Grit: When the Struggle Teaches You Success
In keeping with my reflective mood lately, I was reminiscing with an alumni director from my medical school at the University of South Alabama earlier this week. Among other insightful questions, she asked me, “Was there a characteristic or trait you held that you think made you successful in medical school?”
My first thought was, “Yes! My ADHD!” Let me explain what I mean by that. As you may recall from previous posts ("Women and ADHD"), my struggles with ADHD and persevering despite it during medical school were defining moments for me. Having to figure out how I learned best, and using my best attributes to help me combat my challenges, really helped make me the multi-modal person I am today. I don’t think I would be as successful in so many fields without my ADHD.
I had to overcome a lot of imposter syndrome while I was in med school because of my challenges, to keep reminding myself that I did deserve to be there, I was capable of this. At the same time, I thought about the privilege I had received: to have had good teachers and mentors who guided my education and believed in my abilities.
Behind every good doctor, there’s an excellent teacher
As an example: when I was in undergrad at the University of Alabama, I knew I “wanted to be a doctor” but didn’t really know what that entailed or what I wanted it to look like eventually. Someone told me that I needed to do research before I even got to medical school, but very kindly directed me to a lab that they knew accepted undergrads.
The husband and wife team who directed the lab, the Drs. Caldwell, saw something in me, even when I didn’t see it, and nurtured it. They challenged me in ways I had never been challenged, but made it safe for me to figure things out, fail, struggle, and eventually succeed. They saw the grit in me that was willing to keep trying.
They didn’t have to do this. As lab directors, they didn’t have to care about an undergrad who was just trying to get some research done before med school. But they were good teachers, and they did care. We formed a relationship, and I remain in contact with them. I’m now on the board of the Honors College at Alabama, and I saw them recently. They reminded me not to sell myself short, that even as an undergrad, I had that tenacity, and that’s what they responded to.
It’s not the name that counts, it’s how it’s taught
And this relationship has reminded me AGAIN of how the brand name of a school is never as important as the quality of the teaching there (see my post "A Legacy of Motherhood"). I used to think that the name recognition, having a degree from an Ivy, would be impactful on my medical career.
But what was actually most impactful for me was the small group sizes of my classes, the personal attention I got from my professors, and the permission I was given to make mistakes and try again. I don’t respond well to intimidation or being put on the spot (honestly, that’s not a healthy learning environment for anyone).
The non-name-brand schools I attended allowed me space to struggle but encouraged me to keep trying. I could fail a test and be told, “It’s ok, try again, it’s only a test.” And this safety in my educational environment really modeled good instruction for me. So when I became an instructor myself, I knew how to nurture students rather than work against them.
And, even without an Ivy League diploma, I’m still a successful doctor. And instructor. And mom. And entrepreneur. Because the struggle has taught me to keep going. The struggle has taught me success.
