“That was the worst presentation I’ve ever heard,” said my attending, whose unwavering eyes locked with mine as if daring me to flinch.

A sudden hush fell over the team. Everyone turned toward me to see my reaction. I sat motionless and tried to will my body to disappear spontaneously. In my 4 years of medical school, I had never received such a blunt and dismissive assessment from a faculty member, and certainly not in front of a group. Almost in a whisper, I stammered “I’m sorry.” The fellow sitting next to me gave me a reassuring look as she took over the presentation with confidence based on experience that I sorely lacked.

As she talked, I found myself recalling my medical education and the road that led to my presentation that was received so poorly at this away rotation.

Like many students, I had applied for month-long rotations at centers where I planned to apply for residency. I was pleasantly surprised and excited when I was given an opportunity at this incredible program. I packed my bags and headed to my new adventure.

On my first day I arrived on campus a few hours early to enjoy the scenery and shake out the nerves of being in a new city, a new hospital, and alone. The campus was immaculate. Stately brick buildings with pointed rooves overlooked sprawling manicured lawns. Students of all ages dotted the scenery as the fall leaves drifted softly to the ground beside them. Both they and I were full of dreams and aspirations. I couldn’t help but wonder what great physicians this institution produced and hoped I could be one of them, but I was feeling unsure. “Why me?” I asked myself.

For the next hour or so I explored my new surroundings. Brick steps greeted me as I smiled at students exiting their classes. I found myself at the top of the stairs with a large green door facing me and almost telling me to turn back. Nervous that someone would tell me I did not belong here, I nonetheless pushed it open. A wave of relief washed over me as the man behind the curtain was revealed. The classrooms were just like my alma mater in Arkansas, albeit with historic accoutrements and hardwood floors. I felt newfound confidence. “Why not me?”

“Welcome!” the fellow said as I walked in for my first shift. I could barely contain my excitement as I followed her to the workroom full of other medical students and residents. The computer fans whirred to life as I logged in for the first time. Several clicks later, a deluge of complex medical patient charts lay before me. After a quick lesson from the fellow about how to review a chart, I was ready to go. I glanced over and saw residents and medical students poring over pages of information. Soon they left the room, heading toward the sterile corridors of anxiously awaiting patients. I was alone. The printer beside me clunked as it produced a list of rooms waiting for my arrival. I scribbled notes, labs, and plans in the margin of my papers. The crunch of my stapler echoed in the empty room as I briskly headed toward the unknown.

The memories of those early days evaporated as I returned my attention to the fellow who had taken over from my failing presentation. “I do not belong here,” I thought, that humiliating moment looping in my mind as I sat with more than an hour left on rounds. I reflected that my medical school training had been different, because I spent my 2 years of hospital training with attending physicians instead of with residents and medical students. As a result, I lacked practice in day-to-day note writing and presenting that I would have learned from rounding in a typical team.

My attending could have chosen to teach rather than dismiss but chose the latter. I struggled through the rest of my time on the rotation as my confidence was crushed. Unsurprisingly, I was not offered an interview.

My story is not new or unusual in medical training, and I tell it not to insult my attending. This is a cutthroat environment that attracts highly successful learners and those with sterling credentials. I am neither, but I never gave up. As a fourth-year medical student I should have been comfortable with chart review and giving a moderately well-put-together assessment and plan, but I wasn’t. On that day I was on the left side of the bell curve, and the attending underlined that fact with harsh judgment. Later in my residency training, I was fortunate to find teachers and mentors who took the time to teach me even when my performance was less than stellar.

I tell this story to remind those in power to choose kindness. Every time. I needed redirection and education. I left with disappointment, embarrassment, and self-doubt. It impacted my performance that day and for the rest of the month. Today I choose kindness for unprepared learners. There are always moments for teaching, growth, and learning. When I see learners struggling, I make sure to address their weak points while focusing on their potential.

I’m sure that the attending recalls neither me nor the situation. When I think about that moment, though, I can only summarize how I felt: You don’t remember, and I’ll never forget.

2024