The whole medical school application process has taken a big toll on me this past year; of all things I’ve ever attempted in this life, this has probably been the most stressful. But ironically, it wasn’t stressful because it was intrinsically hard – because, to the tell the truth, it isn’t (yes, you have to write essays, and yes, you have to travel, but neither amounts to an unbearable amount of work) – no … the medical school process has been so difficult for me because I’ve felt so alone all this time.
I’m not the kind of person that goes down the ordinary path. I’m not the trailblazer who insists on always taking the path less taken. I’m the person who doesn’t see the footprints on the road – the person who is blind and walks down the path I can hear calling to me, regardless of whether it is the highway or a dirt path into the thick of the woods.
All my life, I have promised that which I thought would be most valuable to those investing their time and emotion in me, as friends or beyond: I will deliver that which I promise. I will take a long time to make a decision, but once I make a decision, I won’t change my mind. Those are pretty big promises, but when it really counted, I think I accomplished what I said I would.
People see me doing my thing, and they instinctively just freak out. I somehow defy their rules and regulations, their expected motivations. I was hoping that after proving myself a few times, that they would perhaps stop doubting me and learn to trust in my instinct. I do things on a whim, I do things on my own schedule. But I do them.
So many people began worrying about colleges in middle school – I didn’t give a hoot until 11th grade. I said to people: I don’t do things for the sake of getting into college; when I apply, I want the colleges to see me and want to take me for who I am. And a year later, I came to MIT, the school I liked best, and the school that wanted me for who I was. I am an Asian male; I am to MIT as AB+ blood is to donor pools; I had to prove myself, and I did.
My early compositions were written off as “too slow” and “étude-like.” And then my MIDIs were – and still are – described as mildly interesting, but overall disorganized and aimless. Those were painful comments to get, but I just kept writing the music, stashing most of it away in secret due to an inferiority complex to the only composers that people actually respected or cared about – Beethoven, Brahms, and the like. Many satisfied theory and composition teachers – and an award – later, I don’t think my music could possibly be all that bad.
The MCAT rolled around a few years ago, and of course people wondered why I was coding a chatbot instead of studying. After reporting my first practice test’s score to a doctor when he asked, he said I needed to improve. Keep in mind that it was my first practice test, and that always take the first one without studying at all, just to gauge what I intrinsically know. With the help of said chatbot, I improved by eleven points, and I think I ended up with a respectable score.
So here we are – the present day. Yet another round of applications. I believe just one thing – if you try hard enough, you can make anything happen. You can achieve anything you set out to achieve.
It’s pretty simple, isn’t it? That’s what they teach you in kindergarten, and certainly truth does not change over time. It’s still true.
But by golly, no one believes it! No one believes me when I say it. No matter how many times I prove myself – over and over and over again – people leap to criticize my unconventional ways. People question my priorities. They wonder if I care about my future.
Strangers, friends, and family alike – adding a pressure ten times the amount any medical school ever did – just by doubting me. They would criticize the degrees I wanted, chastize me about turning in forms “late” (i.e. near the deadline), question my choice of schools.
There was one person who believed in me all along – degrees, timing, school choice, the whole nine yards – who told me to listen to myself and only myself, and just keep doing what I was doing. And thank goodness, that was my premedical advisor. I like to think that belief and support was because he saw in me something other people couldn’t – the raw, unabashed idealism, yes – but that second element: the power to make it happen.
I am not a perfect person, and I am not omnipotent – I don’t pretend to be. I am also not naïve or stupid.
I have goals; I have beliefs; I have a vision and the passion for that vision.
Before forcing me into your conception of how things are supposed to be, what pre-meds are supposed to do, what people should recognize as their “limits” – first consider what grounds you have for doubting me. Consider how previous parts of my life do or do not fit into your model of the world or the philosophy that you preach. Only then, only then, tell me that you doubt me. Only then, break my spirit and hold me back and weigh me down to teach me a lesson.
Because I am a migrating bird who knows his destination, and I’ve got the wings if only you would believe that I do.
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