last upon the shores of "the Republic of my imagination."

    Though not quite 30, Dickens was a literary rock star, the most famous writer in the world, who landed like a conquering hero in a country swept up in an extreme "Boz-o-mania". He wrote to his best friend, John Forster, that he didn't know how to describe "the crowds that pour in and out the whole day; of the people that line the streets when I went out; of the cheering when I went to the theatre; letters of congratulations, welcomes of all kinds, balls, dinners, assemblies without end." When Bostonians renamed their city "Boz-town", New Yorkers determined to "outdollar…and outshine them". Their great Boz Ball boasted flags, flowers, a huge portrait of the author with a bald eagle overhead, 22 tableaux (场景) from the great author's works. "If I should live to grow old," Dickens said, "the scenes of this and other evenings will shine as brightly to my dull eyes 50 years hence as now." ①

    The Spirit of the Times wrote of it: "This most extraordinary, fashionable, brilliant, unique, eye-dazzling, heart-delighting, superb, foolish and ridiculous celebration…came off at the Park Theatre, New York, on Monday evening." But, the reporter predicted, "Such were silly-minded Americans, and such the ridiculous respect paid to a foreigner, who will probably return home and write a book abusing the whole nation for the excesses of a few fools." ②

    In fact, Dickens wrote two.

    ③ Apart from the country's great writers, he found Americans ill-mannered and invading his privacy. "I am so surrounded by people that I am exhausted from want of air." Dickens complained to Forster. "I go to church for quiet, and there is a violent rush to the neighborhood of the bench I sit in. I take my seat in a railroad car, and the very conductor won't leave me alone. I can't drink a glass of water without having a hundred people looking down my throat."

    ④ He disliked Americans' table manners and the tobacco spit everywhere he looked—on even the sidewalks of the nation's capital, where he found party politics corrupting everything, its leaders "the lice (虱子) of God's creation," and "despicable (卑鄙的) trickery at elections."

    Even worse, everyone wanted a piece of the action, from Tiffany's selling unauthorized copies of his bust (半身像) , to a barber selling locks of his hair. "I never knew what it was to feel disgust and contempt (蔑视)," Dickens said, "till I traveled in America." When he departed in June, he left behind all notions of an Arcadian realm he now regarded as "a vast counting house" full of nothing but "cheaters and bores." (See: A Christmas Carol.)

    Americans had soured on him, too. Dickens never missed an opportunity to accuse American publishers of openly pirating his novels to sell for mere pennies, with no recompense to the author at all. The press took offense. Within a month of his arrival, Dickens were laughed at for his "foppish" clothing and effeminate hair, described as "no gentleman," "a contemptible Cockney (伦敦佬)."

    Living in a foreign culture can be exciting, but it can also be confusing(令人迷惑的). A group of Americans who taught English in other countries recently discussed their experiences. They found that miscommunication was always possible, even over something as simple as "yes" and "no".

    On her first day in Micronesia, an island in the Pacific, Lisa thought people weren't paying any attention to her. The day was hot. She went into a store and asked, "Do you have cold drinks？" The woman there didn't say anything. Lisa repeated the question. Still the woman said nothing. She later learned that the woman had answered her: She had raised her eyebrows(眉毛), which in Micronesia means "yes".

    Jan remembered an experience she had in Bulgaria, a country in Europe. She went to a restaurant that was famous for its cabbage. She asked the waiter, "Do you have cabbage today？" He nodded his head. Jan waited, but the cabbage never came. In that country, a nod means "no".

    Tom had a similar problem when he arrived in India. After explaining something in class, he asked his students if they understood. They answered with many different nods and shakes of the head. He thought some people had not understood, so he explained again. When he asked again, they did the same thing. He soon found out that his students did understand. In India, people nod and shake their heads in different ways depending on where they come from. You have to know where a person is from to understand whether they mean "yes" or "no"．

    There were smiling children all the way. Clearly they knew at what time the train passed their homes and they made it their business to stand along the railway, wave to complete strangers and cheer them up as they rushed towards Penang. Often whole families stood outside their homes and waved and smiled as if those on the trains were their favorite relatives. This is the simple village people of Malaysia. I was moved.

    I had always traveled to Malaysia by plane or car, so this was the first time I was on a train. I did not particularly(特别) relish the long train journey and had brought along many magazines to read and reread. I looked about the train. There was not one familiar face. I sighed and sat down to read my Economics.

    It was not long before the train was across the Causeway and in Malaysia. Johor Bahru was just a city like Singapore, so I was tired of looking at the crowds of people as they hurried past. As we went beyond the city, I watched the straight rows of rubber trees and miles and miles of green. Then the first village came into sight. Immediately I came alive, I decided to wave back.

    From then on, my journey became interesting. I threw my magazines into the waste basket and decided to join in Malaysian life. Then everything came alive. The mountains seemed to speak to me. Even the trees were smiling. I stared at everything as if I was looking at it for the first time.

    The day passed fast and I even forgot to have my lunch until I felt hungry. I looked at my watch and was surprised that it was 3:00 pm. Soon the train pulled up at Butterworth. I looked at the people all round me. They all looked beautiful. When my uncle arrived with a smile, I threw my arms around him to give him a warm hug. I had never done this before. He seemed surprised and then his weather-beaten face warmed up with a huge smile. We walked arm in arm to his car.

    I looked forward to the return journey.