From our anonymous insider…
Jane takes Step 1 today. She was tossing and turning most of the night. I wake up at 4:45 am to make pancakes and pack her lunch. She departs at 6:15 am for the 30-minute drive to a Prometric test center for a 7:00 am start time. The average Step 1 score for 2017 was 229 out of 300, with a standard deviation of 20. You must score at least 194 to pass the exam, otherwise you have to take the exam again. If you do pass, however, you are unable to take the $600 exam again. Thus, you’re better off getting a 193 and having the opportunity to retake than you are getting a 194 and being doomed to primary care.
[Editor: What do you call a guy who graduated last in his class at medical school? “Doctor.”]
As was explained to us in Year 2, Week 26, during an eight-hour period there are seven one-hour sections, each with 40 questions. You can use the remaining hour however you like, divided up as breaks between sections. You can snack, look at First Aid, express righteous outrage regarding Donald Trump on Facebook, or call a friend. Out of the 280 questions that we’ve been torturing ourselves regarding, 40 of them don’t count at all. These are experimental questions that might appear on a future exam. Test proctors can view students through a glass window and also through a webcam on every monitor.
Jane powers through four sections in a row, then takes a 30-minute snack-and-bathroom break, and finally chugs the last three sections. She finished before any other classmate I’ve talked to. “There were so many questions I had no idea about. I would look them up afterwards and still have no idea. They are not even on the internet.” She adds: “Some questions have this essay long prompt, and I when I get to the end, I would literally mouth, ‘What the hell?’ The test proctor must have been laughing watching the webcam feed: ‘Look at this girl. She is really struggling.'” Doctors need not be numerate: “I practiced so many statistics questions, but on the exam itself I used the calculator only once.”
We celebrate her finish by going downtown for $5 happy hour martinis at a fancy patio bar.. Asked how she thought she’d done, Jane stuck to “I plan to use the mature defense mechanism of suppression until my score comes. Nothing to do but wait.” (She will get her score in three weeks.) Regarding the celebration: “This is such a finisher prize. I probably failed.”
I slept well the night before my exam, two weeks later. Jane packs me a large lunch. Every computer is filled at the test center. Some of my classmates are taking a mock Step 1 exam in the test center for $80. The software format and some questions are nearly identical to UWorld’s. Example: What part of the urethra gets injured in pelvic trauma? Membranous urethra.
I do three blocks with no break, then take a 30-minute break for lunch. I power through four in a row, with a 1-minute breather break in my computer chair in between blocks.
I nearly ran out of time on two blocks. Several questions have three-paragraph prompts even if the question only requires the last two sentences, e.g., What is the mechanism of a mentioned drug? I had to rush through perhaps ten questions total. Overall, I do not think studying more would have changed much. I should’ve completed more UWorld questions, but this might have affected only a few borderline questions. I did about 50-60 percent of the 2200 available questions. Advice: Start studying UWorld in September, reset it at the beginning of the study period, and try to get through all 2200 again.
I was surprised at the number of questions on the immune system. They asked about various inflammatory mediators: What causes swelling after a sprained joint? Histamine or C3a (complement factor). Which of the following growth factors stops proliferation? PDGF, TGF beta.
When I return, Jane has mojitos prepared from our organically grown mint plant. We went downtown and I avoided talking about the experience, use of the mature defense mechanism of suppression: consciously ignoring information. Jane: “Are you sure you’re not repressing this information?” (a reference to the immature defense mechanism of unconsciously ignoring bad news.)
Jane gets her score back the next day. She scored 248. That should be one standard deviation above the mean or roughly the 85th percentile, a great achievement considering her four weeks of study. Wow!
Nobody expressed complete confidence in his or her performance. Mischievous Mary: “I convinced myself every question that I got wrong is a mock test question.” Geezer George: “Unbelievable, those questions. I had to take solemn walks after each section.” Gigolo Giorgio: “I just had to laugh at some questions. It was a tragic comedy.”
Jane and I relax before she departs for boot camp. We go on hikes, organize the house, and do yard-work before she departs. Although she will be required to do a residency at a military hospital, they are advertising residencies to her for specialities on which the military is current short. One powerpoint for a psych residency features beach-front facades of Hawaii and an ocean photo with a resident quoted as saying, “This is our view from our conference room, fyi.”
Pinterest Penelope’s two exam delays shortened the trip to Thailand with her M4 boyfriend to only one week. They post photos of themselves drinking oversized fruit-and-booze concoctions next to elephants on the beach. Type-A Anita, meanwhile, is more interested in the white elephants of Washington, D.C. On a resignation from the Supreme Court: “Fuck that cowardly limp dick Justice Kennedy.” Later she shares a post regarding an ICE checkpoint on a Manhattan subway train. I didn’t ask her how many of her Facebook friends she thinks might be undocumented immigrants and therefore able to use this information.
We’ll all be back in July for M3 clerkships (informally known as “rotations”).
More: http://fifthchance.com/MedicalSchool2020
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