Here’s a fun fact: A parent can hire a “medical school counselor” for their child as early as eighth grade. True-all inclusive packages and hourly rates are available.
Let’s think about it.
Before entering high school, an adult carefully plans what courses he should take and what plan he should take in order to increase his chances of being accepted into medical school. Not to mention which PSAT and SAT prep courses they need. Advanced Placement (AP) courses seem to be rigorous– more important. Why waste time in college on unnecessary courses like English, history, philosophy or any of those boring people?
They can also get advice on what summer activities they should start doing and what extracurricular activities they will need to participate in. Also, it seems that it is too early for them to start setting the “clinic times” that are considered near and dear to the heart of the school admissions committee member.
You know, I get it. I really like it.
We live in a world that prides itself on competitive youth sports and quality service for top 9U (9-years-and-under) baseball players. There are private schools and private tutors for parents who are encouraged to play sports before birth. Why should the aspirations and plans for a career in medicine be different? How long will it be, do you think, before some crafty entrepreneur starts recruiting top 9U med school students?
Breaking the neck of the traditional healer
I was the director of a medical education (DME) hospital for a long time. I have worked with trainees from new clerks to more experienced ones. I have seen one of my children successfully navigate the acceptance process. I evaluated candidates for residency slots. And I want to clarify about something:
I think we are doing it wrong. Maybe part of it.
We are focused on receiving the best it starts again. But these beginnings also do not match the good doctors of the future. And we seem to be forcing younger and younger wannabes into a forced and unhealthy formula that is the opposite of what a practicing doctor’s life entails.
One of my duties as a DME was meeting with each class of third-year med students when they arrived for their first hospital rotation. I would ask a little about their background—seeing that their towns, country colleges, pirates and foreign interests. I always asked two questions that seemed to get lost:
- Have participated in a team sport or activity in high school or college (including band, choir, drama, dance, debate, etc.)
- What was the worst/difficult job they ever had?
Here’s what taught me 20 years of old-fashioned but admitted observation: Students who have been part of a team and who have worked outside of the medical service industry often had an easier time adjusting to the reality of patient care, leadership training and the uniqueness of the human condition. Intrigued, I began to informally ask the same two questions of residents, friends and colleagues. Those who appeared to be well-adjusted tended to have experience of being in a team and working on a job. They are more difficult and more difficult for those who have probably never done any of these things.
Very unscientific? Absolutely. Funniest interactions, in my experience? You bet.
I agree that there may be some confirmation bias. Before starting med school, I never had a job or an outside job that had little connection to medicine. Summers and vacations in high school and college were taken up by many salary positions including cafeteria, busboy, waiter, asphalt paving tamper/shovel, dump truck driver, garbage man, stock boy and government file clerk. None of these jobs allowed me to excel academically or burnish my CV. None of them had a direct bearing on my acceptance into medical school. But I believe that each one, ultimately and often honestly, helped make me a better worker.
You get something no matter how small the job is
Being the smart guy behind the garbage truck doesn’t count for much. But the jobs, the other summer assistants and the “lifers” I worked with all had something to teach me. The bosses and co-workers who had no time for a spoiled brat from the city left my sense of self-worth behind. So did the resident, who saw a dirty, sweaty worker, not someone who might be their doctor one day. I picked up small but useful tips and tricks from mechanics, carpenters, waiters and part-time chefs. Blue-collar education is still education. Fixing a leaky faucet, I’ve come to understand, has a lot in common with fixing a leaky aorta.
Medicine is the ultimate service. So where are the check boxes for “Worked in the service industry” or “Worked with the public?” And more than ever, it’s a team sport. Maybe we should be encouraging applicants to see the quality—raw, unfiltered and unadulterated—and award points for that. Finding out that some of our hominids are cruel and difficult (not to mention sometimes snarky and unruly) should not come as a sudden shock.
In 1933, a Polish philosopher named Alfred Korzybski published a book called “Science and Life.” It was a treatise on general semantics and has continued to be published to this day. One of its most famous lines is “The map is not the place.” I would correct that “The application is not the person.”
If you sit on the admissions committee, I ask you to look behind the “map”—the carelessness of MCAT scores, well-cut CVs and artfully manipulated GPAs. Ask your applicants if they’ve ever stood behind a service line or sales counter, worn a hair net or hard hat or made a non-scientific major in a non-scientific debate. Ask them what lessons they have been taught to be part of the team. If we select our future doctors from the equivalent of a zoo, what exactly do we expect to happen when they are released into the wild for training and practice?
Medical students come to study science. They must have the innate mental ability required to do that. But unless they plan to spend their lives in a laboratory, I would argue that something more than familiarity with the “real world” and the people who live in it may be the key to providing some much-needed relief.
Coach Curt Cignetti took the Indiana football team to the state championship without a single “Five Star” taking over. His mantra was “Practice over potential.” He valued the actual act of playing over metrics like wingspan and vertical jump. I think there is a lesson there.
The map is not the place.
Editor’s note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of The DO or AOA.
Related reading:
3 ways we can all promote DOs and the osteopathic medical profession
The DO Book Club, July 2025: Summer beach reads with therapeutic flexibility
#Socalled #lousy #summer #jobs #doctors
