The middle school of medicine: a reflection on the first year of medical school
There is a picture of me kneeling in front of the Azure Window, once off the coast of Malta, eating a chocolate ice-cream cone. I am 12 years old, having just finished the sixth grade, wearing high-top “Bathroom Wall” Converse and not-at-all-grungy cargo pants in my attempt to emulate the 2008 aesthetic of Avril Lavigne. On top, I’m wearing a plaid button-down and a straw cowboy hat, which my mom …
