none of the above

just another rant about school, even though I don't know what I'd be without it

Returning back to a structured classroom environment after a year of young-adulthood freedom was depressing. Fully aware of how much agency being a 24-year-old young, healthy, decently-not-poor, working a job way below my paygrade, and therefore feeling absolutely confident about it, and having no kids which means no actual responsibilities was so incredibly liberating. And to regress from that, back to where my timeline is solely dictated by the next exam, my mood entirely dependent on my performance, and my efficacy fundamentally surmised by 50 multiple choice questions –well all the insecurities, anger, and frustration that I thought I overcame, returned 10-fold in PA school.

The first thing I noticed, was my increasing desperation to fit in. I was elated when I found out we had to wear scrubs to class every day, for my 5th grade fear of not owning a single Abercrombie & Fitch top wouldn’t surface. But alas, society always finds a way to influence. What sweater should I wear, and what shoes? I spent more and more time staring at the mirror each morning, ensuring that the style of my coat matched my scrubs. I became self-conscious that my lunch was too pungent, and rather bring nothing to school than spend way too much money for single-packaged granola bars. With each passing day, I’d spend more time in that classroom of 60 than alone with myself. As such, my identity was slipping away. And I was not alone. The proof was all around me, for everyone seemed to merge into one-all-encompassing stereotype of PA-student –the Stanley cups, the Figs scrubs, the New Balance shoes.

Like how material novelty slowly trends itself into oblivion, meaningful conversation was rendered into a catchphrase. For despite all the new and important things going on in the world every day –the latest mass shooting, the genocide in Gaza, the impending election we'd all much rather talk about how tired we are, how awful traffic was, how many exams we have this week, how much our life sucks, again and again and again. I was so bitter about how the external world for it was not aligning with what I had envisioned. The picture of higher-education that the Ivy’s and Oxford and Hogwarts (yes I know its fake) touts, the one where everyone, dressed in tweed, discusses politics and culture and theory, over some expensive, non–carbonated drink, was nothing like my classroom filled with students running around aimlessly arguing who amongst our class, due to their terrible commute, lack of sleep, or inherent ingenuity should be awarded the most sympathy, attention, or praise. Truly, it will only take a couple days for an actual alien to develop a persona that will socially strive there.

Each day, I felt my voice reduce more and more into nothingness. That all my beliefs, conviction, and ideas would get shutdown with the nonchalance of a left-swipe. I wanted to cry every time the fervor to which I explained my rationale was met with the emptiness of “I'm sorry, that's what the answer key says” –or scream that when a class of 60 does bad on an exam, it says more about their performance as teacher than my studying skills. That they can’t possibly lead me to think that my grades don't define me, when they'll literally kick me out of this program if I fall below an 80. Or say that we're smart because we made it here yet belittle us every time, we raise concerns about anything. That surely, forcing us to identify the more correct answer out of 4 less correct answers is just cruel and then telling me that I’m simply wrong if picked something that was “less correct” is completely pathological. That surely, me not knowing whether a woman has an A) 80% or B) 70% of developing breast cancer if her maternal-grandmother died of the same disease at 60 because that, out of a 500-slide-deck, is surely the most important detail in all of medicine, and must be asked multiple times, in various ways, on a 50-question multiple-choice test, will make me a worse clinician. That surely, the piece of paper awarded to you for answering 2 years more of multiple-choice questions correctly does not make you better than me.

I had felt abandoned by school. For 18 years I felt to have the privilege of a “gifted-student” relationship with school–the favoritism, the praise. But the honeymoon-phase was finally over. And although the breakup hurt like no other, it wasn’t what killed me. What truly hurt me was that my vulnerability was not met with reciprocation but rather, more defense and hostility from my peers. It was because they didn’t sleep, or that they procrastinated. It was because of they focused on the 2 other tests we had this week and didn’t have time to study for this one. It was because it is so much easier to blame things that are seemingly immutable because the responsibility of changing is just too much to bear. It was never because they were struggling. It was because nothing is more embarrassing than failing despite trying oh-so-very-hard.

But I had invited them to be vulnerable. I told them I’d get a solid 8 hours and still felt drained That I had started studying for tomorrow's test weeks ago. That I actually spend every waking second studying —on weekends, on the bus, on the fucking toilet. And no, I didn't pass. Yes, I was confident in my answer. And if they simply must know what I got on the exam they crammed for last night, the same one I spent weeks studying for, so they could feel better about yourself, I’d delightfully tell them that I’d failed miserably. Every single time.

I've met the nicest and smartest people in PA school. I’ve learned from professors that inspired classrooms with their passion and dedication. I felt so humbled by their mastery and patience. Some of my classmates were waking up at the crack of dawn commuting amongst the notorious NYC traffic to class –even on days where there was nothing else scheduled other than a stupid exam. People so willingly offered up their notes, expecting absolutely nothing in return. They bought gifts, shared food, gave rides, and yet, it went unnoticed to the eyes of people that mattered. They got a cute shoutout on our class group chat followed by a couple hearts and likes. And that was that.