Pins and Needles - Harvard - Free sample medical statement
Hometown: New Hampshire, USA
Undergraduate School: Private, Dartmouth College
Major: Biology
GPA: 3.9 out of 4.0
MCAT: 32. PS: 12, V: 9, BS: 11.
Free sample medical statement
“You could say I’m on pins and needles,” began my Korean co-teacher, Tara.
“What do you mean?” I asked. Tara passionately studies English in her free time and I’ve grown accustomed to her enthusiastic use of idioms.
“Pins and needles. What I want to say is I am anxious.”
Around us, students and teachers gulped down bowls of noodles at lightning speed, without noticing Tara’s distraught expression. I quickly forgot the steaming mound of slushy noodles on my tray. The cafeteria emptied as I listened intently to my co-teacher’s worries and concerns.
“Remember on Monday, I said my son’s fiancé’s grandmother fell as she was leaving their wedding reception and went into a coma? Is that correct, went into a coma?”
“I remember and yes, went into a coma is correct.”
“She passed away this morning.”
This conversation occurred during lunch at the school I taught at, five months into my Fulbright Grant in South Korea. When I arrived in Seoul, I knew one Korean word, An-nyungha-se-yo, the formal way of saying hello. I feared isolation, loneliness, and confusion due to my inability to communicate. Sitting with my co-teacher in that crowded cafeteria, I realized we had formed a strong bond through our previous exchanges, which then allowed us to discuss a sensitive situation. I’d overcome some of my initial fears. Even though we lacked a common mother tongue, Tara had chosen to divulge a personal tragedy to me. Our joint vocabulary was limited, but expressions of concern, empathy, and sorrow share a universal language. Tara and I went from celebrating the joys of life—a wedding—to mourning the passing of a cherished grandmother. What profession is better attuned to the ups and downs of life than medicine? I possess a deep desire to understand and aid those around me, which has led me to pursue a career as a physician.
During my grant year, I’ve felt vulnerable when I couldn’t express my needs, desires or opinions. I watched helplessly as a fight broke out in my classroom, as I could not communicate with the angry students. In social settings, I often become a silent bystander rather than an active participant—my voice is lost against an insurmountable language barrier. Patients can feel similarly vulnerable when discussing sensitive or frightening health concerns. How do you get a scared teenage girl to confide in you about her sexual activity or a stalwart grandparent to confront a gradual decline in mental acumen and possible Alzheimer’s Disease diagnosis? Understanding their vulnerability and anxiety is the first step.
To dispel the nagging feeling of vulnerability, I have become proficient at relaying my ideas in the presence of a language barrier. The key has been developing patience and non-verbal communication skills. These skills will carry over to my career as a doctor. Every day physicians encounter patients who do not speak English or who lack the ability to speak, and they must somehow forge a connection.
Beyond communicating, living in a Korean homestay has illustrated the importance of cultural sensitivity. From the use of proper greetings that compose an age-based hierarchical system, to dinner etiquette, to the collective decision making process that guides social conduct—I’ve worked to adapt and thrive under a new set of societal norms. Physicians encounter patients from a vast array of backgrounds and an appreciation for cross-cultural differences is critical for forming strong doctor-patient relationships.
Over the past year, I have embraced my role as a cultural ambassador—a hallmark tenet of the Fulbright Program. This critical responsibility is twofold: first to reflect a positive image of America and second to work to understand and embrace Korean culture. I have tried to present an accurate representation of America, but found it is difficult to portray the extensive range of cultures and peoples who make up our nation. I discovered it was best to take an introspective route and represent an America based on my experiences, not the America perceived by Koreans. While fulfilling the role of cultural ambassador, I was able to reflect on my roots, my experiences, and my beliefs. Such meditations have allowed me to connect my past with my goals for the future and will guide me as I prepare to enter medical school. This year it has become clear that a career in medicine will fulfill both my academic interest in biological systems and my desire to understand, communicate with, and help diverse groups of people.
The past year has brought a richness of new experiences, yet I always find myself thinking back to that moment in my school cafeteria. When the words left Tara’s mouth, I hoped that she had misused the idiom. Tara opened up to me as a concerned mother, burdened with sadness, frustration, and disbelief. Such a level of personal confidence reflects a deep relationship formed through communication and cultural understanding. Our relationship spanned continents, generations, and languages. The few commonalities we possessed were mutual respect and openness. I know that as a physician, and as a person, these principles will guide all my future relationships—with my patients, my colleagues, and beyond.
Analysis
In Marissa’s essay, she expertly uses her life-changing experience teaching abroad to emphasize the importance of understanding patients’ vulnerabilities and anxieties, communicating with patients, and accepting and appreciating different cultures.
She fluidly forges connections between each of these topics and lessons learned and experiences encountered in her year in South Korea. She draws parallels between her experiences as a teacher and the experiences of a physician. In doing so, she demonstrates how she plans to use critical lessons in communication, vulnerability, and cultural competency in her future career as a physician, validating her as an excellent candidate for medical school.
Marissa’s excellent organization and clarity of thought throughout the essay add to the strengths of this personal statement. She is able to both implicitly and explicitly demonstrate that she knows exactly what it takes to be a doctor. The narrative introduction and focus on one central experience as a Fulbright Scholar keep the reader engaged and interested in her essay.
From 50 Successful Harvard Medical School Essays edited by the Staff of the Harvard Crimson. Copyright (c) 2020 by the authors and reprinted by permission of St. Martin's Publishing Group