Since ChatGPT appeared almost three years ago, the impact of artificial intelligence (AI) technologies on learning has been widely debated. Are they handy tools for personalised education, or gateways to academic dishonesty?

Most importantly, there has been concern that using AI will lead to a widespread “dumbing down”, or decline in the ability to think critically. If students use AI tools too early, the argument goes, they may not develop basic skills for critical thinking and problem-solving.

Is that really the case? According to a recent study by scientists from MIT, it appears so. Using ChatGPT to help write essays, the researchers say, can lead to “cognitive debt” and a “likely decrease in learning skills”.

So what did the study find?

The difference between using AI and the brain alone

Over the course of four months, the MIT team asked 54 adults to write a series of three essays using either AI (ChatGPT), a search engine, or their own brains (“brain-only” group). The team measured cognitive engagement by examining electrical activity in the brain and through linguistic analysis of the essays.

The cognitive engagement of those who used AI was significantly lower than the other two groups. This group also had a harder time recalling quotes from their essays and felt a lower sense of ownership over them.

Interestingly, participants switched roles for a final, fourth essay (the brain-only group used AI and vice versa). The AI-to-brain group performed worse and had engagement that was only slightly better than the other group’s during their first session, far below the engagement of the brain-only group in their third session.

The authors claim this demonstrates how prolonged use of AI led to participants accumulating “cognitive debt”. When they finally had the opportunity to use their brains, they were unable to replicate the engagement or perform as well as the other two groups.

Cautiously, the authors note that only 18 participants (six per condition) completed the fourth, final session. Therefore, the findings are preliminary and require further testing.

Does this really show AI makes us stupider?

These results do not necessarily mean that students who used AI accumulated “cognitive debt”. In our view, the findings are due to the particular design of the study.

The change in neural connectivity of the brain-only group over the first three sessions was likely the result of becoming more familiar with the study task, a phenomenon known as the familiarisation effect. As study participants repeat the task, they become more familiar and efficient, and their cognitive strategy adapts accordingly.

When the AI group finally got to “use their brains”, they were only doing the task once. As a result, they were unable to match the other group’s experience. They achieved only slightly better engagement than the brain-only group during the first session.

To fully justify the researchers’ claims, the AI-to-brain participants would also need to complete three writing sessions without AI.

Similarly, the fact the brain-to-AI group used ChatGPT more productively and strategically is likely due to the nature of the fourth writing task, which required writing an essay on one of the previous three topics.

As writing without AI required more substantial engagement, they had a far better recall of what they had written in the past. Hence, they primarily used AI to search for new information and refine what they had previously written.

What are the implications of AI in assessment?

To understand the current situation with AI, we can look back to what happened when calculators first became available.

Back in the 1970s, their impact was regulated by making exams much harder. Instead of doing calculations by hand, students were expected to use calculators and spend their cognitive efforts on more complex tasks.

Effectively, the bar was significantly raised, which made students work equally hard (if not harder) than before calculators were available.

The challenge with AI is that, for the most part, educators have not raised the bar in a way that makes AI a necessary part of the process. Educators still require students to complete the same tasks and expect the same standard of work as they did five years ago.

In such situations, AI can indeed be detrimental. Students can for the most part offload critical engagement with learning to AI, which results in “metacognitive laziness”.

However, just like calculators, AI can and should help us accomplish tasks that were previously impossible – and still require significant engagement. For example, we might ask teaching students to use AI to produce a detailed lesson plan, which will then be evaluated for quality and pedagogical soundness in an oral examination.

In the MIT study, participants who used AI were producing the “same old” essays. They adjusted their engagement to deliver the standard of work expected of them.

The same would happen if students were asked to perform complex calculations with or without a calculator. The group doing calculations by hand would sweat, while those with calculators would barely blink an eye.

Learning how to use AI

Current and future generations need to be able to think critically and creatively and solve problems. However, AI is changing what these things mean.

Producing essays with pen and paper is no longer a demonstration of critical thinking ability, just as doing long division is no longer a demonstration of numeracy.

Knowing when, where and how to use AI is the key to long-term success and skill development. Prioritising which tasks can be offloaded to an AI to reduce cognitive debt is just as important as understanding which tasks require genuine creativity and critical thinking.

Vitomir Kovanovic, Associate Professor and Associate Director of the Centre for Change and Complexity in Learning (C3L), Education Futures, University of South Australia and Rebecca Marrone, Lecturer Learning Sciences and Development, The Centre for Change and Complexity in Learning (C3L), Education Futures, University of South Australia

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Imagine watching your favourite nature documentary. The predator lunges rapidly from its hiding place, jaws wide open, and the prey … suddenly goes limp. It looks dead.

For some animals, this freeze response – called “tonic immobility” – can be a lifesaver. Possums famously “play dead” to avoid predators. So do rabbits, lizards, snakes, and even some insects.

But what happens when a shark does it?

In our recent study, we explored this strange behaviour in sharks, rays and their relatives. In this group, tonic immobility is triggered when the animal is turned upside down – it stops moving, its muscles relax, and it enters a trance-like state. Some scientists even use tonic immobility as a technique to safely handle certain shark species.

But why does it happen? And does it actually help these marine predators survive?

The mystery of the ‘frozen shark’

Despite being well documented across the animal kingdom, the reasons behind tonic immobility remain murky – especially in the ocean. It is generally thought of as an anti-predator defence. But there is no evidence to support this idea in sharks, and alternative hypotheses exist.

We tested 13 species of sharks, rays, and a chimaera — a shark relative commonly referred to as a ghost shark — to see whether they entered tonic immobility when gently turned upside down underwater.

Seven species did, but six did not. We then analysed these findings using evolutionary tools to map the behaviour across hundreds of million years of shark family history.

So, why do some sharks freeze?

Three main hypotheses

There are three main hypotheses to explain tonic immobility in sharks:

1. Anti-predator strategy – “playing dead” to avoid being eaten
2. Reproductive role – some male sharks invert females during mating, so perhaps tonic immobility helps reduce struggle
3. Sensory overload response – a kind of shutdown during extreme stimulation.

Our results don’t support any of these explanations.

There’s no strong evidence sharks benefit from freezing when attacked. In fact, modern predators such as orcas can use this response against sharks by flipping them over to immobilise them and then remove their nutrient-rich livers – a deadly exploit.

The reproductive hypothesis also falls short. Tonic immobility doesn’t differ between sexes, and remaining immobile could make females vulnerable to harmful or forced mating events.

And the sensory overload idea? Untested and unverified. So, we offer a simpler explanation. Tonic immobility in sharks is likely an evolutionary relic.

A case of evolutionary baggage

Our evolutionary analysis suggests tonic immobility is “plesiomorphic” – an ancestral trait that was likely present in ancient sharks, rays and chimaeras. But as species evolved, many lost the behaviour.

In fact, we found that tonic immobility was lost independently at least five times across different groups. Which raises the question: why?

In some environments, freezing might actually be a bad idea. Small reef sharks and bottom-dwelling rays often squeeze through tight crevices in complex coral habitats when feeding or resting. Going limp in such settings could get them stuck – or worse. That means losing this behaviour might have actually been advantageous in these lineages.

So, what does this all mean?

Rather than a clever survival tactic, tonic immobility might just be “evolutionary baggage” – a behaviour that once served a purpose, but now persists in some species simply because it doesn’t do enough harm to be selected against.

It’s a good reminder that not every trait in nature is adaptive. Some are just historical quirks.

Our work helps challenge long-held assumptions about shark behaviour, and sheds light on the hidden evolutionary stories still unfolding in the ocean’s depths. Next time you hear about a shark “playing dead”, remember – it might just be muscle memory from a very, very long time ago.

Jodie L. Rummer, Professor of Marine Biology, James Cook University and Joel Gayford, PhD Candidate, Department of Marine Biology, James Cook University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Julie Inman Grant, Australia’s eSafety Commissioner, today addressed the National Press Club to outline how her office will be driving the Social Media Minimum Age Bill when it comes into effect in December this year.

The bill, often referred to as a social media ban, prevents under-16s having social media accounts. But Inman Grant wants Australians to consider the bill a “social media delay” rather than a ban.

When the ban was legislated in November 2024, the federal government carved out an exemption for YouTube, citing the platform’s educational purpose.

Inman Grant has now advised the government to remove this exemption because of the harm young people can experience on YouTube. But as she has also pointed out, there are new risks for young people that the ban won’t address – especially from generative artificial intelligence (AI).

Banning YouTube

According to eSafety’s new research, 37% of young people have encountered harmful content on YouTube. This was the highest percentage of any platform.

In her speech, Inman Grant argued YouTube had “mastered persuasive design”, being adept at using algorithms and recommendations to keep young people scrolling, and that exempting YouTube from the ban simply makes no sense in her eyes.

Her advice to Communications Minister Anika Wells, which she delivered last week, is to not exempt YouTube, effectively including that platform in the ban’s remit.

Unsurprisingly, YouTube Australia and New Zealand has responded with vigour. In a statement published today, the Google-owned company argues that

eSafety’s advice goes against the government’s own commitment, its own research on community sentiment, independent research, and the view of key stakeholders in this debate.

YouTube denies it is a social media platform and claims the advice it should be included in the ban is “inconsistent and contradictory”.

But given YouTube’s Shorts looks and feels very similar to TikTok, with shorter vertical videos in an endlessly scrolling feed, exempting YouTube while banning TikTok and Instagram’s Reels never appeared logically consistent.

It also remains the case that any public YouTube video can be viewed without a YouTube account. The argument that including YouTube in the ban would stop educational uses, then, doesn’t carry a lot of weight.

How will the ban work?

Inman Grant took great care to emphasise that the responsibility for making the ban work lies with the technology giants and platforms.

Young people who get around the ban, or parents and carers who help them, will not be penalised.

A raft of different tools and technologies to infer the age of users have been explored by the platforms and by other age verification and assurance vendors.

Australia’s Age Assurance Technology Trial released preliminary findings last week. But these findings really amounted to no more than a press release.

No technical details were shared, only high-level statements that the trial revealed age-assurance technologies could work.

These early findings did reveal that the trial “did not find a single ubiquitous solution that would suit all use cases”. This suggests there isn’t a single age-assurance tool that’s completely reliable.

If these tools are going to be one of the main gatekeepers that do or don’t allow Australians to access online platforms, complete reliability would be desirable.

Concerns about AI

Quite rightly, Inman Grant opened her speech by flagging the emerging harms that will not actually be addressed by new legislation. Generative AI was at the top of the list.

Unregulated use of AI companions and bots was of particular concern, with young people forming deep attachments to these tools, sometimes in harmful ways.

Generative AI has also made the creation of deepfake images and videos much easier, making it far too easy for young people to be harmed, and to cause real harm to each other.

As a recent report I coauthored from the ARC Centre of Excellence for the Digital Child highlights, there are many pressing issues in terms of how children and young people use and experience generative AI in their everyday lives.

For example, despite the tendency of these tools to glitch and fabricate information, they are increasingly being used in place of search engines for basic information gathering, life advice and even mental health support.

There are larger challenges around protecting young people’s privacy when using these tools, even when compared to the already privacy-averse social media platforms.

There are many new opportunities with AI, but also many new risks.

With generative AI being relatively new, and changing rapidly, more research is urgently needed to find the safest and most appropriate ways for AI to be part of young people’s lives.

What happens in December?

Social media users under 16, and their parents and carers, need to prepare for changes in young people’s online experiences this December when the ban is due to begin.

The exact platforms included in the ban, and the exact mechanisms to gauge the age of Australia users, are still being discussed.

The eSafety Commissioner has made her case today to include more platforms, not fewer. Yet Wells has already acknowledged that

social media age-restrictions will not be the end-all be-all solution for harms experienced by young people online but they will make a significant impact.

Concerns remain about the ban cutting young people off from community and support, including mental health support. There is clearly work to be done on that front.

Nor does the ban explicitly address concerns about cyberbullying, which Inman Grant said has recently “intensified”, with messaging applications at this stage still not likely to be included in the list of banned services.

It’s also clear some young people will find ways to circumvent the ban. For parents and carers, keeping the door open so young people can discuss their online experiences will be vital to supporting young Australians and keeping them safe.

Tama Leaver, Professor of Internet Studies, Curtin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Have you had a tonsillectomy (your tonsils taken out), appendectomy (your appendix removed) or lumpectomy (removal of a lump from your breast)? The suffix “ectomy” denotes surgical removal of the named body part, so these terms give us a clear idea of what the procedure entails.

So why is the removal of the uterus called a hysterectomy and not a uterectomy?

The name hysterectomy is rooted in a mental health condition – “hysteria” – that was once believed to affect women. But we now know this condition doesn’t exist.

Continuing to call this significant operation a hysterectomy both perpetuates misogyny and hampers people’s understanding of what it is.

From the defunct condition ‘hysteria’

Hysteria was a psychiatric condition first formally defined in the 5th century BCE. It had many symptoms, including excessive emotion, irritability, anxiety, breathlessness and fainting.

But hysteria was only diagnosed in women. Male physicians at the time claimed these symptoms were caused by a “wandering womb”. They believed the womb (uterus) moved around the body looking for sperm and disrupted other organs.

Because the uterus was blamed for hysteria, the treatment was to remove it. This procedure was called a hysterectomy. Sadly, many women had their healthy uterus unnecessarily removed and most died.

The word “hysteria” did originally came from the ancient Greek word for uterus, “hystera”. But the modern Greek word for uterus is “mitra”, which is where words such as “endometrium” come from.

Hysteria was only removed as an official medical diagnosis in 1980. It was finally recognised it does not exist and is sexist.

“Hysterectomy” should also be removed from medical terminology because it continues to link the uterus to hysteria.

Common but confusing

About one in three Australian women will have their uterus removed. A hysterectomy is one of the most common surgeries worldwide. It’s used to treat conditions including:

• abnormal uterine bleeding (heavy bleeding)
• uterine fibroids (benign tumours)
• uterine prolapse (when the uterus protrudes down into the vagina)
• adenomyosis (when the inner layer of the uterus grows into the muscle layer)
• cancer.

However, in a survey colleagues and I did of almost 500 Australian adults, which is yet to be published in a peer-reviewed journal, one in five people thought hysterectomy meant removal of the ovaries, not the uterus.

It’s true some hysterectomies for cancer do also remove the ovaries. A hysterectomy or partial hysterectomy is the removal of only the uterus, a total hysterectomy removes the uterus and cervix, while a radical hysterectomy usually removes the uterus, cervix, uterine tubes and ovaries.

There are important differences between these hysterectomies, so they should be named to clearly indicate the nature of the surgery.

Research has shown ambiguous terminology such as “hysterectomy” is associated with low patient understanding of the procedure and the female anatomy involved.

Uterectomy should be used for removal of the uterus, in combination with the medical terms for removal of the cervix, uterine tubes and ovaries as needed. For example, a uterectomy plus cervicectomy would refer to the removal of the uterus and the cervix.

This could help patients understand what is (and isn’t) being removed from their bodies and increase clarity for the wider public.

Other female body parts and procedures have male names

There are many eponyms (something named after a person) in anatomy and medicine, such as the Achilles tendon and Parkinson’s disease. They are almost exclusively the names of white men.

Eponyms for female anatomy and procedures include the Fallopian tubes, Pouch of Douglas, and Pap smear.

The anatomical term for Fallopian tubes is uterine tubes. “Uterine” indicates these are attached to the uterus, which reinforces their important role in fertility.

The Pouch of Douglas is the space between the rectum and uterus. Using the anatomical name (rectouterine pouch) is important, because this a common site for endometriosis and can explain any associated bowel symptoms.

Pap smear gives no indication of its location or function. The new cervical screening test is named exactly that, which clarifies it samples cells of the cervix. This helps people understand this tests for risk of cervical cancer.

Language matters in medicine and health care

Language in medicine impacts patient care and health. It needs to be accurate and clear, not include words associated with bias or discrimination, and not disempower a person.

For these reasons, the International Federation of Associations of Anatomists recommends removing eponyms from scientific and medical communication.

Meanwhile, experts have rightly argued it’s time to rename the hysterectomy to uterectomy.

A hysterectomy is an emotional procedure with not only physical but also psychological effects. Not directly referring to the uterus perpetuates the historical disregard of female reproductive anatomy and functions. Removing the link to hysteria and renaming hysterectomy to uterectomy would be a simple but symbolic change.

Educators, medical doctors and science communicators will play an important role in using the term uterectomy instead of hysterectomy. Ultimately, the World Health Organization should make official changes in the International Classification of Health Interventions.

In line with increasing awareness and discussions around female reproductive health and medical misogyny, now is the time to improve terminology. We must ensure the names of body parts and medical procedures reflect the relevant anatomy.

Theresa Larkin, Associate Professor of Medical Sciences, University of Wollongong

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Cars may be a modern phenomenon, but motion sickness is not. More than 2,000 years ago, the physician Hippocrates wrote “sailing on the sea proves that motion disorders the body”. In fact, the word nausea derives from the Greek naus, meaning ship.

Whether you’re in a ship, car, plane, or riding a rollercoaster, motion sickness (also called travel sickness or seasickness) can make you retch, vomit, sweat and become pale, and feel nauseated, dizzy and tired.

For some people, watching dizzying scenes in a television show or simply thinking about moving can make us feel woozy. Playing video games or using virtual reality headsets can also lead to motion sickness (in this case, called “cybersickness”).

But why does it happen? And why doesn’t it affect everyone?

What is motion sickness?

Motion sickness can happen in response to real or perceived motion.

We don’t understand the exact mechanisms underlying motion sickness, although there are various hypotheses.

The most accepted theory is that our brains like to know what’s going on around us. If our body is moving, but our brain can’t work out why, this creates some internal confusion.

Within our brains, the “vestibular system”, which includes sensory organs in your inner ear, helps maintain balance. It has trouble doing this when you’re constantly being moved around (for example, inside a car) and sends the signals throughout our body which make us feel woozy.

Supporting this theory, people who have damage to some parts of their inner ear systems can become completely immune to motion sickness.

Why does motion sickness affect some people and not others?

Very rough movement will make almost anyone motion sick. But some people are much more susceptible.

Women tend to experience motion sickness more than men. There is evidence that hormonal fluctuations – for example during pregnancy or some stages of the menstrual cycle – may increase susceptibility.

Some other conditions, such as vertigo and migraines, also make people more likely to experience motion sickness.

In children, motion sickness tends to peak between ages six and nine, tapering off in the teens. It is much rarer in the elderly.

In a car, the driver is normally in charge of the motion, and so their brain can anticipate movements (such as turning), leading to less motion sickness than for passengers.

Are some modes of transport worse?

Motion sickness is typically triggered by slow, up-and-down and left-to-right movements (low-frequency lateral and vertical motion). The more pronounced the motion, the more likely we are to get sick.

This is why you might feel fine during some stages of an air flight, but become nauseous during times when there is turbulence. It’s the same at sea, where the larger and more undulating the waves, the more chance there is passengers will feel sick.

Recent reports have suggested electric vehicles make motion sickness worse.

This may be because electric vehicles tend to launch from a standstill with a fast acceleration. Sudden movements like this can make some occupants more nauseous.

The silence of an electric vehicle is also unusual. Most of us are used to hearing the engine running and feeling the vehicle’s rumble as it moves. The silence in an electric vehicle removes these prompts, and likely further confuses our brain, making motion sickness worse.

Interestingly, when an electric vehicle is put into autonomous (self-driving) mode, the driver becomes just as susceptible to motion sickness as the passengers.

What helps motion sickness?

For some people it never goes away, and they remain susceptible to motion sickness for life.

But there are ways to manage symptoms, for example, avoiding travelling in bad weather, looking out the window and focusing on stable points (such as the aeroplane wing during a flight) or a distant stationary object (such as the horizon). This reduces conflicting signals in your brain.

It may also help to:

• avoid reading, or using a mobile phone

• sit in the front seat

• drive (instead of being a passenger)

• practise mindful breathing

• listen to pleasant music.

Medicines can help. Your doctor or pharmacist can recommend a variety of over-the-counter medications, such as antihistamines, which may help alleviate symptoms.

Some people find alternative treatments helpful, including ginger, anti-nausea wrist bands (sea-bands or pressure bands). However we still don’t have enough consistent scientific evidence to endorse these remedies.

There are longer-term options such as prescription medications and skin patches. However, many have potential side effects, so you should discuss these with a health professional.

Not all of these medications will be suitable for children. However, there are some options which may help alleviate serious cases, and these can be talked through with your family GP.

Does it ever go away?

Sometimes, repeated exposure to the activity (called habituation) can help reduce motion sickness. The ancient Romans and Greeks reported the more experienced a sailor became, the less prone they were to sea sickness.

While inconvenient, motion sickness may also have some evolutionary advantages. It’s thought species prone to motion sickness (including humans, fish, dogs, cats, mice and horses) avoid dangerous patches of rough water or high windy branches.

We’re safest when firmly on land and not moving at all. Perhaps motion sickness is simply one way that our body works to keep us out of harm’s way.

Christian Moro, Associate Professor of Science & Medicine, Bond University and Felicity Smith, PhD Candidate in Physiology, Bond University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Winter is here. As the days grow shorter and the skies turn darker, you might start to feel a bit “off”. You may notice a dip in your mood or energy levels. Maybe you’re less motivated to do things you previously enjoyed in the warmer months.

The “winter blues” can feel like an inevitable part of life. You might feel sluggish or less social, but you can still get on with your day.

However, if your winter blues are making everyday life difficult and interfering with your work and relationships, it could be the sign of something more serious.

Seasonal affective disorder is more than a seasonal slump – it’s a recognised psychiatric condition. Here’s what to look for and how to get help.

What is seasonal affective disorder?

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders officially recognises seasonal affective disorder as a recurrent major depressive disorder “with seasonal pattern”.

In other words, the condition shares many symptoms with major depressive disorder, but it also follows a seasonal rhythm. While this might be most common in winter, the disorder can also occur in summer.

Symptoms include:

• persistent low mood or feelings of sadness

• loss of interest in activities you once enjoyed

• low energy and fatigue, even after lots of sleep

• changes in appetite

• weight gain or weight loss

• difficulty concentrating

• sleeping more or less than usual

• feelings of hopelessness or worthlessness

• in some cases, thoughts of self-harm or suicide.

Research suggests seasonal affective disorder affects up to 10% of the global population.

Although it can affect anyone, it is more common in women, people aged between 18 and 30 years, and those living far from the equator, where winter daylight hours are especially limited.

A review of the Australian research on seasonal affective disorder showed the highest proportion of Australians with seasonal affective disorder was found in the most southern state, Tasmania (9% of the population).

What causes it?

Unfortunately, the exact cause of seasonal affective disorder is still poorly understood.

Some theories propose it is primarily caused by a lack of light in the environment, although we are not exactly sure how this leads to depression.

As sunlight is responsible for the production of vitamin D, some have suggested a lack of vitamin D is what causes depression. However, the evidence for such a link is inconclusive.

Others suggest a lack of light in winter delays the circadian rhythms which regulate our sleep/wake cycle. Poor sleep is related to many mental health difficulties, including depression.

Seasonal affective disorder can be treated

Fortunately, there are several evidence-based treatments for seasonal affective disorder. Relief may be found through a combination of approaches.

Bright light therapy is usually the first treatment recommended for seasonal affective disorder. It involves sitting near a specially designed lightbox (with a strength of 10,000 lux) for about 20 to 30 minutes a day to mimic natural sunlight and help regulate the body’s internal clock.

Cognitive behavioural therapy aims to help people develop some flexibility around the negative thoughts that might maintain seasonal affective disorder symptoms (for example, “I am worthless because I never get up to anything meaningful in winter”).

Lifestyle changes such as regular exercise, time spent outdoors (even on gloomy days), a balanced diet, and good sleep hygiene can all support recovery.

Antidepressants – especially selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) – may be prescribed when symptoms are moderate to severe, or when other treatments have not worked.

What else helps?

Even those without seasonal affective disorder might need to fight the winter blues. So, what works?

Prioritise social connection

Schedule regular, achievable and pleasant activities with friends, such as trivia at the pub or a brisk walk.

Reframe winter

Rather than dreading the cold, see if you can embrace what is special about this time of year. The mindset of “hygge” (a Danish and Norwegian term for cosiness and contentment) may help.

Let winter be your excuse for snuggling on your couch with a thick blanket and hot chocolate while catching up on books and TV shows. Or see if there are any winter-specific activities (such as night markets) where you live.

Maximise daylight

Taking a walk during lunchtime when the sun is out, even briefly, can make a difference.

The bottom line

If your “winter blues” last more than two weeks, start interfering with your daily life or feel overwhelming, then it might be time to seek professional help.

Speaking to your GP or mental health professional can help you get support early and prevent symptoms getting worse.

Kelvin (Shiu Fung) Wong, Senior Lecturer in Clinical Psychology, Swinburne University of Technology

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

So you’ve never been to a gym and are keen to start, but something’s holding you back. Perhaps you don’t know what to actually do in there or feel like you’ll just look stupid in front of everyone. Maybe you’re worried about injuring yourself.

It’s OK. Everyone starts somewhere. I did, too.

Resistance exercise (such as weight lifting) is really good for your health. Benefits include a reduced risk of osteoporosis-related fractures, reduced risk factors for chronic diseases such as diabetes, better sleep, improved mental health and, of course, stronger and bigger muscles.

So, how do people get started in the gym? Here’s what you need to know, and what the research says.

Worried about injury?

Don’t be. It’s probably less risky than lots of other forms of exercise you might already do or did in the past.

Team sports such as rugby and soccer, and strength-based sports such as powerlifting, weightlifting, and cross fit all have similar injury rates. They’re all in the vicinity of three to four injuries per 1,000 hours of participation.

Going to the gym has almost half this rate of injuries, at about 1.8 per 1,000 hours.

Let’s put that into context.

If you go to the gym three times per week for a one-hour session – and you do that every week of the year – you achieve approximately 156 hours of resistance training exercise a year.

So if the injury rate is about 1.8 injuries per 1,000 hours, that means that you could exercise for years in the gym without even a little niggle!

Some groups, such as young men under 40, may be at a greater risk of injury in the gym. So if that’s you, you may want to be a little more conscious about how fast you progress, and the types of exercises you do in the gym.

Compare these injury risk stats to the known risks of sedentary lifestyles, and the worry should go out the door.

In short, it’s a lot more dangerous to be sedentary than it is to go to the gym.

OK, how do I get started?

It’s fine to begin with what you feel most comfortable with. You don’t have to go straight to a ridiculously complex or challenging program.

However, that doesn’t mean you don’t need to put in the effort!

Most gyms can start you off by designing a workout program for you (you might have to pay for a personal training session). If you have a medical condition, find an accredited exercise physiologist. They’re trained to help you exercise safely.

It’s OK to start with gym machines, which are designed to make it easier to keep your movements consistent.

But keep your mind open about trying the free weights section (where the dumbbells, barbells and mirrors are). Benefits from this type of training may vary from what you get via machines.

That’s because a lot of the moves you do with free weights are what’s called compound exercises, meaning they work a lot of muscles and joints together at the same time. They’re really good for you. Examples of compound exercises include:

• squats
• lunges
• deadlifts
• bench presses
• hip thrusts
• kettle bell swings.

How much should I do in the gym?

Standard government physical activity recommendations state you should do muscle strengthening twice per week.

If you are new to the gym, you can make progress with a minimalist approach. For example, you may choose to only lift once or twice per week, compared with many seasoned gym-goers who might lift four or five times per week.

Recent research shows even those people already consistently lifting in a gym can maintain or slowly improve by doing just two sessions per week, in which each exercise is only performed for one set and the whole session lasts just 30 minutes or so.

So if you can stick to one hour per week (made up of two challenging half-hour sessions) then you will still be making progress.

How do I make my habit stick?

Sticking to the habit after the novelty has worn off is where many come unstuck.

Some research suggests it takes six weeks to form a gym habit, and that the more frequent the attendance in those first six weeks, the more likely the habit will stick.

At the one-year mark, the biggest predictor of regular attendance (defined as twice per week) was enjoyment. This was followed closely by the concept of self-efficacy (believing in yourself and your ability to stick to it), and social support.

This is really important.

Find what you like about the gym. Train the way that you enjoy. Find a friend to join the gym with. That will help you create the habit.

From there, you can progress the types and intensity of gym exercises you do.

I feel like a duck out of water

Every gym-goer felt this at first. I did too.

The confusion about which bit of the machine to sit on, pull, or push, is a tad overwhelming.

The sense of security in sticking to the familiar, shying away from the free weight area.

Remember: everyone is there to improve themselves and is on their own journey.

Most people won’t even notice that you are there, and most experienced gym-goers will be delighted to help if you’re unsure.

If that’s not your experience at your local gym, perhaps look for a new and more welcoming environment. Not all gyms and gym cultures are created equal.

Mandy Hagstrom, Senior Lecturer, Exercise Physiology. School of Health Sciences, UNSW Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

If it feels like your child’s diet consists entirely of breakfast cereal, chicken nuggets and snacks that’d outlast the apocalypse, you’re not alone.

Processed foods are the go-to for many kids, and for some, they’re the only foods they’ll eat.

Here’s why – and what you can do about it.

Processed foods and their prevalence in kids’ diets

Processed foods are any foods altered from their natural state.

While some food processing is beneficial – such as pasteurising milk to kill bacteria – the ones that cause parents concern are ultra-processed foods, which use industrial methods to enhance flavour, texture and shelf life by adding sugars, salt, fats and artificial flavours, colours and preservatives.

Parents know some ultra-processed foods all too well – they’re the fast and junk foods kids love. But others hide in plain sight, disguised as “healthy” convenience foods such as flavoured yoghurts and muffins.

Ultra-processed foods offer low-to-no nutrition, which is why dietary guidelines recommend limiting them. But these “discretionary foods” make up one-third of Aussie kids’ daily energy intake.

Why do kids find processed foods so appealing?

Basic biology

Ultra-processed foods are engineered to be addictive, with their added sugar, salt and fat activating kids’ brains’ reward system, releasing feelgood chemicals.

Evolution has hardwired humans to seek natural sugar- and fat-rich foods – a physiological response our hunter-gatherer ancestors developed to avoid starvation.

Food fussiness

One in two kids will experience a fussy eating phase – another survival response inherited from our ancestors, who avoided toxins by developing an aversion to unfamiliar and bitter foods.

Fussy eaters also favour ultra-processed foods, such as chicken nuggets, chips and breakfast cereals, because they’re familiar and non-threatening, often beige like breastmilk and kids’ first solid foods. Plus their blander flavours don’t overwhelm developing tastebuds.

Pester power

From sneaky YouTube ads to eye-level supermarket displays, kids are incessantly exposed to marketing that makes them crave – and demand – ultra-processed foods.

How processed foods impact kids’ health

Ultra-processed foods can impact kids’ health in a range of ways, contributing to:

• nutritional deficiencies. Kids filling up on ultra-processed foods are less likely to eat vegetables, fruits, whole grains and lean meats, producing a diet lacking in fibre and other key nutrients needed for growth and development

• childhood obesity. Ultra-processed foods are high in calories, unhealthy sugars, salt and fat, and often lack portion control, promoting overeating

• increased risk of diseases. Long-term overconsumption of ultra-processed foods is linked with a higher risk of developing a range of chronic diseases, including heart disease, type 2 diabetes and cancer.

Unhealthy eating habits can be hard to break, but positive diet and lifestyle changes – even later in childhood – can reverse these negative health effects.

Science-based tips for healthier eating habits

1. Eat together

Family mealtimes allow you to model healthy eating. Sit together around the table, share the same meal, and put devices away so everyone’s attention is on eating.

2. Introduce foods carefully

Research shows kids need eight to ten exposures before they willingly eat new foods. So offer them regularly, encourage tasting and don’t pressure them to eat.

While it’s tempting, avoid offering dessert as a reward for trying something healthy. Using treats as a reward increases kids’ preference for unhealthy foods.

Kids are also more likely to try new foods when they’re hungry, so avoid snacks one to preferably two hours before mealtimes.

3. Introduce variety to family favourites

Children are more open to trying new foods when there’s something familiar on their plate.

So, tweak family favourites by swapping ingredients, such as using lentils instead of beef in bolognese or roasting carrots to make “orange chippies”. Grating veggies into sauces also expands kids’ diets without overwhelming them.

4. Make food fun

Children respond positively when healthy foods are presented in fun ways, so include different colours, textures and shapes on their plate to hold their interest.

Changing meal locations – and enjoying an occasional outdoor picnic – is another simple way to make mealtimes feel special and fun.

5. Teach kids about the science of food

Teaching children in an age-appropriate way about the foods we eat promotes healthier eating, so:

• encourage kids to grow herbs and veggies so they understand where healthy food comes from: toddlers can harvest produce; older kids can plant and prune

• visit the greengrocer, fishmonger and butcher regularly so kids can see and explore the healthy foods on offer

• talk to toddlers about food in energy terms: “eating wholegrain toast helps you play longer”

• share fun facts with older kids: “fish has a special type of fat called omega-3 that makes us smarter”.

6. Involve kids in cooking

Spark kids’ interest in healthy meals by involving them in food preparation. Let them choose recipes and take on age-appropriate tasks such as mixing and chopping.

When kids help make a meal, they feel proud of their effort, and research shows they’re more likely to try what they’ve created.

It takes about two months to form a habit, so expect resistance along the way. But with perseverance, we can shift kids’ love of processed foods toward healthier choices, helping them establish healthy eating habits for life.

Nick Fuller is the author of Healthy Parents, Healthy Kids – Six Steps to Total Family Wellness.

Nick Fuller, Clinical Trials Director, Department of Endocrinology, RPA Hospital, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

When you think about ticks, you might picture nightmarish little parasites, stalking you on weekend hikes or afternoons in the park.

Your fear is well-founded. Tick-borne diseases are the most prevalent vector-borne diseases – those transmitted by living organisms – in the United States. Each tick feeds on multiple animals throughout its life, absorbing viruses and bacteria along the way and passing them on with its next bite. Some of those viruses and bacteria are harmful to humans, causing diseases that can be debilitating and sometimes lethal without treatment, such as Lyme, babesiosis and Rocky Mountain spotted fever.

But contained in every bite of this infuriating, insatiable pest is also a trove of social, environmental and epidemiological history.

In many cases, human actions long ago are the reason ticks carry these diseases so widely today. And that’s what makes ticks fascinating for environmental historians like me.

Changing forests fueled tick risks

During the 18th and 19th centuries, settlers cleared more than half the forested land across the northeastern U.S., cutting down forests for timber and to make way for farms, towns and mining operations. With large-scale land clearing came a sharp decline in wildlife of all kinds. Predators such as bears and wolves were driven out, as were deer.

As farming moved westward, Northeasterners began to recognize the ecological and economic value of trees, and they returned millions of acres to forest.

The woods regrew. Plant-eaters such as deer returned, but the apex predators that once kept their populations in check did not.

As a result, deer populations grew rapidly. With the deer came deer ticks (Ixodes scapularis) carrying borrelia burgdorferi, the bacterium that causes Lyme disease. When a tick feeds on an infected animal, it can take up the bacteria. The tick can pass the bacteria to its next victim. In humans, Lyme disease can cause fever and fatigue, and if left untreated it can affect the nervous system.

The eastern U.S. became a global hot spot for tick-borne Lyme disease starting around the 1970s. Lyme disease affected over 89,000 Americans in 2023, and possibly many more.

Californians move into tick territory

For centuries, changing patterns of human settlements and the politics of land use have shaped the role of ticks and tick-borne illnesses within their environments.

In short, humans have made it easier for ticks to thrive and spread disease in our midst.

In California, the Northern Inner Coast and Santa Cruz mountain ranges that converge on San Francisco from the north and south were never clear-cut, and predators such as mountain lions and coyotes still exist there. But competition for housing has pushed human settlement deeper into wildland areas to the north, south and east of the city, reshaping tick ecology there.

While western black-legged ticks (Ixodes pacificus) tend to swarm in large forest preserves, the Lyme-causing bacterium is actually more prevalent in small, isolated patches of greenery. In these isolated patches, rodents and other tick hosts can thrive, safe from large predators, which need more habitat to move freely. But isolation and lower diversity also means infections are spread more easily within the tick’s host populations.

People tend to build isolated houses in the hills, rather than large, connected developments. As the Silicon Valley area south of San Francisco sprawls outward, this checkerboard pattern of settlement has fragmented the natural landscape, creating a hard-to-manage public health threat.

Fewer hosts, more tightly packed, often means more infected hosts, proportionally, and thus more dangerous ticks.

Six counties across these ranges, all surrounding and including San Francisco, account for 44% of recorded tick-borne illnesses in California.

A lesson from Texas cattle ranches

Domesticated livestock have also shaped the disease threat posed by ticks.

In 1892, at a meeting of cattle ranchers at the Stock Raiser’s Convention in Austin, Texas, Dr. B.A. Rogers introduced a novel theory that ticks were behind recent devastating plagues of Texas cattle fever. The disease had arrived with cattle imported from the West Indies and Mexico in the 1600s, and it was taking huge tolls on cattle herds. But how the disease spread to new victims had been a mystery.

Editors of Daniel’s Texas Medical Journal found the idea of ticks spreading disease laughable and lampooned the hypothesis, publishing a satire of what they described as an “early copy” of a forthcoming report on the subject.

The tick’s “fluid secretion, it is believed, is the poison which causes the fever … [and the tick] having been known to chew tobacco, as all other Texans do, the secretion is most probably tobacco juice,” they wrote.

Fortunately for the ranchers, not to mention the cows, the U.S. Department of Agriculture sided with Rogers. Its cattle fever tick program, started in 1906, curbed cattle fever outbreaks by limiting where and when cattle should cross tick-dense areas.

By 1938, the government had established a quarantine zone that extended 580 miles by 10 miles along the U.S.-Mexico border in South Texas Brush Country, a region favored by the cattle tick.

This innovative use of natural space as a public health tool helped to functionally eradicate cattle fever from 14 Southern states by 1943.

Ticks are products of their environment

When it comes to tick-borne diseases the world over, location matters.

Take the hunter tick (Hyalomma spp.) of the Mediterranean and Asia. As a juvenile, or nymph, these ticks feed on small forest animals such as mice, hares and voles, but as an adult they prefer domesticated livestock.

For centuries, this tick was an occasional nuisance to nomadic shepherds of the Middle East. But in the 1850s, the Ottoman Empire passed laws to force nomadic tribes to become settled farmers instead. Unclaimed lands, especially on the forested edges of the steppe, were offered to settlers, creating ideal conditions for hunter ticks.

As a result, farmers in what today is Turkey saw spikes in tick-borne diseases, including a virus that causes Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever, a potentially fatal condition.

It’s probably too much to ask for sympathy for any ticks you meet this summer. They are bloodsucking parasites, after all.

Still, it’s worth remembering that the tick’s malevolence isn’t its own fault. Ticks are products of their environment, and humans have played many roles in turning them into the harmful parasites that seek us out today.

This article has been updated to clarify that ticks spread alongside the deer population.

Sean Lawrence, Assistant Professor of History, West Virginia University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.