I spent the first two years of dental school struggling to solve a puzzle, and on March 25th of this year, I glanced around the lecture hall seconds before my final medical school exam and wondered if I succeeded. Did I manage to feel real here?
No cruelty exists the likes of which runs self-directed through a health professional student’s mind. Kings and queens of guilt, we preside over each moment grasping an efficiency gauge as if it were a scepter. But even worse, a dental student in medical school can quite easily feel like a
One in honor of the woman who found and phoned 13 years’ worth of successful HSDM applicants.
A woman whose personal to-do-list demands of her, “Cry with the criers. Calm down the ones who shriek. And reassure the doubters this is not a prank call.”
Her smile is small and sweet. Her hair is bobbed short and her clothing long. But her big antique brooches tug most at my history-loving heartstrings. Anne Berg, our recently retired director of admissions, speaks often of hot