Two of my greatest personal battles with transitioning into medical school have been convincing myself that I ādeserveā to be here and that I am āgood enoughā to stay here.
Iāll never forget how quickly my excitement about medical school changed between our orientation week and the first week of actual classes. It's a totally different playing field when every single one of your classmates are either justas accomplished as you are, if not more experienced, intelligent, and likable. Moving from the pre-med culture where I once gave talks on how to succeed academically to a classroom where literally EVERYONE was in the top 5% of their respective colleges has been an incredibly eye-opening (and at times, depressing) realization. I canāt count the number of times I wondered what the school possibly saw in me and contemplating that they had somehow made a mistake and accidentally accepted me. Imposter syndrome is no joke, and it's unbelievably hard not to internalize that mindset.
There have been studies that show how an individualās parentsā financial stability and education level are significantly correlated to a studentsā performance in medical school (in regards to attrition rate). Itās no surprise that those from poorer backgrounds or those who have parents without a college education often struggle more often than those whose parents are also doctors, know how to navigate the medical field, and are able to afford the academic resources and opportunities many of us will never have.Ā I mean, I knew that when I got into medical school, I would be fighting an uphill battle both academically, and in terms of preparation (all those years of not receiving similar privileges is finally very clearly apparent). However, the circumstances that I came from are things I cannot change about myself, and there isnāt much I can do to make up for the disadvantages I may have now.
I was accepted into this school as an applicant whose academic record was in the 10th (MCAT and GPA combined) percentile of our incoming class. To put that into perspective, out of a class of 176, I am expected (based on previous trends) to perform at the bottom 10% out of my entire class because everyone else did /that much/ better in their respective undegrads. With that being said, I will fully admit that I have already had my share of failures this year. I have completely destroyed tests, but just as often, I have fumbled, I have struggled, and I have spent nights wondering if I am going to end up flunking out of school next year.
Sometimes it feels impossible to push those thoughts out of my mind because Iāve never failed at anything my entire life. Growing up, I was always the āexception to the ruleā and routinely went above and beyond what people expected of me. I refused to let my parentsā lack of an education stop me from pursuing a career in medicine. I learned to stop internalizing the shame, guilt, and resentment I felt towards my parents because they didnāt make enough money to afford the things that would help me āfit inā better in school when I was younger. On paper, I have come from said āmodestā beginnings, graduated from high school, become one of the first in my family to attend college, and will be the first doctor in my entire blood-related family. I also represent the first student from my high schoolās pre-med program to actually complete college and subsequently get accepted into a medical school. In undergrad, I was often referred to as ā4.0 Jennyā or āthe Smart Jenny,ā and so forth. In a way, I was primed and raised by my peers like I was a whale-sized fish swimming in a little pond this entire time.
Coming from that and suddenly becoming a tadpole in a sea full of people who are thriving seemingly effortlessly in school has, without a doubt, been humbling. It has also been, at times, the lowest points in my days in trying to survive med school. I have had meltdowns while talking to my boyfriend, friends, advisers, and even counselors. I have come close to asking my school to take a year off, or splitting my first year out of fear of not being smart enough. Hell, I have even tried to stay in denial by convincing myself that I donāt need to work harder and that everyone else in my class just got lucky on the exam.
This past Thursday, I spent an hour crying in my academic adviserās office primarily because of how disappointed I have been with myself. I felt both devastated and demoralized by the fact that even though I studied harder this block, I actually ended up doing worse overall Ā than my last set of exams (when I was sick for a week and didnāt really study).Ā
But, despite all of this, I have never felt more motivated to push on. My familyās resilience is something Iāve fortunately inherited, and Iām finally starting to accept that success from here on out will likely never come without its fair share of failures. Even if I have to stumble 100 more times before I finally understand how to do well in school, I will never stop trying. Slowly, but surely, Iāll figure out how to navigate this field and I trust that it will all work out in the end. I have faith in the system/the people who brought me here, and hope that this too, shall someday pass.Ā
